The Phoenix Darkness

by Richard L. Sanders

  “Yes, sir, at once,” said Captain Valentine.

  As they dragged Mira away, she made one last strange plea for her survival. “Raidan, you want me alive. I know things you don’t. You believe yourself to be the puppet master now that you control the Organization. But you know nothing. You’re just another puppet on so many strings!”

  Raidan briefly rethought his order to kill her. Perhaps interrogating her first would be the prudent thing to do, then kill her. But after considering it, he dismissed the idea. Mira is only pretending to know secrets I don't, thought Raidan. It's a stall tactic to keep her alive, to give her loyal followers time and opportunity to free her so she can try again to capture the Bridge, and me, and the Organization. I will not allow her the possibility.

  About two minutes after the soldiers had dragged Mira away, kicking and screaming, a blood-soaked Tristan arrived. He bent over, resting on his knees, looking more exhausted than Raidan had ever seen him.

  “It’s about time you got here,” said Raidan.

  Tristan nodded. “Looks like you have everything under control.”

  “By sheer luck,” said Raidan, still pondering whether it had been his bribes or something else which had motivated Captain Valentine to switch sides. He wondered how far he could trust her. “And with no thanks to you.”

  “I got here as soon as I could,” said Tristan. “Main Engineering was crawling with Mira sympathizers. And the lower decks…there’s a bloody war going on down there!”

  “How does our side fare?” wondered Raidan, thinking perhaps he needed to reseal the Bridge.

  “Our side is winning,” said Tristan. “Now.” Raidan didn’t doubt the tide below had turned in his favor in no small part thanks to a rampaging, maniacal Lycan let loose among the pro-Mira fighters.

  “Glad to hear it,” said Raidan.

  “So, what now?” asked Tristan. The bright red glow of his eyes began to fade and he looked less a muscular beast and more a human with each passing second. His uniform was in tatters and covered in blood.

  “I trust that blood is mostly the enemies’ and not yours,” said a mildly concerned Raidan.

  “Of course,” said Tristan. “I barely took a scratch or two.”

  “Good. Now I’d like you to go below and make certain Captain Valentine and her squad have followed my orders and executed Mira Pellew. If they haven’t, then kill her yourself. And then kill Captain Valentine and her squad.”

  “Done,” said Tristan.

  “Then get yourself cleaned up.”

  “Will do. What about you?”

  “I'm going to get some of the officers below to get their asses up here. I'll address the Organization in ten minutes, once I have proof Mira is dead. With her out of the picture, the other Group Leaders will have no choice but to follow me. They know if they do differently, the Harbinger will destroy them.”

  “And after that?”

  “After that, our happy reunited fleet will make for Capital World at full speed. And I’m going to make a special broadcast; it will explain everything.”

  Tristan nodded, then hurried away, eager to fulfill Raidan’s orders. In the meantime, Raidan went to inspect the state of the Bridge and to ensure there weren’t more enemy soldiers hiding in ambush. He picked up a carbine from one of the dead soldiers on the Bridge and began his thorough search, kicking each enemy corpse he came upon, to make certain they were, in fact, deceased. The last thing he needed were enemies who played dead and then rose from their apparent graves only to shoot him in the back.

  Chapter 25

  Calvin and Summers were in the infirmary, standing next to Nimoux’s bed. He sat there, still under doctor’s care, but he’d awoken. Which, according to Dr. Andrews, meant he was probably out of the woods.

  “I’d like to keep him here a little longer before discharging him,” the doctor had said. “He’s still hurt and the wound will take some time to heal. But he should recover.”

  “I have to admit, I’m a little surprised to find you on my ship,” said Calvin, now knowing who the mysterious fourth patient was, the one he hadn’t been able to see.

  “I’m as surprised as you are, Lt. Commander,” said Nimoux with some difficulty. He was sitting up and looked ready to begin unplugging himself from all the equipment and return to duty. The only things stopping him were Calvin’s orders for him to obey the doctors and a medic, who stood over him, attending to his needs.

