The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (57 page)

“I admit the deaths are suspicious,” said Summers. “But Kalila has only ever expressed grief over the loss of her family.”

“Which any decent actress could do,” said Calvin. “And besides, it is what you would expect, isn’t it? Grief, I mean.”

“Yes,” said Summers, uncertain how that proved anything.

“The Dark Ones used and manipulated the Rahajiim, the Phoenix Ring, and Kalila, all of them, played them against one another, pretended to only have a relationship with one of them, meanwhile they all but orchestrated all of the tragic events which led to the civil war, not to mention the loss of Thetican System, along with a significant part of the battle fleet.”

“What does that have to do with Kalila?” asked Summers. “Those events obviously spiraled out of her control.”

“Of course they did,” said Calvin, “Because the Dark Ones betrayed all three, eventually. While Kalila had asked them to help her eliminate the heirs to the throne, she had also set about to manufacture a crisis that would allow her to not only seize the throne, but magnify her legal powers. Apparently, she was obsessed with the idea that the Rotham were going to attack the Empire, sooner or later, and she believed strongly that she was the Empire’s only chance at being ready for such an attack, because no one else seemed to be taking the threat seriously.”

“So the attack on Renora?” asked Rafael, confused. “That was meant to create a crisis for her, and yet she herself was framed for the attack.”

“As I said, all groups who made pacts with the Dark Ones were each, eventually betrayed. In Kalila’s case, the Dark Ones also helped encourage the rise of the Phoenix Ring, even enabling them with the advantage of having replicants—or, at least, they believed that to be an advantage, when, truthfully, the replicants were really just Dark Ones getting into positions of power to help brew the chaos.”

“You’re talking too fast,” said Summers, “Slow down.”

“My point is that there were at least three parties making secret deals with the Dark Ones, deals that hurt the Empire, that helped create the chaos we have experienced, and that led to the great amount of violence we have had between humans and against the Rotham. Kalila believed she was a player, on equal footing, so did the Rahajiim, and the Phoenix Ring, but each of them were merely puppets, puppets controlling puppets.”

Summers took a moment to let all of this information soak in. Rafael apparently needed to process this too, because he too looked pensive and said nothing. Calvin seemed satisfied to wait for them both.

“So, Kalila was helped because the Dark Ones eliminated her family, giving her a right to the throne, but she was betrayed, because the timing of when they killed the king created an opportunity for a challenge to exist from Caerwyn Martel?” asked Rafael.

“Yes,” said Calvin. “But she was also betrayed when they, the Dark Ones, framed her for the attack on Renora. An attack she knew would take place—or presumably some kind of crisis—however she did not expect to be blamed for it; she expected to be empowered by it. And finally, they betrayed her by empowering her enemy, the Phoenix Ring, and using them against her, helping to brew chaos and conflict within the Empire.”

“I see,” said Rafael.

Summers followed along, but remained only partially convinced. She still didn’t want to believe any of it was even remotely credible, no matter how much it seemed to continue to add up the more Calvin explained it.

“What did the other groups want and how were they betrayed?” asked Summers.

“The Phoenix Ring wanted to subtly takeover the government from within, using Replicants, and then reinvent the Empire to fit their own liking. They were betrayed when the Dark Ones—I don’t know who or how many—slaughtered them all in their bunker, just before my teams could reach them.”

“And the Rahajiim?” asked Summers.

“That one I never got the full details on,” said Calvin. “But the captive made it quite clear that they used the Rahajiim for their own purposes, including the acquisition of this ship, and in exchange gave them replicants, which they falsely believed could only mimic human forms. It was suggested that the Rahajiim had wanted to replace various Imperial leaders, including starship commanders, with replicants—part of what the Rahajiim squadron was doing in Abia when we arrived, I assume,” said Calvin. “But I don’t know if they were ever successful, nor do I know how they were betrayed exactly. Just that the relationship ended, and ended badly for the Rahajiim, much more so than the Dark Ones.”

“But…
why
?” asked Summers.

