The Phoenix War (25 page)

“Surely their stealth can’t be better than
ours,” said Pellew. “No doubt these prisoners were
exaggerating.”

Summers shrugged. She kept hearing about how
advanced and state-of-the art the Nighthawk’s stealth system was,
but based on what she’d seen in Abia, and in the Vulture Nebula,
and in Remus System, plenty of ships had been able to counter the
Nighthawk’s stealth system without much trouble. Perhaps they’d
been the exception, very special cases with very special, extremely
rare and expensive detection equipment installed. But all the same,
Summers was far less confident in the Nighthawk’s ability to fly
unseen than she had been when she’d first stepped aboard.

“I mean, if the Hunter ships are so
undetectable, how were our prisoners supposed to recognize them and
deliver their message?” asked Pellew.

“According to them, they said the Enclave
ship would find them, and hail them. They only had to wait.”

“And you believe that?” asked Pellew.

“I don’t know,” said Summers. It seemed
plausible enough to her. But she wasn’t a starship engineer, and
for that matter neither was Pellew, so neither of them was
qualified to really say if the intelligence was good. She would
send the recordings of the interrogations to the lab for analysis
but for now all they knew for certain was that the stories the
prisoners had told them had aligned on this point. Which would have
to be good enough for the time being. “At least they gave us
something, we know what Zander’s ship looks like.”

“And we have a list of places Zander’s ship
made port while these two were aboard. If we keep eyes on those
places, then when a ship matching Zander’s shows up, we’ll know and
we can interdict it.”

“Assuming he makes port again before
transferring the weapons,” said Summers. She liked Pellew’s idea,
it was certainly a necessary course of action to take, but she
wasn’t satisfied that it would prove enough. While it was true that
every ship needed to make port periodically, most starships carried
enough supplies that, with a working life support system, they
could go several months before absolutely needing to make port. It
was rare to go so long without making port, no starship captain
would want to run the risk that a critical failure is developing in
an essential systems, one that could leave him dark and stranded in
the great void of space, or cause his ship to self-destruct upon
alteredspace jump, but it was possible that a captain who didn’t
want to be seen might risk keeping his vessel exposed to the
elements of space for longer periods without docking. It seemed
rather likely to Summers that Zander would not make port again
before transferring the weapons, assuming the transfer was indeed
meant to happen ‘
soon.
’

“What else would you suggest?” asked
Pellew.

“We keep an eye on this asteroid field; if
it’s true that the Enclave is coming, we can get a fix on this
Hunter Six ship and maybe capture it too.”

“Board the Enclave ship? And if by some
miracle we succeed in capturing it, what then?” asked Pellew. He
was obviously against the idea. Perhaps the thought of throwing his
soldiers—many of whom were mercenaries and not true military
professionals—against the likes of type two Remorii. Regrettably,
Summers knew, such fear was justified. If Calvin’s story had been
true about the ISS Trinity, then anyone trying to fight
hand-to-hand against the Remorii would only be lambs charging into
a gruesome slaughter, unless they had sheer overwhelming force. But
still, Summers felt she had to exercise any option, no matter the
risk, if it meant a shot at eliminating those damned isotome
weapons.

“I don’t know,” she said, after a moment’s
thought. “We have to do everything we possibly can.”

“I agree,” said Pellew. “But there’s no
reason to tie the Nighthawk down here to this spot, waiting, hoping
to see a ship that we might not even be able to detect, and then
attempt a capture operation that we probably couldn’t even
successfully execute. Especially when that doesn’t even accomplish
any clear goal.”

“No clear goal?” Summers stared at him in
surprise.

“Yes,” said Pellew. “Suppose we did capture
the ship, what would we do with it? What’s the goal?”

“We would tear it apart for answers.”

“And find what?” he pressed her.

“I don’t know. Interrogate the crew? Find out
where this Zander is and
take him out
.”

Pellew looked skeptical. And, truth be told,
Summers didn’t blame him. “We’d have an easier time finding Zander
on our own, through other means, and getting to him before the
Enclave does,” said Pellew.

