The Phoenix War

by Richard L. Sanders

  “It’s quite all right, Commander Presley,” he said, unfolding his legs and standing up.

  “You know who I am?”

  “You seem surprised.”

  “It’s just… I didn’t expect you to, that’s all,” she said. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw her cheeks blush ever so slightly.

  “When I was given the assignment to track down the Nighthawk, I made certain to familiarize myself with everything the Intel Wing archives had on the ship, including personnel files,” he explained.

  Summers nodded. “Ah, yes that makes sense.”

  “Commander, I know you and your crew have no reason to trust me—since not too long ago I was trying to bring you all into custody,” said Nimoux, “but I need you to understand that things have changed. After what I experienced on Gamma Persei Three… well, let’s just say I’ve had my eyes opened, and I want to help you, not hinder you.”

  Summers looked pleased to hear this, but she also clearly made an effort to keep her face neutral. “I will ask you all about that in a moment when Captain Pellew gets here,” she said. “If you want to earn our trust, I cannot emphasize enough how important it is that you tell the truth, omitting nothing.”

  “Of course,” said Nimoux. Ever since he’d reached out to the Nighthawk with the distress beacon, he’d always meant to share everything he knew with them. “Will Calvin be joining us too? He’ll want to hear what I have to say.”

  “Unfortunately he will not be joining us,” said Summers without any further explanation.

  Why ever not? Nimoux wondered, wanting to demand an answer, certainly his intel was worthy of the CO’s time, but he knew demands would get him nowhere so instead he asked, “could you expound on that?”

  “Not at this time,” said Summers. Clearly they weren’t going to share information with him until they’d decided how far he could be trusted.

  Very well, thought Nimoux, time to get the ball rolling. “The first thing you should know,” said Nimoux, “is that there is an informer on your ship leaking information about your movements to Intel Wing. That was how I was able to track the Nighthawk to the QH-212 star.”

  “Can you identify this informer?” asked Summers, folding her arms.

  “Happily. His name is Midshipman Patrick O’Conner.”

  Summers nodded, looking relieved that Nimoux had named that particular name. “That problem has already taken care of itself,” she said.

  “How so?” asked Nimoux, curious.

  “Mister O’Conner is now deceased. Come to think of it, he died in that very spot,” her eyes flicked to the cot in the brig not three inches from where Nimoux was standing.

  “That’s… comforting,” said Nimoux. Before he could try to get more information out of her regarding O’Connor’s death, the far door opened and two people entered. One was Captain Pellew, who Nimoux had expected, the other was a member of the medical staff. I wonder why they need a doctor here, he thought.

  “I’m glad to see that Baldy’s still in his cell,” said Pellew shooting Summers a dark look. “I half expected you to lower the forcefield for him and hand him the keys to the ship.”

  “I don’t very much like your tone, Mister Pellew,” said Summers. She unfolded her arms and met Pellew’s gaze with callous eyes. “Captain Lafayette Nimoux is in custody for the time being, but that doesn’t diminish the fact that he is a hero of the Empire. And you will show him the proper respect.”

  “My apologies, Captain Nimoux,” said Pellew, not making much of an effort to sound sincere. “I’ve just always found it odd that you don’t do anything about your hair loss. Don’t you think it’s peculiar, Commander Presley?”

  Summers didn’t seem to know how to reply.

  “That’s right, it’s weird.” Pellew put his hands on his hips.

  “It’s not weird,” snapped Summers. “Besides, Captain Nimoux has more than earned our respect and you will show it regardless of what you think about him, his character, or his hairstyle.”

  Nimoux supposed he ought to feel offended by all this talk of hair but, rather than having hurt feelings, he actually found the whole exchange quite entertaining. True, the specter of male-pattern baldness was a demon that had been long conquered by the advances of science and there were numerous treatments available to correct the apparent problem, but Nimoux had never really understood the fuss. He was who he was and looked how he looked. He respected anyone who chose decided to take action to keep their locks, but he personally found more in common with the few who allowed nature to simply take its course.