“To weaken us, all of us. All of our militaries and civilizations so we would have no hope of uniting against the Dread Fleet when it came to terminate us.”

“The Dark Ones went to all that trouble, just to ensure that they could wipe us out?” asked Rafael.

Calvin nodded. “It’s their mythos. They believe in a monotheistic god that wants to expunge everything unworthy, including us, from the galaxy but, despite his omnipotence, has decided to have the Dark Ones do the work for him, because, evidently, he can’t be bothered.”

Rafael just shook his head in disbelief. As for Summers, she felt as though she was still processing it all.

To her, the most compelling evidence was the simultaneous deaths of all the heirs to the throne, other than Kalila herself, and the fact that, if the Dark Ones had meant to sow chaos and disarray among the Empire and the Rotham, they had surely succeeded. And, several replicants had been found, which meant the Dark Ones had been up to something. But
Kalila
…Summers just did not want to believe it.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” said Calvin.

“What?”

“That Kalila is still somehow innocent in all this.”

“How did you—”

“Know?” he asked. “Because I have been thinking the very same things. But everything points to that as the correct conclusion. “Including, Rafael, you remember that intelligence we mined from the Rahajiim?”

“Yes,” said Rafael.

“Do you remember how much of it was devoted to ‘an unknown human’ that was also making deals with the Dark Ones, and who represented a serious threat to Rotham security?”

“Yes, I do remember. I recall we never arrived upon a suspect.”

“It’s Kalila,” said Calvin. “She fits the profile; she is especially dangerous to the Rotham, she made deals with the Dark Ones, she had her family
killed
…” Calvin allowed that last one to stand for a moment before continuing. “She played us,” he said. “She played us from the very beginning.”

“Just as she, herself, was played,” said Rafael. Summers could not tell for certain, but he looked persuaded by Calvin’s arguments.

Perhaps I will have to review more of this intelligence they speak of
, thought Summers.

“So…” said Summers. “We backed the wrong side during the civil war?”

“What, and have Caerwyn Martel’s fat ass on the throne?” Calvin looked at her as though she were ridiculous.

“The sides in the civil war do not matter; what matters is, there
never
should have been a civil war!”

“If what you are saying is true,” said Rafael, “Then Kalila has a lot of blood on her hands.”

“Indeed, she does,” said Calvin, thinking of Miles, Rain, and the loss of the
Nighthawk
.

“Although, I do not believe she intended for there to be a civil war,” said Rafael.

“I don’t believe so either,” said Calvin. “But, as I said, the events were manipulated by the Dark Ones. Always with the goal of dividing us against ourselves and against one another. And, sure enough, the Dread Fleet is on the move and, although I do not know what is left of the Imperial Fleet, I’m quite certain that it cannot repel the Dread Fleet.”

“As am I,” said Summers, who thought she was perhaps best acquainted with the scope and relative power of the Imperial Navy. “The Fleet must be rebuilt before it can hope to engage in any meaningful war.”

“I thought that was why we did this mission to the Forbidden Planet, and lost everything,” said Rafael. “To expose the Dark Ones so the true Prelains would recall their Dread Fleet.”

“That is our hope,” said Calvin. “But nothing is certain yet. All I know now is, Kalila is more than she appears to be, and more dangerous, and that she is—whether she meant to be or not—a primary cause of much of the death and suffering the Empire has experienced, including us.”

“Incredible,” said Rafael, shaking his head.

“And, as the icing on the cake,” said Calvin. “I believe Kalila is responsible for the disappearance of my mother.”

“Why do you think that?” asked Rafael. Summers also didn’t follow the reasoning from A to B on that one.

“I have no proof,” Calvin admitted, “Just a suspicion—a strong one. I believe she took my mother prisoner, to have a means of manipulating me, or controlling me, if she ever needed to exercise it.”

“But doing so would give herself away,” said Summers.

“If it got to that point, and she need to make such a threat, then I must already have decided not to help her—probably because I discovered the clandestine deals she was making with the enemy!”

“Now that we know this about her,” asked Summers, “What should we do?”

