The Phoenix War (30 page)

“Truly?” asked Rain, excitedly. “That’s
wonderful news! You’ve stopped taking it altogether, then?” she
probed.

“Yes,” said Calvin. They were almost to the
elevator. He wondered if she would follow him all the way to the
bridge.

“I’m happy to hear that,” she said. Calvin
looked at her and noticed the big smile she gave him. So warm and
encouraging, and he felt bad for being prickly to her. They reached
the elevator and Calvin stopped his march.

“Thank you, Rain. Now, I get the feeling
there is something else you want to ask me. What is it?” He pressed
the button, calling for the elevator.

“Yes,” she said. “I hear that you’re about to
leave the ship again and go on some sort of away mission.”

“That is true,” he said.

“Take me with you,” said Rain, much to
Calvin’s surprise. He never expected her to request that. It also
caught him off-guard at how appealing that sounded as he looked at
her pretty face and hauntingly sincere, blue eyes.

“We could use a medic, to be sure,” said
Calvin. “But what about the Nighthawk? There are more people to
care for here and its mission is still vitally important.”

The elevator door opened and they both
stepped inside. Calvin punched the button for the bridge and it
zoomed them upwards.

“The infirmary is in good hands with Doctors
Taylor and Andrews and the rest of the staff. They are as capable
as I am, and you yourself said that you need a medic on your away
mission so it might as well be me.”

Calvin thought it over for a second. “All
right,” he said, nodding. “Meet at the main hatch at—”

“Oh-six-hundred, yes I heard,” she smiled at
him. The elevator slowed to a stop and the door slid open.
Revealing the warm, welcoming bright lights of the Nighthawk’s
bridge. The one place in the whole galaxy that felt like home. “One
more thing,” said Rain, stopping him before he could step onto the
bridge and feel like the Nighthawk’s CO once more—however briefly.
“I think you should know that—”

Here it comes
, thought Calvin. It was
the question he’d been dreading to ask ever since setting foot
aboard the Nighthawk. The question that he feared Rain would answer
the first instant he saw her.
She’s going to tell me about
Shen
…

“Lieutenant Iwate pulled through. He’s—.”

“Oh I’m sorry to hear that,” said Calvin
automatically. And then it clicked. “Wait,
what
did you
say?”

“I said that Shen pulled through.”

“He made it? He’s alive?”

“Yes. And healthy. He’s in his quarters now
and I think—”

Calvin closed the elevator door and mashed
the button for deck eight. “That’s
great
news! Why didn’t
anyone tell me?” Calvin talked over Rain. Then, an instant later,
as the elevator lurched downward, he felt bad for interrupting her.
“Sorry, what were you trying to say?”

The elevator came to a stop almost as quickly
as it had gotten going and the door slid open. They’d arrived at
deck eight.

“Just that I think it would mean a lot to
Shen if you went to see him in person.”

Calvin smiled. “Two steps ahead of you.” He
left the elevator and started jogging toward Shen’s quarters.
Calling over his shoulder as he did, “Thanks, Rain. I’ll see you at
oh-six-hundred. Main Hatch. Don’t forget.”

His jog became a sprint and, before he knew
it, he was standing in front of Shen’s quarters. Feeling more
winded than he would have liked to admit. He didn’t waste any time
catching his breath though, and instead started hastily knocking on
the door and ringing the chime. Of course Shen was probably asleep
right now, but Calvin wasn’t about to embark on another dangerous
mission without taking the chance to see a close friend. One who,
only minutes ago, he’d thought was dead.

The door opened.

“Shen!” said Calvin, pushing his way into
Shen’s quarters. His good friend stood there wide-eyed. A smile
spread across his face. Calvin gave him a hug, despite himself.

“You’re back,” said Shen.

“And you’re looking well,” said Calvin,
pulling away. The door slid closed and Calvin gave Shen a good once
over. Noting that, for surviving a Remorii attack, he looked
remarkably healthy. A bit paler than before, and he seemed
exhausted, but otherwise Shen appeared to be in full health. He
even looked like he’d lost five or ten kilograms. “God it’s great
to see you,” Calvin beamed. He’d needed this. Considering that all
the news lately seemed to range from bad to worse, it was a damn
wonderful thing to get news like this.

Shen nodded. “I’ve missed you too, Cal.”