  “I apologize on behalf of my special forces garrison commander,” said Summers. She looked far more embarrassed than Nimoux felt.

  “No apology is necessary,” said Nimoux. “And if it’s all right with you, I’d rather just get right to it. I have information that is critical. The Empire is in grave danger and there isn’t much time. And while I appreciate the fact that you’ve brought a medical professional here, I think its best we dispense with any medical examination for the time being. I don’t believe I have an pressing injuries.”

  “Doctor Andrews isn’t here to give you any medical examination,” said Pellew. “Andrews needs to give you a shot.” He then looked at the other special forces soldier, the woman who’d been standing guard. “Tara, lower the forcefield.”

  “I promise we will see to your medical needs as soon as we can,” said Summers, her voice was full of sympathy. “But we have to do this first.”

  What is going on? Nimoux wondered as the forcefield dropped and the doctor stepped closer.

  “Mister Nimoux, I need you to please roll up your left sleeve,” said the doctor. When he was about a foot away, he stopped and withdrew a needle from his medical bag. He adjusted it carefully and gave it a flick.

  “Do as he says,” commanded Pellew, both he and Tara held batons and looked ready to use them.

  “I promise there is no danger,” Summers reassured him.

  “Very well,” Nimoux did as they asked and rolled up his left sleeve. Once he had, the doctor cleaned a spot on his arm and readied the needle. Nimoux wondered if the drug they were about to administer was something meant to weaken his mental faculties and make him more amenable to questioning. “I must advise against injecting me with anything that might affect my memory.”

  “You’ll do as we say,” said Pellew.

  “Don’t worry, it’s only Xinocodone,” said Summers. “It’s perfectly safe.”

  Xinocodone? That’s a pain medication, thought Nimoux, a really strong one. But it doesn’t have any interrogation utility, does it?

  “I’m not in any pain,” he said. Wondering if they thought, because of his haggard appearance, he was suffering. “Though a hot cup of tea would not go unappreciated.”

  “This isn’t for the pain,” said the doctor. He stuck Nimoux’s arm and injected the chemical.

  Almost instantly Nimoux felt a light-headed tingle and a rush of calm.

  “There,” said the doctor, removing the needle gently. He cleaned and bandaged the injection site and then left the cell. As soon as he was clear, Tara re-activated the forcefield.

  “I’m sorry, Captain, but it’s a necessary precaution,” said Summers. “You’ll understand in time.”

  “All right,” said Nimoux, more than a little confused. He sat down on the cot because he felt a little dizzy.

  “Now, there was some critical information you wanted to tell us,” said Summers. “What was it?”

  “The prison,” said Nimoux urgently. Even though his thoughts felt a little muddled by the drug, he hadn’t forgotten the imminence of the danger. “There’s something you need to know about it.”

  Summers looked curious. Pellew, on the other hand, looked at Nimoux like he was crazy. “The prison wasn’t just any prison,” said Nimoux. “The people running it… they would abduct people and take them there, making them into prisoners. I’m talking about people of real influence. Corporate leaders, members of
the Assembly, admirals and captains, even Director Edwards and Vice Admiral Harkov were there!”

  “You saw the Director of Intel Wing and the Commander of the Fifth Fleet?” asked Summers, her eyes widened.

  “Yes,” said Nimoux. “They were abducted too and brought against their will to Gamma Persei Three, just like they did to me and everyone else. And that’s not the worst of it. When they abduct a prisoner , they replace him or her with a convincing look-alike. I don’t know how they do it exactly, but they’ve found a way. So their people are the ones in positions of power, masquerading as other people, and no one knows the difference. The Jack Edwards who is in the Office of the Director right now… he’s not the real Director Edwards. The real Edwards was on Gamma Persei Three with me, I swear it. And they murdered him,” said Nimoux. “I know it sounds crazy but you have to believe me.”

  “How did you end up in this prison?” asked Summers.