“Yes, that would be ideal,” said Summers.
“But there is no guarantee that we’ll find him in time.”

“There are no guarantees in the universe of
any kind anyway,” his eyes danced off hers with surprising
certainty. “We can only do our best. That is all. We must destroy
the ship we just captured and move away from here before the
Enclave shows up.”

“Destroy it?” Summers didn’t like the idea of
getting rid of an object that might provide more information, and
might ultimately generate some kind of lead. Though she wasn’t sure
how.

“What would you have us do?” asked Pellew.
“Leave the ship here derelict for the Enclave to find. Then, when
they see the battle-damage, and note that there is no crew aboard,
that will help us how exactly? Maybe they’ll alert Zander and
decide to get the weapons from him sooner, or spook him into going
even darker than he already is. Make him disappear completely.”

Summers knew he was right.
But still
…
“If they find the debris of the ship, won’t that make them just as
suspicious?”

“Not if we destroy the evidence so completely
that there is nothing for them to find. Or perhaps we should
deliberately crash the vessel into a large asteroid, make it appear
that the crew made a fatal piloting mistake. Stranger things have
happened in asteroid fields.”

“I suppose…” said Summers reluctantly.

“Honestly the best thing we could do would be
to leave the prisoners on their ship and let their failing
life-support finish them off. They’re of no use to us anymore.”

“
That
is completely out of the
question,” snapped Summers.

Pellew’s eyes probed hers. As if testing.
After a moment, he nodded. “You’re right, the battle-damage on the
ship would still give away that something had gone down and the
Enclave would be just as suspicious. We’ll have to destroy the
ship. Either run it into an asteroid or blow it into such small
pieces they would defy detection.”

She wasn’t convinced. There had to be
something more they could do than search for Zander.
Too
much was at stake. But Summers found herself at a loss, at least
for now. And she’d wasted too much time sitting in Pellew’s office.
It was time to take action.

“We know the make of Zander’s ship and a few
places he makes port,” said Summers. “We should send that
information to the Queen immediately. Maybe she can put all of her
ships on alert, make some sort of dragnet to scour Imperial space.
We should tell Calvin too.”

“And Raidan?” Pellew looked at her.

“Raidan too,” Summers said, despite the
unpalatable taste that formed in her mouth when she said his name.
“Everyone needs to know. So everyone can be looking. Everyone we
trust not to tip Zander off, that is.” It felt strange to connect
the words
trust
and
Raidan
. But at least she could be
reasonably sure that, despite whatever plans Raidan had, he wasn’t
working with Zander. And he didn’t want the isotome weapons to
exist anymore than she did.

At least that’s what she told herself…

***

“Jump successful,” said Rafael. “We’re now in
alteredspace. Maximum safe potential.”

“Excellent,” said Calvin as he adjusted some
controls to improve their alteredspace stability. It was a strange,
almost haunting sensation to stare out the cockpit and see total
darkness in every direction. Knowing all that separated him from
alteredspace was a thin layer of transparent material that, despite
being stronger than steel, seemed like nothing. Like it wasn’t even
there.

It was just as strange to think they were
tearing through galactic space at full keel when it looked and felt
in every way like they weren’t moving at all. Like the
fighter-bomber was a mere insect trapped in an endless ocean of
black, sticky tar. It was far from his first alteredspace flight,
but somehow being in the cockpit of such a tiny craft, he felt that
much closer to the unnerving starless emptiness. And he wondered if
this was what death was like.

“So are you going to tell me why we’re going
to Aleator, or are you going to make me guess?” asked Rafael.

Calvin had chosen to remain tight-lipped
about his plan, and the arrangements he’d made, until they were
clear from the Black Swan and away from the queen’s fleet. But now
he was at liberty to open up. And if he and Rafael were to have any
chance of success with this mission, he knew they would need to
trust each other implicitly. Fortunately Rafael had already proven
himself a hundred times over, as far as Calvin was concerned.

“We’re going to Aleator so we can get help
from the Roscos.”