“So get me up to speed,” said Calvin. “Tell
me what’s been going on. Has Summers tried to run the Nighthawk
aground?”

“She’s doing a decent job,” said Shen.
“Better than I would have expected, to be honest. But she’s not
you. And the Nighthawk hasn’t been the same without you.”

Calvin beamed. “And the Nighthawk wouldn’t be
the Nighthawk without you manning the ops post,” said Calvin. “And
now that I know you’re back in action, I will honestly sleep so
much better at night. Instead of staying up late wondering if the
ship is still in one piece.”

Shen nodded, accepting the compliment
gracefully. Though he also seemed a little sad. “I take it that
means you’re not staying with us, then?”

“Unfortunately I have another mission that
comes first,” said Calvin. “And I’ll be leaving again soon. But
after that I’ll be back in my chair on the Nighthawk, just try and
stop me.”

Shen masked his disappointment with a fake
smile and Calvin was surprised how much Shen seemed to be genuinely
unhappy with the news. For a moment he considered inviting Shen to
join him on his mission into the DMZ, but then thought better of
it. It promised to be an extremely dangerous mission, and the
chances of a safe return weren’t great. And, considering what’d
happened the last time Calvin took Shen on a dangerous away
mission—and what that’d nearly cost him—it was the last thing
Calvin wanted to do. Especially when Shen was quite clearly still
recovering from the injuries and psychological damage he’d
sustained on Remus Nine.

So instead of inviting Shen along, Calvin
clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Stay safe and take care.”

“You as well.”

“I’ll see you and the Nighthawk again soon.
That’s a promise.”

“I’m holding you to it.”

***

Summers had wanted to meet Calvin at the
airlock when his fighter-bomber docked with the Nighthawk but she’d
been tied to her desk in the CO’s office, putting the finishing
touches on her final report. Calvin had ordered the Nighthawk to
Aleator without explanation and had personally come aboard. The
logical conclusion was that he meant to take over the isotome
mission himself. If that was his desire, Summers would fully
support it. This was his ship and that was his prerogative.
However, what she refused to abide was Calvin having to resume
command without the benefit of a full, detailed accounting of her
command decisions and the status of all personnel and ship’s
systems.

Summers was just reviewing the final version
of the report when Calvin arrived. He entered the CO’s office and
Summers stood to attention and saluted. He returned the salute,
except with a big dopey grin.

“Summers Presley, I see you’re still the very
paragon of duty,” said Calvin, “It’s great to see you!”

“Thank you,” Summers nodded. Thinking Calvin
didn’t look much the worse for wear, considering the ordeal he’d
been through on Capital World—having to deal with the politics of
the Imperial Assembly while trying to stamp out the corruption that
had a stranglehold over their precious government, and barely
escaping with his life after his efforts proved both too little and
too late. Calvin’s failure, though, Summers was sure, had been no
fault of his own. The tentacles of the vile creature they were
grappling with had simply grown too deep, and were too strong, and
still needed to be excised by the swiftest, sharpest knife before
it was too late.

“I’m glad that you’ve managed to keep the
ship in one piece,” said Calvin. “Though I see you’ve done some
re-decorating.” He glanced around the office, clearly noticing how
she’d had the CO’s desk rotated ninety-degrees and the sparse wall
decor had been replaced by printouts of duty-shift rosters, star
charts, and a large, glowing timekeeper. Each impeccably organized
within its own space, of course.

“I haven’t gotten too comfortable in that
chair, I assure you,” said Summers, staring past him at the door,
thinking of the command position only a few meters beyond. “You may
relieve me as CO and resume command at your pleasure, I have a full
report here—”

“Summers,” Calvin interrupted her. “I’m not
here to relieve you. And I don’t need to see any report right
now.”

“But it’s protocol…”

He shot her a look that suddenly reminded her
how very little he cared for protocol. No doubt he thought her
efforts in composing the report had been a waste of time. He was
wrong, she knew. Once this was all over and the proper, restored
government was doing a thorough audit of everything that had
occurred, and was judging Summers, Calvin, and everyone on the
Nighthawk for the roles they’d played, every inch of paper trail
would prove indispensable. Summers didn’t require Calvin to
understand.

“Summers, I’m here to collect some supplies
and a few members of the crew and then proceed to Aleator,” said
Calvin. “Princess Kalila has—”

“The queen,” Summers corrected him.

