The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6) (18 page)

“The thing is, it’s a difficult subject to discuss,” said Shen. “I know I need advice but…I’m not quite sure how to bring it up.”

“Most topics in medicine are sensitive,” said Rain understandingly. “But I assure you, you have full doctor-patient confidentiality here, and I am only here to help you. Whatever you’re struggling with, just remember, I’m your friend.”

Shen nodded. That reassurance did help a little.

“And, if it would help you to feel more comfortable, I could tell you some less than flattering things about myself,” offered Rain.

“That won’t be necessary,” said Shen. “Here’s the thing…” he paused. “I kind of blew it with this girl.”

He could tell by Rain’s changed expression that he had taken her completely off guard. “We’re old friends and I really like her,” said Shen. “How do I get her to forgive me? I already tried talking it out and giving her flowers.”

“Well, I must admit, this is a little outside of my medical expertise,” said Rain, much to Shen’s chagrin.

“I know; it was stupid of me to come to you about this. It’s just, you’re the nearest thing to a ship’s counselor that we have aboard. But I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“No, not at all,” said Rain. “I was going to say, this is a subject outside of my medical expertise, but I still know a thing or two about it, and I’d be happy to help.”

Shen’s look of disappointment transformed into a cautious, nervous smile. “Really?”

“Of course! Now tell me, what did you do to wrong this girl?”

“I’ve been rude to her,” said Shen, ashamed of himself. “I’ve pushed her away, tried to keep some distance between us—mainly because I believed she deserved better than me and because I thought of myself as a monster.”

“And you don’t think of yourself as a monster anymore?” asked Rain. When Shen didn’t reply immediately, Rain added, “this part is very important, Shen. How you see yourself will affect how others see you.”

“No, I suppose I don’t,” he said, looking at his hands as if imagining them stained in blood. There was something wrong with him. And he probably was no good for Sarah. But something else inside him burned, and he knew that being with her—or trying to be with her—was what he wanted most in this life. However short or long it lasted.

“That’s good, that’s an important first step,” said Rain. “You need to have confidence. Now, when you say you tried talking it out and giving her flowers, and that apparently didn’t work, how did you go about it?”

“I didn’t talk it out with her exactly; I wrote her a letter, and as for flowers, there aren’t any flowers on the ship, so I made some out of folded paper. I left all this at her quarters, hoping she would forgive me.”

“And has she?”

“No…at least, I don’t think so,” said Shen.

“Have you tried having an honest conversation with her?” asked Rain. “In person. Keeping in mind that sometimes these things work out and are just right, and other times, they are not meant to be, or shouldn’t be…” her words drifted off, as if Rain were lost in her own thoughts momentarily.

“No, I haven’t exactly had the guts to talk to her about anything like that,” said Shen. “I’d hoped the letter would be enough. I told her everything in the letter, honestly I did.”

“The letter probably helped,” said Rain. “And handmade flowers is a sweet gesture that I think any woman would be moved by. But sometimes gestures aren’t enough. I think you should go to her and have an honest conversation. Let her know how you feel and lay your feelings on the table. She may not reciprocate them, and you may not like what she has to say, but that is a risk you are going to have to take if you want to move past this.”

“I know,” said Shen.

“And then there’s always the chance that she will reciprocate,” said Rain, “I don’t want to encourage you to be pessimistic. Just be prepared. For now, though, all you can be sure of is nothing, because you haven’t had a conversation with her about it. My thoughts are, until you do just that, you’ll be stuck in this limbo you are currently in, not sure whether you’ve blown it for good with her, or whether your relationship can move forward together.”

“Thank you, Rain. I think I’ll take your advice and do just that.” It was what Shen had known all along, but somehow hearing someone else say it, especially a woman, made him feel doubly certain it was the right thing to do.

“I hope I helped,” said Rain with another of her pleasant smiles.

“You did, Doctor. You really did.”

CHAPTER 09

Calvin had just managed to fall asleep—a task that had always proven difficult for him without the aid of equarius, and seemed to have become especially difficult recently—when the alert chirped on the main console in his quarters. He hesitated to get up and answer it, knowing it could be something as trivial as a personnel dispute—which really was Summers duty to handle—or it might be something as serious as a critical systems failure or alien attack. Although he doubted an alien starship would be attacking them while stealthed in alteredspace, unless one or both of those systems had failed.

That would be just what I need
, thought Calvin.
Not three hours out of drydock and already encountering systems failures
…

“Calvin here,” he said, after tapping the comm. He made no effort to mask the yawn in his voice.

“Sorry to disturb you at this hour, sir,” came the voice of Second Lieutenant Vargas, commander of Red Shift. Technically, the job of commanding the Red Shift fell to the 2O, who was actually Lafayette Nimoux, but since the man also doubled as Special Forces commander—and had his hands full training and organizing their new batch of Rosco recruits—Calvin had awarded the command of Red Shift to the next most senior officer on the starship.

“It’s fine; I’m awake,” said Calvin, stifling another yawn. “What is it?”

