The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (16 page)

“Has the Hunter ship shown any sign that it detects us?” asked Summers.

“Negative, Commander,” said Ms. Dupont. “I don’t believe it can detect us.”

“So, if we raise the shields,” said Nimoux, “We risk starting a fight against two opponents.”

“We are about to be overtaken,” said Ms. Dupont.

“That leaves us with only one option,” said Nimoux, having weighed everything carefully.

“You can’t mean it,” said Summers, a look of betrayal on her face.

“We have to keep the ship intact, otherwise we serve no one any good,” said Nimoux. “Prepare for alteredspace jump.”

“To where?” asked Mr. Cox.

“To anywhere, but not somewhere distant. I just want us to jump away from the planet far enough that the energy vortex leaves us alone. Take us to the far edge of the system.”

“Aye, aye, preparing to jump,” said Mr. Cox.

“We shall be overtaken in twenty seconds,” announced Ms. Dupont.

“Sir,” said Summers, giving Nimoux a stern look. “We are abandoning our people. How can we possibly…?”

“We’re not abandoning our people,” said Nimoux. “We’ll come back for them. Just as planned. The point right now is to keep the ship intact and ourselves alive.”

“Ready for jump,” said Mr. Cox.

“Jump,” commanded Nimoux.

The stars vanished out the window, replaced by total darkness.

“That should be far enough,” said Nimoux, after a minute. “Bring us back into normal space.”

“Aye, aye, sir.” The stars returned.

“What is the position—” Nimoux began to speak but was interrupted by Ms. Dupont’s frantic voice.

“It followed us! The vortex is still here! It followed us all this way and it’s closer than ever!”

“Jump us back near the planet,” said Nimoux, hoping that would buy them an extra few seconds—and put them in range to recollect their away team as soon as they were ready. Nimoux then looked to Summers. “Defense, standby to raise shields and arm weapons. It looks like we have no other choice.”

***

“My Queen,” said Adiger over the private channel. “I request your instructions. How do we deal with this unexpected situation?”

“The situation is indeed unexpected,” replied the voice of Kalila over the bridge’s loudspeakers. “However, it is not necessarily bad fortune. They might be here peacefully—although one must be cautious in making deals with Rotham.”

“Of course, Your Highness. That is wise,” replied Adiger.

“Demand their intentions. Do not coddle them, do not cater to them, and whatever you do, do not show any sign of weakness. I shall have the Fifth and Fourth Fleets inbound to reinforce the Seventh Fleet, should the Rotham decide that battle is what they want. Or should they represent a danger to this system. But,” said the queen, “Before a single shot is fired—unless they fire upon you first—I want to know exactly why they are here. Demand their intentions, identify them, and report back to me for further instructions.”

“I will do as Your Majesty commands,” said Adiger. He ordered the channel closed and the frequency to the Rotham ships opened. “This is Admiral Adiger of the Imperial Fleet, you have trespassed inside Imperial Space; I demand you identify yourselves and state your intentions. Failure to comply will be met with swift and severe consequences.”

“This is Nau Y’tahn of the Republic Fleet,” came the answer. “Our intentions toward the Empire are peaceful, and we come in answer to your monarch’s cries for assistance against the Dread Fleet.”

Adiger desperately hoped that was true. He ordered the channel cut and the channel to the queen re-opened. “Your Majesty, the Rotham claim to have come in force, not out of aggression toward the Empire, but to assist in the battle against the Dread Fleet.”

“If that is, in fact, true, which it may not be,” said the queen, “Then that is most fortunate news. Ask them why they offer their aid now and why they ignored our pleas for aid at Centuria V. If their answer satisfies you, then it satisfies me. Should you determine that we can make use of them in our defense, see to it that their unit is willing to accept the overall command of Sir Arkwright, and I shall have him organize the Rotham forces so they can do maximum damage to the enemy, and minimal damage to us—should their loyalty prove fickle.”