“You two, you will keep your mouths shut and do nothing. We cannot tip our hand and let it get out that we know what we know.”

“Us two?” asked Summers. “What will
you
do?”

“The same as you, for now,” said Calvin.

“Until?”

“Until the time is right to act,” he replied.

“Which is when, and how?” Summers could tell he did not like her pressing him with these questions, but she felt they were important enough that they
needed
to be asked.

“I don’t know yet,” admitted Calvin. “But I will. As for what I’ll do…it will be the right thing,” he said the words with a deadly look in his eyes. Summers thought she understood what he meant by that, and was not sure whether she approved or disapproved. She felt inclined toward the latter, in the interest of preventing even more chaos. But, ultimately, she respected Calvin enough to trust his decision.

“Just…whatever you do,” said Summers. “Promise me you’ll be careful and thoughtful. The stakes may be higher than you think.”

CHAPTER 23

Kalila made herself appear as regal as possible, with the help of her servants, of course, and then she transmitted a broadcast all throughout the Empire, available to every ship and planet within Imperial space, and a few beyond.

In the message, she announced the great triumph over the Dread Fleet and honored those who, at Capital World, had held strong and refused to break until the enemy itself was shattered and fled. Of course, these characterizations were not true, but she wanted to transmit a message of hope, and strength, and—above all—security to the many Imperial worlds which had, until recently, been fearing for their very existences.

She also commanded that all standards be lowered to half-staff, in honor of those who died in the battle, along with the tragedies of Centuria V and Layheri-Alpha, and that the standards remain at half-staff for a period of one month, “That we may never forget.” She ended her broadcast with a short speech, mostly a restatement of how great and unbreakable the Empire was, so long as they stood together, united, and so on. She wasn’t sure she believed half of it—someone else had written it. But it had proven perfect for the task.

Afterward, she was relieved to have all the lights and the cameras gone. Only then did she feel as though she could take a deep breath and allow herself to be herself, even if only a little.

She reflected upon the victory that had been won—the defeat of the Dread Fleet—and how she had won the throne, and at what great expense. So much blood stained the galaxy, including, and most tragically that of her father and siblings.

They never should have died
, she thought angrily. They were meant to be taken, all together, and all at once, and then held in a place of luxury until well after she had ascended to the throne. When it would be understandable for her not to abdicate in favor of any of them. But no, although the deal had been made, quite specifically, and the price paid, the faceless negotiators had hired assassins instead. And now her family’s blood was on her hands. A fact she had denied and rejected all this time. But a fact, nonetheless.

But in the end, at least she could take comfort in the reality that, although much had been lost and sacrificed, all had been ultimately made right. She had the throne. And with it, she could guide humanity to a glorious future.

***

The stop at Aleator had been brief. Calvin dismissed his surviving soldiers—all but First Lieutenant Ferreiro, who had no Rosco connections. Calvin also turned custody of Nikolai’s corpse over to Grady, telling the Rosco leader that Nikolai had been
killed in action
.

Grady’s response had not been unexpected, “Many were killed in action, it seems, why bring back only the one corpse?”

To which Calvin simply had replied, “Because this one was a friend. Whatever you do with his remains—do right by him.”

“I will,” Grady had promised.

And then, once more, they were on their way. Calvin sent ahead a message to Capital World, describing his vessel—so the Rotham stealth ship would not be attacked on sight—and he gave a brief accounting of his mission, all this directly to Kalila. All the while, she lauded him as a hero, and he, in his own thoughts, condemned her as a liar and a traitor, a master manipulator, but forced himself to sound accepting, polite, and gracious in his words.

During his conversation, Calvin learned that the Dread Fleet had indeed attacked Capital World. But, before any damage could be done to the planet, the Dread Fleet had left, seeming to disperse as the vessels jumped for the far reaches of Polarian space. Calvin could only assume that his mission had proven a success, that the Prelains, now aware of the Dark Ones who had infiltrated their ranks, had speedily elected a new High Prelain who had condemned the Dread Fleet’s attack as a “False Reckoning” and demanded the Dread Fleet’s immediate return. Calvin did not know if Rez’nac survived, but, whether the mighty Polarian warrior had fallen or not, at least Calvin could take comfort in the knowledge that Rez’nac had completed his mission. He had protected the Prelains long enough for them to get to safety, and get to work, electing a new High Prelain.