  “Summers told me about the camp,” said Calvin, thinking it eerie as hell that those replaced by replicants had been incarcerated and eventually slaughtered, with only Nimoux managing to escape.

  Apparently, much had happened in his absence. Not only was there a sizable hole on deck four, currently patched but not repaired, but Captain Pellew had actually shot Nimoux shortly before he, and all of his men but four, had been slaughtered by a solo operative or else blown out into space. That too had seemed like a shocking, almost unbelievable story, and had there not been so much testimony and evidence to corroborate it, Calvin wasn’t sure he would believe it.

  “When Shen described what he saw on deck four,” said Summers, bringing up another mystery to Calvin, just how the hell had he survived such an experience? “You spoke in your brief state of consciousness. It sounded like you could identify the intruder. I must ask you, Captain, do you know who it was?”

  Nimoux did not answer right away. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and Calvin momentarily thought the man had lost consciousness again. Just as he was about to hail the attending medic, who was currently discussing something with Dr. Andrews, Nimoux spoke.

  “I cannot say I know who he was for sure,” said Nimoux. “And if he was who I think he was, then that is very surprising. Very surprising indeed.”

  “Surprising why?” asked Summers. “You described the man perfectly, according to Shen. To me, that says your guess was correct.”

  Nimoux took another deep breath. “I only made my guess because I can think of no one else who could have performed such a feat successfully. To defeat the entirety of this ship’s soldiers, both mercenary and highly trained Special Forces, and successfully steal the isotome weapon…I can only believe one man is capable of such a thing.”

  “Who was he?” asked Calvin. “Can you give us a name?”

  “I can,” said Nimoux. “But I believe more explanation is necessary.”

  “We’re all ears,” said Summers.

  “Very well,” said Nimoux, letting out a sigh and inhaling another deep breath. He closed his eyes again for a moment, apparently in deep thought. As if lost in another time, or another life. “You know how nobody has ever successfully entered Polarian Forbidden Space and returned?”

  “Yes,” said Calvin. Everybody knew that. What lurked in that darkness was one of the galaxy’s greatest unsolved mysteries.

  “Well,” said Nimoux, “that’s not entirely true.”

  “What?!?” asked Summers and Calvin at the same time.

  “Once there was a mission, ten years ago, with the specific intention of sending in a small expert team to perform reconnaissance and report on what they found. The mission was so top secret it was code Dark Black Black.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Summers.

  “It means, if anything happened to them, such as getting captured, the Imperial government would deny all knowledge of their existence and there would be no negotiation for their return or any rescue mission. If you go Dark Black Black, you’re on your own.”

  “Exactly right,” said Nimoux. “The selection process was also kept deeply under wraps. I’m not sure who made the choices or how exactly they were made, but my name was one of the ones that came up.”

  “Are you telling me you’ve been inside Polarian Forbidden Space?” asked Calvin, thinking Nimoux’s knowledge, if so, would be a tremendously valuable resource for the upcoming mission.

  “No, I haven’t,” said Nimoux, to Calvin’s dismay. “And I’ll get to that in a minute.” />
  “Anyway, I was selected for this mission, along with a handful of other candidates. There were ten of us, but they needed to weed us down to five. We didn’t know what the mission was, or any of its details, as they put us through rigorous trials of intelligence, physical stamina, and combat ability. Based on the tests, I believe they recruited from the pool of those who had experience in Special Forces and Intel Wing. But I never got that confirmed.”

  “So, did you make the final cut?” asked Summers.

  “Actually, no,” said Nimoux. “But it turned out to be a very good thing.”

  “Why is that?” asked Calvin.

  “Because none of the five they sent ever made it back. At least that we know of.”

  “Okay…” said Calvin, “then how do you even know that was what the mission was?”

  “I pieced it together. One time I confronted the selection officer, never did get her name, and asked her about the inherent risks of such a mission and, in the likely case the team was caught, how that might create a diplomatic incident. Anyway, they denied everything I asked them, but I got scrubbed from the mission, even though I tested in at number three. I took that as confirmation of my suspicions.”

