The Phoenix Rising (38 page)

“
Good,” said Calvin. Shen
knew that if no safe path existed, Calvin would have ordered
Summers to begin detonating the mines to clear a path—a process
that could take a while and exhaust much of the Nighthawk’s
weapons. Luckily they didn’t have to resort to that. “Send Sarah
the data.”

“
Done,” said Shen, sending
Sarah’s console all the data he had on the discovered
mines.

“
Got it,” said
Sarah.

“
Take us in,” said Calvin.
“Fastest safe speed.”

“
Aye, aye. We’ll dock with
the station in two minutes.”

“
Shen,” said Calvin, “can
you get a good look at the station?”

“
Yes.”

“
Display it.”

Shen adjusted the 3d projector to show the
cylindrical metal station in close orbit around Remus Nine. It
appeared unlit and had few if any windows. To Shen it looked like a
coffin in space, silently circling what was probably the biggest
graveyard in the galaxy.

“
Is the station powered?”
asked Calvin.

“
Not from what I can tell—”
said Shen, doing another detailed scan and reviewing what the
Nighthawk’s sensors could pick up. “There is no damage to the
station, other than a few signs of wear and tear.”

“
What about the station’s
generator? Is it still there? Can we restart it as planned or will
we have to do a more involved operation to restore
power?”

“
The generator seems intact.
Though I’m not sure from the scans why it isn’t functioning. My
guess is that it’s simply offline but there’s no way to be certain
from here.”

“
Can we access the generator
from space or is it inside the station?”

“
From space. I’m guessing
when this station was built, all practical repairs had to be done
by spacewalks.”

“
Sarah, move the ship into
position for a spacewalk repair. Then send word to Andre. Let him
know his repair team is cleared to begin operations. Once power is
restored and everyone is back on the ship, dock us with the
station.”

“
Aye, sir.”

“
Shen, what can you tell me
about the atmosphere and gravity systems on the
station?”

“
The air on the station is
still a breathable concentration of oxygen, though it’s probably
very old and stale. The gravity system and all life support should
come online as soon as the station has power again. Though it might
take a while to purge the environment and recycle the air—should
any toxic gases be detected. I don’t foresee a problem for your
shore party, but climate suits are advised as standard procedure in
this kind of situation.”

“
No point in taking
unnecessary risks,” said Calvin. “I planned on us using pressurized
suits from the beginning. Now, what can you tell me about the
planet?”

“
It’s still habitable;
atmospheric conditions are stable. Though it might not be very
pleasant as there seems to be an above average amount of hydrogen
sulfide in the air near the surface. The air composition isn’t
toxic, though.”

“
Can anyone on the planet
detect our approach?”

“
Negative. There aren’t any
structures on the planet capable of detecting the Nighthawk. And...
I don’t see any that could detect an inbound planetary landing
craft of any type, but I’m less sure on that. Once you leave the
orbital station and descend below the stratosphere, you should
assume you are visible.”

“
Fortunately for us, they’re
expecting company,” said Calvin. “I’d better get below—”

Shen interrupted him,
“
Calvin
.” He turned
his chair to face the center of the bridge. “Let me come too.” Shen
didn’t want to be here with Sarah, he didn’t want to be stuck on
the Nighthawk, where it was safe, always the one to stay out of the
action. Never the one compelled to adventure and take risks. No
wonder Sarah, and every other woman in the galaxy, couldn’t see him
as a man. At least not as a man to be drawn to.

Calvin looked surprised.
“I... don’t think that’s a very good idea,” he said gently. Even he
didn’t see Shen as the kind of man who could hold his own in a
tight situation. Always the brain and never the brawn. Just like
how, to women, he was always the friend and never the lover. Cursed
with feelings—powerful ones—that could never be reciprocated. What
a cruel universe. And for what? There seemed to be no point
anymore. Life had dealt him an unfortunate hand—and he’d had
enough. It wasn’t worth it anymore. He would be who
he
wanted to be from here
on out, or die trying.

“
Calvin, you have to let me
go,” said Shen, shooting his friend an earnest look.

“
It’s going to be extremely
dangerous down there.”

That was what Shen was
counting on. He was going to prove Sarah, and everyone else, wrong
about him. He was every bit as capable a man in a tough situation
as all the muscle-headed idiots that donned camouflage and toted
firearms. He
had
to
be. But he knew Calvin well enough to understand that Calvin
wouldn’t tolerate Shen’s presence on the mission—or anyone
else’s—unless they had a reason for going. And Calvin would never
understand Shen’s reason, so he had to invent one. Make it seem
like he was essential.

“
If you get to the station,”
said Shen, clearing his throat to buy him a little more time, “and
you find some of the systems offline or not functional, you’ll need
me there to patch them up. Otherwise you’ll never get down to the
planet. And if something goes wrong with the planetary craft,
you’ll wish you had a systems expert with you.”

To anyone truly familiar with systems, this
would have seemed like a fairly desperate argument. In all honesty,
if they did find something was wrong with the computers on the
station or the planetary craft, there wasn’t much Shen, or anyone
else, could do about it. But Calvin seemed to be mostly persuaded.
Though not quite all the way. His friend looked at him with intense
curiosity, as if searching for the real reason Shen wanted to
go.

“
Please
,” said Shen. “I don’t ask for much.” He turned his head just
enough to glance at Sarah—who looked as surprised as everyone
else—then he looked back at Calvin.

Calvin nodded. “Alright. Let’s suit up.
Sarah, send word once the generator is repaired and we’ve docked
with the station. Summers, the ship is yours. Try to keep her in
one piece.”

Chapter 23

No conclusive results had come in yet from
the analysis lab regarding the murder of Staff Sergeant
Patterson.

