The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6) (36 page)

“He’s right,” said Tristan, still working at getting the door to budge aside. “Whatever Type I Remorii have managed to get in there, we’ll deal with them just like the others.”

“It’s not Type I Remorii…” said Shen, realizing this pain felt a lot more akin to what he had experienced on the
Nighthawk
during the battle for Aleator.

“You don’t mean?” asked Tristan, stopping momentarily to stare at Shen.

Shen nodded.

“Gods in Heaven,” said Zarao; I can’t get this door on my own. Come on, lads, get your backs into it!”

“It’s the Enclave,” said Tristan in a grim tone.

“Impossible,” said Zarao. “We have a three-day head start on those bastards, not to mention your friend Raidan is supposed to shoot them out of the sky!”

Tristan shook his head. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but they’re in there. At least some of them. Shen is never wrong about this kind of thing.”

“Is that true?” Zarao asked, pausing long enough to glance at Shen.

Shen shrugged. “I really don’t understand it myself. But…I can sense them. And they are definitely in there.”

“And they’ve sealed this damned door tight,” said Zarao, frustrated. “Is there another way in?”

“No,” said Bliktah.

“Shen, get over here and lend a hand,” said Zarao. “If the Type I Remorii got past this door before, to kill those scientists, I’m sure you could help us do it again.”

Shen did not like being compared to a Type I Remorii, but he moved over to lend a hand anyway.

“What if they are in there?” asked Shen. “What’s our plan?”

“We kill them,” said Zarao. “
All
of them.”

Shen thought of the monsters Calvin had described that had been on the ISS
Trinity
, how they had managed to transform or slaughter the crew of a major starship, not to mention what he’d heard about the terrifying bastards and their lair on the Cantons of Tybur—feeding off the population of unsuspecting humans there. “Are we sure we’re up to it?” he asked with some trepidation.

“We have no choice,” said Zarao.

“What do you mean we have no choice?” asked Shen. “We can go back. It’s not too late.”

“Hurry up,” said Zarao, ordering some of the idle lycans to pitch in and get the door out of the way. The sense of urgency in his voice was unmistakable.

“Maybe we send for reinforcements first,” suggested Shen.

“There’s no time,” said Tristan. “If the Enclave are in there it means they definitely know about the Phalaxium too. And I’ll give you three guesses which of the toxins they’ll deposit into the Phalaxium first, once they get it working.”

“If they haven’t already,” said Zarao.

And then Shen understood. As much as the lycans wanted to be the first to arrive, and to use the toxin combination that would prevent any Strigoi or Type I Remorii from surviving on their new world—their charred, broken paradise—the Strigoi of the Enclave must have wanted the same thing for themselves. And, if the Phalaxium worked nearly so well as Tristan claimed, it could mean the deaths of all the lycans on the surface, should the Enclave be allowed to use the Phalaxium first.

Shen put his back into it and helped heave, slowly, and with a painful screech, they began forcing the door open.

“Keep it moving, lads!” said Zarao.

“How did the Enclave even know about the Phalaxium? And why do they want it now?” asked Shen, in between grunts.

“You haven’t heard?” asked Tristan. “The Enclave have fallen out of favor with the Rotham and now their home has been destroyed. They need a home as much as we do, and you can bet they’ve been spying on us enough that if we know about the Phalaxium—they know about it too.”

With that, the door gave way, opening up to a massive-sized laboratory. The lights were on, and, in plain sight, stood nineteen humanoids. All of them Strigoi. Shen could sense it. For that matter, they weren’t all he could sense.

“Be careful,” he whispered, “there are more of them than it appears.”

Zarao growled as he entered the room, flanked by two of the lycans and followed by the rest of their party. Eighteen healthy lycans, eight injured lycans, and finally, Shen, who brought up the rear.

“We had that door closed for a reason,” snapped the centermost Strigoi, who was also the tallest. He folded his arms in a display of nonchalance.

“Step away from those controls,” demanded Zarao. Several of the other lycans growled, showing their support.

“Or what?” asked the centermost Strigoi, his eyes burned red and his skin seemed to grow paler, making him seem almost translucent under the overhanging lights.

“Or I’ll make you dead,” said Zarao, continuing to approach. The apparent leader of the Strigoi waited until all of Zarao’s group were well within the room, then he raised a finger and snapped. Instantly, many more Strigoi appeared, rising from their hiding places, seeming to pop into existence. Shen began counting them automatically.

The lycan group reacted by forming an outward-facing circle, ready to deal with the enemy that had surrounded them.

Thirty-one
, counted Shen.
Thirty-one against twenty-six and me, and not all of ours are fully healthy
. Injured or not, each of the lycans began their transformations, became wilder, more feral, and even beastlike. The Strigoi reacted similarly, seeming to appear harder to see, lither, and, of course, their eyes glowed red. Even Shen felt his body seeming to react to the tension, though his transformation was far more subtle; he felt stronger, more alert, and had a heightened sense of awareness.

