The Phoenix Darkness (34 page)

Dr. Andrews turned and looked down, upon
seeing Nimoux he cried, “
Bloody hell!
” and then sprinted
over, dropping to his knees the instant he got there. Immediately,
he readjusted Nimoux’s body and applied new bandages on top of the
existing, blood-soaked ones, then reinforced them with adhesive
tape.

“I don’t think they did a very good job
bandaging him up,” said Summers. “Don’t you want to clean the
wounds with something and then bandage him up properly?”

“Normally, sure. But
not
with this
kind of blood loss. At this point, his heart is in overdrive and
there’s no way infection is going to kill him because
exsanguination will get him first. Look at him, he’s as pale as a
snowman and by the look of the carpet here, I’d estimate he’s lost
about two liters of blood already. If he loses much more…I don’t
think there’s anything anyone can do for him…I need to get him down
to the infirmary right away or he’ll die. He might anyway.”

“Is it bad moving him?” asked Summers. “I
mean, we don’t have, like, a stretcher or anything…”

“I don’t think he has a spinal injury, but
even if he does, he’s going to have to take his chances,” said Dr.
Andrews.

“Couldn’t you just tell the infirmary to
bring blood bags and do the transfusion here?”

“This man needs surgery, and not just to
suture the wound. By the look of the blood pushing through those
original bandages, there’s a good chance the bullet struck either
his right lung or his liver.”

Summers gasped, covering her mouth
instinctively as she did. A terrible feeling came over her. “Which
is worse?” she whispered.

“Depends. Would you rather drown or
exsanguinate? Now it’s time to go!” Dr. Andrews picked Nimoux up,
gently but quickly. Dr. Andrews was smaller than Nimoux and Summers
just couldn’t imagine Dr. Andrews being able to get Nimoux to the
infirmary alone, not without dragging him.

“You need help,” said Summers. Then, to her
crew, “lower the defense walls!” They seemed uneasy at this
request, but complied anyway.

“I can call for one of the medics to come
assist me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous; you don’t have time,”
insisted Summers.

Dr. Andrews scanned the room. “By the look of
your scant crew, I doubt you have anyone available to assist
me.”

He was right; there was no one that could be
spared, not to properly run the ship. But Summers didn’t care. Even
though the ship that had boarded them might still be there,
circling invisibly, getting ready to attack, she was willing to
risk having an understaffed bridge if it meant saving Nimoux’s
life, or trying to.

“
I’ll
do it,” she said.

“What?” asked Cassidy. “Commander—”

“It’ll be fine. As soon as we’re through,
raise those defense walls and don’t drop them again until you hear
from me otherwise.” Dr. Andrews handed her a pair of gloves and she
strapped them on. Then, together, they gently hoisted Nimoux’s body
up and began their slow trek to the elevator. “In the meantime,
Midshipman, you have the deck.”

“As you say, Commander,” said Cassidy.

“One last thing,” said Summers, once they
reached the elevator.

“Yes, Commander?”

“Disengage the locks on all crew quarters and
then…
give the order
.”

“What order?”

Summers gave her a serious look. “You know,
the
order.”

A knowing expression spread across Cassidy’s
face.

“Just…give us time to get to the infirmary
first.”

The elevator door closed and the three of
them zoomed downward.

***

From her position in the command chair,
Cassidy waited anxiously. She gave Summers a full five minutes head
start before tapping the intercom, set to broadcast throughout
every deck of the ship.

“Now hear this, now hear this,” she said, in
her most authoritative tone. “To all personnel,
attention
,
there is a mutiny occurring on this ship. Special Forces are
attempting to take control.
I repeat
, mutiny by Special
Forces! All crew be advised, do
not
trust the soldiers on
this ship! Do not cooperate with them, comply with their requests,
or assist them in
any
way! All soldiers aboard the
Nighthawk
are to be avoided, resisted, and even harmed if
you are able. That is all.” She clicked off the intercom. “Sound
General Quarters.”

“Sounded, sir.”