Calvin was sure it was only a matter of
time, but he’d hoped to have the matter resolved before they
reached Remus System. Sadly, no such luck. Now that they’d arrived,
those concerns had to wait—and in all probability he was going down
to the planet’s surface with the murderer at his side. He couldn’t
decide if that was better or worse than leaving him on the
Nighthawk.

“
Everyone all suited up?”
asked Calvin. His thin, lightweight climate suit transmitted the
message automatically to the helmet speakers of the other members
of his team. As tactical gear went, it wasn’t very protective
against bullets and shrapnel, but it would keep a person alive
against adverse elements. At least until the two-hour oxygen supply
depleted.

“
Yes,” said Tristan. The
lycan was barely recognizable behind the protective white coating
covering his body and limbs. The helmet’s facial screen revealed
some of his features—most prominent were the goggles he wore under
the screen. Everyone wore goggles, but in Tristan’s case they made
his narrow head seem almost bug-eyed.

They stood as a group near the airlock,
waiting for clearance to unseal the hatch and enter the unknown
environment of the Remus orbital station. Miles fidgeted nervously.
Shen stood stiff. Pellew seemed resolute. Tristan impatient. And
Alex... he looked the strangest of all. Like most Rotham, he was
smaller than the average human and it had been difficult finding a
climate suit that would fit him properly. In the end they’d managed
to adjust their smallest one adequately, though he still looked
awkward wearing it.

Fortunately the much larger Polarians had
brought their own climate suits as part of their standard tactical
gear when they’d boarded the ship. None of the human ones would
have fit them. Theirs differed from the Imperial suits not only in
size but also in color, rather than white they were a dark steely
grey. And their facial shields were mirrored and revealed nothing.
It was kind of unsettling to look at them, actually. They stood
there, menacingly tall and stout, face and body language hidden.
And one or more of them had probably performed the savage slaying
of Staff Sergeant Patterson...

Their away party totaled eighteen members,
including four humans, one Rotham, one Remorii, and all twelve
Polarians. Some carried charges which would be used to destroy the
isotome weapons. And all carried assault rifles, wore sidearms, and
carried extra magazine on tactical belts, some even had grenades.
In the case of the Polarians, many of them also carried their
ceremonial daggers and metal clubs.

They were going down as a heavily armed unit
but Calvin didn’t want to be lulled into a false sense of security.
What awaited them on the surface was an unknown number of Enclave
agents, perhaps even a small army. And if that wasn’t enough, there
were also the millions of type one Remorii which, if they descended
upon Calvin’s group, could overpower them quickly. Calvin thought
of the ferocity with which Tristan had fought the strigoi on Tybur,
and even deeper in his mind remembered the savage, ruthless
efficiency of the strigoi tha had rampaged the Trinity—if both
lycans and strigoi alike feared the type one Remorii enough to flee
Remus Nine, then certainly they were a threat worth taking
seriously.

“
Boarding party, you’re all
clear,” said Sarah’s voice over the radio. “Docking seal is in
place.”

“
That’s the go-ahead,” said
Pellew.

“
Open the hatch,” said
Calvin.

Pellew opened the hatch and their group
pushed inside, weapons drawn and ready. The Polarian force led the
way. Miles, the last to go through, closed the hatch behind them.
They were now aboard the Remus orbital station.

It was very dark, almost completely black. A
few consoles and panels were lit up, now that they had power, but
almost everything lay in shadows.

“
IR goggles, activate,” said
Calvin. The device recognized his voice command and snapped to
life. Replacing the darkness with a pale, almost faded pool of
green. Because climate control had been restored, heat was again
ventilating through the station, making sight possible, but it was
still very cold overall. Calvin was glad to be protected by his
climate suit.

Their group fanned out and swept the room,
performing a swift but thorough search. Then Rez’nac reported.
“Area secure.”

“
Move out,” said Calvin.
And, with military efficiency, they proceeded out of the room and
down the long corridor. Not wasting time, but making sure to
properly clear any room they entered. Calvin doubted anyone was on
the station—according to his father’s intelligence no one would
be—but he didn’t want to walk into an ambush either.

Because the orbital station was a
standard—albeit antiquated—design, the Nighthawk’s computer had a
blueprint of the facility. All team members had committed the path
to memory—it was a simple route—and together they headed directly
for the forward control room, caution in every step.

When they arrived, Calvin noted that the
control room was smaller than he’d expected. It served as the
station’s primary bridge and, even though the orbital structure was
many times the size of the Nighthawk, he estimated its control room
was barely larger than the Nighthawk’s bridge.

They cleared the room, once again finding no
one.

Very few of the computers and panels were
lit up. That was to be expected.

“
Alright, Shen,” said
Calvin. “Restart the main computer.”

“
On it,” said Shen. And a
slightly pudgy white figure moved to the central control station
and began making adjustments. Within a few seconds there was an
audible hum as much of the old equipment growled to life. The main
lights snapped on so Calvin switched his IR goggles off.

“
I take it that’s a good
sign,” said Calvin.

“
So far, no problems,” said
Shen.

“
Is the map there?” asked
Calvin.

“
Checking...” Shen typed
something in the console and a search began. “Yes,” he said. “Looks
like there is a file here in a language I don’t recognize.” He
displayed the characters.

“
That’s it,” said Tristan.
“That’s the foul language of the strigoi!”

To Calvin the characters actually looked
surprisingly elegant.

“
Tristan, hand me the
tablet,” said Shen, reaching out a hand. The lycan handed over a
small tablet computer device which Shen affixed to one of the
consoles and began downloading the map. “Download complete,” he
announced a moment later. He handed the tablet back to
Tristan.

“
Are you sure it is the
map?” Calvin looked at Tristan. The lycan seemed to be staring down
at the tablet, perusing the document.