The Phoenix Darkness (5 page)

When they’d first arrived in Republic space,
Calvin had been keen on having Alex at the helm, ready to respond
to the bombardment of instructions and hails he expected their ship
to receive. But instead, they were only given routine instructions
regarding a necessary course correction, due to a minor anomaly,
and were sent on their way. It turned out they weren’t the only
tiny trading vessel making the rounds. While passing one
interstellar hub, Calvin caught sight of hundreds, if not
thousands, of other small trading ships. All Rotham, and no one the
wiser. Their camouflage couldn’t have been more perfect. This had
inspired extra confidence in Calvin, and so he relieved Alex of his
duties once his shift was up, but wanting the Rotham to stay
nearby. Now they’d strayed just far enough off their designated
path that they were technically in military space. Once the vessel
reached the coordinates that Calvin and Alex had predetermined to
be their best observational vantage point, without making their
presence too obvious, Calvin brought the ship to a full stop.

“And if you’ll look out your windows, ladies
and gentlemen, we have arrived,” said Calvin, climbing out of the
pilot’s chair, making the congested Bridge feel even more
claustrophobia-inducing.

“Don’t you mean
lizards
and
gentlemen,” said Miles, looking unapologetically at Alex.

“Very droll, human,” said Alex. His tone was
unpleasant, but he didn’t seem as annoyed or offended as he usually
would have been by one of Miles’s insults. For that matter, Alex
seemed to be in genuinely better spirits ever since they’d crossed
into Republic space. Calvin could understand, on any assignment
which took him away from the Empire for any length of time, he was
always happy to be back, even if only for a short visit.

“Okay, Miles, just be cool,” said Calvin. “We
all have a mission to do, Alex included.”

Also with them was Rafael, who stood, looking
rather resolute with his one eye and eye patch, leaning against the
ops console. He’d kept an unusually shrewd watch over Alex since
they’d arrived in Rotham space, Calvin had noticed, but he’d
decided that was for the best, since that duty had been assigned to
Rafael when they left.

“Rafael,” said Calvin, “tell me what, if
anything, you can get on those scopes.”

Rafael nodded, then turned around. As he
worked the
Wanderer’s
decidedly low-tech instruments, Calvin
motioned for Alex to take the pilot’s seat so there’d be more room,
and Miles just stared at Alex, as if taking it upon himself to be
Alex’s watchdog whenever Rafael had his back turned.

Calvin had thought of this general area based
on some Intel Wing knowledge he recalled regarding various war
scenarios drawn up by them on request of Fleet Command should the
nations ever return to war. It was determined that the likeliest
location for the Rotham to group their fleets together to invade
The Corridor, but keep them distant enough to avoid long-range
detection by Imperial and Alliance listening posts and other
instruments, was a region of space the Empire called “The Red
Spot.” Alex, and presumably the rest of his people, had a different
name for it, but the idea was the same. The fleet grouped up inside
a cluster of three red giants, just barely far enough apart to have
not formed into a single supermassive star. And, sure enough, their
initial glimpse from a distant flyby seemed to reveal a mass of
starships, difficult to identify, centered right in the midst of
the star cluster.

Now the
Wanderer
had cautiously crept
to a new position, a vantage point that, after some discussion and
disagreement, Calvin and Alex had compromised on, which would allow
them to get a better picture of what the fleet of starships looked
like without drawing undue attention to themselves. They positioned
their tiny ship to be mostly invisible inside a vast, dispersed
debris field.

“Get me as good of images as you can,” said
Calvin, trying not to hover over Rafael’s shoulder.

“I’ll do my best…it’s really hard with this
equipment. I wish we were on the
Nighthawk
.”

“You and me both,” said Calvin.

“Amen!” added Miles.

Alex remained silent.

“It’s definitely a formation of ships,” said
Rafael. “And a lot of them. If they give me enough time, I can get
some decent readings.”

“Take the time,” said Calvin.

“I will. Provided they don’t leave or, you
know, discover us and come kill us, I think I can get some useful
information for the queen.”

“Excellent; keep me informed,” said Calvin.
He started to scoot his way backwards and toward the exit.

“You’re leaving?” asked Miles, sounding a
little disappointed.