“We’ve received multiple reports,” said Vargas, sounding eager.

“From who?” asked Calvin, feeling his interest grow.

“One is a message from the
Harbinger
; it was broadcast while we were docked at Aleator and so we’re just getting it now; it’s an older message, sir.”

Calvin wondered if Raidan had some kind of new intelligence for him, or if the Organization’s new leader—if rumors were to be believed, that Raidan had taken command of the Organization through a coup—had the audacity to ask Calvin for a favor, considering that the man had tried to exert control over Pellew and the other soldiers, directing them to usurp control of the
Nighthawk
.

“And the other message?” asked Calvin.

“I think you’d best get up here, sir, and see for yourself.”

“Very well.” Calvin dressed and made his way to the bridge. Once he got there, Vargas informed him that he’d piped the messages into the CO’s office and he could take them in there.
So be it
, thought Calvin.
This had better be good
.

To Calvin’s surprise, the messages—of which there were three—each proved to be of crucial, game-changing importance.

The first message had been sent by Raidan aboard the
Harbinger
. To Calvin’s astonishment, the man had Caerwyn Martel with him, restrained. Also present were two of the highest ranking officials that remained loyal to the Imperial Assembly. The message was little more than a summary execution, and one that spared none of the graphic details. Raidan wanted the Empire to know that Caerwyn Martel was dead. It was an illegal, and probably unjust, execution, Calvin knew, certainly a violation of the law for which no pardon could be granted. But all the same, Calvin couldn’t help but feel a modicum of satisfaction at seeing Caerwyn’s head absorb the high-caliber handgun’s bullet as it had. When Caerwyn’s corpse fell to the floor, and the message ended—after pledges of allegiance to the queen from both Assembly members, possibly under duress—Calvin wondered if that meant the civil war had finally come to an end.

I don’t agree with your methods, Raidan
, thought Calvin.
And you will be forever hunted for this deed. But if you brought an end to this civil war, then I have to at least respect you for that, even if you did it in the most ignominious way possible
.

The second message came from the Imperial Assembly itself; its timestamp was hours after the first, making it clear that Raidan had returned the high ranking Assembly members to the surface of Capital World and then fled the system. Calvin found it odd that this message, which was a broadcast of the remaining Imperial Assembly, was not sent directly from the Assembly Hall. And then he realized that, as part of his campaign of terror—which had forced the planet to surrender Caerwyn Martel into his custody, Raidan must have leveled the Assembly Hall, along with who knew how many other buildings and homes.

The ends justified the means
, he could almost hear Raidan breathing into his ear. Calvin knew that such reasoning was sometimes true, but he also appreciated how dangerous and fine the line was that separated a justifiably necessary action from something else, something much darker.

In this second message, under no obvious duress, the remains of the Imperial Assembly held a vote, and almost unanimously, agreed to accept and instate Kalila Akira as the official monarch of the Empire, thereby ending the war, and they extended an invitation for her to return to Capital World and begin the healing process.
It’s about damn time
, thought Calvin, feeling a measure of hope blossoming inside him.

The third message was sent from the ISS
Indomitable
, the command ship that had housed the exiled Royal Assembly. “Its message was brief but very pointed. They re-instated the voting powers of the Imperial Assembly, accepted the remaining legislative officers on Capital World as an extension of the Royal Assembly itself, and they too held their own vote, adding their voices to the once rival Assembly that Kalila Akira was the rightfully elected queen of the Empire.”

“All good news,” said Calvin aloud, just as the third message ended.

“Not quite all of it,” said Summers from behind him, momentarily startling him. He hadn’t heard anyone come inside his office, and since he was standing and watching the side viewer, he’d left his back exposed to the door.

“Oh, hello, Commander,” he said, spinning to look at her. She was stunning as ever, even in her fatigued state. “Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?”

“Rest,” she forced a smile. “Now that would be something, wouldn’t it…?”

“What’s the problem?” asked Calvin. Nothing in the messages he’d seen—other than Caerwyn’s brutal but well-deserved execution—had left him with any sense of bitterness or concern.

“I have received word,” said Summers. “Well, the bridge has received word,” she corrected. “I happened to be on the bridge at the time and so I volunteered to be the one to inform you.”

Calvin felt his heart begin to race. Was it about his mother? Was it about the queen? Had the invitation to return to Capital World and accept her throne been some sort of elaborate trap?

“Don’t tell me the civil war is still on,” he said, seeing the look of worry in her tired yet exquisitely beautiful eyes.

“No, the civil war, thank the Universe, is officially over,” she said, much to Calvin’s relief.

“What then?” asked Calvin, not sure what bad news she could possibly be bringing him. If it was that Raidan had been cornered and brought to justice, Calvin would feel some pity, but it would hardly reduce him to tears. Whatever justice Raidan received, he had earned. Even if his defiance, or heroism—depending on perspective, had ended the civil war.

“Word from our listening posts along The Rim,” said Summers. “We are receiving an increased number of distress calls from across the Polarian border. And then, when we try to reply, we get nothing but static and silence.”