  “So, this intruder, he was one of the ones selected?” asked Summers.

  “I believe so. If I’m right, he was the one who tested into the number one spot,” said Nimoux. “His name was Lucious ‘the Moth’ Black.”

  “The Moth?” asked Calvin.

  “Each member of the team had a moniker assigned to them. His was ‘the Moth.’ I have to tell you, not only did he test in at number one, none of the rest of us came in anywhere near his results. I’ve never in my life, including all my years in Special Forces, seen a person with greater tactical awareness. Once we did a drill where numbers two through five went against him in a mock battle, and he beat us. I was astounded.”

  “So, based on his skill, you think he was the one who defeated Pellew and all of Special Forces and the rest of the garrison?” asked Calvin.

  “I don’t know who else could have done it.”

  “What happened to the team?” asked Summers. “You said nobody made it back.”

  “No one is certain what happened to the team. Once they got into Polarian Forbidden Space, they started sending back some very strange reports. Not long after that, the second in command sent back a mostly incoherent report and then complete silence after that. All contact lost.”

  “You say mostly incoherent,” said Calvin. “What was the coherent part?”

  “As near as we could tell, Lucious had turned on his own allies and begun slaughtering the rest of the team. It was classified as a murder-suicide with no survivors, and then buried under so many layers of top secret classification no one would ever find it.”

  “So you think he didn’t commit suicide,” said Calvin. “You believe he survived and, serving some kind of strange agenda, boarded our ship, slaughtered our soldiers, and stole the isotome weapon no one should have known was aboard the ship?” The whole thing sounded a bit on the unlikely side to Calvin, but Nimoux seemed convinced. And he wasn’t a person whose opinions could be dismissed lightly.

  “In essence, yes,” said Nimoux. “There was a rumor among the other five of us, those who didn’t make the cut. We theorized, based on another part of the message which may or may not have been white noise, the Moth hadn’t gone insane so much as he’d gone native. Somehow, he was pulled in by the Polarian religion.”

  “But humans aren’t allowed in the Polarian religion,” said Summers. “Because we do not have souls, or something to that effect.”

  Calvin thought of what Rez’nac had said, how there was a schism in the religion and apparently one sect wanted to remain loyal to the traditional Essences, while the other wanted to press some kind of monotheistic change. Perhaps Lucius the Moth Black had been pulled in by the latter, though Calvin couldn’t understand why.

  “Is that what you believe happened?” asked Calvin. “That he went native? That he found God among the Polarians and that, somehow, meant he had to slaughter his team and vanish off to who knows where?”

  “I’m not sure what I believe,” said Nimoux. “Not without more information. But it is a possibility.”

  “If he stole our isotome weapon because of some kind of religious zealotry,” said Calvin, “that means he’s probably not working in concert with the Rahajiim, or the Enclave.”

  “True,” said Summers. “But if he’s religiously committed to using the weapon, then there’s no telling what he might do with it, or who he might hurt.”

  “I agree with the Commander,” said Nimoux, clenching in obvious pain. “In Lucious’s hands the isotome weapon is a dangerous threat, at least as much as it would be had the Enclave or the Rahajiim acquired it. If he took it, then I expect him to use it. Though I cannot guess at where or why.”

  Calvin considered that for a moment. He decided he would have to ask Rez’nac who the enemies of the Dark Ones were, aside from other Polarians, and which system they would be likeliest to destroy if they acquired such a weapon.

  “What do you suppose triggered him to snap like that?” asked Summers. “Assuming your theory is correct.”

  “I can’t feign the slightest hypothesis,” said Nimoux. “Although, it is often said that not only is Polarian Forbidden Space stranger than you dream, they also say it is stranger than you can dream. If that’s true, then it could have been anything. It might even be something that affects one or more of us once we get there. Who can say for sure?”

