The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (36 page)

BOOK: The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7)
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“And just where exactly is
there
?” asked Calvin.

“I don’t know that,” said Nikolai with a shrug. “That is for you to decide. All I know is…it is somewhere other than here. And, as soon as you are ready, and you decide what we do, then we will do it. But for now, take your time. Rest. Think. Whatever you need. There is no hurry. Whether it take day or hour or year, does not matter. You will find the answer. I know you. You always do. And you always will. Even if you think you don’t want to. And yes, I can tell, you are thinking that right now—don’t try to deny it. I can see your thoughts right now. We are much that much alike. Much more than you think. That is how I know you will find a way. You cannot help it. That is simply
you
. That is who you are. You are a survivor. A survivor, like me. Only…not so handsome, yes?” he elbowed Calvin, no doubt an attempt to lift his spirits with a shot of humor. If so, he failed. Calvin looked back at him annoyed. “Anyway,” continued Nikolai, “I am happy to wait.”

“Well, I’m not,” said one of the soldiers, suddenly injecting himself into the conversation. “We can’t afford to wait!”

“Yeah, we can’t just sit around here all day waiting,” said a second soldier, backing up the first. “That’s not what we signed up for! Look at him; he’s broken! He’s given up! I say we put someone else in charge!”

Nikolai closed his eyes for a moment, looking very frustrated, and yet somehow not the least bit angry. When he opened his eyes again, he had the irked appearance of someone who needed to go
correct
something—he looked perturbed but not angry. He spoke first to Calvin, using a very polite tone, “Excuse me, one moment. Just one moment.” He raised a solitary finger as he did, as if to further emphasize that he needed just
one
moment. Though Calvin had no clue just how long a moment was, to Nikolai.

Then, in no kind of hurry, Nikolai climbed to his feet and approached the two soldiers who had spoken their criticism. Both had challenged Nikolai’s assertion that they, the entire group, would patiently await Calvin’s decision on what to do next, and the second of the two had gone so far as to actually question Calvin’s capability to remain in command. And, although Calvin had allowed the soldiers’ words to glance off of him, evidently Nikolai took issue with such comments.

“You,” he said, seeming to casually point at the first of the two soldiers, both of whom were now also standing, no doubt their decision to rise to their feet and stare-down Nikolai, face to face, had been meant as some kind of symbolic gesture of rebellion. As if to say:
Yes, we challenge you, what are you going to do about it?

Calvin watched the exchange, needing to crane his head upward to properly see the exchange between the three men, since he still remained on his knees, where he had been ever since that terrible moment when despair and emptiness had broken him.

Now, though, he watched with some measure of curiosity as the two soldiers squared off against Nikolai, seeming to dare him to say something, or do something, or to challenge them back in any way.

Nikolai did speak, and as he did, his words came out not in an angry tone, but rather in that voice of his which seemed to somehow always come across as simultaneously calm and composed, yet also, somehow, strong and unyielding.

“You?” asked Nikolai, pointing to the first soldier. “You have problem? Yes?”

“You’re damned right I’ve got a problem,” said the first soldier, his face turning red as he spoke.

“And…what is problem?” asked Nikolai, again with that same calm yet hardy tone of his.

“What do you mean ‘
what is problem
’ can’t you even speak proper grammar, you big, dumb idiot?” said the soldier, raising his voice as he spoke.

“Ah,” said Nikolai, and he nodded slowly. Demonstrating patience, but also, through both tone and body language, somehow sending the message right back that he felt completely unthreatened by the two soldiers. “I see. Yes,” he said, making eye contact once more with the first soldier, the one who had just insulted him in front of everyone.

“Today, I let insult go,” said Nikolai. “One time,” he raised a single finger, making it clear to the soldier before him, and the rest of them, for that matter, that this was the first and only warning the man would receive.

“Now you say you have problem. Yet you do not say what problem is,” said Nikolai. “Unless problem is you do not like my way I speak. Is that problem?” he asked, with faux sincerity.

“Of course that’s not my problem, you big dumb ass,” said the first soldier, “My problem is—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his statement; by the time he’d gotten the words out that he had, he was suddenly interrupted by Nikolai’s fist, striking him forcefully across the jaw. The blow nearly knocked the man off his feet, and looked painful enough that, when it happened, there was a collective “
ooh
” throughout the pod.


Ow, God dammit!
” the man said, “What the hell is wrong with you?” He was in obvious pain, and he held his jaw gently with one hand pressed against it, as though it had been relocated. And, for all Calvin knew, maybe it had.

“Me? Nothing,” said Nikolai, speaking with that same measure of calm, as though nothing had happened at all. “I do not have problem. You. You said you have problem. So I ask you, what is problem?”

The injured soldier took several steps backwards, retreating until he had returned to his seat, all the while clutching his jaw with one hand and wincing in pain.

“Now you make me curious,” said Nikolai, remaining where he stood. “You tell me is problem. I ask, what is problem. Then you do not speak. Now I must know, what is problem?”

The injured soldier shook his head, clearly defeated; obviously all he cared about now was finding some way to cope with the pain Nikolai had given him. “Me?” he said, with some obvious difficulty.

“Yes, you,” said Nikolai. “Tell me about problem. I listen.” Nikolai used one hand to make a cup around his ear, further driving home the fact that was ready to hear whatever the man had to say.

“No,” he said, with some obvious difficulty. “No problem here. Everything’s…all good.” He closed his eyes, obviously fighting what, by every appearance, must have been an inordinate amount of pain from just one punch.

As for Nikolai, he seemed none the worse for wear; obviously none of the tiny bones in his fingers had cracked, or he too would be in significant pain.
Or would he?
Calvin wondered. Nikolai was the type of man who gave off the impression that he could probably break every bone in his hand and still not so much as grimace.

