The Phoenix War

Book Four of The Phoenix Conspiracy
Series

Richard L. Sanders

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Richard L. Sanders

Smashwords Edition, License Notes:

This ebook is licensed for
your personal enjoyment. It may not be re-sold or conveyed for
profit, however I (the author) don’t really care if you share it
with others. Just keep in mind that at the time of publication I am
an indebted student and every purchase is greatly appreciated.
Thank you for your support and understanding.

Note to the reader: this is Book Four in an
ongoing series. If you have not read the first book
The Phoenix
Conspiracy
it may be found for free in the download store and
on
my
own personal website

He’d finished taking care of the others. All
but the one who’d escaped—the one who’d proven the strongest had
been
allowed
to escape. For one was needed; one had to press
her claim, to stir the chaos—the One True God demanded it!—but the
others… they were mere extras. Unnecessary. Existing only to
complicate the plan. To frustrate it. Not that they could frustrate
it; no mere mortal could interfere with the will of the One True
God. But, all the same, Blackmoth had done what he was bid, and
eliminated them. Now it was time for the second…

Second of five.
Second of five
. Five
there shall be. Five destructions. Five to rain down upon the
galaxy.
Five
is His number. Four corners and one heart.
Five.
The number of the One True God.

Blackmoth carefully removed the light
fixture, opening up a small hole above the most important room in
the Empire; he knew the second destruction was about to be brought
forth. Just as the One True God willed. And he—meager, unworthy
Blackmoth—was the vessel to unleash it.

This one acts, as ever, in Your Name, a name
all are unworthy to speak.

Blackmoth peered through the small hole
where, a moment before, the light fixture had been. The tiny
crawlway—meant for maintenance—was extremely cramped and, although
Blackmoth was thin, he had difficulty maneuvering. But such
challenges meant nothing to the One True God and would not
frustrate
His
plans. All was as it should be. And soon the
entire galaxy would bathe in the chaos, rancor, and destruction
that
He
saw fit to thrust upon them. Many souls would soon
be ripped back into the void. But it was just. Their time had
come.

Blackmoth crawled forward, gingerly so as not
to disconnect any of the cables or interfere with the electrical
infrastructure. Some of the noise of the great chamber below poured
through the tiny opening, from where the light fixture had been
removed, but Blackmoth ignored the words. They were ignorant lies
and meant nothing. Posturing, politicking, pretensions made by the
Empire’s preeminent deceivers, deluders, and dissimulators. The
chamber was filled with arrogant fools—infidels who, like most of
humanity, had forgotten their maker and declared themselves kings
and rulers over the universe.

Blackmoth gingerly fixed the suppressor to
the rifle and then slowly and delicately pushed it through the
orifice he’d made. Where, thirty-five meters above the Assembly
Floor, he perched, hidden among the tens of thousands of lights
used to brighten the vast chamber. Below him, stacks-upon-stacks of
balconies seated the nearly two-hundred fools, the Representatives
of the Empire. But, like the stringed puppets they were, they sat
at the edges of their seats gazing below not above, as they were
meant to do, paying him no mind, obsessing with intense focus on
the farce playing out before them on the Assembly Floor proper.
But, even if their foolish eyes hadn’t been so blinded by the
self-absorbed, arrogant world in which they lived, soaking in the
foolishness spread out before them, they would never have noticed
Blackmoth. A tiny dark speck hidden amongst hundreds and hundreds
of lights. And it was from that array of electric light that the
One True God’s spiritual light would shake the galaxy with
His
second destruction.

“Five there shall be,” Blackmoth silently
mouthed the words. “Five. Five to break the galaxy. Five to usher
in the Darkness. And from that Darkness, the Truth shall restore
Order.”

He peered through the scope, adjusting it as
needed, until he had a clear view of the dais at the very bottom,
where three Representatives sat. There was nothing about them that
made them mightier or worthier than the other two-hundred fools.
Yet they pretended as leaders. And near them, even more
sickeningly, were another dozen or so who stood, expecting the
reins of the galaxy to be placed into their soft, fat hands. The
lords and ladies of the so-called “Great Houses.” As he examined
their faces in the crosshair, the ones he could see, each seemed
even more revolting and unworthy than the last.
The One True God
is wise to return the Darkness to the galaxy... and remind every
mortal soul everywhere that these meager fools—these so-called
leaders—cannot replace Him. Guidance, Wisdom, Safety, and Security
may only be found through Him. And none other way. Else the
Darkness must return.

The Representatives below, especially the
members of the Great Houses, were swept up in the excitement they
thought they had created. But none was prepared for the true shock
of the day. They believed their Empire was strong. That it was
meant to endure. That some new leader would mount it like a
stallion and ride it to a glorious future. Not so. Today, that
precious Empire would fall.

A few minutes later, the thrilled enthusiasm
of the ants below intensified. Those who stood in positions of
honor made way for an entourage to move to the front and center. A
man surrounded by many aides and guards. Aides that could give him
no aid. And guards that could not protect him. The man came to the
center and stood before all the world and all the galaxy. Like a
false god. And as a false god, he would be given to the void.

Blackmoth focused the scope in tighter and
moved the crosshair onto the king’s head. As he did, the King
spoke, filling the chamber with noise from his microphone. Loud
enough that it seemed to echo, even in the tiny maintenance
crawlway. Empty words. A cry for peace and unity that was being
broadcast from here to the farthest reaches of space. But a cry
that would not be answered. For it was not the words the King said
that would prove to be the second great destruction…

The One True God demands chaos
.

