The Phoenix Darkness

Richard L. Sanders

Smashwords Edition

Version 1.2

Copyright 2015, Richard L. Sanders

License Notes

Thank you for downloading this eBook. It is
not free and every purchase greatly helps me in my difficult
financial situation. But, that said, I have refused to include any
DRM because I am morally against DRM. And if you want to share this
book with family or friends that you personally know, you have my
blessing. Just please bear in mind that I am up against a mountain
of student loans and other financial obligations and so every
genuine purchase helps me out tremendously. And might be the
difference between making it and not making it, as it were. I would
also ask that you please not make this book available for
torrenting. Thank you.

Dear Reader,

Thank you for your patience and for
downloading this e-book. I know it has been a long wait in between
The Phoenix War
and the release of this book. As such, I
have decided to include a short summary to help remind you what was
going on in the story when we left off. If you remember already
then feel free to skip the following.

What they were up
to:

Calvin was working for Kalila on Capital
World, racing to expose The Phoenix Ring before the Assembly, led
by Caerwyn Martel, voted to rescind the authority of the monarch,
King Hisato Akira. Meanwhile The Phoenix Ring itself was waiting
for “Ascension” which was to be their coup to take over the
government. Zane Martel hoped to run the Empire by using his
brother Caerwyn as a puppet. Everybody’s plans seemed to fail as
The Phoenix Ring was betrayed from within and slaughtered. This
prevented Calvin from exposing them in time and the Assembly threw
the Empire into political disarray.

King Hisato Akira next came before the
Assembly, to speak to the Empire, and either relinquish the throne
or try to retain it, but, before his intentions were made clear, he
was assassinated by Blackmoth. In the ensuing chaos, all of his
heirs (except for Kalila) also are killed. This has left the Empire
in a state of civil war with many planets supporting Kalila Akira,
who, from exile, has declared herself Queen of the Empire; and many
planets, including Capital World, supporting the Assembly which,
under the influence of Caerwyn, rejects Kalila’s claim to the
throne.

The Assembly repeatedly proves itself too
inept to elect an actual monarch, leaving the throne vacant.
Caerwyn politically worms his way into being elected Steward of the
Empire, and from that lofty position commands half the Imperial
Fleet to war against Kalila. Their conflict culminates in the
Battle of Apollo where the strategically crucial Apollo Shipyards
are destroyed.

As the Empire fights its civil war, Calvin
investigates the DMZ where he discovers the Alliance has fallen to
the Rotham. Without the Alliance in between Human and Rotham space,
there is nothing deterring the Rotham from invading Human worlds,
especially now that they’ve claimed Renora as their own. Calvin
wishes to investigate Rotham space to see if any invasion fleet is
forming, and accepts orders from Kalila to do so.

In the meantime, Summers continues to lead
the Nighthawk on its mission to find and destroy the remaining
isotome weapons. They encounter Nimoux, the only survivor of a
prison world, and Summers brings him aboard and instates him as the
ship’s temporary XO. Nimoux informs them that the other prisoners
had been all the many people who had been replaced by replicants,
including Vice Admiral Harkov and Director Jack Edwards. Both now
deceased. Blackmoth continues to create havoc and impose what he
believes is Divine will.

In the background of all of this, someone
powerful is pulling strings and arranging elements, as if
fulfilling some kind of design. Rumors exist that the mighty Dread
Fleet has been summoned, although so far no one has any proof.

As things currently stand, the respective
Imperial fleets are licking their wounds from the bloody engagement
at Apollo; Calvin and a handpicked team are scouting Rotham
territory; and three parties are racing to intercept Zander (who is
said to have the rest of the isotome weapons). The Nighthawk,
Blackmoth, and Tristan each are determined to get to Zander first.
With the winner possibly being able to determine the fate of the
galaxy.

Chapter 1

In the blackness of alteredspace,
Hunter
Four
slipped between the stars themselves. Black stars, stars
unseen, a vast void and ocean of emptiness, which stretched beyond
the utter reaches of eternity itself. If there could be a picture,
a glimpse, of all that ever was and would be captured into one
solitary moment, it would be this. Utter darkness: a raw and
awesome beauty without peer.

This, Blackmoth knew, was a taste of the
void. It wasn’t the real thing; no. This…
this
alteredspace
was a mere parlor trick compared to the void itself. This was a
superficial pretender, the meager result of technology given to
each sentient species when that species became sufficiently clever.
This was a gift and nothing more. A chance for each species of its
kind to peer into the infinite future and witness their own
ultimate destiny and despair. And always, it was the same:
blackness.

Yet most who used this gift lacked the
intelligence to even understand that much. No matter; once they
brushed so much as a finger against the true nature of the void, as
all mortals are destined to do, there was no coming back…an
experience this entire galaxy would soon be blessed with. For such
was the will of the One True God.

“Three destructions have come forth and
rained their havoc. Three of five. Three, just as the One True God
has commanded.” And yet the galaxy remained in its ignorance, blind
to the forces that tossed them about like feathers in so much
wind.

“When the final two destructions come, the
luxury of ignorance will be gone.” Blackmoth knew the day of the
mortal had waxed and waned and now, as was the true order of the
Most Divine, there would be only an ending for them, no more
beginnings. “Three of five,” he repeated quietly, as he adjusted
the controls of the small starship and double checked his heading:
Izar Ceti
.

“Three of five. I am the fourth, the sword
that brings the darkness. And I am coming for you, Zander. You
shall not live to see the glory of the final two destructions. For
such is the pitiful nature of your soulless being.”

