The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6) (10 page)

“This way,” said Sergei, and the three of them stepped inside what appeared to be a living room. Neither Oliver nor the king was anywhere to be found. The furnishings were plush and no expense had been spared on the luxury. Of course, knowing Caerwyn Martel’s love of wealth, and of himself, Hadriana had expected nothing less. Still, it was likely the most extravagantly decorated bunker in the history of bunkers.

Sergei led them to an adjoining conference room where voices could be heard. Hadriana recognized Caerwyn Martel’s voice as he berated Oliver on some minor aspect of the Empire’s finances. When Sergei led them into the room, which had a large table in the center, surrounded by several plush chairs—in two of which sat the king and Oliver—Caerwyn looked at them with raised eyebrows.

“Sergei, what are you doing here?” asked the king, sounding greatly annoyed. “Can’t you see that I’m already quite busy having to deal with
this
man,” he nodded toward Oliver, “and his inept control of the royal finances.” After getting a better look at them, Caerwyn’s surprised face turned into one that looked suspicious. “Sergei, what is this about? Why have you brought two guards with you? Don’t you know they’re supposed to remain outside, standing guard?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” said Sergei with a bow. He continued to approach the king and, as he did, Oliver stood up, slowly walking toward the king from the other side, around the table.

“Stop,” said Caerwyn, suddenly looking intimidated. “What is going on here?”

“There’s a matter of great urgency,” said Sergei, once he was at the king’s side.

“Well then
deal
with it,” snapped the king, who, not wanting to be intimidated, rose to his feet.

“I am,” said Sergei. In a snap, he drew a baton from his sleeve—it seemed to appear out of nowhere—and smacked Caerwyn Martel in the head so hard that Hadriana thought the man was dead when he collapsed.

“Oh, my God,” said Hadriana, somehow startled by the violence, despite knowing it was coming. “Is he—?”

“Dead? No,” said Sergei, feeling the king’s pulse. “He’ll come around in a few minutes, which is why we must hurry. You three undress him, quickly!”

Hadriana helped Oliver and Representative Taggart remove the king’s clothes—probably the most disgusting thing she’d ever had to do—while Sergei took off his pack and withdrew a helmet, armor, and a guard’s uniform in an extra-extra large size.

Working as a team, they dressed the king in the guard outfit and then stashed his old clothing out of sight. “Okay,” said Sergei, “All together, ready? On three. One, two, three.” Sergei lifted the king from behind, managing to carry most of the weight, while the rest of them either helped to carry the legs, or else got chairs and obstacles out of the way. They moved until they’d gotten the king, looking very much like a fat, incapacitated guard, all the way outside his bunker and onto the bottom landing.

Sergei whistled. Representative Brady, upon hearing the signal, also whistled. And the representative above him did the same. When the signal reached the topmost guard, Representative Baldwin, he threw down a padded rope that Sergei had smuggled in earlier and anchored to the wall. When the end of the rope reached the bottom level, they quickly tied it around their unconscious king, swiftly and securely, and then lifted him up. Sergei whistled again, and the guards above—all six representatives—got their hands on the padded rope and began to pull upward on it, while Sergei, Oliver, Taggart, and Hadriana lifted and pushed. As they slowly ascended the ladder, it became more a matter of Sergei pushing the king upward while Oliver tried to help steady Sergei, and Representative Taggart did the same for Oliver. Hadriana was last up the ladder, and couldn’t really contribute from that position.

“Be careful, but be fast,” said Sergei, a poignant reminder that this was the most dangerous part of their mission. Should one of the top level guards decide to patrol the lower levels, and find them all hoisting a guard, no doubt there would be questions asked and answers demanded.
Sergei will handle it
, Hadriana reminded herself, but she also knew it would be better if no such encounter occurred.

As luck would have it, they didn’t run afoul of any real guards until they were carrying the fortunately still unconscious king outside the structure itself.

“Hold on there,” said one of the guards. Two more took notice and approached. “What is going on here?” No doubt they were surprised to see four guards carrying another guard—who was unresponsive—and then that group was being followed by every other guard assigned to protect the king.

“This man is in need of immediate medical assistance,” said Sergei. “Stand aside.” The guard didn’t budge right away, so Sergei pushed him, and the group of them loaded the king into the back of the van.

“What happened?” demanded the guard, following them.

“Rogers fell from the fifth level all the way to the bottom. I need to get him to the hospital.”

“But Rogers isn’t on duty today,” said the guard. “I’m quite sure of it.”

Oh no
, thought Hadriana,
they’ve got us!

“What is your name,
soldier
?” barked Sergei.

“It’s Smith, don’t you recognize me, sir?”

“Smith. Good. I’ll need to know who to reprimand later for being so callous about a comrade’s serious injury. Now, stand aside and let us take him, or else—if he dies—it will be your fault. And I will make certain the king knows who is to blame.”

This seemed to intimidate the guard and he backed down. Not questioning them again until Sergei had taken the driver’s seat, Oliver the passenger’s seat, and the rest of them were loading into the van.

“Why are all of you going?”

“Shift change,” said Sergei.

“You have to hold your stations until the next shift arrives,” said the guard, confused. “And that shouldn’t be for a few more hours.”

“I’m in charge of security, and I require the assistance of these men elsewhere for an operation that is classified. And one of them is dying as we speak!” Sergei spoke with absolute confidence and so much authority that Hadriana nearly believed what he was saying. “Now, I want you and the others to guard this entrance until I return with the next shift. After I leave, no one goes in or out. Am I making myself clear,
soldier
?”

“Sir, yes, sir,” the guard said. He then looked to the other guards, who, behind their helmets, were no doubt as confused looking as they could possibly be. “You heard him. To your posts!”

