The Phoenix War (17 page)

“Very well,” said Samil, knowing it would be
unwise to provoke the strigoi by disobeying him. Not just because
the strigoi could rip him to pieces more easily than scissors
through paper, but also because he still depended on the Enclave
chemically. Without the dose they gave him each day, his heart
would stop.
If I should anger them, they might stop giving it to
me,
he thought
. Especially now that they seem to value me
less and less by the hour
…

He wandered back to his apartment. Deciding
to be alone with his thoughts and try to make sense of everything
that was happening. As he sat down on the small sofa, he took in
the simple fixtures of his apartment and immediately thought of
that one brief, glorious day when his son Calvin had paid him an
unexpected visit. The boy hadn’t seemed grateful to see him, and
Samil didn’t blame him. He’d never been the kind of father Calvin
had wanted, or deserved. That was a fact Samil had come to accept
long ago. But still… to see him, a man grown, and looking so much
like his father—yet with his mother’s soft eyes…
Oh Olivia, if
only I could see you again too
.

It had meant everything to see that his son
was still alive. And, if the universe was kind, Calvin had escaped
the hellish surface of Remus Nine—where he’d been bent on going—and
still breathed.

I don’t know how you’re wrapped up in all
of this
, thought Samil as he considered what was going on
across the galaxy.
But dark things are in motion
. And that
meant bad fortune for the Empire, and for anyone involved in trying
to protect it. That meant Calvin was in imminent danger himself.
And if he was, then so was Olivia. No doubt Calvin’s enemies had
linked her to him by now…

Before he processed what he was doing, Samil
found himself leaving his apartment and stalking through the halls
of the strigoi lair toward the surface exit, as fast as he dared
move. Past the eerie tapestries of blood. Past the cruel sculptures
made of human bones.
What am I doing
? he thought, feeling a
jolt of fear shoot through him.
I should go back. I should turn
around
…

But he didn’t. He kept walking. Most of the
strigoi, the few who remained at the sanctuary, took note of him as
he passed, but it wasn’t until he reached the exit that anyone
interfered with him.

“Where are you going?” asked Myorna.

“To the surface,” he said, not missing a
beat. His heart was pounding but he knew how to appear calm and
collected when he needed to.

“What for?”

“Fresh air,” he replied. It wasn’t too
uncommon for him to leave the sanctuary and go to the surface; that
was how he sent and received messages from his many informants—old
friends and deep connections—and the Enclave always knew he’d
return, there was nowhere for him to go and if he didn’t come back
for his chemical dose he would die. But lately, despite those
considerations, the Enclave had seemed more hesitant to allow him
to the surface. And he almost didn’t dare try to go there
anymore.

The strigoi looked at him with deep,
haunting, suspicious eyes. And then replied, “go,” and nodded him
through. “But be swift and be
silent
.”

“I will, I promise,” said Samil.

Before long he was crawling through the long,
narrow crawlspace, realizing once more that he wasn’t the young man
he used to be. His joints ached as he made his way forward, and his
heart drummed anxiously inside him. But he ignored it all, knowing
what he had to do.

Things were happening on Tybur. And happening
swiftly. Monumental things. The Alliance was in peril, and when it
was gone there would be nothing standing between the Empire and the
bloodthirsty ambitions of the Rahajiim. The Rahajiim had just taken
control of the Rotham Senate, the Senate controlled the military.
And the military, by every account, was prepping its fleets…

If the Empire only knew that the Alliance
was in trouble; if Calvin just knew, perhaps there would be time,
perhaps they could mobilize a defense if they had sufficient
warning. But by the time they find out on their own, it will be too
late
… Samil wasn’t surely exactly what was going to go down, or
when, but he knew it would be soon. And if the Alliance was about
to fall, Samil knew they would go out with a whimper not with a
bang. And that whimper might be too small for the Empire to
hear…

I have to get a message out
, Samil
told himself.
I have to
! He thought of his contacts—those
that remained to him; it seemed that fewer and fewer of his once
many connections were still willing to even talk to him. Especially
now that word seemed to have gotten out that he’d lost favor with
the Enclave…

Only the Najamnik may be trusted with
this
, Samil realized. It was unfortunate. The Najamnik was
crafty and self-serving, but at least he could be depended upon to
heed Samil’s warning. No one else would do. Not anyone with whom
Samil still had contact. He wished he had some way to reach Calvin
directly.

