The Phoenix Darkness (45 page)

Alex sent his latest dispatch to the queue
when he noticed Calvin and Rafael step away from their terminal.
They darted into the elevator, along with the Polarian, the female
doctor, and the dumb specialist. Alex sprinted away from his
terminal and toward the elevator, but the door had closed.

He pressed the call button.
Hurry up, damn
you
. He counted the beeps as the elevator dropped each
deck.

He would
not
be left behind. Just
then, he heard a shrill noise; it repeated. The ship’s klaxon!
Someone must have noticed something and alerted the Bridge.
The
Rahajiim are onto us! They’ll be here any second!

***

He heard the klaxon start sounding; they all
did. It did very little to boost his confidence.

Calvin stood in the elevator with the others
as it took them down eleven decks. He could have gone down only two
and fairly easily reached the hangar they’d arrived in, but he knew
that would do them no good. There wasn’t a ship in that hangar they
could use for a practical escape; it was kept mostly empty. So,
after consulting with Rafael and the blueprints, he’d settled on
Hangar B. Hangar B could also have been reached from only two decks
below the AIC, but that path took them past a guard post and wound
them around a long stretch of corridor which could provide no cover
at all, nor any place to hide.

Instead, Calvin had planned out a more
nuanced path, one which should get them inside the hangar without
having to walk directly and obviously through the main doors.

“Don’t worry, guys,” he said, trying to
reassure himself too. “The Advent may have come here for a suicide
mission, but we
haven’t
. We’re getting off this ship! Let's
sneak around to Hangar B, where we’re going to take control of a
drone command shuttle.”

They looked back at him with fear and some
hope. He had their trust, every one of them, and he knew it, but
even to him his plan sounded unequal to the task. Though they held
their silence respectfully, as a demonstration of their trust, he
could hear their questions in the silence.

How will we safely get to Hangar B? How will
we safety get to, and take control of, such a shuttle? How will we
convince a starship, now on full alert, to open its hangar doors?
And, most importantly, how will we clear enough distance away from
an entire Rahajiim fleet, with ships much, much faster than a
shuttle, in order to successfully jump into alteredspace? And, once
we do jump, what will stop them from tracing our alteredspace jump
signature and chasing us down, forcing us back into normal space
where we can be obliterated or recaptured?

All good questions
, thought Calvin.
And although he had the general idea of a plan in his mind, it
wasn’t so detailed nor such a good plan that he dared share it
aloud. So all he told his people, to reassure them, using his most
confident voice, was, “Don’t worry about the minor details. I’ve
got a plan.”

The elevator came to a stop and the door slid
open revealing a large round room, not unlike the one they’d seen
earlier on deck 110. Now they were on deck 101 and, fortunately,
although the klaxon was ringing loudly and clearly, no one was in
plain view. Calvin scrambled out of the elevator, pistol at the
ready, and his teammates followed him with Rez’nac bringing up the
rear.

“This way,” Calvin waved, wanting to keep
them moving. He took them out of the round room and into a primary
corridor where, directly ahead, stood two soldiers marching
opposite them, likely on patrol. The two groups nearly bumped into
each other.

The soldiers were more surprised to see
Calvin’s team than the opposite and with two quick shots to the
head, one from Calvin and the other from Rez’nac at point blank
range, the soldiers were easily eliminated. No one else could be
seen except in the far distance down the primary corridor.

“Should we take them to the garbage chute?”
asked Miles.

“There’s no time,” said Calvin, taking the
first left which led the team down a long, skinny maintenance
corridor which appeared to dead end.

“Cal,” said Miles, from the center of their
group, “I’m not so sure this is the best idea. This looks like a
good place for them to trap us.”

“He’s right, Calvin,” said Rafael.

Calvin didn’t slow. “Just trust me and keep
hurrying,” he said. His people obeyed.

When they’d gone exactly as far as they
should have, based on the schematics Calvin had memorized, he
kicked at a panel and it came loose, revealing a series of ladders
which seemed to lead either up or down several dozen decks in
either direction.

