The Phoenix Darkness (25 page)

Chapter 9

The
Harbinger
had finished repairs, as
had most of the rest of his group. Raidan no longer commanded a
squadron in the queen’s navy, his squadron having been annihilated
in the attack on the Apollo Yards, but some starships from the
Organization, remnants of other Groups who had lost their leaders
or otherwise become disorganized, had been ordered into the
formation of a new Group, giving Raidan command of some seven
warships, including his own.

He remained in Taurus system for now, though,
awaiting the arrival of his other ships, only two of which were in
the system with him. And he spent his time strategizing his next
several moves. There were a few clear options in front of him, some
more palatable than others, but should the first efforts fail, the
second ones, no matter how unpalatable, would be necessary. He was
convinced of that.

Mira Pellew had also become a frequent
visitor to his office and was a constant reminder of “what we may
have to do,” a fact she reiterated so often Raidan half believed
the woman hoped push would come to shove and they would be required
to act as they’d discussed. For Raidan’s part, he still hoped
things could be worked out in a better, more peaceable way, but he
had to admit with the way things were going, he needed to plan to
exercise Mira’s option, because it might be the very last move he
would ever have the chance to make during this war. And he’d be
damned if the Empire fell under his watch.

Mira’s visits, which were superficially
polite, carried tremendous undertones of danger and, in the silent
subtext of her words as she shared her plans and urged him to take
particular actions, there was always the unspoken subtext that she
saw Raidan as an enemy, an ally of convenience for the time being,
but in the larger picture Raidan, like others, was an obstacle to
be eliminated. Although her words disguised this motive, Raidan was
no fool and he knew, as certain as he liked whiskey, Mira was his
enemy. And the more they discussed their plans, which Raidan
maintained hope were merely fallback plans, the more convinced he
became that Mira Pellew was a profoundly dangerous woman, one
neither to be trusted nor trifled with easily.

It was minutes after one such meeting that
Raidan finally got the call he’d been expecting, one long overdue.
He knew who it was when the call arrived. The message used all of
the pre-arranged security protocols and encryption methods and,
more importantly, the signal had been sent directly to him. So,
despite his communication equipment’s utter inability to pinpoint
the signal’s source, he knew exactly who was sending the message
and roughly from where.

“It’s about time I heard something from you,”
said Raidan. “Report.”

“Zander didn’t have fifteen isotome weapons,”
came Pellew’s voice through the headset.

“Dammit. Then where are they?”

“No one knows for sure, but I did find
evidence on his ship that the weapons had been there—and recently.
But he managed to move them off before we could overtake him. My
guess is he’s handed them over to the Rahajiim.”

Raidan felt his fist growing tighter as he
considered the implications of this. If the Rahajiim did have those
weapons and they were planning an invasion into Imperial space, as
Calvin and Tristan had both warned, then as many as fourteen
Imperial star systems were vulnerable to utter obliteration and
Raidan wasn’t sure how to counter such a threat.

“What became of Zander?” asked Raidan. He
hoped his old comrade and former Group leader had been taken alive.
Raidan would enjoy putting the man to questioning, and torture if
necessary, to get out of him the fine details of his recent
transaction.

“He’s dead,” said Pellew. “There was nothing
I could do. His own crew mutinied, by the look of it. They were
dead by the time we boarded the ship. I set charges throughout the
Duchess
and reduced it to dust, Zander’s corpse along with
it.”

More bad news
, thought Raidan. “Does
this mean you didn’t have to activate your protocol after all,
then?” said Raidan. He’d strongly been against any action inside
the
Nighthawk
, whose crew he’d hoped to keep loyal. But if
there had been isotome weapons to take, and the crew couldn’t be
made to see the logic in acquiring them for the Empire, then action
would have been necessary, however unfortunate.

“Not exactly,” said Pellew. “There was one
silver lining. When we overtook the
Duchess
, she was
retrieving a lone isotome missile from a point in open space. When
we captured the ship, we took the missile and now it’s aboard the
Nighthawk
.”