Calvin also learned that irreparable damage had also nearly been done to Capital World, when several “Devastators”—ships he had heard of but knew little about—had been briefly stopped during their attempted orbital assault, by an attack led by Raidan, who had been killed in the effort.
Who would have thought
, Calvin recalled wondering,
that Raidan would, ultimately, prove the hero and Kalila the corrupted?

When the Hunter ship finally reached Capital World and the surviving crew of the IWS
Nighthawk
finally made it onto a shuttle and eventually to the surface of Capital World, they received a hero’s welcome. Kalila had seen to that. Not only had she spread the news of their heroism far and wide, she had arranged for massive crowds to greet them the instant their boots touched the ground.

Naturally, Kalila had also arranged for the deployment of security forces to keep the crowds a comfortable distance away, but Calvin still found it strange to see so many people, screaming and cheering for him and his small group of surviving crew. He had been a public figure on Capital World already—ever since he had agreed to become Kalila’s Executor—her right-hand puppet. But the experience was new for the rest of them; Summers seemed the most embarrassed as large cutouts of their faces were waved at them, along with massive, handwritten signs.

Before they could even be debriefed, or given a chance to rest or recuperate, they were herded, politely but involuntarily, by their military handlers in cars to the massive Public Square in the planet’s capital city. As they passed ruins, the result of bombing—most likely by Raidan—Calvin was surprised how much of it had been repaired, and how many people and resources seemed assigned to the task of clearing away all signs of destruction.

At the Public Square, Kalila gave a speech in their honor. Her words made them out to be far more heroic than Calvin felt and, as he stood there, along with the others, red-faced and tired, Kalila seemed to go on endlessly. Praising them, each of them, by name, and declaring before all the Empire how great these “Saviors of the Empire” were. The cheering, the applause, the overwhelming enthusiasm from the massive crowds, proved just as discomforting as Kalila’s speech. And whenever they interrupted her with their cheers, she encouraged them—so they did it often.

After what felt like hours, they eventually were taken to luxurious quarters and allowed some rest. Calvin didn’t know if the rest of his crew had interacted during that time or not, because he spent the time sleeping. What had been meant to be a short power nap somehow took the entire afternoon, and he only woke when food arrived, followed by their military handlers, who escorted them all, again in a motorcade, to
Aelfred National Military Cemetery
.

It was a massive cemetery, where only the Empire’s fallen soldiers were buried—and, even then—most required some sort of proof of heroism to qualify for burial in this place. Despite the stringent requirements, many thousands had been buried at
Aelfred
. As Calvin took it all in, the overcast sky seemed to mute the brightness of the green grass that spread all around, like a vast, endless ocean. Poking up from the grass, in orderly rows and columns, like soldiers in formation, were countess white ankhs, each inscribed with the names and details of the soldier whose remains rested in that spot.

As Calvin took it all in, held in awe at the amount of sacrifice that had led to so many thousands of deaths—and knowing it reflected far less than one percent of the soldiers and officers who had died in service of the Empire—he felt humbled.

He and the others were respectfully corralled to a prearranged spot where, again, they stood in positions of honor, in plain sight of the crowds of people and cameras. Calvin and his surviving crew were spaced apart, each of them standing behind Kalila, who spoke from a podium. Between them and the crowd of mourners, aside from a massive security force, were several coffins. Draped over each was the black, silver, and blue flag of the Empire. Calvin counted them, only to realize that each of the coffins represented someone who had died on the
Nighthawk
, or during the mission—all except for the soldiers, who were not represented.

Kalila gave yet another speech. This one too spoke of heroism, but focused mainly on themes of: sacrifice, martyrdom, honor, and grief. Eventually, after what must have been thirty-minutes of praise for the revered dead, Kalila read each name, one-by-one. And, one-by-one, a coffin was lowered into its final resting place; meanwhile, an honor guard fired blank rounds into the air.