“Bravo,” said Rain.

“Thanks,” said Calvin. Now let’s hurry;
they’ll see those soldiers any second and come this way soon. Up
the ladders, climb to deck 109. Then go through the hatch; it’ll
look just like this one. Rafael, you lead them.”

Calvin waited until last before climbing
through himself and taking hold of the ladder. He put the handle of
the pistol in his mouth and, with his freed hand, attempted to pull
the covering back and conceal the ladders. This proved more
difficult than expected and so he left it mostly covered, but
imperfectly.

He began to ascend, racing to catch up with
the others. As he climbed, he tried not to think about the heights
and the fall that awaited him should he lose his grip. It reminded
him of Monte and how he’d met his demise. Calvin felt somber for a
few seconds, respectfully mournful of his old friend.

***

Alex rushed out of the elevator on deck 101
which, if he’d counted right, should be the same deck Calvin and
his companions had stopped on. At first, when he reached the round
room, he wasn’t sure whether to go right or left. He peered down
each primary corridor, first checking left. He didn’t see anything,
just some staff running around to get to their stations. Probably
some guards too, off in the distance. He looked right and
immediately spotted two dead Roth Teldari; then Alex knew which way
to go.

He sprinted down the primary corridor and
then darted left into the maintenance corridor in order to dodge a
very large guard patrol he could hear approaching from around the
right corner, and knew they would imminently discover the two dead
soldiers. They’d immediately fan out and begin a search. Alex
decided that, should they find him in this rarely used corridor, he
would pretend to be a staff technician, only doing his job. His
Dendari uniform may or may not give him away, depending on whether
any Dendari served aboard this ship, but that was his best chance
of survival. So he sprinted down the maintenance corridor, wanting
to be as far away as possible.

He skidded to a stop when he noticed one of
the panels slightly askew. He removed it, thinking,
this is just
the thing to pretend to be fixing when they find me
, when he
heard footsteps climbing the ladder. He poked his head through and
saw several figures, far enough ahead of him that he couldn’t make
them out except one who was large and blue and seemed all sorts of
out of place:
Rez’nac
!

Alex scurried up the ladder as fast as he
could, desperate to keep up, not even stopping to try to put the
panel back into place. He couldn’t lose the humans; he
had
to keep up.

As surely as he could hear them, they,
apparently, could hear him. An energy beam blasted downward right
at him. He winced, feeling the heat as it passed by, inches off
target. He realized from this distance he doubted the humans could
recognize him, though he wasn’t sure if that improved or worsened
his chance of survival.

“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!” he yelled, his
voice echoing in the ladder tube. “It’s me;
Alex
!” He
resumed climbing as fast as he could, almost recklessly considering
the potential fall should he slip.

The shooting stopped, which he took as a good
sign. By the time they’d gotten to deck 109, he’d caught up with
the humans, each of whom had crawled through a newly opened panel
and now were squatting behind the minimal cover of a sideways
hallways. Directly ahead was another major corridor. The humans, it
seemed, were not too excited to take their chances heading through
it.

Alex climbed through and replaced the panel.
That should slow down any pursuit
, he thought,
if any is
coming.

Practically the instant he stood up, the
large human called Miles pointed his rifle at Alex and looked ready
to squeeze the trigger. Alex felt his stomach flip over and was
powerfully relieved when Calvin caught the barrel of the rifle and
lifted it upward, above Alex’s head.

“Why not?” asked Miles, looking at Calvin
with such surprise that Calvin would save Alex’s life. “After all
he’s done to us,” said Miles, through hate-seared eyes. “I say
let’s end him, here and now.”

“We’re not going to kill Alex,” said Calvin,
much to Miles’s disapproval and Alex’s relief.

“Give me one good reason why,” demanded
Miles.

“Because he’s going to help us get out of
here,” said Calvin, then he looked at Alex. “Now, isn’t that
right?”