That was the last Hadriana heard from the guards, as Sergei closed the window and drove off. As the van sped for the exit, Sergei radioed in for them to open the gate and let the van through immediately, due to a medical emergency. They followed his orders and, by the time they reached the gate, they were able to pass right through, without losing any speed. After that, Sergei really stepped on it, taking the corners as fast as he dared, racing to get to the nearest private skyport.

“I give it five minutes before they realize what’s happened and sound the alarm,” said Sergei. “Once that happens, everything will be on lockdown planet-wide.”

“How far away are we from the skyport?”

“About five minutes,” said Sergei, swerving onto the curb to get around a stalled vehicle, and then with a thud they were back on the road again.

Every new street, every new corner, Hadriana always expected to see flashing emergency lights, or some other government vehicles coming up from behind or blockading them from the front.
We have kidnapped the king
, she thought to herself, the realization only now dawning.
If that isn’t a capital crime, I don’t know what is
.

They reached the skyport and Sergei drove right onto the tarmac and into the launch bay, not stopping until they were next to a shuttle. Its engines were prepped and running; true to his word, Sergei seemed to have everything planned out.

They loaded the king into the shuttle and got into it themselves. With a sudden lurch that nearly made Hadriana vomit into her helmet, they lifted off into the air. Once they were high above the city, Hadriana finally saw evidence that they’d been found out. The streets were being blocked off and emergency lights could be seen, like a flood of tiny colors scattered all around the capital. No doubt the ongoing riots had helped tie down government forces long enough to aid their escape.

“There are two small interceptor shuttles launching from the military skyport fifty miles from here,” reported the pilot.

“Just keep ascending as fast as you can,” said Sergei. “Once we’re in orbit, they can’t touch us, they’ll get shot down by the madman’s battlegroup.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I am hailing Raidan right now. I need him to know not to fire on this shuttle, and get us clearance to dock. I’d also like to stop him from firing on the planet any further.” He switched on the short range radio. “
Shuttle Epsilon Two
to ISS
Harbinger
, do you copy?” Nothing. “I repeat,
Shuttle Epsilon Two
to ISS
Harbinger
, come in please. Over.”

***

“Sir,” said Commander Mason soberly. “I’m afraid time has expired.”

Raidan nodded. He didn’t turn around to look at them; instead, he remained where he stood, next to the largest window on the bridge, staring down upon the beautiful blue and white planet below. A planet that now he must turn red…

“I really wish it hadn’t come to this,” he said, to no one in particular.

“Sir, if I may,” said Commander Mason. “It’s not too late to turn around and leave. Obviously, the Capital has called our bluff.”

“We’re not bluffing,” said Raidan, still unwilling to break his gaze.

“Sir, those are our people down there, innocent people—most of them,” insisted Commander Mason. “We can’t seriously deliver on our threat, can we?”

“We have to,” said Raidan. “The people must overthrow Caerwyn. They must eliminate him. If I have to burn down half of Capital World to meet that end, then that is what I shall do.”

“Why must it be so?” asked Commander Mason. “Wouldn’t that only aid our enemies?”

“Caerwyn Martel’s existence aids our enemies. He has divided the Empire; he has made it nearly destroy itself. Even now it may be too late to fix the damage he has done,” said Raidan coldly. “Caerwyn dies. If it’s the last thing I do in this life, I will see him made into a corpse for what he’s done.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Mr. Gates,” said Raidan, “order the battlegroup to commence firing protocol Alpha Two,” he nearly winced as he gave the order, knowing just how brutal that protocol would be to the citizens of Capital World, but he did not wince, neither did he stutter. Raidan gave the order with cold calculation, and a broken heart.

“Aye, sir,” said Mr. Gates, he looked like he could barely give the order. The man was a certified criminal; in his shaded past he’d belonged to bloody CERKO, and yet even he flinched at the thought of the brutality they were about to inflict. Nonetheless, he obeyed.

“Mr. Demir,” said Raidan, still not looking away from the planet. “Commence firing protocol Alpha Two.”

“As
you
command,” said Mr. Demir, as if washing his hands of the deed and placing the full blame for it on the head of the one giving the order.
Just so
, thought Raidan,
that is exactly where it belongs. I am responsible for this order. And I accept that.

A few seconds later the view became blinding as scores of beam weapons fired down upon the planet, lighting up the surface. Only then did Raidan look away. Turning his back to the slaughter, he walked to the command position. His heart felt so heavy he could barely move, yet he had to remain fierce and strong—at least in appearance.

“SIR!” shouted Mr. Gates, spinning his chair to face Raidan. The man looked positively animated. “We’ve been contacted by a shuttle. They say they have Caerwyn Martel aboard and are delivering him to us!”

Could this truly be so
, wondered Raidan.
Or is it a stalling tactic to allow Caerwyn’s fleet to arrive and annihilate the battlegroup?
That fleet could be arriving almost any moment now. With no reason not to, Raidan decided to trust them.

“HOLD FIRE!” he commanded, loudly. Then, to Mr. Gates, “order all ships to
hold
fire!”

Mr. Gates quickly relayed the command and the bombardment ceased. “Sir, the shuttle is requesting permission to dock with the
Harbinger
,” said Mr. Gates. “Also, they are being pursued and request assistance.”

“Clear them immediately,” said Raidan. “And, Mr. Demir, destroy
any
vessel pursuing them.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

“Captain,” said Commander Mason. “What if it’s a trick? We should divert the shuttle to another vessel just in case. The shuttle could be a bomb. It could be revenge!”

“It’s not a bomb and it’s not revenge,” said Raidan, certain of himself. “It’s a gift. Order them to dock in the primary hangar, I will meet them myself.”