“Yeah, I’d better check on the others
below.”

“Want some company?”

“Nah, I need you here to keep an eye on this
one,” Calvin said, motioning toward Alex with his thumb. This made
Miles smile.

“Gotcha, loud and clear, Cal.”

Alex looked at Calvin with an unamused frown,
but didn’t otherwise retort.

When Calvin turned to exit the Bridge, he
very nearly crashed headfirst into Rain Poynter who, evidently, was
trying to enter the Bridge at the same time, probably to see what
all the excitement was all about. Calvin stopped himself suddenly
by grabbing the first thing he could find, part of the hatch lever,
which also happened to have a very sharp edge. It sliced the top of
his left palm, but he managed not to go slamming onto the deck and
bringing Rain down with him.

“
Son of a
—” he mumbled quietly, as the
pain of, essentially, a giant paper cut shot through him.

“Oh, no,” said Rain, instinctively taking his
hand and opening it, which caused more pain, but he fought the
instinct to react. “Here, come with me, I’ll get this treated.” She
led him through the corridor and toward the cargohold that’d been
converted into a makeshift infirmary.

As he disappeared around the corner, he heard
Miles call after him, “You okay, Cal?”

“Fine,” Calvin yelled back. And, to be
honest, part of him actually did feel rather fine, despite the
searing, superficial pain. He wouldn’t have thought he’d like it so
much, but the fact that Rain gently held his hand with hers, all
the way to the infirmary, was surprisingly pleasant. Her long
fingers were warm to the touch and slender, like one would expect
of a pianist. As she cleaned the wound, applied disinfectant, and
bandaged it, Calvin found his eyes moving upward from Rain’s sweet,
tender hands and up her loose-fitting scrubs,
I really ought to
get her some better fitting scrubs
, all the way to her wild
tangle of red hair and eyes so pale-blue and majestic they could
have disarmed a bomb.

“There you go,” she said, letting his hand
go. It might have been his imagination, but she seemed to let go of
his hand more slowly than would be normal, almost as if her fingers
wanted to linger there, holding his…

Snap out of it, Calvin
! He blinked,
clearing away the beautiful image that was Rain’s eyes and pale
face, and looked away. “Uh, thank you, Rain.”

“You’re very welcome, Calvin,” she said.
“Now, I know it hurts now, but trust me, it’ll heal quickly.”

“Actually, it’s feeling quite a bit better
already,” he said, though not quite sure why; the pain was as
ever-present as before.

“Oh, good, I’m glad to hear it,” she said
with her trademark smile, which, Calvin swore, had the power to
bring cheer to even a man on his deathbed. “So, where were you off
to in such a hurry?” she asked. Clearly it was an invitation for
Calvin to stick around and visit, something he’d been contemplating
doing, but wasn’t quite sure how to make happen in a non-awkward
way.

“Well, one of my errands was to come check on
you, ironically enough,” said Calvin. “To see how you’ve been
getting by since we’ve entered Rotham space.”

***

It had taken an entire shift cycle: white,
red, and green, and still they'd not arrived at Izar Ceti. This had
been expected, of course, once the distance was calculated, but
nonetheless, Summers found herself on pins and needles while in the
command chair and unable to sleep when relieved. The isotome
weapons, the rest of them, were within their grasp.

It is up to me to destroy them
, she
made herself promise. Calvin had done his part, he’d eliminated
fifteen of the thirty weapons, now it was up to Summers to
eradicate the last fifteen. Even if it meant sacrificing the
Nighthawk
to do it, she’d gladly pay the price. She only
wondered if her crew felt the same way.

“Attention all of you,” she said to those
with her on the Bridge. Sarah, Shen, Mr. Roy, and Nimoux each
looked at her, clearly expecting some new instructions. “I have an
important question to ask each of you, and I would feel better
knowing your opinion on the matter.” Even Pellew, who was there
along with two soldiers whose presence Summers did not understand,
looked at her with anticipation.

“Yes, Commander?” asked Nimoux from her left.
His presence on the Bridge still seemed to inspire a degree of awe
and apprehension among the other officers, except for Pellew, who
was on record as distrusting him.