I have to get the message out. The Najamnik
will warn Calvin and the Empire. Humanity still has a chance. I
just have to get the message out!

Samil pressed on, trying very hard not to
think of the consequences that would await him should anyone in the
Enclave discover what he was about to do.

***

Raidan was in his office thoughtfully
circling the rim of his shot-glass with his index finger when word
reached him.
Message from the Arcane Storm. Maximum priority
signal
. He took it at once.

“Report,” Raidan demanded. He hoped the
message was good news. Specifically that the last remaining isotome
weapons had been found. When Tristan’s face appeared on the
display, he had no such good news.

“I received a most unusual message,” the
lycan said, his face revealed a balanced mixture of intrigue and
concern.

“Do tell,” said Raidan patiently, knowing his
loyal subordinate would get to the point quickly.

“It was from the Savetnik of the Enclave, no
less.”

Raidan raised an eyebrow. “
The
Savetnik
?” Samil Cross wasn’t one to reach out. At least not to
Tristan. There had been some correspondence, and Tristan had used
Samil as a means of keeping tabs on the Enclave by trading
information with him, but there was rarely ever anything major to
report. Most updates regarding the Enclave were about their
continued status as a group desperately hiding in the nether
recesses of the Tybur Cantons.
Shocking surprise
... Until
recently Raidan hadn’t cared a whit about the Enclave, but that had
been before he’d learned of their involvement the missing Arcane
Storm and the isotome weapons.

“Yes,
the Savetnik
,” said Tristan. “He
had a warning for us.”

“What did he say?” Raidan maintained his
cool.

“The Savetnik believes the Alliance is in
imminent danger. Something is happening on Tybur, something big.
Something involving the Rotham.”

Raidan’s mind immediately jumped to the
obvious conclusion, but he remained silent and allowed Tristan to
get there.

“Apparently the Enclave has had a change of
leadership, and they are cooperating with the Rahajiim even more
than before. They’ve also recruited the help of the Khans; at
minimum the Khan circles on Tybur and Io are involved. The Savetnik
believes that in the very near future the Alliance will no longer
be a deterrent to Rotham war fleets trying to cross the DMZ.”

Raidan felt the weight of this new
information; it was just as he feared. “That means we must end this
Imperial Civil War sooner than we all thought.”

“And even that may not prove soon enough,”
said Tristan darkly.

“What do you mean?” asked Raidan; it was
obvious the lycan wasn’t finished.

“There’s more,” said Tristan, pausing only
slightly. “The Savetnik had other news. He says the Rotham are
making their move against Renora.”

“We knew they would.”

“But the Savetnik says it’s already begun.
They’re already on their way.”

Raidan tried to imagine the fleets of ships
that were sailing through alteredspace, determined to conquer an
Imperial world. It would be tragic, to be sure, but it might also
be useful. If the Rotham Republic attacked Renora too soon, before
the Imperial fleets had a chance to fire on one another, it would
tip their hand. And nothing united foes faster than a common
threat. Should Rotham fleets invade human space, there was a strong
chance that the loyalist forces supporting Kalila and the insurgent
forces supporting the Assembly could unite—however briefly—and
throw the Rotham back into their corner of the galaxy.

“Did he describe how and when the Rotham plan
to attack Renora?” asked Raidan, guardedly hopeful.

“He did not know,” replied Tristan, in
smooth, almost-chilling words.

Raidan nodded.

“But I would expect the Rahajiim to be too
clever to attack Renora directly. I would expect their move to be
something subtle.”

“So would I,” admitted Raidan. Knowing the
thought of an obvious attack, one transparent enough to unite
humanity, was likely too much to hope for. “Something subtle yet
not less deadly. Probably something invisible to the galaxy,
something the Imperial public will not notice—at least at first.
And yet, somehow, bloodier and crueler than we can imagine.”