There, the order had been given. The crew of
the
Nighthawk
were now on notice they were at war with the
ship’s soldiers. Cassidy hoped her announcement wouldn’t lead to
the injury or deaths of any of the crew, but she understood the
ultimate responsibility for any consequences belonged to Commander
Presley and not to her.

“Midshipman, I’ve
got
something,” said
the Ops officer.

“What is it?” Cassidy sprang from her chair
and rushed to the Ops post, although she couldn’t make heads or
tails of the various displays.

“It’s a circuit panel on deck four. Someone
keeps breaking and closing the circuit.”

“Is it affecting a critical system?” she
asked. Her immediate concern was for the welfare of the ship.

“It’s harmless. But what’s interesting about
it is…no one should be alive down there. Engineering hasn’t even
entered the deck to repair the breach.”

“It’s probably not a person, then,” said
Cassidy.

“It’s
got
to be a person,” the Ops
officer insisted. “There’s a pattern to the breaking and closing,
it’s intelligent…a code.”

“What does it say?”

The Ops officer watched his display for
several seconds, no doubt translating the breaks, pauses, and so
forth he’d been prattling on so excitedly about. Cassidy, on the
other hand, was almost perfectly convinced the Ops officer had gone
mad and was hearing things. Unless one of the Special Forces
soldiers dispatched from the Bridge or Engineering had actually
entered deck four, and gotten trapped there. But would such a brute
know a sophisticated code of clicks and pauses? Cassidy
seriously
doubted it. Even she couldn’t make sense of the
seemingly random data appearing on the Ops display.

“It says S-O-S-S-H-E-N and then repeats.”

“
Iwate
Shen!
” what the hell was
he doing on deck four?
And how was he alive?
These were
burning questions, but Cassidy knew they would have to wait.

“Where is that panel located?” she asked,
thinking Shen had probably taken climate gear off of one of the
soldiers and probably had a very limited supply of oxygen.

“Directly below the emergency hatch between
decks four and five.”

“Standby to blow that hatch; let’s give him a
chance to get out of there,” said Cassidy. “But not yet.” Before
she could rescue Shen, she had to remember the safety of anyone who
might be in a part of deck five that could prove unsafe should the
hatch be swiftly retracted. Cassidy sprinted to the command
position and tapped the intercom, not even caring that it was still
broadcasting to every deck.

“
Attention
all hands on DECK FIVE,
evacuate the corridors immediately. I repeat, all hands, deck five,
evacuate to a sealed room immediately. You have twenty
seconds.”

She counted down the time and then, at
exactly zero, she looked at the Ops officer. “Blow the hatch.”

“Hatch is blown. Rapid decompression
occurring on deck five.”

She knew she had to give it a few seconds for
the force of the air to blow downwards to deck four and ultimately
out of the ship. It was unknown if Shen, in whatever state he was
in, would be able to ascend to deck five against the air gust
moving oppositely.

After what must have been half a minute, she
again looked at the Ops officer. “How long should it take him to
get to deck five?”

“If he’s not there by now, he’s not
coming.”

Cassidy nodded. “Re-seal the hatch.”

“The emergency hatch is sealed. I confirm it.
Deck four is once again isolated from the other decks. The lost
atmosphere on deck five should be restored in…just under thirty
seconds.”

“Good, let me know the moment it is, so I can
sound the all clear on deck five,” said Cassidy. She sat in the
command chair and waited, wondering whether or not Shen had made it
through alive. The famously reclusive operations expert had proven
quite the tenacious survivor if rumors were to be believed. She
hoped this time proved no different. But, if he hadn’t made it
through, there was probably nothing more she could do for him. The
ship’s air supply was limited and its ability to restore atmosphere
was limited. She doubted she could afford to blow anymore
hatches.

“In the meantime, Mister Tully, have the
infirmary send medics to deck five, tell them to go to position
just above the deck five-four emergency hatch.”

“Yes, sir.”

She waited until he’d relayed her
instructions to the infirmary before giving him his next order.
When he was finished, she spoke.

“And tell Engineering to get a solution
together for that breach so we can restore access to deck four.
It’s time those twidgets got that handled.”

