The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) (12 page)

“Shouldn’t you be halfway to your pod by now?” asked the wounded captain, as he took the command position.

Calvin nodded, and made for the elevator, Rez’nac and Miles in tow.

“Take care of my ship,” he said over his shoulder.

“I will,” said Nimoux. “You just worry about the mission.”

***

When Calvin reached the others gathered in the corridor, moving gear, and themselves, through the hatch and into Pod Two, he spotted a familiar face.

“Nikolai?” he said, unable to believe it. The last time he saw the bald, rugged bodyguard had been during his brief tenure as the Executor of the Empire, at that moment they each had been fleeing for their lives, desperate to escape Capital World. Calvin had seen a shuttle destroyed during the escape, and for some reason, he’d always believed Nikolai had been inside it.

“Calvin,” said the brawny man, coming over and giving Calvin an unexpected hug. “It is good to see you here.”

“Yes, it is,” said Calvin. He felt like he had a million questions, but no time to ask any of them. So, he settled for the most important one. “What are you doing with the Roscos?” The last Calvin remembered, Nikolai had been in the queen’s service. How then had he found his way aboard the
Nighthawk
after the Battle of Aleator One?

“After my failure on Capital World, I had a falling out,” he said in that familiar accent of his. “Now I work as a gun for hire. The Roscos, I like. The Khans, I do not like. Roscos are men of honor. Khans, Khans are snakes.”

“You’ve got that straight, sure enough,” said Calvin, wondering if this story was true, or if, somehow, the queen had had the foresight to plant one of her agents on board Calvin’s ship—though he did not think even she could have known he was going to take Rosco soldiers with him. Not that far in advance.
Could she?

With that, Calvin entered the pod, the last to do so, and it disconnected from the
Nighthawk
, beginning its dive downward onto the Forbidden Planet itself.

***

“Sir, all forces report positive target acquisition,” said the Comms Chief.

“Excellent,” said Ravinder. “Time to engagement?”

“Two minutes and fifteen seconds, if enemy vessels continue to retreat at present speed,” replied the Ops Chief.

“And our status?” asked Ravinder. She sat in the command position on the edge of her seat, leaning forward, resting her face on her hands and her arms on her knees.

You’re mine, Raidan
, she thought.
You will pay for the destruction you have caused here
.

“This vessel has locked onto the ISS
Harbinger
’s bridge,” said the Defense Chief. “All warhead launchers are loaded, beam weapons charged, and main guns standing ready. All staff have responded to General Quarters.”

“This could get hairy,” said Ravinder. “Everybody who hasn’t strapped in—strap in now.” That included herself; she scooted back in the chair and fastened the straps that would hold her in place should the gravity system be lost.

“Tactical analysis,” said Ravinder, as she finished strapping in.

“The
Harbinger
and other ships continue retreating,” said the Defense Chief.

“On top of that, their shields are down and weapons remain offline,” said the Ops Chief. “Or so our scans indicate.”

“And is that infernal message still broadcasting?” asked Ravinder, referring to the pleas sent over all channels and frequencies, claiming that Raidan and his thugs had come to help defend the system and did not have some other ulterior motive.

“Yes, sir,” said the Comms Chief.

“Order to all ships, remain on target. All ships are authorized to open fire as soon as weapons range is achieved. Show them no quarter!” Ravinder had no intention of showing mercy to traitors. No matter what their intentions were. Justice required their elimination. And if there was no justice—what was the point of anything?

“Weapons range in one minute,” said the Defense Chief.

Ravinder kept her eyes glued to the 3D display, which showed the
Harbinger
. It was a mighty vessel and, by the look of it, easily overmatched against the ISS
Hyperion
. However, Ravinder was flanked by a hundred warships, not to mention, it seemed the
Harbinger
and her few dozen allies seemed unwilling to fight. No doubt this was some sort of strategic feint, Ravinder assumed. No matter, the Third Fleet would make quick work of the traitors. Should the
Harbinger
fight, the battle would be bloody, but it was impossible for the
Harbinger
to win against such an overwhelming force.

“Sir, incoming communiqué from Capital World,” announced the Comms Chief. “Maximum priority!”

“On speakers,” said Ravinder, wondering which knight or Fleet Admiral wished to micromanage her or her recently obtained Third Fleet.

“General Order to all ships! Especially the Third Fleet,” the voice said in a commanding tone, the speaker was none other than the queen herself, much to Ravinder’s surprise. “Stand down. I repeat; stand down and disengage! The
Harbinger
and its squadron is not to be attacked. Fleet Admiral Ravinder, order your forces to hold their fire.”

The Comms Chief looked at Ravinder, as if asking for confirmation whether or not to obey that order.

“Firing range in twenty seconds,” said the Defense Chief.

Ravinder nodded to the Comms Chief. “Order the fleet to stand down, and, to all gunnery crews, hold fire.”

The Comms Chief sent the order, and Ravinder watched, as the many dots on the Tactical Display, which was next to the main 3D display, showed a huge force of starships abruptly halt pursuit of a few dozens. They slowed until they were holding position.

“Return message to the queen,” said Ravinder, removing her restraints so she could again stand. “Open a channel; see if she accepts.”

“Hailing the queen, sir,” said the Comms Chief.

As it turned out, the queen did accept.

“Fleet Admiral Ravinder and ISS
Hyperion
, why do you hail me?” asked the queen. She did not sound annoyed, but neither did she sound pleased by the interruption.

“Your Majesty,” said Ravinder, she had to consciously resist the urge to bow, since this conversation was strictly audio, so there was no point. “I fully respect your commands and your wisdom…” Ravinder began.

