The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7)

by Richard Sanders

  “So, how did you choose who for what?” asked Rafael.

  “Well, isn’t that a bit obvious?” said Calvin. “Summers is acquainted with the navy, as a naval officer, and you with Intel Wing.”

  “No, I meant, why us two?” said Rafael. “As opposed to say…someone else you trust. We can’t literally be the only two candidates, can we?”

  “You two are the right people for the jobs,” said Calvin, “Of that, I’m one-hundred percent confident. Summers, I’ve never met a more unimpeachable, less corruptible person in my life—no offense, Rafael.”

  “None taken,” replied Rafael.

  Summers blushed.

  “I trust you to manage the Fleet with the kind of integrity that the Fleet needs.”

  Summers nodded. “If given that honor, like you say I will be, I promise to do just that.”

  Calvin smiled at that. “As for you, Rafael, I chose you to have the top job at Intel Wing for very similar reasons. I would also add in the fact that, when taken by the enemy, you faced and endured unspeakable torture, yet you never broke, you never betrayed me, and you never betrayed the Empire. That shows incredible strength of character and determined force of will; for those reasons, I nominated you.”

  Rafael wasn’t the type to blush, but Calvin could tell the eye-patched man was flattered.

  “Which brings me to my one great request from each of you, well, two actually,” said Calvin.

  “Yes?” asked Rafael.

  “Anything,” said Summers.

  “As soon as the two of you each take full control of your respective departments, I ask that you do a full, complete, and intensely thorough audit of the entire Fleet and all of Intel Wing,” said Calvin.

  “That was already my plan,” said Summers.

  Rafael nodded. “I’ll make sure it gets done.”

  “Good,” said Calvin, “Because, however much corruption still remains, it’s important that those dead branches are ripped from the tree and cast into the fire; do you understand?” He looked each of them in the eyes with intensity, hoping to communicate just how important this request was.

  “Of course we will,” said Summers.

  “You can count on us,” agreed Rafael.

  Calvin nodded.

  “What was the second request?” asked Summers.

  “I suppose it’s really two more requests,” said Calvin.

  “Wow this list of orders just keeps getting longer,” said Rafael, “Even though I’m about to be your boss, not the other way around.”

  Calvin ignored the joke. “First of all, keep a close eye on the queen. I mean, watch her like a hawk. Now that we know she is capable of anything. If you suspect she is ever, at any point from now, up to something nefarious again, then we, the three of us, will have to deal with it somehow.”

  “I agree,” said Summers.

  “Make that two of us,” said Rafael. “Now, as for your final request? Or is that one split into two as well?”

  This time, Calvin smirked. “No, just one. But it’s as important as any of the others.”

  “Well, then, let’s hear it,” said Rafael.

  “Watch your backs,” said Calvin. “Beware of any shadow, sleep with one eye open, do whatever it takes—but stay safe!”

  Summers smiled when he said that. “You too, Calvin,” she said. “It’s a dangerous galaxy out there, you know.”

  “I know,” said Calvin. “One or two experiences have given me that impression. But, speaking seriously again, while I am out there, chasing star after star, you two will be here, in Capital World, in the thicket of the politics, the corruption, and possibly be thrust into—or become aware of—future conspiracies. As dangerous as it is out there, it is far more dangerous here.”

  They seemed to take his warning with the sobriety that he had hoped.

  “I’ll be careful,” said Rafael.

  “As will I,” said Summers. “I promise.”

  Calvin nodded. “Thank you. Thank you both.” Then, without any warning, he embraced each of them, in turn. “Thank you so much for your help, for keeping me alive, and for doing all you could to help save our Empire. To help save humanity.”

  “We couldn’t have done it without you, Calvin,” said Summers.

  “That’s right,” said Rafael.

  When finally he had let go, he felt the beginning of a tear form in his right eye. He subtly wiped it away. “Well…” he said, looking once more at each of them. Dear friends who had managed to walk the journey of fire with him, and each make it through. Despite the odds, despite the dangers, despite everything… “I suppose this is goodbye, then.”

