The Phoenix Rising (24 page)

The lycan sauntered over to Calvin’s desk.
“Yes?”

“
Look over this list of
ingredients,” said Calvin. “All of this went missing from Aleator
about the time the Harbinger was there. If properly assembled,
those components could make some extremely deadly
weapons.”

“
And you think Raidan took
those ingredients, and that he’s using them to make weapons?”
Tristan cocked his head, looking genuinely intrigued. Calvin noted
that the werewolf hadn’t produced a denial.

“
Well, is he or isn’t
he?”

“
I know of no such weapon,”
said Tristan. “But I’ll be happy to ask Raidan about it next time I
speak with him. If you’d like.”

Calvin supposed that was the best he could
do for now—one thing at a time. But, if it turned out to be true,
and Raidan did plan to employ a weapon that could have such
catastrophic effects on random innocent people, not to mention life
in general—Calvin knew he couldn’t stand by and watch it happen.
Nothing was worth such extreme measures. Not even the Empire.

Surely Raidan understood that.

Chapter 15

After giving it a great deal of thought, and
bouncing between several ideas, Shen decided how he was going to do
it. He was going to see Sarah in person, and talk to her. He’d
considered writing a letter and handing it to her, or—even more
timidly—sticking a letter to her door. Or sending her an electronic
note. Perhaps even signing it anonymously.

However, though such removed tactics had a
definite appeal, he knew they’d never satisfy him. And they went
against everything he’d decided about himself while he’d been
recovering in the burn ward, feeling depressed and useless. He was
going to make some changes and become a new man. That meant he had
to be open, and honest, and put his whole heart into it. He should
trust himself. Not be afraid to look Sarah in the eyes and say what
he really felt. He saw her every day and spoke to her about lots of
things, why did this have to be any harder?

“
Sarah, you are beautiful. I
really like you,” he said to the mirror. An obese, unconfident face
looked back at him, unconvinced.

“
No, no, not like that,”
said Miles. The taller man sat on the chair in Shen’s quarters, his
beefy arms were folded. Though Miles was in every way his
intellectual inferior, Shen envied the other’s ability to be
himself and look so relaxed. Seeing himself in the mirror, Shen was
reminded how stiff and awkward he was in these kind of situations.
As he gave himself an honest once-over, he sincerely doubted a
woman as lovely and beautiful as Sarah could ever see anything in
him. How could anyone?

No! Mustn’t think like
that!
He reminded himself. He had to
believe. Even if it was fake. Even if all his confidence was
predicated on a total lie, or an absurdity. He had to be confident.
Because women like confidence. He had to at least convey that he
had some. And remind himself that he wasn’t doing this for Sarah.
Not really. He was doing it for himself. Even if Sarah rejected
him—an inevitability he tried very hard not to obsess over, or even
consider—he had to believe that this was the right thing. How could
he respect himself if he couldn’t be who he wanted to be? If he
continued spending time with Sarah every day, working side by side,
pretending to be simply friends. Pretending that was all he wanted.
How could he continue watching her flirt with others, and date
them, knowing that he never even took a shot. He had to at least
try.

“
You listening, pretty boy?”
asked Miles. Shen turned, not quite sure what his friend was
talking about—he’d been rambling for the past few seconds and Shen
had tuned him out.

“
Pretty boy?” Shen glanced
at his reflection again. Nothing could be more untrue.

“
Yeah,” said Miles with a
big smile. “If you want the ladies to like you, you gotta talk big.
You know. Brag. Let ‘em know how big a deal you are. That, compared
to you, they’re nothing. That they’re lucky to even be talking to
you.”

Shen raised an eyebrow. “Really?” He doubted
it. That didn’t make sense. What was more off-putting than an
arrogant braggart who looked down on everyone else? But then again,
as Shen had observed, women often were most attracted to men who
were strong—even pushy—abrasive, forward, and extremely
self-assured. Perhaps there was something to Miles’ theory. If
so... what chance did Shen have?