Raidan felt a small measure of relief. At
least now their side had some kind of deterrent available to them,
even if the one weapon was a poor match for fourteen of its
brothers and sisters.

“How did Summers handle it?” asked Raidan,
worried his overly principled former XO might have resisted and
gotten herself injured.

“She did not take it well. Neither did
Captain Lafayette Nimoux, who, as I told you before, Summers has
put in place as her Acting XO. The two of them refused to see logic
and instead made this kind of alliance against me. They were
willing to destroy the
Nighthawk
if it meant getting rid of
that isotome weapon.”

“Good thing you didn’t let them,” said
Raidan, almost afraid to ask what had transpired.

“I was forced to activate Kilo Protocol. I
have since taken over the ship and have soldiers on the Bridge,
Engineering, and on patrol. Most of the crew are confined to
quarters and all nonessential doors are sealed.”

“Did they resist?”

“The Bridge crew tried to, at first. But they
failed.”

“Casualties?” asked Raidan. Not liking the
sound of that.

“One wounded and three dead…so far.”

“What does that mean, so far?” Raidan
demanded to know.

“It means two of my soldiers were killed,
along with a minor bridge officer—someone named Roy. There was
another person injured who might die. It’s not clear yet.”

“Who?”

“Don’t worry about it; it’s not your precious
Summers. Other than a bump on her head and maybe some emotional
scars, she’s fine.”

Raidan closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
They were not supposed to harm Summers in any way
whatsoever
.

“I don’t trust transmitting on this frequency
for much longer,” said Pellew, for good reason. “So I think it’s
time we discuss my payment for services rendered.”

“Get the
Nighthawk
underway and meet
me in the outskirts of Taurus System; I’ll be waiting. The sooner
you get here, the more you’ll be paid,” said Raidan.

“Half now, half on delivery,” Pellew
counter-negotiated.

“Very well, I’ll transfer the funds,” he
said, not in the mood to argue.

“Very good. You, sir, have just bought
yourself one bona fide isotome missile. Although, before I sign
off, I do have to ask. What about my other problem?”

Raidan clenched his teeth. “I’m dealing with
it. These things take time.”

“Whatever you say, Captain.”

Pellew terminated the call and the comm went
dead.

***

After a thorough debriefing, in which he’s
regaled his fellow Advent members about his capture by the
Rahajiim, rescue in Abia, time as a prisoner to the humans, and how
they sought to find and destroy the isotome weapons, he was
eventually restored to full status as an Advent operative and given
complete clearance for the ship. His colleagues, a few of whom he
knew personally, but not most, aboard the Advent destroyer, wanted
to believe his story right at its face, but they had to fiercely
interrogate him all the same, as was procedure. And Alex
understood.

It was a good feeling to be back in uniform,
and have the liberty to walk about a proper Rotham warship without
having to dodge suspicious eyes and backward glances. They didn’t
welcome him back as a hero; his mission had failed, but he’d
survived, returned to them, and brought some useful intelligence
with him, and so they treated him in the next best way, as if his
mission had never occurred at all. So there was no record of error
on his slate. This was a courtesy for which he was most
grateful.

Now that he was free, however, there was
something quite urgent he needed to discuss with the ship’s
commander. And so, after providing adequate clearance, he gained
access to the Bridge and arranged to discuss the matter in private.
Nau T’mo, the ship’s commander and a high ranking Advent officer in
his own right, agreed to the meeting and the two met in the privacy
of the strategy room.

“Proxitor Ol’ixe, It is good to see you alive
and in one piece,” said Nau T’mo. “I honestly thought you'd died
long ago. Then, when we intercepted your short-range message, I was
so shocked I nearly thought it was a trick. And yet, here you are,
in the scales.”

It was a little strange for Alex to hear his
name spoken properly, and he was surprised how familiar the crude
human term
Alex
had become something with which he
identified so deeply.

“Yes, thank you,” said Alex. “I am happy to
have returned as well. And pleased to work again against the
Rahajiim threat which would throw the galaxy into another terrible
war.”

Nau T’mo bowed his head briefly, “May that
day never come.”

