The Phoenix Darkness

by Richard L. Sanders

  “There will be a battle in Thetican System,” said Raidan. “But the queen has the best intelligence available to her, intelligence of what the Rotham fleet is, how they intend to deploy, and where exactly they shall strike. Believe me when I tell you the queen will be ready, her forces prepared to ambush the enemy. The Rotham will be driven back or obliterated and, though we shall endure more losses, I promise you the queen will survive, as will the greater part of her fleet.”

  “But they say the queen stands to lose Ophiuchus System any day now,” objected Jackson. “How can she hope to prevail against Caerwyn Martel when his force shall be larger than hers after she fights the Rotham, and he will hold her most valuable system? How can she hope to repair and rebuild her ships without the vast resources of Ophiuchus? It seems clear to me we must switch sides in this war.” Now it was his turn to be the subject of murmurs and even booing from the officers below. Whatever they were, however fickle, their loyalty remained with the Akiras, that much Raidan knew and was grateful for.

  “Hear me out,” Jackson spoke over them. “Kalila has made the decision to divide her forces, just as she has decided to engage the Rotham. By the end of it, she cannot hope to stand against Caerwyn Martel. Should we add our power to his and arrange for the queen’s capture or elimination, we can end this war. We can take the strong action you yourself are urging us to take,” he looked at Raidan from across the distance. “Then and only then can we be united and ready to oppose the Dread Fleet, or another Rotham invasion, or whatever other hell is meant to come our way.”

  Now a few of the officers below agreed with him, granting him some applause and cheers. But it proved to be a minority, as they were quickly overpowered by louder murmurs and booing.

  “We all know,” said Raidan. “That Caerwyn Martel is an incompetent leader, a self-serving man, and one who does not value the best interests of the Empire and her people. Should we give him the war and allow him to reign undisputed, if we even have such power, he shall run us into the ground. Yes, we may stand united and yes, that may buy us some weeks or years of survival as we desperately defend ourselves. But he and his selfish politics, his unwillingness to defend the Empire’s people, choosing instead his own gain, will prove to be our downfall. If the Empire does not have competent leadership, a monarch who will rule for the people and defend them, one who can rally the hope of Imperial citizens everywhere, then the Empire’s fate is already sealed. And we, gentlemen and ladies, are here to waste our breath and our time.”

  Raidan was met with cheers from below. Even shouts of “Queen Akira, Queen Akira, Queen Akira,” until White Rook called for silence.

  “There is only one person who can save our Empire. Only one with the right name, from the right legacy, with the right talent to unify our people and lead us to victory,” said Raidan. “And it falls upon us to see to it she has that chance.”

  “What would you have us do?” asked Maria. “Assassinate Caerwyn Martel? He is too well guarded and most of our spies on Capital World have been discovered and slaughtered. The majority of the rest have fled the planet. The few which remain have gone dark and into hiding, or else have been taken by the enemy without our knowledge. Only a small group remains, nothing that can oppose Caerwyn and his many layers of guards and soldiers who defend him.”

  “We cannot touch Caerwyn Martel directly,” said Raidan in agreement. “That is unfortunate, but it is the truth. However, we can touch him indirectly.”

  He was met with a curious silence as the rest of the Organization seemed confused by what he was suggesting.

  “We can put fear into the hearts of those who are closest to him,” said Raidan with great conviction. “We can convince them, through diplomacy or through threat of violence, to serve up Caerwyn Martel upon a silver platter. He can be taken prisoner, or killed, and in his absence there is no one to challenge Kalila’s claim to the throne. She may take her rightful place upon her grandfather’s throne, the chair of her great-great grandfather, the hero of the Empire that united humanity together for the first time and sent our alien enemies far away through our tenacious resistance. Nothing can defeat a humanity that stands united. And Kalila is the successor, by blood, birthright, and spirit, to her great-great grandfather’s legacy. Once again, humanity is in peril, and once again it has fallen upon the Akira family to save us. Or rather, to force us to band together and save ourselves.”

