The Phoenix Darkness (13 page)

Neither had Shen been one for the ideas of
predestination, destiny, or any other form of determinism which
stripped him of his ability to take his own fate into his own hands
and determine his own providence. And yet here he was, a result of
circumstances largely outside his control. He’d never chosen to be
born, nor to live, nor to look as he did, or have the aptitudes he
had, along with the weaknesses he possessed. Neither had he chosen
to be saved when he’d fallen prey to the Remorii of Remus Nine, or
to be rescued, in part anyway, by the best medical efforts
available, which themselves had been imperfect. And now here he
was, lured away from his post by a ringing he could not control and
led here to the observation deck, like a puppet on a string, until
he was standing there in the darkness, fixated upon the abyss,
existing as either man or monster, or both. Or neither. He didn’t
know. He recalled the dreams he’d been having, ones in which
Tristan was there, always there. Calling out to him, reaching for
him, or otherwise beckoning him to come nearer. Like Shen’s
existence and the change in his reality had not been the fluke of
some random happenstance, like all things which governed the
universe, but instead had been a purposeful, intentional
brushstroke of design. An ugly color from a hideous palette spread
along a noxious canvas.

He wondered then if his existence, cruel,
lucky, or both, was the product of the randomness that was
prime-mover
which instigated the universe and all within it,
as he’d always suspected, including the unpredictable nature of
free will, or if instead of that he existed as some kind of
unwilling and unknowing participant in a sort of game for the
benefit of some kind of higher and crueler power than his mind
could fathom.

It does matter
, he supposed, still
staring off into the void.
If I am anything at all, I am
this
. He looked down at the palms of his hands and then back
into the endless darkness. Whether he’d been fated to become what
he was, or whether he was alive and not quite perfectly human
anymore, was the result of a lot of luck, chance, and freedom of
will. There was no changing the past. He couldn’t go back and undo
his decision to go to Remus Nine any more than he could go back and
undo the gene encoding that happened before he was born, which
didn’t quite make him tall enough, or predisposed him toward weight
gain, or whatever else other thing about him he would change.

I cannot change it. Any of it. And yet I
live…

Chapter 5

“Are they here?” whispered Miles, there was
so much anxiety in his voice the words were practically a
squeal.

“
Shhh
,” whispered Calvin, as gently
and quietly as he could, wanting very much for none of them to be
heard. He elbowed Miles as he shushed him. Not hard enough to
provoke an outcry, but hard enough to let him know the time to shut
up had not yet expired.

They waited there in silence after that, just
as they had for several minutes before. Calvin was closest to the
door and so he pressed his left ear against it, trying to get any
information he could. He heard footsteps and, at one point thought
he heard voices, more like a mumble than anything, certainly not
the hiss-like sounds of the Rotham tongue he expected. But then
again, he couldn’t be too sure.

On his left, Rafael listened also. He too had
one ear against the door, but, unlike Calvin, if they did hear any
voices, Rafael would have a fair chance at understanding the
speech. Calvin had virtually no knowledge of the Rotham
language.

On his right, just a little ways back, was
Miles. When Calvin had come up with his plan, and ordered everyone,
except for Alex, to hide silently in the tertiary cargo bay, Miles
had been one of the first ones in. At first, Calvin had thought it
was because Miles was feeling cowardly. And perhaps that was not
untrue. But once Calvin had gotten a glimpse of how everyone was
arranged in the hiding space, he understood Miles had wanted to
claim the spot next to Rain. And, sure enough, his slightly
trembling, large body was squished, perhaps overly so, against her
thin, tall frame.

For Rain’s part, if she was afraid, she did
not show it. She simply looked to Calvin, largely ignoring Miles’s
efforts to essentially cuddle with an attractive woman one last
time, and Rain neither trembled nor made any noise. Just as Calvin
had asked Rain, along with Rafael and Rez’nac, whose large Polarian
body was squeezed in uncomfortably on Rafael’s left, they made no
sounds at all. They quietly held their weapons, except for Rain who
had preferred to remain unarmed, and waited for any orders from
Calvin. For now, Calvin wanted nothing more than for their presence
to go unheard and unnoticed.

