The Phoenix War

by Richard L. Sanders

  Kalila looked at him shrewdly, with some obvious skepticism. But Calvin was sure he’d proven himself enough to her since their first meeting at Tau Station—and the reality they’d both witnessed had proven dangerous and deeply strange, surely Kalila would believe this new information. She couldn’t possibly dismiss such a threat.

  “And how long have you had this intelligence?” she asked him. Despite her gentle tone, Calvin knew what she was actually asking—how long have you kept this secret from me, and why?

  “Raidan showed me a replicant back when I was on the Harbinger, after his forces—many of the same ships that are here in this system—saved my crew and myself from captivity to the Rotham. Knowledge that the replicants themselves are a Polarian-like species is new; my own physician determined that just before you came aboard the Nighthawk. Even Raidan doesn’t know that. And the knowledge that Xinocodone kills replicants was found out about the same time, though I did share that detail with Raidan.”

  Calvin tried to make his tone sound apologetic. He had kept this information from her, he realized, but not deliberately. When she’d come aboard the Nighthawk all thoughts had been about Renora and exonerating the princess. The replicant matter simply hadn’t come up.

  Whether Kalila would hold this omission against him, Calvin couldn’t be sure. Whatever her true thoughts, she revealed no hint on her face or in the tone of her reply. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” she said. “I will see to it that such a policy is executed at once.”

  Calvin nodded. Understanding that meant he too would be expected to participate and take his dose of Xinocodone—a fact he so dreaded he’d nearly considered not bringing up the replicants and the need for a replicant purge at all. He was a recovering equarius addict and he feared what effect another dose of the dark medicine would have on him. Sadly, his personal weakness was no excuse to avoid the Xinocodone test and he knew it. He had to demonstrate he was who he said he was just as surely as everyone else would have to, even Kalila, otherwise suspicion and distrust would pervade everything. So he’d have to grit his teeth and take the drug one last time. But after that, I swear, never again! On Capital World he’d broken the habit of his drug dependency forever; he wouldn’t let a one-time exception, required of him for the security of the Empire, to cause him to relapse. I won’t. I just won’t!

  “Princess, what would you have us do now?” asked Calvin as Kalila started to walk away. She stopped and turned and as she did Calvin caught a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes, but to her credit she masked it extremely well—so effectively that he almost doubted he’d even seen it.

  “I must seek the counsel of my loyal Knights and advisors. I shall be in the privacy of my office.”

  “And what about Raidan?”

  “You may entertain him for now,” she said. Then she turned and addressed Captain Adiger. “Captain,” she said, raising her voice so he could hear. “Allow Mister Cross to answer the hail from the ISS Harbinger, on speakers.”

  Calvin understood. The caveat on speakers meant she didn’t trust him enough to let him communicate with Raidan privately, perhaps worried he’d strike some kind of bargain with the deadly renegade. I didn’t tell her about the replicants earlier, like I should have, so she trusts me a little less, he thought. He knew he would be kept on a somewhat shorter leash until he was back in her good graces. So be it.

  “Answer the hail,” he said, once Kalila disappeared into her office.

  “Answering hail,” reported the communication chief. “Connection active.”

  “Calvin Cross here,” he said aloud. A familiar voice crackled over the speakers in reply.

  “I’m happy to see the ship still in one piece,” said Raidan. “You cut it a little close back there in Capital System.”

  Indeed, they’d only escaped the system with seconds to spare, narrowly avoiding entrapment by the Ninth Fleet.

  “We’re happy to be in one piece,” replied Calvin. “Now that we’ve established that we’re all here and still alive, what do you propose we do?” Of course it wouldn’t be up to Raidan, Calvin knew, at least not directly—who knew what sort of unseen strings he could yet pull to steer events in whatever direction he wanted—but Calvin respected Raidan as an intelligent person, and if the older captain had some sort of a plan that could save the Empire, Calvin was all ears.

  “Is the Princess safe and healthy?” asked Raidan, perhaps evading the question.

  “Yes,” Calvin confirmed. His eyes darted automatically to the office door, it was shut tight.

  “Is she there now? May I address her?”

  “She’s otherwise occupied,” said Calvin. “But you may address me. And I will relay any message you wish.”

  “But she is all right, yes?”

  “Yes,” insisted Calvin. “She’s perfectly fine.”

  “Excellent. I’m relieved to hear that,” said Raidan. “For a moment there it seemed no Akira was safe anywhere, and then when she didn’t answer my hail… you can see how I feared the worst.”

  It had been terrifying for a moment there, Calvin admitted. When the king and his heirs seemed to be dropping like flies. Calvin and probably everyone else on the Black Swan had wondered then, are we next? Is the Black Swan rigged to destroy itself, killing Kalila—the last of the Akira line—in the same kind of accident that took her siblings so swiftly?

  “You may rest assured,” said Calvin, remaining cool. “She survived, she is perfectly healthy, the Black Swan escaped, and now we are all here, at these coordinates you provided.” He then decided to turn things back around and press his own questions, rather than answer Raidan’s. “Which begs the question. Why here, Raidan? Why did you bring us here?”