  “You would have us serve up Caerwyn Martel upon a silver platter,” said Beniah. “And yet you speak these words as if the task be a simple thing. The queen and all her armies, her fleets, her funds, and all her spies, which greatly outnumber the resources at our disposal, have proven unequal to the task. How are we to be any different?”

  “We are different because we are not monarchs,” said Raidan. “We have no reputation to maintain. We may fight dirty, using guile and cunning, we are free to act in any way we so choose, and it will not put Kalila’s legacy and reputation at risk in the eyes of the people.”

  “The people know many of our ships to be among the numbers that supported Kalila in the Battle of Apollo,” said Maria. “They would associate us, and any such dirty tactics, with her and we would be a stain upon her reputation.”

  “Any such people who pay such attention to lists of starships in battle, and who might piece together that our particular ships are in cooperation together, will also note with their keen eyes that our ships are absent from Kalila’s fleet now,” said Raidan. “That we chose not to defend Thetican System. In their eyes, we will have been disaffected and separated from Kalila’s cause and her forces. We are rebels now, renegade, just as cowardly as Caerwyn himself to not have joined in the defense of the Empire against our enemies abroad. Our actions will not fall upon the queen to harm her reputation.”

  “I would remind you that it is because of you none of us are there, defending our fellow Humans,” said Beniah.

  “Already answered and explained,” said Raidan. “Our seventy-one ships will not be a force strong enough to turn the tides of battle either in Thetican System or Ophiuchus System. We could make some difference, but not more than we have the chance to make here, today, when we decide to take strong action against Caerwyn Martel. We can end this civil war!”

  “So you say,” said Jackson. “Yet you have not given us any such plan to do so except a vague hope Caerwyn’s own allies will betray him, should we somehow frighten them enough, or bribe them, into cooperation. I would say to you we do not have ships enough. We cannot hope to stand against Caerwyn’s mighty fleet, nor do we have funds enough to buy out his supporters, since he is one of the wealthiest men in the Empire and he has access to the Royal Treasury.”

  “There is a way,” said Raidan, eager to explain his plan.

  “There are many ways,” shouted Mira, interrupting him. “I too have a plan for our success. A plan which will force the Empire into cooperation and reunification behind the Akiran banner.”

  Raidan was annoyed; the Organization should not hear of her plan first. It was despicable and unfit for any decent human beings to pursue. Even if the plan might work, it would do so at precious cost, and Raidan would not stand idly by and allow it. He would interrupt her at the first opportunity and explain his plan, and then it would be up to White Rook to choose; action or inaction; Plan A or Plan B. Raidan prayed White Rook would choose wisely. If she didn’t, then he and Mira would have to exercise the option. And after that, it would be war between them.

  Raidan was determined to prevail in such a conflict and had made every effort to ensure his success, but there were whispers of betrayal amongst his own crew, and he was not completely certain he would defeat Mira, even though he absolutely had to. The Empire depended upon it.

  Chapter 21

  Calvin blinked. All he could see was a blinding white light. He squinted most of it out as his eyes rapidly adjusted. He spent a few seconds trying to get a sense of his bearings.

  I’m sitting up in a bed, he realized. A
nd there’s a mask on my face. The wall ahead of him was metallic and austere. Around him he heard noises, people walking around, several voices. He couldn’t really tell what they were saying. And beeping, lots of beeping.

  He reached up and pulled the mask off of his face, it had been covering his nose and mouth and was attached to a tube which ran back into a machine he could not identify. Free of the mask, he inhaled a breath of normal, stale, starship air. He dropped the mask; it fell to his side.

  I know where I am, Calvin realized, feeling both startled and excited, but above all confused. This is the Nighthawk. I’m in the infirmary.

