The Phoenix War (42 page)

“The crew… some people at Intel Wing,” Sarah
thought hard.

“Anand Datar does,” said Summers. And in a
flash Summers’ worry seemed less like paranoia and more like due
caution. “And he’s out there somewhere, on the bridge of the
Phoenix, actively trying to find and destroy the Nighthawk. He’s
already tried twice. What do you think the odds are that he’ll try
a third time?”

Sarah nodded. “That’s true, you could be
right,” she admitted. Remembering how she’d used to flirt with
Anand for hours on end and how she’d once dreamed of their life
together.
What a fool I was
…
what a fool I still
am
!

“It could be a lure,” Shen admitted. “But if
it is, I don’t think it’s a very good one.”

“Explain,” demanded Summers.

“If we approach the system and the Phoenix is
there waiting for us, we’ll detect a ship-sized object long before
we drop out of alteredspace. We’re a much faster ship so, in that
event, we could easily change course and pass the Persei System by,
or even turn around, without ever putting the Nighthawk in any real
danger. And that’s assuming the Phoenix could even detect us while
stealthed—which, frankly, seems extremely unlikely.”

“Other ships have detected us before,”
Summers pointed out. Which Sarah had to agree seemed like a fair
point.

“Other ships were an alien fleet, whose
technology we don’t really have a complete understanding of, and
the Desert Eagle, which—you can bet your life-savings—has better
scanning equipment than a warship like the Phoenix.”

“If the Phoenix is at Gamma Persei waiting
for us, they might not be alone. Perhaps the Desert Eagle is with
them, or some Rotham ships. Who knows,” said Summers. “It could be
anything.”

“True,” admitted Shen. “But that just makes
it all the more likely that we’d see them before we arrived. And,
like I said, there are very few ships the Nighthawk can’t
outrun.”

Summers seemed to consider his point. Sarah
could tell that a part of her was curious about the distress
call—and some deeply-engrained, duty-driven portion of her soul
seemed borderline compelled to charge to rescue when a distress
call was heard nearby regardless of prognosis. But another, more
cautious part of her, seemed worried that it was trap. And since
she held the lives of the crew in her hands she wanted to weigh all
of the risks.

“You seem to think that we should go to Gamma
Persei,” said Summers, still looking at Shen.

“It’s your call,” Shen shrugged. “But I don’t
think going there poses much of a risk to us. That’s all I’m
saying.”

Summers folded her arms thoughtfully and
returned to the command position. “And this Gamma Persei system,
how far off course is it?” she asked. “Remember, our priority, the
mission that matters above all else, is eliminating those isotome
weapons. That means, once Zander shows his ugly head, we have to be
ready to pounce. We cannot afford to be tied down elsewhere. No
matter how serious the emergency.”

“The list of places Zander frequents
represent a rather large swathe of space,” said Shen. “We are
positioned at almost the exact center. But Gamma Persei is near the
center too, as are about a thousand other stars—the vast majority
of which are completely uninhabited of course. But seriously, when
Zander finally does rear his ugly head, as you say, I see no reason
to assume that where we are currently will prove any nearer to him
than Gamma Persei will. Sure, there’s a chance. But there’s just as
good a chance that Gamma Persei will end up being closer. So there
isn’t much compelling us to stay here in open space.”

Summers seemed to ponder this only briefly
before making up her mind. Apparently she hadn’t needed much
persuasion.

“Lieutenant Winters,” she said, turning her
chair to face the helm. “Set course for Gamma Persei right away.
Maximum safe jump.”

“Aye, aye,” said Sarah. She’d already done
the pre-jump calculation, thinking it was likely Summers would give
the order for them to go. “Mister Iwate,” Summers continued. “Keep
a vigilant eye on our scopes. If there is someone at Gamma Persei
waiting for us, I want to know long before we drop out of
alteredspace.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Winters,” Summers added. She gazed at
Sarah with eyes of steel. “Keep your ears open, if there is any
mention of Zander, or even the slightest
hint
of him pops up
over kataspace, you are to change course immediately and commence
pursuit. You will then notify me as quickly as possible. Is that
clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

“And when Red Shift begins you will instruct
your replacement to do the same.”

“Yes, sir.”