That was quite the burden the queen had just placed upon his shoulders. It was up to Adiger to detect any sign of treason or deception from the Rotham—a species stereotyped as likely to deceive for personal gain—and make the ultimate decision as to whether or not to incorporate them into the defenses of Capital System.
Still
, Adiger thought,
I could have it worse. I could have Sir Arkwright’s job
.

He ordered the queen’s channel closed and the Rotham channel open. “If you are, in fact, here in answer to our pleas for aid, then you are welcome to have your ships in our sovereign space,” said Adiger. “But first you must answer me why you choose to help us defend ourselves now and why our cries for help at Centuria V fell upon deaf ears and you did not help us then,” his tone became harsher with each word.

“Our fleet was unable to help at the time of the Battle of Centuria V, a fact we regret,” said the Nau. “But a fact, notwithstanding.”

“And how did your force, a force of seven-hundred ships, manage to slip into Imperial space without being detected by our listening posts?” This question had not been from the queen, but Adiger believed its answer would be revealing.

“We passed through the ruins of what once was the great Thetican System. Had your civilization there remained intact, they would have seen us. Alas, the tragedy there, much like the tragedies on Cepheus, Centuria V, Layheri-Alpha, and others, should never have been allowed to occur. That is why we stand now, together, as brothers, in good faith, to oppose the threat that would destroy us both, the Dread Fleet. We know that your forces are incapable of stopping the Dread Fleet alone. With our help, you might stand a chance.”

“And why should you care whether or not Capital World, or the Empire, falls to the Dread Fleet?” asked Adiger pointedly. “The Dread Fleet has not invaded Republic space in such a devastating fashion.”

“Because, dear Admiral,” replied the Nau in perfect Human, “We are no fools. The Dread Fleet seeks only to destroy. Intelligence gathered by our Advent has shown us that the Dread Fleet has been dispatched to purge the galaxy of non-Polarians, infidels, and all things considered to be unclean. Once the Dread Fleet has finished purging the Empire, whom do you suppose it will attack next? And, if the mighty Empire—despite its wounds from its own civil war and its extensive losses at the Battles of Thetican System and Centuria V—cannot stop the Dread Fleet, then how can the Republic expect to bulwark itself against the inevitable tide when it falls upon us? Make no mistake, Admiral, we live or die here, today, in this battle. The Empire and the Republic both. If we do not stand together, then neither one of us has any chance of standing separately.”

It was a long answer, but one that struck Adiger as sincere. And, for whatever it was worth, he agreed with the Nau’s reasoning. It was better to have a greater force here and now, to defend Capital World, and, hopefully, turn the Dread Fleet back on its heels, than it would be to have a smaller, all-human force attempt to do the same thing with much worse odds of success.

“I have only one final question for you, Nau of the Republic,” said Adiger.

“Name it, Admiral,” replied the Nau. “And I shall answer to the best of my ability.”

“We have planned a carefully designed defense of this system, given what we know of the Dread Fleet’s tactics, and the strategic positioning of the celestial objects in Capital System; it would be a shame for your forces to disrupt that carefully planned defense. Therefore, are you and your ships willing to accept commands from the ISS
Victory
, which is the flagship holding the overall command of this engagement—including orders regarding how your forces are to be deployed?”

“This is your system and your capital; I would not have it any other way,” said the Nau, much to Adiger’s relief. “If it is a step toward victory on the field of battle against our common enemy, then it is a term I happily accept on behalf of myself, my ship, and my fleet.”

“In that case, Nau Y’tahn, I, and the people of the Empire, welcome you and your assistance. Let this be a new day between our peoples.”

“Yes, Admiral. Let this be the start of a new beginning and not the dark ending the Dread Fleet would serve upon us.”

CHAPTER 07

Kalila made a tent with her fingers and let out a nervous sigh as she stared at the tactical display in the War Room. She was still accompanied by her three advisors and had just received word from Captain—no
Admiral
—Adiger that the Rotham were joining the fight against the Dread Fleet after all.