“
Like this,” said Miles, he
cleared his throat. “Hey baby, you got your tickets to the gun show
yet?” He flexed his arms. “Oh yeah, that’s beautiful.” He kissed
his right bicep. “Your turn.”

Shen just stared at him.
That was the stupidest display he’d ever seen. Did women really go
for this garbage?
Really
? If so, were they even worth having? “I don’t think this is
my—”

“
Nonsense,” said Miles. He
stood up and walked over to Shen, slapping him once on the back.
“Believe in yourself. Have a little faith.”

“
Okay...” Shen flexed his
arms momentarily, then stopped. He felt too ridiculous. And his
arms were even less impressive than Miles’ so-called
guns
. “I
can’t.”

“
Of course not,” said Miles.
“That’s
my
thing.
Come up with your own thing. How about poetry? Women go nuts for
that crap.”

That did sound more
reasonable. Though still insincere coming from him. “Sarah, you are
so lovely. Your beauty is like stars heavenly... your eyes...” he
paused, trying to think of what next to say. Perhaps if he planned
it out in advance it would be a lot smoother, but the whole
enterprise felt cheap and fraudulent. Why couldn’t women just
say
‘Yes, I am attracted to you. Thanks for
asking. Let’s have a relationship.
’ Romance
was so unscientific and absurd...

“
No, no, no,” bellowed
Miles. “Not like
that
. Like this,” he cleared his throat again. “Oh my pretty lady,
you are so sexy, you’ve got that awesome body, that is so sexy.
Won’t you be mine? Let’s not waste time!—You know, something like
that.”

“
You just rhymed sexy with
sexy.”

“
So?”

“
And
mine
doesn’t rhyme with
time
.”

“
Sure it does.”

“
No it doesn’t,” said Shen.
He again wished he’d gotten Calvin involved instead of Miles. But
he hadn’t wanted to burden Calvin with some trivial social drama;
that guy had enough on his plate already, and Shen was a little
afraid that Calvin would have laughed in his face. Probably not out
loud. But maybe in his head. Shen could handle mocking from Miles,
Miles was an idiot. But not from Calvin. Calvin’s respect meant too
much.

“
Okay, okay, so maybe
poetry’s not your thing,” said Miles. He scratched his head. “You
got any chocolate candy?”

“
A little cliché, don’t you
think?” He’d scoured all the sites he could find on the network
that had dating advice and learned that chocolates were often seen
as an uncreative, empty gesture. He needed to do something that
stood out. Made him unique and memorable. Showcased his
personality…

“
Not chocolates for Sarah,”
said Miles. “Chocolates for me. I think better when I’ve got some
sugar in me.”

“
Sorry, no,” said Shen. He’d
thrown out all his junk food when he started his diet and exercise
program. He’d been at it two full days and had only cheated three
times—by his standard this was progress.

“
Ooh, you could make a nice
dinner,” said Miles.

“
Yeah, maybe,” said Shen.
That actually wasn’t a bad idea. He wasn’t an experienced cook but
he could look up a recipe and follow it, it was basically an
algorithm—right? He could make Sarah something uniquely delicious,
maybe even something she’d never had before. Then, when the moment
was right, he could admit his feelings for her. “Do you think she
would go for that?”

“
Huh?” asked Miles. “Oh, no.
No. No.” he waved a dismissive hand. “Again, I didn’t mean for her.
I meant dinner for me. So I can help you think of ideas—I think
better on a full stomach.”

“
I like the dinner
idea.”

“
Great, what’ve you got?”
Miles rubbed his hands eagerly.

“
I’m not making
you
dinner,” said Shen.
“But I might do that for Sarah. That’s actually a pretty good
idea.”

Miles looked disappointed. “No that’s a
terrible idea. If you give a woman food, she’ll just think you’re
calling her fat.”

“
Really?” that didn’t sound
right to Shen. “Are you sure?”