“That goes for you too Mister Iwate.”

***

It was a weird feeling being on an alien
ship, made even weirder by the knowledge that he wasn’t just a
stranger passing through a strange land, he was the captain. Master
of the vessel in all its Rotham glory.

The Wanderer, Calvin called it, since its
proper name was something in Rotham that he could neither pronounce
nor understand. It was a small alien cargo vessel with corridors
that were a bit too narrow and ceilings that were a bit too low.
Despite its unusually jagged contours, strange colors, and odd
décor, it was his home for the next little while. And, Calvin
reflected darkly, it might even be the last ship he ever captained.
Since the odds were uncomfortably large that none of them would
survive this mission.

After leaving Aleator, he’d taken the
captain’s cabin for himself and quartered the others as best he was
able. Mostly that meant housing people in the various cargo-holds.
Rez’nac had offered to be anywhere, even the engine room if
necessary. Calvin was grateful for Rez’nac’s willingness to
cooperate and not make a fuss, but worried the Polarian was
grappling with serious depression and intense feelings of guilt.
Calvin quartered Rez’nac in the primary cargohold and decided to
have Alex stay with him. Discreetly he’d told Rez’nac to keep an
eye on their Rotham colleague and making them bunkmates would,
Calvin believed, would simplify that task.

Rain converted the secondary hold into a
makeshift infirmary, and made herself comfortable in there. And as
for Rafael and Miles, Calvin put them together in the tertiary
hold. It was by far the smallest of the three, but in some ways the
most livable because it was completely devoid of cargo.

“Not exactly five-star accommodations,” Miles
had remarked. “But I guess it’ll do.”

“It’ll have to,” was Calvin’s reply.

Arranging watches proved somewhat difficult.
The Wanderer, small as it was, only required one person to operate
it. But the team he’d assembled didn’t offer much by way of capable
pilots. After studying the controls, Calvin determined that he
could fly the ship. It wasn’t too different from human-designed
small transport vessels, other than the fact that every readout was
in Rotham. There were optional configurations, one of them
supposedly translated the Rotham words and numerals into standard
human. He found the quality of the translation to be poor and often
confusing but at least he could usually get the gist of what his
displays were trying to tell him.

Other than himself, however, there were no
other trained pilots. Rafael had proven a capable co-pilot but he’d
never flown any kind of ship before, there hadn’t been any need—he
was an intelligence analyst. Miles could expertly run weapons
systems, of which the Wanderer had exactly none. Rain was a
physician, and Rez’nac was a warrior. Luckily, or perhaps
unluckily—Calvin wasn’t sure which yet, Alex could pilot the ship.
Calvin didn’t trust the Rotham to have unsupervised access to the
bridge so he arranged watches so that there were always two people
on the bridge at any given time.

Calvin and Alex rotated shifts piloting the
vessel. When it was Alex’s turn, Calvin assigned Rafael to act as
co-pilot and keep an eye on things. Both because he trusted Rafael
and because Rafael was fluent in the Rotham language—which Calvin
believed Alex didn’t know.
If he tries anything
,
we’ll be
onto him
, Calvin thought. Knowing Rafael was most qualified of
anyone here to monitor Alex’s activities.

As for Calvin’s shift, when he was piloting
the Wanderer, he chose Miles for the role of co-pilot and
supporting officer. Mostly because Miles was the only other trained
Intel Wing officer on the team, but also because Miles made for
entertaining company. And Calvin didn’t require any meaningful
assistance flying a ship this simple. Miles, of course, took it as
a huge compliment that, out of everybody, Calvin picked him to
share shifts with. “That’s because we go way back,” Miles had said.
“You and me, everybody else wouldn’t understand, we go way back.
We’ve got each other’s backs since… you know,
way
back.”
This resulted in a great deal of gloating from the large man. It
made Calvin smile and he never saw the need to tell Miles
otherwise.

As for the rest of the team, Rez’nac kept an
eye on things throughout the ship, generally making sure Alex
wasn’t
up to something
. And Rain mostly stayed in the
infirmary, keeping her own schedule. She made it abundantly clear
to Calvin that she was never unavailable to treat injuries or
assist in any way she could, regardless of time of day. Calvin knew
she’d be a lot more useful once the bullets started flying and the
Wanderer got itself into a sticky situation, but for now he was
glad Rain didn’t have anything to do.