Kalila wished she could say she was relieved, but past experience, and recent history, had marred any trust she had for the Rotham. And, she hadn’t forgotten that it was because of the Rotham that this,
all
of this, had begun.

Perhaps the Rotham too, like her, had been deceived, but it made no difference. They were treacherous and merciless, and if the Empire was to survive in the long run, it could not allow the Rotham Republic to garner any advantage over the Imperial Systems. Advantages such as the destruction of the human fleets, should the Rotham hold back in the battle, waiting for the Dread Fleet to do most of the dirty work, and then fire on the humans, stabbing them in the back.

That was why she had Sir Vasquez relaying instructions to Sir Arkwright at that very moment, ordering him to split up the Rotham forces as much as possible and get as many of their warships on or near the front line as he could. Obviously, he couldn’t simply assign the entire seven-hundred of them to the vanguard, that would have been far too suspicious, but, if he could keep them apart, in smaller units, and make sure that they bled at least as much as the humans in the coming battle, then there would be no way for the Rotham to betray her.

Still, she could not help wondering if she had made a mistake. And she voiced such thoughts to Sir McTavish and Fleet Admiral Lawson. Sir McTavish had only useless platitudes for her, but it was the wisdom of Fleet Admiral Lawson that caught Kalila’s ear.

“You cannot trust a Rotham,” the grizzled old woman said. She was old enough that she remembered combat with the Rotham, not just during the Great War, but in battles before that. “They are an advantage-seeking, cunning, vile group of aliens, and they should never be underestimated.”

“Come now, Admiral,” said Sir McTavish, “Their arrival here to aid us has come at a most serendipitous moment. Surely there’s no need for such speciesism here.”

Kalila remained silent. She neither rebuked Fleet Admiral Lawson for her speciesist remarks, nor did she echo Sir McTavish’s more liberal view on the subject. The truth was, as loathe as Kalila was to believe in stereotypes, the Rotham had a history of advantage-taking, of violence, and, based on every Rotham she had ever met, a gift for cunning. Kalila did not know if guile was something that could be built into the DNA of a species but, if it could, she had no doubt that the Rotham possessed such genes. Which was why they were such a danger. They had always been such a danger. And, if appropriate measures were not taken—assuming any of them survived the coming battle—the Rotham would continue to be such a danger.

“Don’t be naïve, sir,” said Fleet Admiral Lawson, whose age and cavalier nature made her unafraid to scold him, despite his higher position in the social order.

“Naïve, how?” asked Sir McTavish.

“Why, you have but to look to the disaster of Renora to see the Rotham Republic’s true intentions.”

Sir McTavish appeared momentarily defeated, but he eventually came back with, “Renora had a history of non-cooperation with the Empire. What happened there, they invited upon themselves.”

“Oh, so I suppose they wanted to be bombed into oblivion; is that your official explanation?” Fleet Admiral Lawson pushed him. One thing about the old Admiral that Kalila deeply admired was how utterly frank she was, and that she would take no shit from anyone. That, perhaps even more than whatever wisdom she had to offer, was likely the reason Kalila kept her around, and invited her to be part of her War Council for the upcoming battle.

“The Republic may have its hands dirtied by political intrigue and the like,” admitted Sir McTavish, but so do we. Our Imperialism is little different than theirs.”

Fleet Admiral Lawson looked Sir McTavish directly in the eyes. “Blasphemy.” And that was all the rest she had to say on the matter, despite repeated attempts by Sir McTavish to reengage her on the subject.