These were my people
, thought Calvin, as this process went on.
It was my duty to watch over them
.

Even civilians, like Rain, were given the full military honors. The entire time Calvin felt his eyes burn and he wanted nothing more than to drop to his knees and weep. Even though he did not recognize each of the names, every single one felt like an indictment against him, as the CO who had survived while all of these, his people, had died.

Calvin managed not to cry until the name
Miles Brown
was spoken. At first, his tears were of sorrow but then they turned to tears of rage.
It’s your fault he died
, Calvin thought, seething, as he stared at Kalila. 

Eventually, the last coffin was buried, and Kalila went on to name each of the ships that had been destroyed during the Battle for Capital System. She also made it clear that this funeral—for which no expense had been spared—was also a tribute to those who had perished at Layheri-Alpha and Centuria V. Kalila did
not
mention how the Imperial Navy had turned and fled, abandoning Centuria V to its fate.

Eventually the vainglorious funeral ended and, slowly, the crowd dissipated, other than a select few VIPs who were allowed to remain.

Calvin wandered over to Rain’s grave, where he knelt and said his goodbyes. “I loved you,” he whispered. “Thank you. Thank you for all that you taught me.” He felt his eyes tear up and he had to take a moment to wipe the water from his eyes. “Thank you for helping me with…” Unable to continue, he stopped whispering and rose to his feet.

There were other people who had gathered around, and as Calvin looked around, it quickly became obvious that this was Rain’s family. The resemblance was obvious. In fact, for a split second, Calvin thought he was seeing Rain herself there, standing and weeping over her own grave. Calvin had to blink and, only after staring at the beautiful young woman with fiery hair and blue eyes, did he discover a few minor differences.
Her sister
, thought Calvin.
Of course! It must be!

Before he could leave and pay his respects to the others, Rain’s mother stopped him and asked, “Did you know my daughter?”

“Yes,” Calvin replied. He could tell the woman wanted to ask more, but was clearly struggling to vocalize any words. So, Calvin answered the question he believed Rain’s mother was trying to ask. “Rain was…” said Calvin, “Perhaps the most remarkable woman I ever had the pleasure of meeting. She…uh…” he found himself wiping away more tears as a smile came to his face as a flood of memories overtook him.
Even now, that damned Rain is trying to lift my spirits
, he thought. “She was the most positive and optimistic person that I’ve ever met,” Calvin continued. “And she had a way of making even the darkest darkness always seem a little bit brighter, for everyone who knew her.”

“Thank you,” Rain’s mother mouthed the words, still unable to speak. Calvin nodded and moved on.

One by one he spent a few moments giving his respects to each of the fallen, including the officers whose names he did not recognize.
I should have known you
, he thought, every time he came cross someone unfamiliar.
I should have made the time to get to know you. I’m sorry I didn’t. But, thank you. Thank you for giving your all and for the sacrifice you ultimately proved willing to make
.

As he made the rounds, Calvin spotted Summers, who, like him, and seemingly the rest of his crew and the few VIPs, was also going from grave to grave, saying her goodbyes. But, he noted, she seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time at Nimoux’s graveside. Calvin wondered if that meant she’d had romantic feelings for him after all, or if she felt guilty about something regarding him—perhaps both.

By the time Calvin reached Nimoux’s graveside, Summers had moved on. Calvin knelt and whispered, like he had for each of the others. Digging deep within himself to try and find the right words—the right goodbye.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for watching over my ship and my crew, in my absence, and doing your all to protect them as best you could when…when I wasn’t there…but should have been.” He closed his eyes, letting the pain and the guilt wash over him. “And, thank you,” Calvin added, still in a whisper, “For managing to save as many of them as you could.
Especially Summers
.”

Nimoux’s graveside had proven the most crowded with VIPs and clearly not all of them were strictly his family. Calvin supposed it made sense, since Nimoux had already been something of a celebrity before joining Calvin’s crew.