  “I suppose so,” said Rafael. “But only for now. You’ll be hearing from me plenty,” said Rafael, “Once I take over as Director of Intel Wing, I’m sure there will be mess after mess I will need to send you to clean up. So much and so often that you’ll get sick of this ugly mug.”

  Calvin smiled. “Goodbye, Rafael. Goodbye, Summers.”

  “Goodbye, Calvin,” they both said.

  Then, together, they left the office, at which point they immediately split and began walking their separate ways. Each with a new destiny ahead of them. Their journeys no longer intertwined.

  After Calvin had walked about ten meters, he heard footsteps scampering behind him. He whirled around to see Summers. She threw herself at him, taking him into such a tight embrace he could scarcely breathe. He hugged her back.

  After a few seconds, they each let go, somewhat hesitantly. Calvin then saw that Summers’s beautiful eyes were brimming with actual tears.

  “Who would have thought,” she began to say, then took a moment to regain her composure. “Who would have thought…after all the trouble you were to me…oh, God, I’ll just say it,” she smiled and let a few tears streak down her face. “I’m going to miss you, Calvin Cross. I’m going to miss the hell out of you.”

  Calvin smiled, feeling touched. And knew that he was going to miss Summers equally as much.

  “I’ll still be around,” said Calvin. He pointed to the huge deck window which brimmed with stars. “Just look at the night sky and find the brightest star,” he pointed toward the window, at the view of the stars. “Then count three to the left,” he moved his finger, “And you’ll have found me,” he said with a smile. “Because that’s probably where I am.”

  She resisted, but let out a small laugh. “Oh Calvin, next time you are on Capital System, please give me a message so we can meet for a cup of coffee and you can update me on your latest adventures.”

  Calvin nodded. “Yeah, that sounds nice,” he said. And he meant it. Even though he didn’t particularly like coffee.

  “And,” said Summers. “This had better not be one of those goodbyes where two people pretend they are going to see each other again—even though they both know it isn’t true—this, this is not like that,” she stared into his eyes, as if in search of any sign of deception.

  “Of course not,” said Calvin. “This is for real.”

  “Promise me,” demanded Summers. “Promise me this is not our farewell.”

  “I promise,” said Calvin.

  And with that, they exchanged goodbyes one final time, and parted ways.

  ***

  Kalila sat upon her throne in the Ancient Palace, feeling a sense of regal calm like never before. The struggles were over—at least for the time being—and the end result had been achieved. It hadn’t been a bloodless victory, and indeed there had been much more sacrificed than she had hoped or planned, but, ultimately, she was where she was supposed to be. On her throne. On Capital World. Guiding and governing the Empire.

  She thought briefly about Calvin. He could prove a danger at some point. Or, just as likely, he may continue to prove useful. During their confrontation, when he had made his choice—and lowered his weapon—she had made her choice, to trust him, at least for now.

  Kalila had made good on her promises to him. She would instate Calvin’s recommended people to t
he leadership of both the Fleet and Intel Wing, people on whom Kalila would keep a close eye. Kalila had also released and returned Calvin’s mother—who, unlike Kalila’s family—had been taken to isolation gently and held under luxurious conditions. Whatever Kalila was, she was no barbarian. Since then, too, Calvin and his mother had reunited. That must have won her some credibility with Calvin, at the very least. Finally, she had, by royal decree, delivered directly to Intel Wing, granted Calvin Cross the official rank of Captain, and given him command of the IWS Phantom, the original and last remaining of the phantom-class starships. She had even had several improvements and additions made to it before turning over control.

  As for what the future held, Kalila was optimistic, but only because she was forward thinking and prophylactic. Her fleet reported the total annihilation of the remaining Rotham ships, which she had since reported as lost during the Battle for Capital System—to which no one seemed the wiser.