“Yes, that’s right.
Queen
Kalila has
ordered me to head into the DMZ and spy on activities inside
Alliance space. After that, I will proceed into Rotham space and
see what intel I can gather on their forces.”

Summers found this very interesting. Sending
Calvin to investigate Alliance and Rotham space meant that the
Rotham were indeed a significant and imminent threat. However the
mission sounded quite dangerous, and she wondered if Calvin truly
appreciated just what he’d signed himself up for. She also thought
that maybe, just maybe, the queen didn’t understand how valuable
Calvin was, if she could so easily send him away on a potential
suicide mission.

“You of course will resume your ongoing
mission,” continued Calvin. “And find and destroy those isotome
weapons. Should I fail, and the worst does happen, there will be
war. That war will be far bloodier if isotome weapons make an
appearance.” His eyes met hers soberly.

“I understand,” she said.

“I am asking you to please continue leading
the Nighthawk in my absence.”

She nodded. As she looked at him, she wanted
to tell him not to go. To stay here, where it was much safer, and
help with the Nighthawk’s mission.
Who the hell cares what’s
going on inside Alliance space? Is it really worth dying for?
And suddenly she realized just how much she’d missed having him
around—despite how annoying and cocksure he was—and she couldn’t
get past the faint, eerie suspicion nagging at the back of her mind
that if she let him go, she’d never see him again. Or, if she did,
things would be a lot different. Probably a lot worse. But all she
could make herself say was, “Yes, of course I will, Calvin. I
promise. I’ll pursue the mission objectives vigorously and lead the
Nighthawk faithfully. Until your safe return, Lieutenant.”

“Thank you, Summers. Now, regarding crew, I
have a few ideas in mind of who I plan on taking with me, but I
don’t want to take anyone who you deem mission critical. Ridding
the galaxy of those isotome weapons is…
beyond crucial
, and
in many tangible ways even more important than my mission. So I
will not jeopardize your effort by taking essential crew.”

“Who do you have in mind?” asked Summers.
Thinking that few individuals were truly mission critical, so long
as Calvin didn’t leave her too understaffed. She still needed to
maintain three watches, and would like to have enough people to
keep her officers from becoming fatigued and overworked. But
otherwise not many stood out from the rest.

“So far I’m taking Rafael and Rain.”

“The chief physician?” Summers was surprised.
She had no particular love for Dr. Poynter, but she was a
department head, and her absence would mean a lot more
re-organization than if Calvin took one of the other medics.

“Yes,” said Calvin. “I need a medic on this
away mission and Rain volunteered to go. I asked her if she was
essential to the Nighthawk and she told me that she wasn’t, that
one of the other doctors could do her job adequately. However, if
you think otherwise, I can find someone else.”

“No,” said Summers, feeling the need to be
honest even though it was inconvenient for her to lose a department
head and would mean additional paperwork. “I have no reason to
think Dr. Poynter is irreplaceable. Although word is she is the
person who managed to cure Mr. Iwate. I doubt very much that anyone
else in our medical staff could have done that.”

“
She
cured Shen?” Calvin’s eyes lit
with interest. “She must be some kind of genius.” He seemed so
happy that Shen was alive that Summers didn’t bother telling him of
her suspicions, her concern that Shen wasn’t quite himself and
hadn’t been since waking up in the medical bay. Though so far she
had no hard evidence, only suspicions.

“That’s what I’m given to understand,” said
Summers. “That Shen owes his recovery to her quick thinking.”

Calvin nodded. “Well then I owe her a great
deal of thanks. Do you think she ought to remain here then, to
continue attending to Shen and his needs?”

“No, not particularly,” said Summers. “Since
recovery and a few checkups, Shen has only reported to the
infirmary once and that was to have a laceration bandaged and
cleaned. I don’t believe he is receiving any ongoing medical
treatment regarding his…
experience
on Remus Nine. I’m told
there’s nothing wrong with him physically so I’ve returned him to
duty.” She wanted to add that there probably was something wrong
with him psychologically and he was in need of psychiatric care or
counseling or
some
kind of help, but she remained quiet.
Thinking that, if she were completely honest, every person who’d
ever served aboard the Nighthawk, or otherwise found themselves
entangled in the horrors they’d been forced to contend with, was
probably in need of some kind of professional psychological help.
Perhaps Shen was no different.