Blackmoth took a moment to mark both of his
targets, noting exactly where their heads were. The first target
stood almost completely in place, only his jaw seemed to be moving;
the other shifted around a bit. Trying to get a better view of the
first. But his movements were subtle and would not interfere with
Blackmoth’s shot.

Blackmoth controlled his breathing and kept
his muscles loose. Then, when the One True God told him to, he
exhaled gently and squeezed the trigger. The .338 rifle snapped and
expelled its shot with a hiss. Taking its target in the eye.
Blackmoth quickly shifted the rifle, pulling the bolt back and
forward—expending the spent shot—and then immediately fired. Taking
his other target in the head as well.

He set the rifle aside and replaced the light
fixture, a process that took only a few seconds. As he did, he
focused on the One True God, wanting to hear His instructions—if He
had any—and ignored the sounds of panic and pandemonium below. Once
the light was back in place, making it that much more difficult for
the security forces to identify where the shot had originated from,
Blackmoth wormed his way backwards and out of the maintenance
crawlway.

The second destruction had befallen the
galaxy. Like a second swing from a celestial hammer. The One True
God was pleased, Blackmoth knew. But there was more to do and no
time to rest. The third destruction would take its course soon. Set
in motion by the poor, foolish mortals themselves. Bathing the
galaxy in an ocean of cleansing blood. And then, in the critical
moment, Blackmoth would be there—ready to unleash the fourth
destruction. And then the fifth and final destruction. Then, and
only then, would the galaxy be sufficiently broken to accept the
Truth of the One True God.

“The One True God is just,” Blackmoth
whispered as he made his escape. “The One True God is just.”

Tamara stood on the bridge of the Prometheus
as the micro-frigate circled Titan Three. Of course Prometheus
wasn’t the vessel’s true name—it was something unpronounceable and
Rotham, as foreign and alien as the ship’s original crew. But now
that the vessel belonged to her, and her scientific efforts, she’d
renamed it to something more to her liking.

“That’s the last of it,” said Erik. She
looked over at her fellow scientist and saw a hint of sadness in
his eyes. And she thought she understood why.

Gazing past him, out the window, down upon
the planet, she couldn’t see the Polarians destroying the
facilities they’d labored so hard in for the past several months
but she could see the dark greens and blacks that swirled in the
clouds—the taint that had tinted the atmosphere of the planet,
choking it with a heavy presence of new toxins and pollutants.

Ruining the ecosystem of a once beautiful
world hadn’t been their goal, but it had proved a necessary
sacrifice in the weaponizing process. And that seemed to trouble
Erik more than the rest of them—probably because he’d begun his
scientific career rather ironically as a conservation
biologist.

“This is for the best,” Tamara reminded
everyone—including herself. “This is for the good of humanity.”
And Titan Three is not a human world…
a fact Zane Martel had
stated clearly. Better to ruin one of their worlds than one of
ours, especially if it gives us the key to countless more
generations of safety, insurance against the ever-looming specter
of alien invasion.

Tamara recalled history as well as anyone,
and she remembered—though it had happened long before she’d been
born—how the early encounters with the Rotham and Polarian species
had been more of a predator-prey relationship with humanity.

“Yes, yes, I know,” said Erik. He looked
away, somewhat angrily. Tamara didn’t completely blame him for his
sour attitude. There was a kind of denial that had been possible
down on the surface, when all one could see was offices, industrial
buildings, and mountains in the far distance, but here—gazing down
upon the whole planet like a goddess—one could not escape the
reality of what they’d done. The planet was darkened, and ruined,
and would remain transformed forever.

“Eleven standard months…” she said. Those
around her shared the sentiment.

“Hard to believe, isn’t it?” asked
Isabella.

“Indeed it is,” replied Tamara. When they’d
first been brought here by Zane Martel, to work on The Project, it
had felt so completely foreign and strange. But now, despite how
Polarian it still was, it felt oddly like home. And it was
difficult to process that, after all the hard work and time spent
here, they were actually leaving. The great network of buildings
and industrial infrastructure that had been raised to serve as
their homes, and laboratories, and everything else, was now little
more than a pile of ash and rubble. Erased as best the Polarians
knew how. Meant to hide the fact that they’d ever been here. Even
though the planet would continue to bear their scars for millions
of years.

“Well, I guess that means it’s time we turn
this rust bucket around and go home,” said Erik.

Tamara nodded. She knew that when they got
back to Capital World, they’d have to return the ship to Zane. But,
considering what each of them was to be paid for their services,
the loss of one old Rotham micro-frigate wasn’t much to
consider.

“Set course for Capital System,” said Tamara.
“Everyone, let’s go home.” In truth, she wasn’t sure what to expect
when they got there. Their last instructions from Zane hadn’t been
very clear—and strangely they hadn’t heard anything from him since.
No new instructions. No updates. Nothing.

So Tamara figured returning to Capital System
was all they could really do. “Remember to display Imperial colors
and broadcast the fact that we are Imperial civilians. It’s not a
question of
if
we’ll get stopped by an Imperial patrol—it’s
a question of
when
.”

The Rotham ship no longer carried any
armaments and its only defensive shield was navigational, even its
armor plating was old and broken. Still, it
was
a foreign
design and undoubtedly the Fleet would take an interest in them
once they popped up on somebody’s scopes.
It’ll be okay
, she
reminded herself. She’d reasoned that there was nothing to worry
about. So long as they remembered their cover story and complied
with all instructions—and allowed the Imperial military to board
their ship when asked—all would be fine. They’d get back to Capital
System, and there they’d receive the fortunes they’d been
promised.