The Phoenix War (10 page)

“Those are my thoughts as well,” said Calvin,
noting that Raidan had yet to propose a solution. Not that he could
think of any himself. The Empire was obsessively focused on its own
internal struggle, fleets and planets were caught between the
Assembly and the Princess, and no one was talking about the true
danger. Enemies lurked abroad and the Republic would come calling
for Renora, that much wasn’t even a secret. The question Calvin was
afraid to ask was: when that day came, would the Empire be ready to
resist them? And, despite how much he wanted to, he couldn’t
imagine how the answer to that question could possibly be
yes
.

“But I wouldn’t overly worry about the Rotham
yet,” said Raidan. “There is no imminent threat,
for the
moment
. As things stand, the Republic can’t get its fleets into
position to attack Imperial space. I’m quite sure they can’t send
them through Polarian space. Polarians no doubt remember the brutal
things large Rotham fleets did the last time they were in Polarian
space—the Great War wasn’t so long ago. And the Republic can’t send
its fleets unchallenged through the DMZ. To do so would provoke war
with the Alliance, and while the Alliance could never withstand the
Rotham in a protracted engagement, they could seriously bleed and
wound any fleets that tried to pass through Alliance space before
they ever got into an engagement with Imperial forces.”

That was true. Calvin remembered his various
assignments in and around Alliance space. They only had colonies in
three systems but they claimed an immense swathe of territory.
Their society was extremely xenophobic and excessively militarized,
and their patrol ships and scouts could be found all over the
DMZ—allowing only civilian trade ships to pass unmolested. They
didn’t trust the Empire in the slightest degree, and trusted the
Republic even less. The President—a dictator who ruled the Alliance
along with his military council—famously refused to engage in any
diplomacy himself. Certainly he’d never make any deals with the
Republic. Which meant, so long as the Alliance stood, the Rotham
would pay dearly in blood for every ship they sent through the
DMZ.

“For now,” continued Raidan, “the Rotham
Senate has this logistical challenge in front of it. But
ultimately, I believe, they will find some way through the DMZ and
deal with the Alliance. Even if it’s through battle. War with the
Alliance, while costly, is far better for them than war with the
Polarian Confederated States.”

Calvin was less sure. It seemed to him that
the Rotham had already successfully sent warships into the Empire
through Polarian space, he’d personally fought them in Abia. Sure
it had a small squadron and maneuvering a massive starfleet was an
entirely separate matter, but it remained possible.

“I suppose you’re right,” said Calvin. “But
whether or not the Rotham invade today or ten years from now, they
will invade. And we
have
to be ready.”

“I agree,” said Raidan. “Which is why our
first priority must be to unify the Empire, as quickly as possible.
Ideally with minimal loss of ships. And then, together, as a
unified force, we will repel any alien invaders when they finally
come. Even the Dread Fleet couldn’t stand against us, if all
Imperial forces united.”

Calvin hoped desperately that was not only
true, but possible. Though the mention of the Dread Fleet sent
chills down his spine. Such a force, which represented all the
might of the Polarians everywhere, had only been seen a few times
in history. And every time they assembled, they were unstoppable
and left a trail of death and destruction in their wake. It was a
purely offensive force, not a fleet to defend the Polarian States
but rather a sword meant to purge and destroy, burning and
pillaging with religious zeal and unflinching violence. All for the
Essences. Ordered by the Prelains. Controlled by the High Prelain.
Calvin had only read about it in military history texts—hopefully
that was where it would stay. After all, the Dread Fleet had never
assembled during the Great War, even as Polarian worlds experienced
brutal attack by the Rotham Teldari. The Dread Fleet had watched
silently, letting the Polarians’ cries fall upon deaf ears. And in
the end the Polarians pushed the Rotham out of their space with
help from the Empire.
There’s no reason to fear the Dread Fleet
now
, Calvin thought.
It hasn’t been seen in decades and the
Polarians aren’t even in this war—not yet—it’s just the Empire and
the Republic.