Miles nodded. “Oh yeah, very sure. Remember
who you’re talking to, I’m the king.” He flexed his left arm and
patted the bicep. To his credit his arms were big, but the lack of
definition made Shen suspect they were more fat than muscle.

“
Have you even had a
girlfriend before?” asked Shen, realizing this probably should have
been his first question.

“
Oh yeah, loads of them,”
said Miles.

Shen’s eyes narrowed. “Name one.”

“
Brenda,” Miles replied
quickly.

“
Brenda?” asked Shen. “Isn’t
that your mother’s name?”

“
How about that,” said
Miles. “What a coincidence. Actually their names are spelled
different, so... but yeah, she was just one of my many girlfriends.
I broke up with her years ago. Probably had like forty since her.
And no one’s ever broken up with me. How ‘bout that? Once they get
a taste of the Miler, they can’t quit. I actually have to beat them
off with a stick. Literally.”

“
The
Miler
?” Shen cracked a smile. Realizing now
that Miles was just as inept and inexperienced in the dating realm
as he was. Maybe even more so.

“
Oh hell
yeah
. A nickname like that will get you
laid. Guaran-freaking-teed! We should pick one for you.”

“
That’s alright…”

“
Ooh, how about,
the Shen
?”

“
Yeah... I think I’m going
to go with the dinner idea. Thanks, Miles, you’ve been very
helpful. I can take it from here.”

“
This one time I took
Linda
to this lake,” Miles
put special emphasis on the name, and looked proud to have come up
with it. “And we went fishing. And we made out on the boat. And she
wouldn’t stop making out with me. Even when I was like,
‘
Stop it,’
she
still wouldn’t quit.”

“
Yeah, that’s great, Miles,”
said Shen. “Now remember, this dinner I’m planning for Sarah is our
little secret, okay?”

“
Oh yeah, mum’s the
word.”

***

Calvin entered the Nighthawk’s mess
hall.

It was small with only three tables and an
occupancy limit of around twelve people. But, because the entirety
of the crew was only about sixty people, and Calvin allowed his
officers to take food from the mess hall and eat elsewhere, the
place was often vacant. Today it wasn’t. A ginger-haired,
fair-skinned doctor sat at one of the tables making slow progress
on a bowl of exotic fruit and some kind of Polarian mush. She
looked up at him as he entered, and smiled.

“
Hello, Calvin.”

“
Hello, Rain.” Calvin moved
over to the food shelves and picked through their contents. Much of
the stored foodstuffs were meals ready to eat, but they’d taken on
some fresh produce and—accommodating the Polarian newcomers, a
variety of Polarian food as well—none of which looked even remotely
appetizing. The Nighthawk had no dedicated chef, so officers were
instructed to serve themselves. The ship carried enough stores, and
docked frequently, so rationing food had never been
necessary.

“
Haven’t seen
you
in a whole three
hours.”

“
Yeah, how ‘bout that,” said
Calvin. He’d tried to keep his visits with Rain short—it
embarrassed him to have to go to her to get his daily, strictly
controlled, dose of equarius. Rain always seemed to manage to keep
him there for a few extra minutes with some idle gossip or chit
chat. Calvin didn’t mind her company, Rain was pleasant enough. But
he didn’t like the feeling of vulnerability he got when he was in
that situation. The sooner he was permanently free of equarius, the
better.

“
Try the alien fruit, it’s
quite delicious.”

“
Maybe another time,” said
Calvin. He selected a banana which he sliced over a bowl of cereal
and milk. He grabbed a water bottle to drink.

“
Suit yourself,” said Rain.
“Come sit by me; tell me how you’re doing.”

Calvin took the seat opposite her and, after
taking a few mouthfuls, answered her with a question. “What do you
want to know?”

“
Is the treatment
effective?” Rain’s eyes were the most stunning shade of pale blue,
and they seemed to play with his.

“
So far,” he said. That was
mostly true. He did feel cravings that came and went, and there
were minor side-effects of taking the drug again, but all-in-all,
he was feeling a lot better than he had. His condition felt very
manageable.