***

In a semi-circle around him sat all of his
ministers. Sergei, the Minister of Strategy was seated at his right
with Oliver, his Minister of Finance, seated at his left. Of all
the six buffoons that Caerwyn had puffed up to the lofty perches of
his cabinet, he found these two the least useless. Though that said
little for their credit.

In the center of the room, shackled, stood
Fleet Admiral Virgil Tiberon. He wasn’t as tall as Caerwyn had
expected nor as fierce in appearance as he’d assumed the man to be.
A hero of war, Tiburon had distinguished himself multiple times
during the Great War and most recently as the field commander,
leading Caerwyn’s entire naval force in the great victory at the
Apollo Yards. By all rights, this man should have been standing
here, in the presence of lords, decorated in medals, not chains.
Yet here he was, head bowed in submission, shame bleeding from his
face, flanked by two of Caerwyn’s most trusted, and brutal,
guardsmen.

“Do you know where you are?” asked Caerwyn,
keeping his eyes shrewdly on the prisoner, who, by all accounts,
seemed to have no explanation for his actions.

“Yes, My Lord,” the Admiral said.

“Where?”

“In the Honor Chamber of the High Tower of
Fleet Command.”

“And do you remember the last time you were
here?” asked Caerwyn.

“Yes, My Lord Steward.”

“Why were you here then?”

“I was here then, standing in this very spot,
to be offered overall command of all His Lord Steward’s naval and
marine forces.”

“The Assembly’s forces,” Caerwyn corrected
him. A correction he hoped he needn’t be making in the near future,
but for now he was still a prisoner of making proper appearances,
even within the privacy of these trusted gentlemen lords. If
Caerwyn had learned anything as a member of an Honor House and a
Representative of the Assembly, it was to trust gentlemen little
and lords even less. As for the combination…their loyalty could
only be depended upon through sheer force of power or the
lubricating persuasion of money. In Caerwyn’s case, he was
fortunate enough to have both. But he still had to maintain
appearances.

“Of course, My Lord Steward, it was the
Assembly’s forces, not yours. I meant no offense.”

“And now, weeks later, you stand here again.
Pray tell us, Fleet Admiral, for what reason do you stand before us
again now, as you do?” Caerwyn paid close attention to the man’s
eyes, which was not easy to do, as Tiberon seemed to keep his head
bowed in solemn shame, though eyes open.

“I do not know,” he replied. Caerwyn’s
instinct was to fill with anger; of course he knew, the blathering
idiot.
Don’t play games with me
, Caerwyn thought.
You
damn well know why you’re here
. But instead, Caerwyn retained
his calm; after all, it was conceivable the Fleet Admiral did not
know for certain why he’d been brought here. The moment his ship
arrived in the system and he’d accepted the summons the from
Steward Caerwyn to appear on Capital World, he’d been captured,
taken under cover of darkness, and dragged here in shackles. Had
the man’s crime been any less severe, or any less obvious, Caerwyn
would not expect him to know what he’d done to offend the powers
that be, but in this case there was precious little room for
legitimate doubt.

“You, sir,” said Sergei, Minister of
Strategy, now speaking up, “are standing before us as a
traitor.”

“And whom did I betray, exactly?” asked
Tiberon.

“
Silence
,” bellowed Caerwyn, still
only
just
managing to contain his fury. “You will speak when
spoken to.”

Fleet Admiral Virgil Tiberon did not
reply.

Sergei cleared his throat and continued, “You
stand here as a traitor,
sir
, because we have numerous
reports that forces under your command, a strength of more than
sixty ships of war, were closing in on the ISS
Black Swan,
which had no adequate defense, and the opportunity was presented
whereby you could have captured the pretender queen, or else
destroyed her, and in either case you would have brought an end to
this war. And yet, despite your numbers, the righteousness of the
cause, and the certainty of the strategy, you did knowingly, and
without good provocation, order your forces to withdraw and instead
allow the rebel instigator, that wretched, insurrectionist,
pretender queen to escape unharmed. Do you deny it?”

Don’t bother
, Caerwyn was tempted to
add. The evidence was indisputable.

“I do not deny it,” said Tiburon, saying
perhaps the first intelligent thing since he’d arrived.

“Then you admit you are working on behalf of
the pretender queen and that your sympathies lie with Kalila Akira,
enemy of the state?”

“No, My Lord, I am neither working with her,
nor do my sympathies align with hers. She is a criminal, a usurper,
and she does not deserve the throne she seeks.”

Again Caerwyn was nothing but baffled. Why
would this fool even pretend, after admitting he let her go, that
he stood on the side of righteousness against her?

Sergei looked at a loss for what to ask next,
so Caerwyn resumed the questioning. “You say you are against her,
and yet you let her go. Explain.”

“My Lords, I joined the navy to defend the
Empire. I joined the battle to defend the Assembly’s throne against
a usurper. But I never joined His Majesty’s Forces, peace rest his
soul, to shed Akiran blood and slaughter the last living child of
Hisato Akira. He was a great man.”

Caerwyn wished he could punch a beggar for
every time he heard someone pay lip service to the dead king. The
man was a royal imbecile and he deserved the death he got, violent
and terrifying as it was, but just because he came from a famous
family, had reigned, mostly incompetently, for many years, and
happened to be murdered on the Assembly floor didn’t elevate the
man to some kind of sainthood. And yet, to maintain his good image
with the people, and continue to nurture his own claim to the
throne, even Caerwyn Martel himself had to bow and stoop and give
lip service to the idol that was King Hisato Akira.
May his
rotting bones be eaten by beetles…