“Then we must unite the Empire as soon as we
can,” said Calvin.

“That is our only hope,” said Raidan. With
that he terminated the call.

“Transmission disconnected,” reported the
operations chief.

Calvin nodded his head.
Raidan is
right,
he thought
. Unity is our last best hope
.
Civil
War is coming, we must end it swiftly. Only a united humanity can
hope to withstand the dangers lurking in the vast dark
galaxy
.

He imagined an endless horde of silent black
ships carving their way across the stars. Fleets, planets, and
whole civilizations toppled in their wake. He shuddered at the
thought.

The rains of Lakeside City beat down, soaking
the street and everyone outside. It rained often here, possibly
more than any other city on Capital World, but somehow this rain
seemed colder. Worse. More chilling…

Guillermo waited, standing on the street
corner with his hands in his jacket pockets, feeling his heart in
his throat.
Pounding
. He swallowed hard and tried to remain
calm. At the very least he had to appear calm.
I am a regular
citizen,
he tried to reassure himself
. A nobody. They won’t
find me. How could they?

And yet… they’d found so many of the others.
Even Zane Martel and Rita Donovan, and all of the other Firsts.
They’d died in their bunker, slaughtered brutally by all accounts,
slain while awaiting Ascension. That glowing, glorious promise that
never came. And now it certainly never would.
Even if Caerwyn
does take the throne, there’s no way of controlling him without
Zane…

Guillermo had no idea who’d been behind the
massacre of the Phoenix Ring’s leadership. No one did. But whoever
had managed it, they’d effectively chopped the head off the snake.
And now the organization was completely in tatters, reeling with no
leadership. And no more money pouring in. Everyone was trying to
save his own skin, desperate to survive, and Guillermo was no
exception.

I was Zane’s Second… I held a high post, a
position of great honor in the group that was meant to become to
most powerful organization in the entire galaxy
. And yet,
despite all the meticulous planning, it hadn’t happened. The
Ascension hadn’t come. Not soon enough anyway… And before they
could inherit their Empire, their leadership had been butchered and
everyone else fled in in all directions. Chased and hunted like
animals. If even half the rumors were true, the remaining Phoenix
Ring members were being pursued and killed across the galaxy. Even
though Guillermo didn’t know who’d executed the massacre at the
bunker, he did know the Khans were one of the groups currently
slaughtering Phoenix Ring members across the Empire. Things had
been sour with the Khans ever since Zane refused to protect Khan
soldiers he’d hired after they botched a hit. The Rahajiim were
also involved, happy to eliminate their only group that could truly
threaten them. And the Organization had a hand in these shadowy
dealings too, Guillermo was sure. Three of the deadliest groups in
the galaxy, and the Phoenix Ring’s list of enemies likely didn’t
stop there.

Nowhere was safe. Least of all here. For all
Guillermo knew, he was the last surviving Phoenix Ring operator on
Capital World. Certainly he was the last living Second.

When a cab finally came, he hailed it and
climbed into the back almost too hastily.

“
Drive
,” he said. Expecting the car to
demand he scan his money card before pulling away from the
curb.

“Where?” asked the driver. Just his luck, he
got one of the only cabs in the city that wasn’t automated.

“Anywhere, just
go
,” snapped
Guillermo.

Obediently the driver hit the gas and they
were off. Heading north. The driver held course, keeping them in a
straight line, and Guillermo said nothing and kept his head down,
occasionally peeking out the rear window to see if anyone seemed to
be following.

The driver attempted to engage him in idle
conversation, but Guillermo only answered him with hard eyes and a
stony face that effectively silenced the driver.

After the better part of an hour, Guillermo
told the driver to take him to the nearest public launchport. In
truth, Guillermo didn’t know where to go. He hadn’t been back to
his home since receiving the news that Zane Martel and the others
were dead—a decision he was certain had helped prolong his life—but
that left him with nowhere to go and he knew, beyond a doubt, that
it wasn’t safe for him on Capital World. If he stayed he would
certainly be hunted down, just like the others. That meant he had
to jump system.
Yes, the launchports were probably being
watched, but Capital World is a massive planet with more launchport
traffic than any other place in the Empire, or the galaxy for that
matter,
he tried to reassure himself.