“That sounds like the bastards,” said
Tristan. “Which means any Rotham ship headed anywhere near Renora
must be stopped at all costs.”

And so the bloodbath continues
, Raidan
thought darkly. Reflecting on the ever-likelier possibility that he
would indeed live to see the day his mighty nation was destroyed.
He imagined uncontested fleets bombing planets from high orbit,
while isotome weapons blackened stars across the Empire.

“The Savetnik said his warning was
specifically meant for Calvin,” added Tristan.

“I’ll see that he gets it,” said Raidan. “And
the queen too.”

“And any ships heading to Renora from the
DMZ, or from any position within ten clicks of the DMZ, or bearing
Rotham markings, must be prevented from reaching its destination at
all
costs,” continued Raidan.

Kalila listened patiently, watching the
mysterious man’s face carefully as it appeared on her private
display in the CO’s office of the Black Swan. Captain Adiger stood
by her side, otherwise she was alone.

“And you say your information is good, that
it can be trusted?” pressed Kalila, once Raidan had finished
speaking.

“Samil Cross is reliable,” confirmed
Raidan.

Kalila searched the man’s eyes, as best she
could see them over the display, and wondered how sincere he was.
She thought of Calvin’s warning, that Raidan was to be trusted only
cautiously, and that Raidan and the people he worked for were prime
suspects in the attack on Cepheus, a Rotham world where the
civilian body count was still rising from an unidentified terrorist
attack.

“And what would you have me do with this
information?” asked Kalila.

“My Queen,” said Raidan, his tone respectful.
“End this war quickly and decisively. The Rotham are coming.
They’re on their way. As I’ve said, the Alliance can no longer
deter them from crossing the DMZ. If we cripple our own defenses
through civil war, and destroy our own fleets, we will have no
means of protecting ourselves against the greater threat.”

Kalila considered this thoughtfully. It was
true that any violence during this civil war, any loss of life, was
a dear price for humanity to pay, and would make them a weaker
target for alien predators lurking abroad. Certainly she hoped to
avoid war, or to keep casualties and destruction to a minimum, but
so long as the Assembly defied her, and remained in the hands of
corrupt conspirators, and her father’s blood remained unanswered,
she could not avoid Imperial conflict. It was inevitable. The best
she could hope for now was to defeat the insurgents swiftly and win
the support of most of the Empire. With that kind of backing, the
Assembly would have no choice but to support her claim, for their
own survival, and then she could return to Capital World and take
her rightful place upon the throne. There she’d see to it that the
villainous scum that’d undermined the Empire, corroding and
corrupting it at the highest levels, was purged and extinguished
forever.

“Thank you for your information and for your
advice, Captain,” said Kalila with a polite smile.

“As ever, I am grateful to serve,” said
Raidan. He bowed his head respectfully.

“There is one other thing you may do to
serve,” said Kalila. Raidan looked up, clearly surprised.

“Name it and if it is in my power, it shall
be done.”

Kalila waited a moment before speaking, using
the time to take Raidan’s measure, as best she could, so she could
read into the man’s reaction when he refused her.
If
he
refused her. “I ask you to immediately release to us detailed
information regarding the Organization, including its membership,
its resources, its hierarchy; I want to know all of it.”

Raidan looked momentarily flummoxed, but his
voice remained both pleasant and polite. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,”
he said. “That is not within my power.”

“Why not?” asked Kalila, adding a sharp edge
to her tone.

“The Organization is led by White Rook. I do
not have the information you request. But I shall send you what I
do have, as much as I can,” he spoke quickly, as if to prevent
interruption. “I hope it will suffice. Until we speak again, I wish
you good health, Queen of the Empire.”

The display winked off. Kalila stared at it
for a moment in pensive silence.
He is far too secretive
,
Kalila thought.
Calvin was right to warn me
. Normally she
wouldn’t have accepted the service of one she could not completely
trust, but as times grew deadlier every ally seemed more valuable.
Especially valuable allies such as Raidan. So long as he put the
crown first…