  “These coordinates, near the White Dwarf Star TH 347, is a natural place to gather. The Organization has resources here.”

  Calvin glanced at the scan reports. “There is no planet here. No base. Nothing. Just a lone star.”

  “True, no planet, and no settlement. And no base. However there are small asteroids upon which, if you scan carefully enough, you will find titanium capsules containing weapons, fuel, food, and other supplies. The Organization has several such caches throughout the Empire, TH 347 just happened to be the closest one to Capital System.”

  “We will be tracked here,” said Calvin, certain the Eighth and Ninth Fleets, once given directives by the Assembly to do so—provided the Assembly managed to assert their control—would commence pursuit of the Black Swan.

  “Yes, I agree that’s likely. Which is why I am gathering all my strength here. All my ships, all my allies, everything. I strongly advise the Princess do the same. If she does not, we will not be able to withstand attack. And retreat will again be necessary. I hope you convey that message to her. And soon.”

  “I will,” promised Calvin, we would inform Kalila as soon as she re-emerged from her office. No doubt she’d already come to the same conclusion and was already issuing orders to every ship commander she still trusted. “I have a suggestion for you as well,” said Calvin.

  “Yes?” Raidan sounded curious, even amused.

  “It’s vital that you purge your Organization and all of your associates, allies, and everyone you deal with of any replicants. I don’t know if you got the message, but Xinocodone kills replicants. Administer it to everyone.” As Calvin spoke, he was perfectly aware that Captain Adiger and the rest of the bridge crew, and anyone else who might be listening in, wouldn’t have the slightest idea what he was talking about. And he probably sounded crazy. But to hell with what they thought.

  “I did get the message from your Mister Vargas, although it wasn’t him I wanted to meet with, and I have already begun such a purge. I trust you are ensuring the Princess does the same?”

  “I’ve discussed it with her and will personally make certain it is done.”

  “Very good. Please let me know once she is no longer in-disposed and decides she’s willing to speak with me.”

  “Wait,” said Ca
lvin, before Raidan could disconnect. A thousand thoughts flicked through his mind, accusations he wanted to make—how dare you attack Cepheus the way you did!—and questions he wanted to ask; what was it you wanted to tell me? Back when I failed to meet with you as you directed, something you would only trust telling me in person? But Calvin held his tongue on those matters. Now isn’t the time.

  He didn’t want to put Raidan on the spot, especially over public broadcast between the ships where dozens of people were listening. And even more importantly, the way everything was crumbling to pieces, if there was any hope of restoring the Empire—or even salvaging it—Kalila needed Raidan and his Organization’s help. For better or worse. And demanding an immediate explanation for Cepheus would serve nothing. Maybe he wasn’t even behind it, Calvin tried to reassure himself, unsuccessfully.

  Realizing the battles to come were more pressing than the deeds of yesterday, no matter how vile, Calvin asked about something else. “You never answered my question. What do you propose we do now?” asked Calvin. If Raidan made no answer, Calvin would take that as a sign that Raidan was just as short on ideas as he was. “Especially considering the Rotham threat,” added Calvin. He remembered that Republic had just declared Renora one of their planets. It was no longer a question of whether Rotham fleets and soldiers would invade Imperial space, it was a matter of when.

  “Interesting you should bring that up,” said Raidan after a short pause. “The deadliest threat the Rotham pose would be if they somehow got their hands on one or more of the isotome weapons. I have people in place trying very hard to make certain they don’t, as do you.”

  Calvin thought of Summers and the Nighthawk, and wished he was with them. I belong there, he thought. If I belong anywhere, I belong on my ship. Someone else should have been Executor.

  “However, there is no doubt in my mind,” continued Raidan, “even if they don’t have the isotome weapons, that the Rotham Republic is marshaling its forces. And the Rotham Senate is slicing up Imperial space, debating on what and how much they dare to claim. War with the Rotham is now, sadly, inevitable. And such war might easily lead to war with the Polarians.”

  “Those are my thoughts as well,” said Calvin, noting that Raidan had yet to propose a solution. Not that he could think of any himself. The Empire was obsessively focused on its own internal struggle, fleets and planets were caught between the Assembly and the Princess, and no one was talking about the true danger. Enemies lurked abroad and the Republic would come calling for Renora, that much wasn’t even a secret. The question Calvin was afraid to ask was: when that day came, would the Empire be ready to resist them? And, despite how much he wanted to, he couldn’t imagine how the answer to that question could possibly be yes.

  “But I wouldn’t overly worry about the Rotham yet,” said Raidan. “There is no imminent threat, for the moment. As things stand, the Republic can’t get its fleets into position to attack Imperial space. I’m quite sure they can’t send them through Polarian space. Polarians no doubt remember the brutal things large Rotham fleets did the last time they were in Polarian space—the Great War wasn’t so long ago. And the Republic can’t send its fleets unchallenged through the DMZ. To do so would provoke war with the Alliance, and while the Alliance could never withstand the Rotham in a protracted engagement, they could seriously bleed and wound any fleets that tried to pass through Alliance space before they ever got into an engagement with Imperial forces.”