“When we arrive at Izar Ceti, there is a good
possibility we will encounter the rest of the isotome weapons. I
expect them to be aboard Zander’s ship.”

“Isn’t that what we’re hoping for?” asked
Sarah.

“Yes, it is,” said Summers. “Now, I don’t
think I need to tell you how very critical it is to the safety of
the Empire that we succeed.”

“No, Commander, you don’t need to explain,”
said Nimoux. “Those weapons, if I understand what you’ve told me
correctly, represent the single-most savage weapons of mass
destruction ever designed. I think I speak for us all when I say we
will do whatever it takes to eliminate them.”

“Even if it means the loss of the
Nighthawk
?” she asked, looking at each and every one of
them, “and potentially the loss of our lives?” This seemed to sober
them up.

“I don’t see why it would come to that,” said
Nimoux. “The
Nighthawk
has the
Duchess
heavily
outgunned, and there’s no indication Zander has any knowledge we
are coming. I don’t believe he's leading us into a trap. I think we
can perform this operation without any loss of life on our
end.”

“True, that is the hope,” said Summers,
looking Nimoux in the eyes. “But nothing is ever certain, and you
know as well as I it
might
come to that.” She looked at the
others once more. “So, what I need to know, from each of you, is
whether, should that moment arrive, we are prepared to do whatever
it takes, and sacrifice whatever it takes, to ensure those weapons
are destroyed. Are we all of one mind?”

“I am,” said Nimoux; it’d taken him all of
half a second to think it over. “I don’t want to die or lose the
ship and, as I’ve said, I don’t believe we’ll be faced with that
situation. But, if we are, then I think our responsibility is
clear. We each took oaths to protect and defend the Empire,
including at the cost of self-sacrifice, and I can think of no
nobler way to go out than eliminating the greatest danger ever
conceived.”

“Hear, hear,” said Mr. Roy.

“I don’t think we’re going to die,” said
Sarah. “Not if I’m flying the ship. And if Calvin taught me
anything, there’s always a way. We can do this without losing the
ship.”

“But if it came down to it, Lieutenant?”
asked Summers, looking sternly at her helmsman.

“Then, yes, of course, I would do it. Imagine
the alternative. What if we didn’t and those weapons got used on
some system? Billions of people…I couldn’t live with that on my
conscience.”

“Neither could I,” said Summers.

“Nor I,” said Nimoux. A somber look came over
him, and he looked down at his hands briefly. When he looked up
again, a moment later, the somberness was gone, but Summers had
seen it.
There’s something he hasn’t told me
, she thought.
He's carrying some kind of burden; some kind of guilt
.

“I’m not afraid to die,” said Shen in a tone
that made it seem he’d almost welcome it. “And if it means the
chance to help some people on my way out, well, it’d be hard to say
no to that.”

“Thank you,” said Summers, extremely proud of
her bridge officers. It was then that she heard a small cough and
noticed Pellew, leaning against a console, raising a solitary hand
as if waiting for permission to speak.

“At the risk of presenting an unpopular
opinion,” he said, quickly adding, “now, just hear me out. Please
have an open mind.”

“Very well,” said Summers, folding her arms
in disapproval. Doubting she was going to like hearing whatever he
was about to say.

“What if, instead of destroying the weapons,
we took them for ourselves?”

“
What?
!
?
” Summers was
flabbergasted. “What sort of criminal do you take me for?”

“Now, wait a moment, you said you’d hear me
out,” said Pellew, clearing his throat. “Think about it. Right now
we have many military threats, both inside the Empire and outside
of it. There’s the civil war going on, the threat of Rotham or
Polarian invasion. For all we know, the Dread Fleet could be on the
move, ready to purge all of us from existence.”

“Yes, there are a great many threats,” said
Summers. “Which we will stand against in turn as we are
required.”

“Which is admirable and noble and all of the
above,” said Pellew. “But what if this: what if instead of having
to stand against threat after threat, with increasingly reduced
forces, and ever longer odds of success, we didn’t have to?”

“How do you mean?” asked Summers.

“Simple. If we have the most dangerous
weapons in the galaxy, no one will dare attack us. No one would
dare mess with us for fear of what we could do to them!”