“Oh, okay,” said Nikolai. “So no problem. No problem at all, yes?”

The injured soldier nodded. No doubt speaking would have only made the pain worse.

“Ah,” said Nikolai. “Must be my mistake.” He then turned to face the second soldier who had dared to challenge him, the same man that had also called in to question Calvin’s ability to remain in command. The soldier was still standing in the same place, having not budged an inch, but, by the look of shock in his eyes, combined with an expression that could only have been fear, it was obvious to Calvin that whatever objection this man had tried to raise, he no longer cared about.

“You,” said Nikolai, now looking directly into the eyes of the second soldier. “Maybe it was you who had problem.”

The man said nothing. His legs began to tremble, ever so slightly, and he shook his head.

“Speak,” said Nikolai. “Use voice. I cannot hear you.”

“I—” the man choked briefly as he tried to get some words out.

“You what?” asked Nikolai, still in that same calm yet hardy tone that seemed, now, to somehow, simultaneously, come across as both patient and threatening.

The man seemed at a loss for words. Calvin could tell by looking at the soldier’s eyes that the man’s mind was racing. No doubt his highest and only priority, at this point, was to avoid sharing the experience the other defiant soldier had endured.

“I am not hearing you,” said Nikolai. “Are you speaking?”

“I—” the soldier began again, obviously still finding it hard to form words, so terrified was he of Nikolai. He probably expected the muscular, bald soldier to strike him too, at any moment, holding nothing back.

Oh, for God’s sake
, thought Calvin,
the man had seen battle, he had just seen his comrades die beside him; hell, he probably had participated in the killing when they’d engaged the enemy. But now, after seeing one man get punched in the face, suddenly he is too stunned to move or form a basic sentence?
Calvin shook his head disapprovingly.
And this clown thought I wasn’t in any state to retain command?

“So then no?” asked Nikolai, still staring into the man’s eyes, as far as Calvin could tell. “Is no problem after all then, yes?”

The soldier nodded. Then answered with one simple word. “Yes.”

“Yes is problem?” asked Nikolai.

The soldier rapidly shook his head, as if desperate to communicate that he had no problem. Whatever beef he had thought to start, now it was the last thing he wanted.

“If no problem, then tell me, is no problem,” said Nikolai with a shrug. He took a small step closer and, perhaps involuntarily, the soldier retreated an equal distance. “Yes, is problem or no, no problem?” Clearly Nikolai was trying to send a message, not just to this previously defiant soldier, but to everyone aboard the pod. Hell, even Calvin could put into words what Nikolai, through this display, was essentially stating.

Calvin is in charge. He is to be obeyed. Any efforts to undermine his authority, or challenge his orders, or refuse to obey him, will result in severe consequences. 

“I—” the soldier said, his voice quivering with cowardice. “I have no problem,” he finally managed to get the words out. “I…I just want to sit in my seat. Nothing more.”

“Oh, okay,” said Nikolai, making a friendly gesture toward the man as if to say,
go right ahead, take your seat.
“So then, I understand, no one has problem, yes?” he looked throughout the room, searching for any sign of agitation or defiance. “No? No one?” he looked each of them in the eyes, one by one, for several seconds. Meanwhile, no one spoke. “Okay then,” said Nikolai, apparently satisfied that all the others had fallen back into line, the way good soldiers should.

Nikolai returned to Calvin, “Sorry for interruption,” he said, making his crooked smile. But, before Nikolai could return to his knees, where he could look Calvin face to face, Calvin raised his hand, motioning for Nikolai to stop.

Then, slower than he’d intended, Calvin managed to climb up from the floor and stand, once again, on his own two feet. All the while thinking to himself,
I may have lost everything and everyone I ever loved; I may be stranded deep inside Forbidden Space; and, quite likely, I may even die here in short order, whether Custos finds us and eliminates us like the
Nighthawk
, or some Rotham patrol finds us, or we simply use up all our air supply and oxygen reserves
—to his knowledge a tiny craft such as this was not equipped with the ability to recycle the atmosphere and create oxygen—which meant suffocating on their own nitrogen and carbon dioxide exhalations was a real possibility.

The chips had fallen, and most of them not where he wanted them to, but reality was what it was, he realized. And, as much as he hated it, and as a desperate part of him craved an escape from it all—any escape—he ultimately refused to let this be the end. Even if he never set foot outside this pod again, Calvin intended to go out with some measure of dignity.

That might not mean much. Perhaps it meant nothing. But to him, it was one more tiny reason
not
to collapse and give in. Yes, the
Nighthawk
was gone, and yes, his friends were gone, as were Christine and Rain both, but there was still one sliver of silver in those black clouds that now, finally, he managed to take notice of. One very important fact that had finally sunk into his brain; and that fact was that, even though all the rest had been lost, he still remained. For the time being, until the universe finally decided to end him, he was alive. And that truth, standing by itself, was sufficient to create meaning. And now he promised himself that, despite all the tragedy he had experienced, and the horrors and painful losses that would probably never stop haunting him, he was going to live, and fight on, and keep planting one foot in front of the other, however he could; somehow, he would find the strength, no matter how hard it got. In that he chose to believe. And, as he accepted that, he felt as though a portion of the weight crushing down on him became a little more bearable. The weight wasn’t lifted, the sorrow and the regret and all those negative feelings were still there, still part of him, but now they were no longer the only part of him. That difference, subtle as it seemed, was every bit the difference between his wanting to die and his wanting to go on living.

Nikolai, evidently, somehow, picked up on this change within Calvin because, when he stood, and they looked at each other again, face to face, all Nikolai chose to say was, “Welcome back.”

Calvin nodded. Then he clapped his hands together and said, “It’s time we come up with a plan.”

BOOK: The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7)
12.49Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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