Alex did the same. “May that day never come.”
This gesture was, Alex supposed, a relic of the ancient days when
the Rotham, like all barely civilized creatures, had possessed a
religious culture. Now such superstitions were long done away with,
and yet the bowing of the head and the invocation of good
providence, which was symbolic only, remained a common
practice.

“Now, Ol’ixe, what are you here for?”

“I understand you plan to execute the
prisoners,” said Alex, feeling a surprising amount of concern for
the humans who had brought him here, even caring a little for the
Polarian warrior, who Alex had no reason in the galaxy to like and
every reason to fear.

“Of course, isn’t that only justice?” said
Nau T’mo. “They held you prisoner, used you, and no doubt attempted
to extract secrets from you. And so they and their knowledge are
dangerous. They must be eliminated.”

“But
must
they?” asked Alex.

Nau T’mo looked surprised. “I'd thought you
would want this. I was even going to give you the honor of doing
the deed yourself.”

“I am honored by that consideration, Great
Nau,” said Alex. “But these humans are still useful to us.
Executing them would be premature.”

“Premature, why?”

“They are members of Intel Wing, this I
know,” said Alex. “Is it not more prudent to interrogate them first
and then decide what to do with them afterward? Suppose one of them
knows something else about the Empire, or the Rahajiim, and has
been holding out on us? We would lose the chance to uncover that
intel if we process them too hastily.”

“You may have a point, Proxitor,” said the
Nau, thoughtfully. “Very well, I shall spare the humans for now and
send them to extraction.”

“And what of the Polarian?” asked Alex.

“Why death, of course,” said the Nau. He
seemed genuinely surprised to see any hesitation or discomfort on
Alex’s part regarding the sentence. “His kind are brutes. Rapists,
murderers, thugs, and certainly not beings of intelligence and
knowledge. Why should I waste resources sending him to
extraction?”

“Because of what you don’t know about him,”
said Alex, trying to think of something and finding himself equally
shocked that he was speaking up in defense of the Polarian warrior.
No doubt a misplaced loyalty, but a sentiment he would have to
correct at another time.

“And what is that?”

“The Polarian is a member of the Khalahar
class. As such, he is privy to a great deal of information your
average Polarian would know nothing about, including some of the
secrets of Polarian Forbidden Space.” This seemed to catch the
Nau’s attention and his golden eyes brightened.

“Very well, I shall send them all to
extraction, then decide what to do with them later.”

“Thank you, Great Nau,” said Alex, knowing
extraction would be unpleasant, but at least it would be better
than death.

“It is a wise course of action. Thank you for
suggesting it, Proxitor. You may go.”

***

Calvin, Rain, Rafael, Miles, and even the
mighty Rez’nac had been locked in restraints and muscled, not so
gently, out of the
Wanderer
and onto the Rotham Destroyer.
Unlike the
Wanderer
, which had shown signs of wear and tear
and evidence of its cheap construction, the destroyer was a
cutting-edge warship. Calvin had tried to get what glimpses he
could of the layout and technical specifics in case he miraculously
survived this captivity and Intel Wing wanted to know what the
innards of a brand new Rotham destroyer looked like, but he was
mostly forced to keep his head down as the Teldari soldiers shoved
him and the others along toward what could only be the prison
cells. They had only stopped along the way briefly to force Calvin
to stare out the deck’s port window and watch as the
Wanderer
was blasted to shreds by the destroyer’s guns.

Goodbye Wanderer
, Calvin thought,
knowing this display had been meant to demonstrate to him there was
no longer any hope of escape. The only thing that had represented
freedom to him out here was now space dust. At least he’d chosen
not to hide others of his crew in different places inside the
Wanderer
. Had he done so, and they’d evaded the Rotham
soldiers, their atoms would have been eviscerated along with the
ship.

We’re on our own now
. The reality had
sunk in at the sight of the death of the
Wanderer
, and
Calvin knew that had been the intended effect. Still, he hadn’t
been able to help feeling that sense of dreaded hopelessness
overwhelm him just as the Rotham had intended.