A day and half passed without incident. The
ship was slow, much slower than Calvin would have liked—the
Wanderer’s alteredspace drive couldn’t achieve the jump depth a
state-of-the art military starship like the Nighthawk could—but
even so, Calvin had the constant, unnerving suspicion in the back
of his mind that they should have seen something by now. Either a
ship on their scopes, or some chatter over the kataspace
frequencies,
something.
They were fairly deep inside the DMZ
now and yet all remained quiet. And black as night.

“Twenty-two-hundred hours,” said a voice from
behind with an almost ominous hiss. “It is now my watch, human
commander.”

Calvin spun the pilot’s chair and stood up.
Looking at Alex as the Rotham stalked closer, ready to take his
seat. Because it was the only proper station on the ship, the
pilot’s chair also doubled as the command position. And whenever
Calvin gave up the chair to Alex, he always felt some lingering
hesitation. As much as Calvin hated being trapped on the bridge for
hours at a time, whenever he had to hand the controls over to the
Rotham ex-Advent operative, he always felt disconcertingly like he
was handing the alien a loaded pistol.

“Best of luck,” said Calvin with a nod. “Make
sure you keep her in one piece.”

Alex looked insulted as he took his seat,
though it was hard to tell for sure on his alien face. “Don’t
worry, I will,” he said, turning to examine the controls. He
switched the language configuration back to Rotham.

Calvin patted the console twice, feeling
irrationally protective of the controls. And then turned to leave,
glancing quickly at Miles who was sitting on the floor looking
bored out of his mind. “Time to go.”

“Thank freaking god,” said Miles, springing
to his feet.

“Don’t worry, Calvin,” said Rafael
reassuringly, he’d followed Alex to the bridge. “The ship’s in good
hands.” The light danced off his eye and he nodded toward the exit
and Calvin knew what he meant. That Rez’nac was listening not too
far away and, should Rafael cry out, the muscular Polarian would
charge to the bridge and subdue Alex.

“Thanks,” said Calvin. He left the bridge,
Miles in tow.

“So now that that crap’s over,” said Miles.
Making sure to keep up. “I was thinking we should do something.
Y’know? Maybe a game of cards. I haven’t kicked anyone’s ass in
poker in a while so I kinda figured…”

Calvin turned and gave Miles a polite smile.
“Sorry buddy, I’m not feeling it tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Oh yeah, ‘course,” said Miles, his face
flushed red as a beet. “I’m not feeling it tonight either. Yeah, a
card game tonight would be stupid.”

Calvin tried not to chuckle.
Miles, Miles,
Miles
, he thought. Thinking of all the crazy things they’d been
through and somehow survived.
I hope you never change
.

“I’ll just… be in my quarters then,” send
Miles. “In the cargo bay. You know. Whatever. No big deal.”

Calvin clapped him on the shoulder and the
two parted ways. At first Calvin went to his cabin, the only proper
quarters on the ship—which were Rotham-sized and therefore too
small. He couldn’t even fit comfortably on the bed so he’d thrown
the linens on the floor and just slept there. But this time, as he
lay there, he found he couldn’t sleep.

They were going into Alliance space—where the
Strigoi lived—and that made him think of Christine. And how the
savage creatures had taken her away from him forever with their
vile poison. He tried to blink away the horrific memory and sleep.
But when he closed his eyes all he could see was Christine’s gaunt,
tormented face. He remembered the agony in her blood-shot eyes as
she’d begged for the pain to end. For the doctors who’d awoken her
to let her die.

She never deserved any of that. It was mere
chance that the creature attacked her instead of me. She should
have lived. Someone else should have suffered. Anyone else. Not
her!

He felt his insides writhe, tortured by the
memory. The terror. The uncertainty. Having to see her deteriorate,
hooked up to so many machines and not one of them could save her.
He saw the hospital room with frightening clarity. The images, the
scents, the sound of the machines beeping and churning… it was like
having a dull razor plunged directly into his heart. The worst he’d
felt in a long time. His instinct was to reach with shaky hands for
the orange equarius bottle. But it wasn’t there. There was no
equarius. He had to face his demons alone.