“Then what is it?” asked Kalila. “You may speak plainly.”

“I find myself at a loss, Your Highness, for why you ordered us not to engage the
Harbinger
and its squadron of vessels.”

“You already know the answer to that, probably better than anyone; you, Fleet Admiral Ravinder,” replied the queen, “Have seen the size and power of the Dread Fleet. Any assistance against them is welcome.”

“But Raidan is a traitor. The
Harbinger
bombed Capital World. They are directly responsible for the loss of two star bases and much of this system’s static defenses. What we have now, we’ve had to scramble to cobble together, and it’s all because of them.”

“You speak truly,” said Kalila. “However, in an hour of dire need, one does not turn away an able hand that would help with the work.”

“But, and forgive me, Your Highness, but did you not, yourself, declare Asari Raidan and his compatriots enemies of the state, charging us with the duty to do them harm however and whenever we can?” Ravinder believed she had the queen there. After all, it was more than just what the law required; it was what justice demanded.

“I respect your opinions, Fleet Admiral Ravinder,” said the queen in a more forceful tone. “But I would ask you to limit them to opinions of strategy for the time being. My orders are for our forces not to engage the
Harbinger
and its squadron and instead to welcome whatever assistance they are willing to offer, and those orders,
my
orders, shall stand.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” said Ravinder, feeling red in the face.

“Now, is there anything else?” asked the queen.

“No, Your Highness,” said Ravinder.

“Good, then I suggest you order your ship and your fleet back into position to be ready to engage the real enemy. The Dread Fleet might arrive at any time.”

“At once, Your Highness.”

***

Calvin stole a glance through the upper window, as the pod—which was so thoroughly packed with soldiers and cargo that it was standing room only—descended toward the planet. Calvin had a little more space than most; he needed it in order to man the controls and fly the tiny vessel to its designated LZ near the Alcazar.

But, as he momentarily looked away from the console and stared upward through the window, he could see the outline of the
Nighthawk
—a blackness that blocked out the stars—seem to vanish away. He wondered if he would ever see the vessel again, or if this place, this Forbidden Planet, was going to be the place where his story came to an end. He looked around at the others, mostly unfamiliar faces—Rosco soldiers—but Nikolai was there, as was Miles, and looming above them all, Rez’nac, and Calvin hoped he could get as many of them as possible back to the
Nighthawk
once their objective was achieved. He further hoped that the damned vortex didn’t destroy the
Nighthawk
in the interim, or force the ship to retreat into alteredspace, abandoning Calvin and his away party.

He wondered then, as the pod continued its gentle descent, expertly piloted, what Rain would say if she was still alive and with him. No doubt something comforting. Something that would help him keep it all in perspective. But, without her, he felt a tremendous emptiness, and it was hard to be hopeful, no matter how determined he was for this mission to succeed.

“Pod Two to Pod One, we’re beginning our final approach, what is your status?” Calvin transmitted to the other pod, the one shadowing his every movement, its pilot one of the junior crew members. A green shift officer, not unlike Calvin had once been, back before the Trinity Incident…

“Copy that, Pod Two, Pod One is about a kilometer behind you, following your same trajectory, over.”

Calvin knew that transmissions between the pods might be noticed by some kind of high-tech equipment at the Alcazar, but, since Pod One had gone out of visual sight, he felt he needed confirmation that the other half of his away party was still intact and
en route
. That, and, by the medieval look of the Alcazar structure, he doubted it had much by way of modern technology. Perhaps in this ancient simplicity, the Polarians found a kind of peaceful reverence. Calvin didn’t know, and he wasn’t about to speculate. What mattered was, if there indeed was little technology here, that would make everything much, much easier. Though he knew better by now than to let such a thing make him overconfident. That and appearances were often misleading.

What gave him confidence the most, more even than the apparent lack of technology displayed by the Alcazar, was the fact that the strange radiation from the system’s parent star seemed to interfere with conventional instruments; this forced Calvin to land the craft manually. The purplish color was gone, but the radiation was not, and it made Rez’nac’s skin appear an even deeper shade of blue—much bluer than Calvin had ever seen it. All hints of grey seemed gone. Calvin hoped the radiation only affected the Polarian’s pigment and not his judgment.

He set the craft down gingerly in a small clearing surrounded by trees, the designated LZ. If they had been detected during their landing operation, there was no sign. No ships or fighters had been launched to intercept them; there was no chatter on any of the frequencies or channels, no alarms seemed to be going off. As far as Calvin could tell, they had managed a discreet landing, just as they’d hoped.

A few moments later, Pod One came into view, its pilot rather skillfully landed the craft with feather-like gentleness, only meters away from Pod Two.

“Okay,” said Calvin. “Everybody remember where we parked.”

***

It wasn’t just his imagination; no, there were certainly more patches of grey in Raidan’s hair as his face appeared over the viewscreen in Tristan’s office aboard the
Arcane Storm
. The man looked positively spent and yet, despite the fatigue, and the wear, he still seemed stalwart.
A bulwark of the Imperial Fleet
,
this one
, thought Tristan.

“That one was a little too close for my level of comfort,” said Tristan, referring to the interception of their squadron by the Third Fleet—an overwhelming force that would have blasted them all to smithereens, especially with their shields down, had they not been given the order to stand down at the last instant.

“Indeed. A close call,” Raidan admitted. “But one I was certain of. The queen is no fool. She knows not to allow infighting between her limited forces, just as surely as she understands the value of an ally.”