  “It all happened after Remus Nine. After you escaped, I was regrouping my squadron and a fleet came. Descended on the system from out of nowhere. Thirty Rotham warships,” he recalled his shock at the sight of alien warships lighting up the Desert Eagle’s scopes. Somehow they’d snuck through the DMZ and evaded all the Imperial listening posts… Or else had arranged for any sighting of their fleet to go unreported.

  “I scrambled my forces and fled the system,” Nimoux continued. “After we regrouped, I tried to warn the military of what I’d seen. That the Rotham had sent a war fleet into Imperial space, in defiance of the peace treaty. I thought we were at war…” it hadn’t been that long ago, not truly, and yet it felt like some distant, past lifetime. “But they buried my report and disbanded my squadron. They then ordered me to go aboard the ISS Wolverine.” He recalled the ominous feeling he’d had when he’d boarded the navy battleship, knowing that something was greatly out of place. And the sudden surprise he’d felt when he’d been taken at gunpoint by Imperial marines—his own escort forced to stand down. “They, uh, they took me into custody. And the next thing I knew I was on Gamma Persei Three, suddenly a prisoner. I can only assume that my lookalike had replaced me. They probably had him aboard the Wolverine and sent him back to my ship in my stead. My faithful crew unknowingly abandoning me.”

  “But you don’t know for sure that that’s what happened?” asked Summers.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t know whether or not they replaced you when they captured you,” she clarified.

  “No, I don’t know for sure. That’s true,” admitted Nimoux. “Once I was taken into custody, I didn’t know anything that was happening.”

  “Then how can you be so sure that people are being replaced after they’re abducted?” asked Pellew. Nimoux noted in the man’s eyes that he no longer seemed doubtful, but remained distrustful. I wonder if he knows something about this, Nimoux thought.

  “I base my hypothesis on the fact that, once I was brought into the prison colony, I encountered several people, most notably Director Edwards, who I knew were not missing. And yet here they were, on the prison colony, claiming to have been there for weeks or months. Obviously no one can be in two places at once, so one or the other had to be a duplicate. The facts suggest the likelier explanation was that people were abducted and replaced, not that a prison colony happened to exist that was full of identical twins insanely believing they were actually other people elsewhere in the galaxy. Especially since I experienced abduction myself and knew firsthand they were telling the truth.”

  Summers nodded. Although obviously intrigued, she didn’t seem as surprised by this information as Nimoux had expected. Perhaps she and Calvin are already onto the nature of the threat, he thought hopefully.

  “So you identified an enemy fleet entering the Remus System, thirty warships strong, and you were taken prisoner aboard the ISS Wolverine, and then you found yourself on a prison colony on Gamma Persei Three full of influential people who’d been secretly abducted, and then you escaped and hailed us, and by the time we arrived everybody else was dead?” asked Summers. “Is that everything?”

  “Yes that’s right. Oh and all of the prisoners were human, as were the guards,” Nimoux added, trying to recall any detail that might prove useful. “I don’t know exactly who was running the prison, but I’m guessing they’re part of the same conspiracy Calvin is fighting against.”

  “I see,” said Summers thoughtfully.

  “Why did you hail the Nighthawk?” asked Pellew. “Why not hail your own ship. I just can’t understand why you would hail us.”

  “I think that is a very good question,” said Summers.

  “I very nearly did hail the Desert Eagle,” said Nimoux. “But then I remembered how the others prisoners had been replaced by duplicates, and—despite how impossible it seemed—I knew I’d probably been replaced too. And if I had, that means a false Nimoux is commanding the Desert Eagle, and you can bet he wouldn’t race to Gamma Persei Three and rescue me. No, the only ship I could be sure wasn’t working for them was the Nighthawk. So I hailed you.”

  Pellew still looked skeptical but Summers looked greatly relieved. No doubt this very question had been bothering her. I think she wants to justify trusting me, thought Nimoux.

  “Is there any more we should know?” asked Summers. “About the prison or anything else?”

  “Not that I can think of,” said Nimoux, racking his brain for anything else that could be of use. “Just that I hope you understand I’m not the enemy. After what I’ve seen and what I’ve been through… I know you’re on the right side of this. All I want to do is help, believe me.”