It wasn’t the most elegant of plans, nor was
it the best one Calvin had ever devised. But given the options
available to him, fight and die, surrender and probably die, flee
and die, or attempt to hide, he decided the lattermost option was
the best. And so he’d had Rafael adjust the
Wanderer
’s
computers and displays accordingly and instructed Alex to tell the
Rotham boarding party about a radiation leak from his engines,
which Alex was to claim he’d managed to seal off by locking the
tertiary cargo bay. From the ship’s design, it wasn’t a ludicrous
claim. The alteredspace drive and local-space engine coils were
positioned just below the tertiary cargo bay, and it was more than
conceivable that a ship of this size and value would run into such
problems every now and again on long-haul cargo missions.

Once Alex knew the story, Calvin had ordered
his people to grab hold of all their possessions, anything that
would indicate someone besides Alex was aboard the ship—and stash
them inside the tertiary cargo bay along with themselves. This
contributed largely to the cramped conditions they were currently
experiencing. But Calvin knew, one sidewise glance at a human
medkit, or something hastily forgotten in one of the other, larger
cargo bays and the jig would be up. The Rotham boarding party would
force open the sealed hatch to the third bay and take them by
storm. Whether they were captured or slaughtered on the spot was an
open question, as was which fate would be gentler. Calvin preferred
a different option.

Hurry up and go back to your ship
, he
thought, still hearing boots marching around and sounds he now felt
certain must have been very muffled conversation. As soon as the
Rotham patrol ship bought into Alex’s story, which by all rights
they ought to believe, as far as Calvin could tell, then they’d
return to their destroyer, continue their patrol, and then Alex
would jump the
Wanderer
to somewhere safe and let them out
of their cramped little prison. At which point they could try to
make heads or tails of the intel they’d captured, and also safely
transmit what they'd discovered to the queen. If done correctly,
their kataspace message would go unnoticed and the Rotham fleet
would have no idea the humans awaiting them had any information
regarding their formations, fleet composition, and likely strategy.
All things the Rotham could alter before their attack, should they
realize intelligence about their force had been transmitted
elsewhere.

But all of that hinged on these particular
Rotham believing Alex’s story and not wanting to dig further
beneath the surface.

Come on
, thought Calvin.
Get going.
Why are you still here?

Although Calvin neither liked nor disliked
Alex, he nonetheless had full confidence in the Rotham’s ability to
sell such a story to a standard patrol ship. Alex had been a member
of Advent, which was the Rotham equivalent to Intel Wing. And,
depending on who you asked, it could be argued the Advent had
better programs in place to train their individual operatives. And
so Alex had the training and the knowledge of how to sell Calvin’s
concocted lie, Calvin
had
to have faith in that, just as he
had to have faith in the fact that a destroyer would be ill
equipped to help try to fix such a radiation problem. Which was
generally true, a patrolling destroyer would want to resume its
patrol and a light warship such as that wouldn’t be carrying around
a lot of extra engineers and spare parts.

There was always the chance the destroyer
would escort the
Wanderer
toward the Rotham fleet, which
would be able to deal with any radiation issues, or that the
destroyer would ask the Rotham fleet to send help, or call for help
from elsewhere. But Calvin doubted each of those possibilities.
Thinking that, more than likely, a Rotham patrol ship is not going
to take a personal interest in the relatively minor mechanical
difficulties of a relatively minor and innocent-looking cargo ship,
one of thousands which make cargo runs back and forth. More
importantly, the Rotham fleet would not want to risk exposing
information about itself, even to one of their own civilians,
especially if that civilian is a trader who is likely to make a
return trip to Imperial space, possibly before the Rotham fleet had
time to attack.

Oh no, he had very little to worry about,
Calvin assumed. Provided Alex sold the story the way he was trained
to do, the damned Rotham destroyer crew did as any good Rotham
destroyer crew should and, after a quick investigation, returned
back to their patrol.