“The Dread Fleet…” whispered Calvin. Rez’nac had warned him that the High Prelain had awoken the Dread Fleet and had called upon all righteous Polarians to join its dark crusade. Their mission would be simple, to purge the corrupt, unfaithful, unworthy elements from the galaxy. That included secular Polarian systems, along with humans and Rotham everywhere.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” said Summers. “Based on our information, no other force could be wreaking such devastation and moving so quickly.”

Calvin felt a lump in his throat. He had heard stories of the Dread Fleet, from ages ago, and knew the rumors of what they were capable of. Violence to the point of total annihilation of a planet, and they had never—not even once—offered quarter to any system that fell within their sights, including systems that had tried to surrender or convert to their fanatically religious ways. It was also said that the Dread Fleet—although no human knew what the fleet looked like in truth—was supposed to be an overwhelming force and one that had never been defeated in battle.

“Perhaps they are only purging Polarian Systems,” said Calvin. He was sorry to abandon the few secular allies the Empire had among the Polarian Confederated States, but he also understood the Empire was in no position to come to their aid—especially considering the threat of Rotham invasion, which had proven true only recently.

“They are on a mission to conduct a galactic purge,” said Summers, looking troubled through her exhausted eyes. “We have been forewarned by some of the Polarian Systems before they fell.”

“Did we get any more information from them before they fell?” asked Calvin, eager for any data he could get his hands on, such as the composition of the fleet, their numbers, types of starships, anything.

“No,” said Summers.

Damn
, thought Calvin.
If it isn’t one thing, it’s another
.
Corruption in the Imperial government, civil war, isotome weapons, and now the emergence of the Dread Fleet. Is there truly no hope for us?

“There’s more,” said Summers.

“What could possibly be worse than what you just told me?” asked Calvin, almost wanting to plug his ears so he could remain in a slightly more blissful state of ignorance, at least for a little bit longer.

“The most recent distress signal from across the border…it came from Gemini,” said Summers.

Gemini
, thought Calvin. It hadn’t been that long since he’d been there, truly, and witnessed the engineering marvel that was the mighty orbital conglomerate that floated high above the exhaustively mined planet. Gemini had once been a safe haven for the Organization, and being a system very near the Imperial border, had always been more secularly governed than most of the Confederation.

“Not Gemini,” said Calvin. “Surely not Gemini.”

“I’m sorry, sir. But the most recent distress signals have all originated from Gemini.”

“That puts them right on our doorstep,” said Calvin, knowing full well that a barely reunited humanity was in no position to resist the unstoppable force of the Dread Fleet.

“You are correct, sir.”

“Does that mean they are coming for us next?” asked Calvin.

“No one can be certain,” said Summers. “But the computer did an analysis of the origin of the distress messages, beginning with the oldest, and has made a projection that indicates the Dread Fleet is moving in a serpentine pattern. They will double back on themselves before entering Imperial space.”

“Well, that’s good news,” said Calvin.

“Only slightly,” said Summers. “The same projection has them ultimately entering Imperial space not long after that, carving their way to Capital World itself and then, after that, slicing through the Corridor, and every system along the way, until they reach Ro.”

“So, the Dread Fleet is not just our problem, it’s the Rotham’s problem too,” said Calvin.

“Yes,” said Summers, “but they might not see it that way. Especially after the devastating loss of their main fleet at Thetican System. The Republic might see the Dread Fleet as something for us, the Empire, to deal with alone. And, in the meantime, they will repair and rebuild, and once the Dread Fleet has finished us off, then and only then will the Republic engage them. For that matter, they might not even be aware yet that Ro and their other worlds are in any kind of long term danger.”

“Then we should make them aware,” said Calvin, instinctively marching toward the bridge. Summers followed.

“Has the queen been appraised of these developments?” asked Calvin.

“She has,” said Summers. “Much of our intel was sent from her fleet.”

“Then she knows she must alert the Rotham, if for no other reason than to stop our two peoples from fighting until we can deal with our shared threat,” said Calvin.

“I should think so, yes,” said Summers. “Although I do not know whether or not the Rotham will see it that way. Instead, they might see our engagements against the Dread Fleet as the ideal time to capture our worlds in The Corridor.”

“They’d be fools to do that,” said Calvin, taking his seat in the command position—Vargas having happily relinquished it. “And if I know the Rotham half so well as I think I do, they are not fools. They are strategists. Surely they must see the sense in us negotiating a ceasefire.”

“I would say that is a matter for the queen to determine,” said Summers.

“I quite agree,” said Calvin. “In the meantime, that makes our mission all the more important.”

“Sir?” asked Summers. “In light of this new information, you still plan to proceed into Polarian Forbidden Space?”

“Yes, Commander,” said Calvin. “Now more than ever.” He was surprised by her surprise.

“Considering the proximity and seriousness of the threat, don’t you think it would be wisest for this ship to join with the rest of the Imperial fleet and mount a resistance together, combining all of our strength?”