  That was true. Calvin remembered his various assignments in and around Alliance space. They only had colonies in three systems but they claimed an immense swathe of territory. Their society was extremely xenophobic and excessively militarized, and their patrol ships and scouts could be found all over the DMZ—allowing only civilian trade ships to pass unmolested. They didn’t trust the Empire in the slightest degree, and trusted the Republic even less. The President—a dictator who ruled the Alliance along with his military council—famously refused to engage in any diplomacy himself. Certainly he’d never make any deals with the Republic. Which meant, so long as the Alliance stood, the Rotham would pay dearly in blood for every ship they sent through the DMZ.

  “For now,” continued Raidan, “the Rotham Senate has this logistical challenge in front of it. But ultimately, I believe, they will find some way through the DMZ and deal with the Alliance. Even if it’s through battle. War with the Alliance, while costly, is far better for them than war with the Polarian Confederated States.”

  Calvin was less sure. It seemed to him that the Rotham had already successfully sent warships into the Empire through Polarian space, he’d personally fought them in Abia. Sure it had a small squadron and maneuvering a massive starfleet was an entirely separate matter, but it remained possible.

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Calvin. “But whether or not the Rotham invade today or ten years from now, they will invade. And we have to be ready.”

  “I agree,” said Raidan. “Which is why our first priority must be to unify the Empire, as quickly as possible. Ideally with minimal loss of ships. And then, together, as a unified force, we will repel any alien invaders when they finally come. Even the Dread Fleet couldn’t stand against us, if all Imperial forces united.”

  Calvin hoped desperately that was not only true, but possible. Though the mention of the Dread Fleet sent chills down his spine. Such a force, which represented all the might of the Polarians everywhere, had only been seen a few times in history. And every time they assembled, they were unstoppable and left a trail of death and destruction in their wake. It was a purely offensive force, not a fleet to defend the Polarian States but rather a sword meant to purge and destroy, burning and pillaging with religious zeal and unflinching violence. All for the Essences. Ordered by the Prelains. Controlled by the High Prelain. Calvin had only read about it in military history texts—hopefully that was where it would stay. After all, the Dread Fleet had never assembled during the Great War, even as Polarian worlds experienced brutal attack by the Rotham Teldari. The Dread Fleet had watched silently, letting the Polarians’ cries fall upon deaf ears. And in the end the Polarians pushed the Rotham out of their space with help from the Empire. There’s no reason to fear the Dread Fleet now, Calvin thought. It hasn’t been seen in decades and the Polarians aren’t even in this war—not yet—it’s just the Empire and the Republic.

  “Then we must unite the Empire as soon as we can,” said Calvin.

  “That is our only hope,” said Raidan. With that he terminated the call.

  “Transmission disconnected,” reported the operations chief.

  Calvin nodded his head. Raidan is right, he thought. Unity is our last best hope. Civil War is coming, we must end it swiftly. Only a united humanity can hope to withstand the dangers lurking in the vast dark galaxy.

  He imagined an endless horde of silent black ships carving their way across the stars. Fleets, planets, and whole civilizations toppled in their wake. He shuddered at the thought.

  Chapter 6

  The rains of Lakeside City beat down, soaking the street and everyone outside. It rained often here, possibly more than any other city on Capital World, but somehow this rain seemed colder. Worse. More chilling…

  Guillermo waited, standing on the street corner with his hands in his jacket pockets, feeling his heart in his throat. Pounding. He swallowed hard and tried to remain calm. At the very least he had to appear calm. I am a regular citizen, he tried to reassure himself. A nobody. They won’t find me. How could they?

  And yet… they’d found so many of the others. Even Zane Martel and Rita Donovan, and all of the other Firsts. They’d died in their bunker, slaughtered brutally by all accounts, slain while awaiting Ascension. That glowing, glorious promise that never came. And now it certainly never would. Even if Caerwyn does take the throne, there’s no way of controlling him without Zane…

  Guillermo had no idea who’d been behind the massacre of the Phoenix Ring’s leadership. No one did. But whoever had managed it,
they’d effectively chopped the head off the snake. And now the organization was completely in tatters, reeling with no leadership. And no more money pouring in. Everyone was trying to save his own skin, desperate to survive, and Guillermo was no exception.

  I was Zane’s Second… I held a high post, a position of great honor in the group that was meant to become to most powerful organization in the entire galaxy. And yet, despite all the meticulous planning, it hadn’t happened. The Ascension hadn’t come. Not soon enough anyway… And before they could inherit their Empire, their leadership had been butchered and everyone else fled in in all directions. Chased and hunted like animals. If even half the rumors were true, the remaining Phoenix Ring members were being pursued and killed across the galaxy. Even though Guillermo didn’t know who’d executed the massacre at the bunker, he did know the Khans were one of the groups currently slaughtering Phoenix Ring members across the Empire. Things had been sour with the Khans ever since Zane refused to protect Khan soldiers he’d hired after they botched a hit. The Rahajiim were also involved, happy to eliminate their only group that could truly threaten them. And the Organization had a hand in these shadowy dealings too, Guillermo was sure. Three of the deadliest groups in the galaxy, and the Phoenix Ring’s list of enemies likely didn’t stop there.