This should work
, Calvin reminded
himself, as if to silence that small part of him that was doubtful,
that thought this was too easy and too convenient to work.
Everything fits. Everything adds up
, he continued reasoning.
We’ve considered everything
…

But then why is the Rotham crew still here?
The soldiers and officers and whoever else they’d sent aboard to
inspect Alex’s ship, interview him, and get his story, were
obviously still here. Calvin could hear them walking around, now
and again. And it wasn’t just Alex walking around, up to no good
and refusing to let them know they were in the clear, oh no, Calvin
could hear the footsteps of multiple people. Multiple
Rotham
. The boarding party was still here. But
why?

As if in answer to the question he didn’t
ask, he heard a snap-hiss as a seal unsealed and then a click as a
lock was disabled. Then it dawned on him; they were opening the
tertiary cargo bay! They hadn’t bought the story! He and the others
were doomed!

Calvin looked at the others, as if relaying a
command with his eyes, wait for my signal, then looked back at the
door as it cracked open, slowly sliding aside to let the light in.
Calvin squinted, trying to get a sense of their numbers.
If we
overwhelm them, maybe we can take the destroyer by storm
, he
thought, although he knew such a plan was hopeless, since a Rotham
destroyer was typically outfitted with a minimum of sixty Teldari
soldiers.

“Drop your weapons,” hissed a Rotham, his use
of the human language was poorly practiced and almost
incomprehensible.

Calvin counted thirteen Rotham soldiers, all
outfitted with combat gear and armed with Rotham war rifles.
Instinctively, Calvin raised his own carbine and pointed it at the
leader. As he did, Miles, Rafael, and Rez’nac each raised their
weapons, awaiting Calvin’s cue to fire. They showed tremendous
restraint not to open fire on their own, and Calvin supposed that,
with the possible exception of Rez’nac, the others probably would
rather take their chances surrendering than fighting. But they
ultimately deferred to Calvin, even if it meant their deaths…

“Now, now, Lieutenant Commander,” said a
familiar voice from ahead and to the right. “Don’t make this any
harder than it needs to be.”

Calvin looked over and saw Alex clearly
standing with the enemy. Not in chains, not in custody, but
standing among them with smug, folded arms, as if he’d been working
with them the whole time.

Calvin felt the urge to point his weapon at
Alex and fire, throwing to the wind all his curiosity and questions
about why Alex had betrayed them, how he’d fooled them, and why
Alex wasn’t in Rotham custody if he had been imprisoned by the
Rotham the last time he’d been with them. After all, Calvin and his
people had rescued Alex from the prison cells on the Thorpian
attack cruiser that had held them all captive in Abia.

Well, now at least I know why my plan
failed
, thought Calvin, realizing Alex must not have even
pretended to go along with Calvin’s plan as soon as the humans and
the Polarian were locked away.

“Last chance, human,” said the lead Teldari
soldier. His human pronunciation a bit better this time.

“Now, now, Calvin, we’ve been through so much
together,” said Alex. “It really would be a shame for you to die
here in this way.”

“The words of a betrayer are less than wind,”
said Rez’nac. He gave Calvin a look as if to say, “let us die here,
by honor of battle.” Indeed there even seemed to be a sense such an
end would give Rez’nac a kind of long-sought-after relief from some
kind of terrible burden. But Calvin refused to die here.

He threw his carbine to the ground. Then
watched as the others, including Rez’nac, laid down their arms. The
mighty Polarian even set aside his ceremonial dagger, although the
two parted with great remorse. It was a testament, Calvin knew, to
Rez’nac’s willingness to submit to Calvin’s command as leader. For
otherwise, Rez’nac would have surely preferred to die than give up
the dagger which was a symbol of everything he was and valued.

“There, see, I told you he was intelligent,”
said Alex to the lead Teldari. The Rotham soldiers came forward and
collected Calvin’s carbine along with the other surrendered
weapons. Calvin gave Alex a look of intense hate, then found
himself looking backwards as the Teldari took him and restrained
his arms behind his back. His eyes met Rain’s, and with only a
glance, he tried to tell her,
I’m sorry
.