Kalila, eventually, put an end to it by speaking up. “I am wary about this sudden alliance,” she said, voicing her concerns. “I know we need all the help we can get against the Dread Fleet; Sir Arkwright and Fleet Admiral Ravinder both submitted reports of a phalanx-driven unstoppable force that laid waste to the planet mercilessly. Obviously, we cannot allow that to happen here. But,” Kalila paused and looked at her two advisors in the eyes—Sir Vasquez still indisposed, relaying commands elsewhere—“By allowing the Rotham into our space, their warships to take position next to our own, are we opening ourselves up to a deadly second threat? One that, should we somehow stop the Dread Fleet, we will have no power, nor hope, of impeding?”

“I do not believe they represent a threat,” said Sir McTavish, just as Kalila expected. “They have as much to lose from the Dread Fleet as we do. We should trust them.”

“And you?” asked Kalila, staring into the eyes of the much more pensive, and apprehensive, Fleet Admiral Lawson.

“I think our decision is made for us,” she said, after several seconds.

“How do you mean?” asked Kalila.

“I never trust a Rotham. Never have and I never will,” said Fleet Admiral Lawson. “Except when I absolutely have to. Here, today, up against the kind of enemy that is knocking on our door, we have no choice but to accept whatever help is available, no matter what form it comes in. I’d sooner defend our system with pirates, Khans, Roscos, Remorii—if such things exist, space monsters, practically
anything
else besides Rotham. But, if Rotham are all that we have, then Rotham are what we must use.”

“I concur,” said Kalila. “If they are willing to accept our battle commands, and deploy as Sir Arkwright orders them deployed, then I think those are signs that this fleet, at least, is not on a mission to harm us. At least not in an obvious or direct way.”

Fleet Admiral Lawson nodded, seeming to agree with Kalila’s logic.

Kalila continued, “Adding their strength to ours, we just might stand a chance of living to see another day.”

“I’d drink to that,” said Sir McTavish. “If I had a drink. Perhaps it can even be a new day for our inter-species relations. The dawn of a new era.”

“Don’t get too hard in your pants over there,” said Fleet Admiral Lawson, causing Sir McTavish’s face to flush. He looked on the cusp of reprimanding the Fleet Admiral, but she didn’t give him the chance. “The day that the Empire and the Republic can co-exist peacefully, and not have Intel Wing and the Advent trying to gain the upper hand on one another, that’ll be the day that shits smell of cinnamon and liquid youth will pour from drinking fountains.”

“Be cynical if you wish,” said Sir McTavish, apparently deciding to take the high road. But there are some of us who are idealists, and we believe that a new, better age is coming. We just have to survive the night in order to witness the day. Isn’t that right, Kalila?”

Truthfully, Kalila had tuned out. She was so fixated on watching the Rotham ships move about on the tactical display—practically expecting to see a firefight break out any minute—that she had stopped listening to her advisors. So she played it cautiously and changed the subject.

“What we need is hope,” she said, speaking to no one in particular. “We haven’t had a lot of it lately. And we haven’t had a lot of reason to expect it. And every time we round a corner and conquer an obstacle, there always seems to be a bigger, more daunting one standing before us, as if waiting. But my hope is this time…this time, things will be different. This time we will stand our ground, refuse to go gently, show the Dread Fleet—and the Rotham too—just what mettle we are made of, and from those victories we can restore the Empire as it was at the height of its glory, when my great-great grandfather was the king.”

“Hear, hear,” said Sir McTavish.

“As ever, I hope you are right, My Queen,” said Fleet Admiral Lawson.

Just then, Sir Vasquez returned.

“Report,” demanded Kalila.

“The Rotham are cooperating, at least so far. Sir Arkwright has his instructions, like you asked, and he will deploy the Rotham forces accordingly. They seem not to object. I don’t foresee a problem.”

“Good,” said Kalila, still suspicious of the Rotham’s intentions. “Now we have the simple task of proving ourselves to be an immovable object once the Dread Fleet strikes us with its allegedly unstoppable force.”

