The Phoenix Darkness (6 page)

“You, sir, are suggesting we take isotome
weapons for ourselves so that, should anyone offend or attack us,
we could respond by destroying an entire star system, slaughtering
billions of innocent lives?” Summers remained un-amused.

“No, don’t you
see
?” urged Pellew. “If
we have the weapons, and everyone knows we have them, then we’ll
never have to use them, because no one would dare attack us.”

“And suppose they did anyway?” asked Summers.
“What then? We’d be required to respond. Otherwise, our threat
would mean nothing anymore, and our response would necessarily be
brutal. It’d be worse than brutal. To use those weapons…it’d be a
crime against all life itself!”

Pellew sighed, looking quite frustrated. He
pointed at Nimoux. “Captain, you were a military man before you put
on the black-and-silver, you’ve led soldiers into battle like I
have. You understand the power of deterrence. No one attacks an
enemy they know is so overwhelmingly superiorly dangerous that your
destruction is assured.”

“I’m familiar with the strategy,” said
Nimoux. He too looked un-persuaded.

“Go on, then, be useful. Explain it to her,”
Pellew pointed at Summers.

“Actually, Captain,” said Nimoux in a tone
which was not disrespectful, but also clearly not friendly. “I
happen to agree with the commander. These weapons are too deadly to
exist. The fact that they do is an affront against all principles
of morality, and they should never be used, never even be
threatened to be used.”

Pellew looked like he could not believe what
he was hearing. “Are you serious?” He looked from one of his
soldiers to the other. “Can you believe this?” he looked back at
Nimoux. “Maybe your days in Intel Wing have made you soft, Captain,
but if you were still in Her Majesty’s armed services, I’m sure
you’d agree with me.”

Nimoux looked on the cusp of saying something
quite angry. Apparently something in Pellew’s words had stung him
in some way, although Summers was not entirely sure how. Yet,
despite the wound, Nimoux did not allow himself to be baited and
his response was as calm as before. “Captain Pellew, the strategy
you describe is a very old and ancient one. And one which, among
civilized nations, with tremendous security, has, historically,
been proven to work.”

“You
see
,” said Pellew.

“
But
,” added Nimoux. “Only for a
while. In the mid-post-industrial age on Eurosis, there were three
large national superpowers which each stockpiled tremendous
arsenals of nuclear weapons.”

“Yes, exactly, and none of the three went to
war with each other because of
mutually-assured destruction
.
The nuclear option saved them during a time of high tensions from
having their world erupt into another bloodbath of a world war
which would have claimed the lives of hundreds of millions.”

“Yes, the nuclear option did seem to work,
for a time,” said Nimoux. “But it was an unstable solution. With
each new nuclear weapon manufactured and added to the stockpile, a
new liability was created. And all other nations, in order to
remain viable, had to create such arsenals of their own. Before
long, everyone had vast stockpiles of nuclear weapons which no one
wanted to use and everyone wished would go away, but instead they
were trapped in a cycle of creating ever more of them. And do you
remember what happened then?”

“They didn’t have a world war, that’s what
happened,” said Pellew.

“Correct, although what they had was almost
as bad. Eventually, some of the regimes became weaker over time,
yet stockpiles of nuclear weapons remained high and, eventually,
before too long, one of those nations had much of its nuclear
inventory stolen. Those weapons, in the wrong hands, in the hands
of an enemy with nothing to lose and no nation to protect, had no
qualms about putting them to use. The resulting nuclear blasts
killed millions in the most brutal way imaginable for that time
period. And the aftermath of it set off a chain of nuclear
retribution and paranoia which nearly led to a nuclear holocaust
that might have wiped out the entire population. If that’d
happened, what do you suppose it would have meant for us here
today?”

Pellew had no response. He didn’t look happy,
and Summers could tell a part of him, probably his pride, still
clung to the thread that his plan of isotome deterrence held
greater wisdom. But he also seemed to accept the arguments of
Nimoux, and the fact that the rest of the crew stood against him
ideologically.