  “Good to know,” said Summers. “Thank you, that will be all for now. Fresh clothes will be brought to you so you can get out of that and into something clean and I’ll see to it that you get the medical attention you need.”

  “Thank you,” said Nimoux gratefully. “And, if I could trouble you for one more thing?”

  Summers looked curious. “What?”

  “A cup of tea would be beyond wonderful, any kind will do as long as it’s hot. I haven’t had any in ages.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said. With that Summers and Pellew left. Tara resumed standing guard and Nimoux was again alone with his thoughts.

  Now they have to decide whether or not to trust me, Nimoux thought. Believing they ultimately would. And when they did, he could start making a difference once again. Sadly, it was too late to help Harkov, Edwards, and the rest of the prisoners on Gamma Persei Three, but he hoped desperately that it wasn’t yet too late to help the Empire.

  ***

  The door to her office slid open, momentarily breaking Kalila’s concentration. She looked up to see Captain Adiger enter.

  “Pardon the interruption, Your Majesty,” said Adiger, “I have a report from Sir Reginald.”

  She felt her heart quicken. After all the cautious consideration, tactical assessment, delicate maneuvering, and carefully-discreet correspondence between her and her most trusted knights, the time had finally arrived for her to execute her plan. If it worked, it should prove a powerful blow Caerwyn Martel’s unjust cause. And go a long way toward restoring the Empire. “It’s no interruption,” said Kalila. “I’ve been waiting eagerly for Sir Reginald’s first report.”

  Adiger nodded. “Very good, Your Majesty. Sir Reginald reports that his squadron is closing in on Olympia. So far no sign of the enemy fleet.”

  Kalila wasn’t sure whether to take that as a good sign or a bad one that Sir Reginald’s forces hadn’t yet run afoul of the Assembly’s fleet. “If the enemy is still ignorant of the fact that a hostile force is about to pounce on one of their most valuable systems, I’m sure they’ll figure it out soon,” said Kalila.

  “And when they do, their fleet will rush to Olympia, just as you planned,” said Adiger.

  Kalila nodded, thinking that had to be right. It just had to. “And you’re sure that intelligence about our attack on Olympia has been sufficiently leaked?”


  “Yes, Your Majesty. And even if not, the listening posts in the region that are loyal to the Assembly will notice Sir Reginald’s squadron and sound the alarm. I’m certain that word will reach the enemy if it hasn’t already.”

  “And Sir Reginald, he understands his orders, I trust,” said Kalila. “His forces are to descend upon Olympia and feint attack until the enemy fleet is upon them. And then, at the last possible instant, they are to withdraw and escape. Not engage the Assembly’s forces.”

  “Sir Reginald and I have discussed the details at length,” said Captain Adiger. “He knows his duty is to lure the Assembly fleet to Olympia and buy you as much time as possible, but he is not to get himself and his squadron killed if he can avoid it, and by the time the enemy realizes your true target is the Apollo Yards, their forces will be too far out of position to respond in time. By the time they get there, the Apollo Yards will be in our possession. And with minimal loss of life.”

  Yes, this should work, Kalila reminded herself. She’d planned it all out so very meticulously, every detail; there was nothing to worry about. And yet she couldn’t help but worry. It was her first combat order as Queen of the Empire, and she knew that the resulting loss of life, great or small, would be on her conscience.

  We have to take the Yards, she reminded herself. If such a strategic point remained in Caerwyn’s possession, he could easily attack her core worlds. Cutting her off from supplies and breaking up support for her faction. Possibly bringing the rest of the Empire into his scheming, self-serving hands. The Yards definitely had to be removed as a threat. And the easiest, most humane way, was to lure the enemy fleet away and then capture the Yards. Just as she’d planned. And she knew she couldn’t allow herself to keep having doubts.

  “The fleet is standing by and ready for your order, Your Majesty,” said Adiger.

  Kalila nodded. “Very well, Captain. Send a general order to all battlegroups,” she said, showing no hesitation whatsoever. “Prep for immediate alteredspace jump. The time has come to attack.”