Chapter 14

They delivered him to a room containing three
high ranking officers who sat in chairs in front of a table. Each
of them wore lavender uniforms, indicating they were members of
Rotham Military Command. No doubt their dual membership in Advent
was a closely guarded secret among their peers. All three had black
hair just like ninety-something percent of Rotham everywhere and,
interestingly, all three styled their oiled black hair differently.
Each style was a symbol of status, Calvin knew, but only the
centermost officer wore his hair in the braids Calvin recognized,
braids which indicated both status and power. On the table in front
of them, there appeared to be what looked like blueprints for a
large Rotham starship. Calvin was unable to tell precisely what
type, but he knew the vessel was much larger than the destroyer
they were currently in.

Upon arrival, the feeling of guns pressed
into his back went away and, although his escort remained at his
sides and behind him, they made no further effort to seem hostile.
Standing next to the three ranking officers was Alex. Calvin felt a
flash of rage as he saw the man, the betrayer who’d put them into
Rotham hands in the first place, but Calvin suppressed the urge to
walk up to him and strike him in the face, thinking to do so would
be detrimental to his own survival.

“What do you want?” he asked, before anyone
else had a chance to speak.

“Ah, Captain Cross,” said the centermost
officer. “How nice of you to join us.”

“Actually it’s Lieutenant-Commander,” said
Calvin.

“Your precise human rank is meaningless
here,” said the centermost officer. “We've brought you here to
discuss an offer.”

An offer?
Calvin doubted it. He was in
no bargaining position, so this was probably not so much an offer
as a
do this for us or die
kind of arrangement. “What’s the
offer?” he asked.

“It’s quite simple, really,” he turned to
Alex. “Proxitor, explain it to him.”

Alex cleared his throat. As his golden eyes
met Calvin’s, Calvin thought he saw a measure of contriteness in
the Rotham’s face, or at least something that looked like a kind of
apology. Too bad it was far too late for such things. Calvin
thought of the torture he’d endured and the fact that Rain, of all
people, had been subjected to it, not to mention the rest of his
team, and Calvin decided then and there, there would be no
forgiveness.

“The offer is simple, really,” said Alex.
“We, as you have certainly deduced by now, are the Advent and we
are working against the Rahajiim, our common enemy. We have the
chance to deal a major blow to the Rahajiim operation, utilizing
the massive fleet you saw congregating, but in order to do it we
need your help.”

“And if I help you, along with my people,
then what?” asked Calvin. “You’ll let us go?”

“Yes,” said the centermost officer, when Alex
seemed hesitant to answer. “Return successfully from the mission
and we shall arrange for your safe return to Imperial space.”

Calvin noted a somewhat gloomier look on
Alex’s face and realized this carrot they were dangling before him
did not really exist. As was often the case for crucial Advent
missions, according to Intel Wing files, this was to be a suicide
mission. There would be no safe return for anyone involved.

“And if I refuse to cooperate?” Calvin folded
his arms in a gesture of defiance.

“Oh, make no mistake, human,” said the
centermost officer. “There is no refusal. You may cooperate
willingly and assist us in our mission, or you will cooperate
unwillingly, but you will assist us all the same. And in the end,
rather than proving yourselves to be our allies, you will be given
up as Rahajiim prisoners.”

“
Rahajiim
prisoners?” asked Calvin. “I
thought you said you were Advent?”

“We are Advent. But it will be the Rahajiim
who hold your chains when this is over, should you refuse to help
us. Listen to the Proxitor, he will explain it all.”

Calvin turned back to Alex. Who continued,
“The plan is for our destroyer to approach the Rahajiim fleet as a
common Republican ship on standard patrol. We'll tell them we have
just intercepted a ship full of spies and wish to deliver them over
to the fleet and resume our patrol rather than divert away to a
Republican world to turn them in. The fleet will have noticed this
destroyer’s interception, commandeering, and ultimate destruction
of the
Wanderer
, and so the veracity of the story should not
be in doubt. They will instruct this vessel to dock with one of
theirs. It is not known which one, however there is a plan in place
to ensure we dock with the T’Verian supercruiser, one of the
primary command ships of the fleet.”