***

Alex may have saved his people. Alex may have doomed his people. As he sat in the Senate Chamber, it was empty and out of session, he reflected on what he had done, and discovered that he honestly could not determine exactly which.
Have I so robbed us of our defenses that, when the Dread Fleet comes, or the Empire, we will fall before them?
He wondered.
Or have I sent much needed reinforcements against the Dread Fleet that will prove the difference between the demise of the civilized galaxy and the defeat of the zealous and otherwise unstoppable Dread Fleet?

He found himself leaning one way one moment and the next the other way. His emotions were useless to him, that much he knew, but even his strict sense of logic could not compute within his brain a definitive answer.

One thing he did know, and it gave him tremendous comfort, was that—provided he hadn’t rekindled a spark of war between the Republic and the Empire, and the two could be made to cooperate—he had given the civilized part of the galaxy its best chance against the threat that loomed over them all. For standing together was always better than standing alone. However, could the humans and the Rotham be made to cooperate, especially after so much blood, deceit, guile, betrayal, and war in their short muddied histories together? So much so that an actual demilitarized zone had needed to be formed to keep the two competing civilizations from destroying one another?

We have to recognize that this threat, the Dread Fleet, is bigger than ourselves, and we must band together to stop it
. Those had been his very words when he had finally convinced the Great Nau that this was the best, and perhaps only, way to keep the Dread Fleet from eventually coming to Ro and laying waste to the Senate, the people, and everything the Republic held dear.

The Great Nau had taken significant convincing, and Alex had used every tool available to persuade him: basic logic, printouts of probabilities of success, emotional appeals, positively everything. And, slowly, he chipped away at the Great Nau’s resistance enough that it eventually eroded altogether. And, once the Great Nau had come aboard and decided it was in the best interest of the Republic to stand with the humans against the Dread Fleet—marshaling everything they possibly had to help the task succeed—the Senate had fallen, one by one, into the Grand Nau’s hand, such was the political power he wielded. And so, with the endorsement of the Advent’s best intelligence—which the non-interventionist group shared begrudgingly, combined with Alex’s personal testimony as an Advent operative who had been in deep cover and even worked alongside the humans, and, most emphatically of all, the support of the Great Nau, the Motion for War had passed.

The Fleet should be arriving in Capital System about now
, thought Alex. He wondered what sort of greeting the humans had given the seven-hundred ships the Rotham had been able to muster. Had there been an epic, and inanely-stupid space battle between Imperial and Republic forces? Had the humans welcomed the Rotham fleet as saviors? Or something in between? Alex would have put his money on something in between. Still, he wished he knew for certain.

But, even if he took it as a forgone conclusion that the humans and the Rotham agreed to cooperate against the Dread Fleet—as much as it pained both sides to strike such a bargain—there was still the larger question of, would their combined strength be enough to turn back the tide? According to the computer, the answer was
no
. A small probability existed; it wasn’t zero. Therefore, victory was not out of the question.

All of which meant that the Dread Fleet would continue its campaign of death and destruction, and eventually, one day, reach Ro. And when the Republic had insufficient military resources left to even attempt to stop them, Alex would be blamed and executed. Not that it would matter when that day came.

We live or we die together. And that decision, he knew, was being made far, far away. In Capital System. He only wished he could be there to play some small part in it. Even if it meant the loss of his own life. He would prefer to die in the battle, fighting for that slim hope of success, rather than waiting slowly for the inevitable end.

Unfortunately for him, the Tribunal was still hearing cases against the alleged members of the Rahajiim—with a high conviction rate—but because of that, Alex himself, as a witness, was subpoenaed to appear in multiple hearings and therefore could not leave the planet.

He wandered outside the Senate Chamber and walked along the balcony over to the railing of the third floor. Outside, the sun was setting, and its beautiful light reflected off the massive lake just below. Ro was indeed a beautiful place. All the more reason why Alex desperately hoped that he had done the right thing. And not doomed it to the savage and unforgivable destructions that had already befallen Layheri-Alpha, Centuria V, the Thetican System, Cepheus, Renora, and so many other worlds.