“Aren’t they a family of gangsters?” asked
Rafael, sounding more curious than critical.

“Yes they are,” said Calvin. “And remember
that when we’re there. We need to watch each other’s backs.”

“I understand. So, how are they able to help
us with our mission, exactly?”

“The Roscos have connections inside the
Alliance. Not great connections, but more than you and I have. They
can tell us what they’ve heard from their people, give us some kind
of picture of what to expect when we get there, and they can help
furnish us with the means to slip inside Alliance space unnoticed.
Give us a ship, new identities, and an alibi.”

“That would be really helpful,” said Rafael.
“Since I get the feeling that, if we show up uninvited to Alliance
space in an Imperial fighter-bomber… the Alliance military might
not react favorably.”

Calvin knew that was true. Which was why,
should the Roscos fail to supply him with a more suitable ship, he
and Rafael would have to pin their very lives on the meager hope
that the fighter-bomber was small enough to escape notice. Though
Calvin understood the chances were overwhelmingly against them.
Which was why he needed to make certain Grady delivered on his
promises.

“I remember we went to Aleator not too long
ago,” said Rafael, apparently wanting to make conversation. “When
we were pursuing the Harbinger. I know you and a team went aboard.
I also heard through the grapevine that you ran into some
trouble.”

Calvin recalled the roar of gunfire that had
echoed through the corridors of Aleator One, and the pale face of
his slain ghost lying in a pool of his own blood. Having died in
the performance of his duty, trying to protect Calvin. He’d been a
special forces soldiers… what was his name? Calvin felt awful that
he didn’t remember. He thought of the other bodies that had
littered the floor of Aleator One—Jacobi and the CERKO soldiers. A
lot of people had ventured into the
great beyond
that
day.

“It’s a dangerous place,” was all Calvin felt
like saying in response. So he changed the subject, knowing they
had more work to do. “We need to get a message out to the
Nighthawk, through a secure channel. Set up—” he was interrupted by
a series of beeps from Rafael’s controls behind him. “What is
it?”

“Looks like they beat you to it,” said
Rafael. “Message coming in, source confirmed: IWS Nighthawk.”

“Patch it through,” said Calvin. Curious why
they would be calling him. He supposed it must be urgent if they
had gone through the trouble of getting the fighter-bomber’s
kataspace credentials from the Black Swan. His curiosity was
definitely piqued.

“IWS Nighthawk to multi-role support craft
Theta-Theta-One-Nine-Six,” Summers’ familiar voice crackled over
the speakers. Calvin couldn’t help but smile when he heard it.
“Please identify, over.”

She wants to make certain it really is
me
, thought Calvin. “It’s damn good to hear your voice,
Summers,” said Calvin. It occurred to him that he hadn’t spoken to
her since boarding the Ice Maiden. It made him miss the Nighthawk
all the more.

“Hello, Lieutenant Commander,” said Summers
in a tone that was made to sound surly, but he could tell she was
secretly happy to hear him too. “If your voice didn’t give you
away, your lack of kataspace protocol certainly would have,” she
added.

Same old Summers
. “To what do I owe
the pleasure?” asked Calvin. He decided he would wait to hear her
news first before sharing his message.

“We are currently pursuing a man named Zander
who is thought to have the isotome weapons in his possession. I am
transmitting to you the make of his suspected ship and a list of
ports and systems he is known to frequent. My intention is to
intercept him and destroy the weapons before it’s too late.”

“What do you mean, ‘
before it’s too
late
? Before what’s too late?” Calvin hoped she meant that in
general terms, that she wanted to destroy the weapons before anyone
could even contemplate using them, but he feared she had knowledge
of a more imminent threat. That some intel had revealed a star
system was marked for death and it was a race against time to save
the many inhabitants. Calvin couldn’t help but imagine the screams
of billions of people suddenly thrown behind a curtain of death as
their local sun violently destroyed itself, taking them with
it.

“Our intelligence indicates that Zander plans
to transfer the weapons to the Enclave.”