  On top of that, Calvin had dropped a Hunter ship onto her doorstep. Currently, her people were reverse-engineering the advanced starship, learning all they could, and they would apply that knowledge to a new class of starship, the Radian Class Frigate, which would utilize the same stealth capability, be extremely fast, and further ensure the security and interests of the Empire. She had ordered a prototype to be made as swiftly as time would allow.

  The Apollo Yards were being reconstructed also, with plans calling for them to be grander and more efficient than ever before. There will be more war, she thought. Not today. Probably not even tomorrow. But it is coming. It always does. And when it arrives, we’ll be ready.

  Kalila leaned back in her throne, the very throne she had worked so very hard to obtain, her birthright and her destiny, and, although her heart is heavy with the sacrifices that had been made to get her here, she knew that, ultimately, everything had been made right. And at last, after everything they had suffered, humanity was ultimately safe.

  Because, finally, she could protect them.

  CHAPTER 26

  Calvin chose to tour the IWS Phantom before heading to the bridge to begin his next mission. In nearly every respect, the ship felt exactly like the Nighthawk. There were subtle differences; it was less scuffed and not so worn in places, for example, but ultimately everything about it felt hauntingly similar. The only thing that felt truly out of place was the fact that all the faces were so unfamiliar—it felt wrong. And it would be something that, he knew, would take him some time to get accustomed to.

  He spent only a small amount of time in Main Engineering, everything about it seemed the same; he spent a little longer in the infirmary, even though everything about it looked the same too. It was hard for him to see the door leading to the Chief Physician’s apartment and not imagine Monte, or Rain, sleeping on the other side.

  By far, where he spent the most time, however, proved to be the observation deck. When he had first entered, it too looked approximately the same. A relatively empty space with a great, massive window for seeing out. The current view was that of the stardock, and so not particularly interesting. When he turned, though, that was when he saw that the main wall was entirely different. Rather than flat, black metal bulkhead, there was a memorial wall with several names engraved in it, along with a picture next to every name, and a few sentences about who each individual had been.

  Above it all were engraved the words WALL OF HEROES and below that, also engraved, it read: When the Bell Tolled, We Held our Ground, Firm and Forever for our Empire. May our Sacrifice Never Be Forgotten!

  Calvin walked from one side of the wall to the other, tracing several of the names with his fingers. Among the slain heroes were: Miles, Nimoux, Rain, but it was not limited just to those who had fallen in the final action, it included everyone who had died in service of the Nighthawk, including Mister Rose and Monte Blair, among others. Calvin found each of the tributes tasteful and, in a way, as he looked at Miles’s picture one last time, it felt as though his friend was coming with him on his next great adventure after all.

  Very nice touch, thought Calvin. It seemed the queen meant to make good on her promises, and then some. Not that Calvin was going to ever let his guard down with her again.

  Eventually, Calvin found himself on the bridge of the IWS Phantom—it was all he could do not to refer to the ship as the Nighthawk by mistake. The crew stood ready, all in a line, all saluting once he arrived. There was even a yeoman blowing that damned whistle to announce the arrival of the captain to the bridge.

  I can see we have some retraining to do, thought Calvin.

  “At ease,” ordered Calvin, as his people took their stations. As he looked at each one of them, wondering what their stories were and what had brought them here, he tried to get over the fact that they seemed to be the wrong people occupying those chairs. Miles was not reclined at the Defense Post. Shen was not at Ops…neither was Sarah, in her cropped uniform, sitting confidently at the pilot’s station.

  Calvin had been pleased to learn that Shen and Sarah had survived the Battle for Capital System—he hadn’t even known they had participated in it, but evidently they had rendered their services to one of the support ships, which kept them away from most of the direct combat.

  Naturally, Calvin had offered both Shen and Sarah their old jobs back, and had hoped they would accept. It would have been nice, he thought, to have some familiar faces on the ship with him. But both Sarah and Shen had declined; instead, they had both resigned their military commissions and were excited about civilian life—and for the opportunity to continue exploring their feelings for one another, unsure where that might take them, but hopeful. Calvin was glad to see that at least some of his friends had gotten a happy ending out of everything—or so things looked anyway.