“Yes, oh yes, absolutely,” said Alex, making
a mental note that once they were back on board the
Nighthawk
, assuming they got there, he would have to give
Miles the old Patrick O’Connor treatment. Except probably not
carbon monoxide again, too obvious… “I’m going to get us
all
out of here alive.”

“Well then, if I can’t shoot him,” said
Miles, “then at least let me do this.” Without any further warning,
he took a big, meaty swing at Alex and clocked him right in the
face. Alex crumpled to the ground in searing pain, his face covered
in blood from his probably broken nose. He felt around and
discovered a tooth had been knocked out from the blow.

Miles massaged his fist, which appeared to be
in some significant pain as well. Everybody looked at him.

“What?” asked Miles. “He deserved it.”

Calvin turned to Alex, “He’s got you
there.”

Alex ripped out one of his pockets, tore a
piece of the fabric into a thin strip, then balled it up inside his
bleeding nostril. Then he rose slowly to his feet, unsure what to
say or think. He knew he had to suffer the pain and the
indignation, at least for now, because it remained his only shot at
survival.

But I will have my revenge on you, Miles
Brown. Just you wait
.

***

“
You
go first,” said Calvin, pointing
his pistol at Alex, who looked surprised by the offensive
gesture.

“What?” asked the Rotham.

“That is a long stretch of corridor with
several intersecting corridors and literally no cover, which means
someone is going to have to scout ahead and then wave to the others
when it's clear to move.”

“If I were you,” said Rez’nac, towering over
Alex. “I would do as Calvin has commanded.”

“Very well, very well.” Alex peeked around
the corner and looked down the long corridor. Apparently not seeing
anyone, he sprinted away, pausing to walk at a nonchalant pace as
he reached the first intersection. Then he waved.

“Okay; let’s move, fast,” said Calvin. He led
the group and they ran for the first intersection. Meanwhile, Alex
had already made it to the second one. He held up his hand in the
stop position, then bent over pretending to be a member of the crew
inspecting the ventilation. Calvin didn’t know whether such a bluff
would work for Alex, but he knew for a fact it wouldn’t work for
the rest of them.

“Scatter,” he said, and his men split paths,
some heading down the left side corridor, others the right. They
leaned against the bulkheads and waited, listening.

Calvin heard the sound of boots; quite a lot
of them. Then there was an exchange in Rotham. Calvin looked to
Rafael for translation; unfortunately, the man had gone the other
way.

But Rafael gave Calvin a thumbs-up, so Calvin
took that as a sign Alex’s ruse had worked. He waited for the
marching boots to be heard again and was pleased to hear them
growing quieter, going farther away.

When he felt it was safe, Calvin peeked
around the corner. Alex gave them the wave.

“Next intersection,” said Calvin and his team
ran. Like before, Alex sprinted ahead, checking on the third and
final intersection before they could get into the maintenance
tunnels which would lead them below Hangar B.

Calvin held his breath, waiting. Alex gave
them no sign at first, as if something had caught his interest.
Calvin was about to give the order to scatter for cover when Alex
waved them forward.

“Follow me,” said Calvin. He sprinted
forward, leading the group, and passed Alex when he got to him.
They made a right turn and Calvin reached a series of panels. If he
was right, it would be the third one from the left. He undid the
panel and a crawlspace was revealed. “In here.” He led, crawling
quickly on his hands and knees forward, so the others could get
inside.

“Whoever is last should put that panel back
into place,” said Rafael.

“That’s a good idea,” said Calvin.

“I am last; I shall do it,” said Rez’nac,
whose larger muscular frame could only barely fit inside the narrow
crawlspace, which was clearly meant for much tinier Rotham
engineers. Calvin was momentarily scared that Rez’nac wouldn’t be
able to move forward. But with a little dumb luck, a lot of effort,
and possibly the grease of his own sweat, the hulking Polarian
managed to inch his way through, falling behind the group, but
making his way forward.

Calvin rounded several corners and then took
them on a straight path for some time. He counted the movements of
his knees as he wormed his way forward, wanting to be sure that
they arrived in the exact correct place.