“Well, then I suppose I’m outvoted,” said
Pellew, almost casually. “Commander,” he looked at Summers, “it’s
your decision. If you want those weapons gone, then I’ll see it
done. I just thought I’d give you another option, if you saw any
wisdom in taking it.”

“Thank you, Captain Pellew,” said Summers,
“but we are now committed to our course of action. We shall destroy
those weapons, no matter what the cost is to us.”

“Understood.”

With that, Summers turned her attention back
to the status of the mission. “Report, all stations.”

“All defense systems are go,” said Mr. Roy.
“As for the stealth system, it’s engaged and functioning normally.”
He seemed out of place here, amongst the elite officers of White
Shift. But with Red Shift understaffed and Summers’ decision to
convince Calvin to take their main gunner, that
idiot
Miles
Brown, with him on his mission, that left a vacancy at the defense
post for White Shift. Initially, Summers had intended on filling
the spot herself and indeed, depending on Mr. Roy’s skill, or lack
thereof she might still exercise that option. After all, she’d
trained as a defense officer before accepting promotion into
command. However, at Cassidy’s suggestion, Summers had reluctantly
agreed to give Mr. Roy a shot. With the stakes as high as these,
he’d damn sure better not mess this up.

“All systems operating within expected
parameters, sir,” said Shen. He answered the question politely and
matter-of-factly, but it seemed to Summers something was missing in
their brilliant Ops chief or, at the very least, different. Like
someone had drained out all the hope and cheer and replaced it with
nihilistic glumness. Unfortunate, tragic even, but none of Summers’
business. She wasn’t any kind of accredited therapist and so she
knew she could be of no help to Mr. Iwate. As long as he attended
shifts in a timely fashion and performed his duties with the level
of excellence that’d come to be expected of him, Summers had no
quarrel with him.

“Jump depth of ninety-nine point nine remains
stable,” said Sarah. She too had seemed to change, and not for the
better. While the annoying, bubbly aspect of her personality seemed
to have been grinded away by something, which Summers preferred,
she didn't like to think her core officers were becoming so
exhausted and worn out that sooner rather than later they would be
unable to adequately perform their duties.

“And comms?” asked Summers.

“Right,” said Sarah. “All comms systems are
functioning normally. I’m picking up chatter from the local
station, but nothing out of the ordinary. If we’ve been seen, they
haven’t mentioned it.”

“Of course we haven’t been seen,” said Mr.
Roy. “We’ve got the stealth system engaged.”

“Watch your tone, mister,” said Summers,
rebuking Mr. Roy. “You’re on the Bridge of a starship and you shall
conduct yourself accordingly at all times.”

“Yes, sir.”

“ETA?” asked Summers.

“We’ll be in range to drop into the system in
fifteen minutes. Our scanners will have a confirmed fix on Zander’s
ship, assuming it’s still there, in about ten minutes.”

“Is it still there?” asked Summers, feeling
alarmed.

“By last report, yes. Our informant said the
ship hadn’t left the system, not yet. They had to dock with the
station for some kind of repair. That’s been completed, last I
heard, but the ship itself hasn’t jumped yet,” said Sarah.
“Although, all of that may have changed by now.”

“Let's hope not,” said Summers. “Why so long
to get a positive identification of the ship? The
Nighthawk
’s scanners are supposed to be
state-of-the-art.”

“We can see plenty of ships,” said Shen, no
doubt deciding to field this question since he was the resident Ops
expert. “However, with the limited information we know about
Zander’s ship, we’ll need to get closer and do a more complete
analysis of the many ships traversing the system before we can be
99.9% certain it’s him.”

“Why only 99.9%?” asked Summers.

Shen shrugged. “Nothing in life is 100%.”

True enough
, Summers supposed. She
glanced to her side to see Captain Nimoux there, whose quiet
presence had almost been forgotten about due to his tendency, at
least so far, toward silence and observation. At first, this had
made the crew nervous, being supervised by one of the Empire’s
greatest heroes and, more recently, one of their most dangerous
foes, but now that Nimoux had attended a watch and a half, and had
said fewer than five words, the crew seemed to be forgetting he was
there. Summers, however, was more pleased to have him by her side
than she would readily admit. Finally someone intelligent, with the
record of service to prove it, she could trust to double-check her
work and help her make those hard decisions. Without meaning to,
she found herself staring at him. Strong jawbone, greatly receded
hairline, pale eyes…she wondered just how much of the galaxy those
eyes had seen. Things that he would never be able to divulge to
anyone.