  Unfortunately, without them, that left Calvin alone on the IWS Phantom. His XO was no longer the ever-faithful yet obsessed-with-protocol Summers Presley; the nearest thing Calvin had to a friend on the ship was really just an acquaintance, and that was the assignment of former First Lieutenant Ferreiro—now Captain Ferreiro—as the commander of the special forces unit on the IWS Phantom—at Calvin’s request. He had also retained as many of the Nighthawk’s survivors as possible, any who were willing, and, although he knew very few of them, he considered it his way, almost like a second chance, to really get to know them, the way he wished he had gotten to know every single crewman that had lost his or her life when Custos destroyed the Nighthawk.

  Still, the ship was full of strange faces, especially the bridge. Each officer had come highly recommended, and Calvin had pored through countless personnel files in helping to select the crew of the Phantom. But still, it would be difficult for him to accept these new faces, and these new people, occupying positions that, to Calvin, did not belong to them.

  But Calvin refused to let that get him down. Survivors adapt, he thought. And, if that meant getting to know an entirely new crew, he decided he would choose to view the experience as an opportunity to make new friends, and discover new backstories, rather than lament, mourn, and miss old ones. As much as he might hate it, change was part of life, and he accepted that. The past would always be part of him, and he wouldn’t change that, though painful it might be at times; however, that didn’t have to take anything away from the new crew and new opportunities right in front of him.

  Calvin had already taken the liberty of memorizing the names of each of his new White Shift officers, and whatever bits and pieces about them he could manage to remember from their personnel files.

  “Miss Green,” he said, deciding to introduce his given-names-only policy a bit later, not wanting to set too lackadaisical a standard from the very onset—God, Summers has gotten to me, hasn’t she? he thought. “If you would kindly detach us from the stardock and maneuver us out into open space, please.”

  “Aye, aye, sir,” replied the young pilot. She was an ensign and fresh from the Academy but, by all reports, an excellent pilot and talented investigator. Calvin doubted sh
e was any match for Sarah’s piloting skills—then again, who was? Even Calvin himself knew Sarah had him bested. But, perhaps, in time, if he gave Miss Green a chance, she could reach that tier.

  “Status of all systems,” said Calvin, finally taking his seat at the command position.

  “All systems green,” said Mister Namasri from the Ops post. “Sir!”

  “All defense systems are functioning within expected parameters, Captain,” said Miss Kendrick from the Defense post.

  “Very good,” said Calvin.

  “We have maneuvered out of the stardock and into open space,” said Miss Green.

  “Please set the given coordinates and prepare for alteredspace jump,” said Calvin.

  “Aye, sir,” said Miss Green. “Setting coordinates and prepping for jump, sir.”

  Rafael had given Calvin a tip on the missing ISS Phoenix’s last known whereabouts. Calvin’s current mission—at his own request—was to track down Anand Datar and find out just what had happened to him. Had he gone insane? Had he been replaced by a replicant? Was there some other explanation for his odd behavior, including his obsessive attempts to destroy the Nighthawk? It was the final mystery and Calvin had to have the answers. Fortunately, the tip Intel Wing had received, that Rafael had been quick to pass along, was only two days old. A millennium in intelligence work, but it was something to go on.

  “Course laid in, sir,” said Miss Green. “We are prepared to jump on your signal.”

  Calvin turned his chair to face his new XO. “Mister Hobbes, would you do the honors, please.”

  “Gladly, sir,” his new XO said with a smile. Then he became all business. “All hands prepare to jump, Ensign Green, commence alteredspace jump as soon as possible, and bring us to a depth of ninety-percent potential.” He then shot a look Calvin’s direction, as if to check with him and make certain that was okay. Calvin nodded. “Yes, ninety-percent potential, and then report once we have stabilized within alteredspace.”

  “Aye, sir, commencing jump now,” said Miss Green.