  The place seemed far busier than usual, and heavily staffed. He counted no fewer than six doctors and medics attending to everyone, and each of the infirmary beds was occupied. Other than himself there were five patients. Rez’nac lay on his bed, mask over his face; he showed no signs of consciousness. Miles was there too, sitting up on his own bed, wide awake, but unlike Calvin he’d kept his mask on. He gave Calvin a nod when Calvin looked over. Calvin nodded back. Rafael was there too. He, like Rez’nac, was just lying there, mask over his face, plugged into several machines, looking either unconscious or dead…Calvin sincerely hoped the former, for both of his people. There was a fourth patient, one he couldn’t make out from here. The person was male, based on his body shape, but his face was almost completely covered. He appeared to be receiving the greatest medical intervention, with at least three of the six medics and doctors standing around his bed.

  Finally, Calvin’s eyes fell upon the last patient. Rain. She too had a mask over her face and seemed unconscious. He felt something stir within him and, without knowing why, he found himself removing the oxygen monitor from his finger, unstrapping himself from everything else, and then rushing over to Rain’s side.

  He didn’t know how he’d gotten here; his memory of recent events was clouded at best. But he felt compelled, emotionally, to race over to her, even though he wasn’t entirely sure why.

  He’d made about four steps before one of the medics, who'd been checking on the various patients, took note of him.

  “Look, you’re up,” said the medic. She looked at Calvin with a smile, which suggested she was pleased with this outcome, but also made anxious by his abrupt removal of all the medical equipment. Calvin did not recognize her.

  “Yeah, I’m up,” he said, walking past her.

  “If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to check a few things before releasing you,” she said, following him.

  “I’m fine.”

  He arrived at Rain and sat on the stool next to her bed. He reached over and instinctively took her hand, holding it. At their touch, he remembered kissing her in the hold of the Rotham shuttle, although he didn’t recall much of what had led up to that moment. “Is she all right?” he asked, looking back at the medic, who was standing next to him.

  “Dr. Poynter is going to be just fine,” said the medic happily. “She’s suffered a very mild case of generalized hypoxia and lost consciousness as a result of it. Actually, that’s true for all of you,” she glanced around at the various patients, all except the mysterious fourth patient.

  “What does that mean, hypoxia?” asked Calvin.

  “It means that you all became oxygen deprived. When we found you, the life-support systems on your vessel were not functioning. Luckily, we got to you quickly.”

  “Is that why the masks?” asked Calvin.

  “Yes, it’s for oxygen therapy, a treatment most of you have responded well to. Dr. Poynter should wake up soon and make a full recovery.”

  “Wait,” said Calvin. “Most of us?” He glanced over at Rez’nac and Rafael, knowing that meant one or both of them was in trouble.

  “Yes, all of you except for Imperator Rez’nac, who has experienced worse complications, unfortunately.”

  “It’s just Rez’nac,” said Calvin, “not Imperator.” He knew Rez’nac had lost his Imperator title, along with most of his pride and self-respect. “What complications?”

  “Rez’nac has suffered a pulmonary edema as a result of his oxygen deprivation,” said the medic.

  “That sounds serious,” said Calvin.

  “It can be,” said the medic. “We already did an aspiration procedure and hopefully removed all of the fluid from his lungs, and we’ve administered preload and afterload reducers. We’re planning to catheterize him and introduce a regimen of loop diuretics. Luckily, so far anyway, the oxygen therapy has been sufficient to supply him with necessary O2, although if he worsens Dr. Andrews has said mechanical ventilation may be necessary. But that seems unlikely.”

  Calvin did not follow, beyond the implication Rez’nac was being treated and there seemed to be hope for him, but he was still in dangerous woods.

  “When will you know if he’ll be all right?”

  “If all goes as it should, he will be all right,” the medic reassured him.

  “And you’ll know that when?”

  “He should quickly recover.”

  Calvin didn’t know if quickly meant minutes or weeks, but he decided not to press the issue further. “Thanks.”

  “Happy to help, sir.” The medic wandered away, ostensibly to go check on Rez’nac.

  After a minute or two, Rain stirred, waking up. She squinted, looking a bit confused, then, upon seeing him, she smiled.

  “You’re okay,” said Calvin, feeling more relief than was probably warranted.

  “I’m okay,” said Rain happily, her voice muted by the oxygen therapy mask. She looked confused as to her whereabouts.