I have to take my chances at the
launchport. If I don’t get off the planet then I’m dead
already
.

The car pulled over and stopped. Out the
window Guillermo could see hordes of people coming and going, and
security personnel corralling would-be passengers like cattle as
they moved to and fro, laden with luggage. Crowds were good. Crowds
meant he could disappear.

“Here,” he said, paying the man with a
fistful of cash from his wallet. It was more q than the cab driver
would have charged him, many times over. “I was never here and you
never saw me,” he said, giving the cab driver a serious look.

The driver looked at the cash with a grin and
then nodded. “Yes, yes, of course. I never saw you. Never took you
here.”

“Good.” Guillermo left the cab and
disappeared into the crowds, and then into the main building of the
launchport complex. He resisted the urge to walk briskly. He didn’t
want to standout, if he was in too much of a hurry he would only
draw attention to himself. But he also didn’t dare linger. Every
second spent on Capital World kept him in danger.

He went to a ticket kiosk and paid for five
different flights departing the system. He would have purchased
more but that was all he could afford with the cash he’d brought.
Hopefully, in case anyone was tracking him, this maneuver would
confuse them. Make it harder for them to determine which flight he
was taking. And, to make things even harder for the Khans, or
whoever
was killing off the Phoenix Ring, Guillermo made
certain the tickets he purchased were for the flights soonest to
depart.

No turning back now
…

He went through security and boarded a
shuttle to the orbital station associated with this launchport. He
sat by the window and watched everyone else carefully as they took
their seats. Wondering, as each new person strapped in, if that
passenger had orders to kill him.

On this shuttle, at least, he seemed to be
safe. It left the hangar on schedule and roared skyward, lurching
toward the stars. The ascent was filled with the usual bumps and
turbulence any passenger would expect, but they docked with the
orbital station without incident. Guillermo made certain he was the
last to exit the shuttle so no one would be right behind him. He
could imagine some innocent looking person shoving a shiv into his
back and collecting a handsome reward from whichever maniac wanted
him dead the most.

Once he was on the station, he found a quiet
corner in the main concourse and chose which of the five boarding
passes he would use. Not wanting to be predictable, he chose at
random.

Keptus One
.

It was as good as any of the others, he
supposed. He gazed out the window at the blanket of space, it was
dark and the stars were invisible thanks to the light of the
station and nearby ships. There was something appealing about that
blackness. A darkness so vast it could hide anything…

Yes, that is where I must go
.
There
I will be invisible. I can survive. I can wait for this hellish
nightmare to end.

He felt his mobile vibrate. Instantly his
heart resumed its anxious pounding. He fumbled with shaky fingers
and pulled the mobile out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear.
As he did, he seriously considered not accepting the call. Recently
the mobile seemed only able to bring him bad news…

“Yes,” he said, accepting the call.

“I have news,” a familiar woman’s voice
sounded in his ear. Celeste Ortega-Gasset, she was one of the
Phoenix Ring’s best informers and among the very few still
breathing.

“Go ahead,” he said, keeping his voice hushed
so none of the passers-by would take notice of him.

“It’s about Tamara Whittaker,” said Celeste,
her voice grave. Guillermo knew what it meant before Celeste said
any more, Tamara was dead now too… “One of Miss Whittaker’s
colleagues sent an emergency message not long ago. Unfortunately,
the message was suddenly cut off before it finished and we’ve heard
nothing from them since, but before that happened we did get
something… the Polarians boarded their ship and attacked them. I
doubt any of our people survived.”

“I’m sure they didn’t,” said Guillermo
soberly. He shuddered at the thought of Polarian soldiers
butchering unarmed humans. He imagined the muscular aliens towering
over their frail victims as they ended their lives with brutal
efficiently. Tamara and the other scientists wouldn’t have stood
the slightest chance even if they’d had weapons.