Captain Nimoux met her gaze. “Yes, Commander
Presley?” he asked innocently.

“Please go about the stations and familiarize
yourself with their basic controls,” Summers said instinctively,
hurriedly darting her eyes away from his chiseled jawbone.

“Of course,” he said, and he stood up and
began studying the stations. It was good procedure for each of the
officers to have basic knowledge of how the other systems worked in
case one or more of the specialists became incapacitated, but
Summers knew her order had been a stupid one. Nimoux had been the
commanding officer of the IWS
Desert Eagle
, one of the
Nighthawk
’s sister ships. No doubt he knew these consoles
better than she did.

Damn my lingering eyes
, she thought.
The odd thing was, she didn’t find Captain Nimoux particularly
attractive. At least, she didn’t think so; certainly not
conventionally. Yes, he was reasonably tall and clearly kept
himself in excellent physical condition, but his bone structure was
a bit more narrow than she liked, his face a bit too long, his ears
mismatched slightly, and he had one tooth that was just faintly,
annoyingly, crooked and stood out against all the others, which
were straight, as if to deliberately irk her need for order. True,
Nimoux was a famous name across the Empire, and if he were the type
to use it thusly he no doubt could leverage that to get many a
woman’s pants off. But his fame held no appeal for Summers, nor was
she the type to be attracted to secrets, and Nimoux probably
carried more of those around than anyone else on the ship. Besides,
she’d never gone for his type…whatever it was: possessing the
masculine and well-formed body of a military man combined with a
head and face which seemed almost bookish or professorial. She
refused to let herself believe her lack of physical attraction was
due to something so superficial as hair, the whole going bald
gracefully thing fit in nicely with Nimoux’s entire philosophy of
life but, admittedly, it wasn’t her favorite feature about him.
Yet, there was something else which did conjure up very positive,
almost alluring feelings. Could it be…?

“Ten minutes away from Izar Ceti,” reported
Sarah, snapping Summers back to the present situation. She too had
been sleep deprived and overworked, like the rest of the crew, but
that was no excuse, and she reprimanded herself inwardly for
allowing her mind to wander.

“Thank you, Lt. Winters,” said Summers. “Mr.
Iwate, how much longer until we can get a positive ID? And have we
got anything new?”

“At least five more minutes before we can
begin scanning and identifying ships with maximum accuracy at
present depth. Probably more like seven minutes, considering Ms.
Winters will have to decrease our jump depth before we finalize
approach into the system.”

Ms. Winters
? Summers had never heard
Shen refer to Sarah as
Ms. Winters
before, or in any formal
way. Perhaps Summers command style, the correct one, was finally
taking root onboard the formerly hopeless IWS
Nighthawk
.

Captain Nimoux finished his walk around the
Bridge and returned to his seat beside the command chair.
“Commander, if I may?” he hesitated.

“What is it?” Summers asked, perhaps a bit
too curiously.

“I know this is not the best time, we
discussed a great deal of this during my debriefing before I put on
this uniform.” He glanced down at the black-and-silver that seemed
so damned appropriate on his tall frame. “But, when you have a
moment, I still have a great deal of questions, ones which have
been bothering me since I arrived.”

“You’re right, this is not the time,” said
Summers, as she concurrently got a report from Cassidy they were
only minutes away from the system. “However,” she looked into his
eyes, trying to appear stern and not melt before them, a task she
believed she did successfully. “I will gladly answer all of your
questions at the earliest possible time.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Him
calling
her,
“Sir,” nearly
made her blush. But, somehow, she kept her composure and looked
away from him, chiding herself internally for her foolish feelings.
“All hands, Condition One. Sound general quarters. Mr. Roy, keep
our shields and energy weapon powered
down
until I say
otherwise.”