  “Do you know where you are?” asked Calvin.

  She glanced around. “The infirmary on the Nighthawk,” she said, putting it together faster than Calvin had. “Why am I here?” she looked back at him.

  “We had a hyperpoxia,” said Calvin.

  “Hyperpoxia?” Rain looked at him with a confused, furrowed brow. “Do you mean hypoxia? How did that happen?”

  Calvin suddenly wondered if he’d remembered the correct term. “We lost oxygen back on the shuttle but the Nighthawk found us. That’s why we’re here.”

  “Oh,” said Rain, then she smirked at him. “Generalized hypoxia.”

  “Yeah, exactly. That’s what I said.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him, teasingly, but did not argue. “In that case, I give myself a clean bill of health,” she said, removing the mask. She started to get out of the bed and he helped her to her feet, letting go of her hand once she was standing.

  “Is everybody else all right?” she asked, looking at the others.

  Of course that would be her first real question, Calvin thought. Rain was always more concerned for others than she was for herself.

  “I’m going to go check on them,” she said, looking back at him with her pert smile.

  “I should go anyway,” he said, “I need to be on the Bridge.”

  She nodded and they parted ways.

  He’d just reached the infirmary door when it slid open and, to his pleasant surprise, he saw Sarah and Shen. Shen looked a little ill. Calvin couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something seemed just a bit off about him. Sarah, though, seemed to be her usual self. Upon seeing him, she beamed.

  “We heard that you were down here,” she said. “I’m so happy not to see you in one of those beds.”

  “And I’m just glad you’re back,” said Shen.

  Calvin smiled at them. It hadn’t been that long, not truthfully, yet it had seemed like forever since he’d seen them. And now, finally, he was back to command the Nighthawk. And he could work with his friends once more.

  “It’s so great to see you both!” He instinctively pulled Sarah in for a hug. When he let go, Shen reached out to shake hands, but Calvin hugged him anyway. “You have no idea how happy I am to be here.”

  “And we’re thrilled to have you back,” said Sarah.

  “Now, you’re staying with us this time,” said Shen, looking momentarily worried. “This isn’t another one o
f your, ‘Hi, I’m just dropping in for a bit, see ya later,’ kind of visits, is it?”

  “No, I’m here for good,” said Calvin. “There’s not a thing in this galaxy that's going to get me off this ship ever again.”

  “Good,” said Shen, looking genuinely happy. “Because we’ve spoken about it and decided if you tried to leave us again, no matter how important and galaxy-saving the assignment, we weren’t going to let you go. You’d have to do it over our dead bodies.”

  Calvin laughed. “God, it really is good to be back and see you two. What have you kids been up to?”

  “Kids?” asked Sarah. “I’m a year older than you!”

  “And I’ll never let you forget it,” he said, still all smiles. “But seriously, what have you two been up to?”

  They looked at each other almost awkwardly, then back at him. “Let’s just say I’ve been trying to get this one,” Shen nodded his head toward Sarah, “to accept my apologies.” In response, Sarah’s face turned scarlet.

  Calvin almost asked “for what?” but decided he’d rather not know. “Well this has been a good reunion,” he said. “But I’d better get to the Bridge.”

  “Do you even remember the way or should one of us guide you?” asked Sarah.

  Calvin laughed. “You two…speaking of which, shouldn’t you be on the Bridge anyway? With the both of you down here, is anybody even up there?”

  “It’s Red Shift,” said Shen. “But you’ll be happy to know, or maybe not, Summers is still up there. She’s taken to commanding two shifts, and sleeping…God knows when.”

  “Ah,” said Calvin. “I had been wondering why she wasn’t down here rolling out the red carpet to greet me.”

  After another laugh, he parted ways with Sarah and Shen and hurried to the elevator. He expected to run into one or more crewmen in the corridors along the way, but he didn’t. The entire deck felt hauntingly empty, like instead of the lively Nighthawk he’d mistakenly gone aboard an eerily similar ghost ship.