  Calvin didn’t like the sound of that. Currently, they were on their way to make port, both to repair their hull, resupply, and take on some additional crew, provided he found anyone trustworthy and brave enough, but after that it was full speed to the Charred Worlds and beyond them to Polarian Forbidden Space. He didn’t like the thought there could be something out there which might mess with the minds of his crew or, even more dangerously, affect his own mind. He shuddered at the thought, then dismissed it as science fiction. Just because one man had gone mad didn’t mean others would do the same.

  “So, now that you’re back, Calvin,” said Nimoux, “I take it that means I am no longer the Acting XO?”

  “I’m afraid you’re right,” said Calvin, “that’s Summers’ job. But, based on what Summers has told me about you and your gallant efforts against Pellew, I would be honored if you were willing to accept the position of Acting 2O with my apologies for the fact you’d be working below two officers, both of whom you outrank.”

  “I would consider it a privilege to serve as 2O,” said Nimoux.

  Calvin was glad to hear it. “I have one other thing to ask of you,” he said. “I know you need to rest up and heal.” Dr. Andrews had given Nimoux excellent odds of recovery, but had warned he still might ultimately succumb to complications from the gunshot wound. “However, I am short a commander for my Special Forces garrison. Would you accept that job as well, considering your prior experience with Special Forces?”

  “I suppose I can do double duty,” said Nimoux. “Although I can’t imagine there will be much point in having command over our four remaining, mutinous soldiers.”

  “Better to have someone I trust overseeing them than no one,” said Calvin. “Besides, I mean to take on more soldiers at port, should we find anyone trustworthy enough.”

  “Ah, I see,” said Nimoux. “In that case, yes, of course I accept.”

  “Thank you,” said Calvin, hoping the duties he’d dropped on the recovering legendary officer would not prove too much on top of his injury. Only time would tell, Calvin supposed.

  ***

  “To all life on Capital World,” said Raidan, standing tall before the background of Harbinger’s massive Bridge. No other officers were in view of the camera, which was broadcasting on all the channels and frequencies of Capital World. “Be you citizens or not, I now give you fair warning. Know this: your planet is in grave danger! The threat? Me.” He paused for
effect.

  “I have at my command a flotilla of warships fast approaching your world. Our weapons are numerous and our crosshairs are fixed upon you all. The devastation we shall unleash will be a hell beyond imagining.” He paused again. “And if you think your government can save you, you are wrong. Its fleet cannot overtake me; it is far afield, in Ophiuchus System waging war against an Imperial planet, just as I aim to do against you. So rally your pathetic defenses and raise your alarms! They will avail you nothing. Ophiuchus did the same, and has fallen. Your fate is equally sealed.” He paused again.

  “Unless you meet my one demand. Kill Caerwyn Martel! That’s right, kill Caerwyn Martel, the usurper who sits upon your throne. Slay him and deliver his body to me when I arrive. If you do not, then I shall rain down a barrage of missiles and beam weapons upon you and none shall be spared the slaughter! So heed my words! Do this one thing: overthrow your king. Either Caerwyn Martel dies, or you do! You have nineteen hours. I suggest you use them wisely.”

  ***

  The Bridge was an ordered chaos as each station chief kept reporting loudly on the status of the Black Swan’s various systems. So far, the dreadnought was holding steady and Kalila, Captain Adiger, and Sir Gregory had their eyes glued to the various 3D displays, which kept track of the ongoing battle.

  The Rotham fleet had been taken completely by surprise and, so far anyway, the pincer attack was unleashing hell upon the enemy. Their ships were sandwiched between the planetary defenses and Kalila’s two major fleets in such a tight cluster it seemed impossible for Kalila’s warships to miss their targets. The enemy was starting to adapt, beginning to disentangle their formation into something capable of fighting back, but in the meantime they were taking heavy losses.

  “Keep the pressure on them!” said Kalila, as she watched lights winking out on each of the displays, most of them belonging to the enemy.

  Captain Adiger kept his attention primarily on commanding the Black Swan itself while Sir Gregory helped Kalila to coordinate and command the battle. He had access to a comm panel that, with the push of a button, was programmed to transmit encrypted messages to the entire fleet.