“So, it comes to this,” said the lead Strigoi. “You always were a violent one, Zarao.” Shen was surprised the Strigoi knew the lycan leader’s name.

“I may be violent when I have to be,” said Zarao, his voice almost more growl than speech, “but it is you, Nicu, and your ilk that have the traitor’s blood. Tell me, if you dare, where is your First?”

“I
am
the First,” said Nicu indignantly.

“Ah, so it is exactly as I thought,” said Zarao. “You murdered your leader in order to steal his position, typical. Traitors to the core. Traitors from the very beginning. Just as you betrayed us. You could not help it. Treachery is in your very veins!”

“How
dare
you?”

“Like this!” said Zarao. He growled, the other growled, and then the whole circle charged outward, leaping and pouncing and clawing at their foes. The Strigoi were no mice awaiting slaughter. Their speed matched that of the lycans, and within hardly the blink of an eye, they were at each other’s throats, tumbling, crashing, and slashing, blood spraying everywhere.

Shen felt something take possession of him then. A deep, feral rage. And, before he knew what he was doing, he had thrown caution to the wind, ripped a steel pipe from the wall, and took a swing at the nearest Strigoi.

“This is for Calvin!”

CHAPTER 17

The chime rang. Miles set down the bottle of lager he was just about to open and thought long and hard as to whether or not he really felt like answering the door.

The chime rang again.

Gods, who could it be at this hour
? he thought. He glanced at the clock. It was only 2100 hours.

The chime rang a third time.
Oh, very well, I’ll answer the damn door
, he thought, climbing out of his chair and lumbering over to it. He didn’t really feel like entertaining any company, but his curiosity got the better of him. He just had to know who was in such a rush to see him that they’d ring the chime three times.
With my luck, it’ll be that bitch Summers come to tell me I’ve forgotten to swab the poop deck or some such rubbish
.

To his pleasant surprise, it wasn’t Summers whose face appeared when he opened the door.

“Cal!” he said, thrilled to see his friend, but not wanting to seem too excited. He coughed. “I mean, Calvin, how is it going…man?”

Calvin chuckled. “May I come in?” he pointed toward the inside of Miles’s messy room.

“Yeah, of course,” said Miles, not caring in the least that his room was so disorganized. He’d seen Calvin’s room before and the CO didn’t exactly keep that place in perfect ship shape either. In fact, that went all the way back to their days at Camdale, when they’d rented a house together with Anand.
God, those were the days
, thought Miles as he ushered Calvin inside.

“So, what brings you here, Cal? Got a nice bottle of lager over there,” Miles pointed.

Calvin declined, like Miles knew he would. For some ungodly reason Calvin didn’t drink alcohol. The man had battled a hardcore equarius drug addiction for years, but alcohol, somehow that was too spooky for him to even try. Miles gave up trying to make sense of it a long time ago.

“I’m here first of all to give you an apology,” said Calvin.

“What for?” asked Miles, genuinely baffled.

“I wanted to tell you I’m sorry I never got around to playing that game with you, back on the previous mission.”

“Oh, that?” asked Miles. “That was nothing. In fact, I already forgot all about it.” That was a lie. He hadn’t forgotten about it, and if Miles were being honest with himself, there was a part of him that had been quite jealous that Calvin had devoted so much of his time and attention during that mission to Rain. Miles missed having his buddy around to talk to and play games with, but Miles also had been envious that the fiery-haired, beautiful doctor had cast her radiant blue eyes upon Calvin and not Miles. Still, having Calvin here, hearing him apologize, it reminded him that Calvin hadn’t forgotten about him, and that meant the world to Miles.

Miles shrugged, “It was no big deal, honestly.”

“Well, it was to me,” said Calvin, making Miles’s ears burn even more. “So, without further ado,” Calvin produced a pack of playing cards from his pocket and began shuffling them skillfully in the air with his hands, “have time for a round or two?”

Miles beamed. “Depends. Have you got time for a beating or two?”

Calvin laughed. “Excellent.”

Miles tossed his dirty laundry off the spare chair and positioned it opposite his main chair. He then set up a small, foldable card table that he kept for just such occasions—which proved far too few and far between, now that Calvin had Rain and Shen and Sarah were both away. Still, he wasn’t about to let that fact ruin tonight.

“What game are you feeling?” asked Calvin.

“Poker,” Miles replied instantly.

“Got any chips?”

“Yeah,” said Miles, he began digging through his things until he found a bag of ruffled potato chips, half-eaten, “heads up!” He tossed it to Calvin, taking him by surprise. Calvin failed to catch the unexpected soaring potato chip bag and it landed on the floor, emptying half its contents.

Calvin smirked and shook his head. “I don’t think that was what I meant.”

“Oh,” said Miles. “You mean these,” he pulled out a silver briefcase from his closet—one of his most prized possessions—and opened it up to reveal several stunning ceramic poker chips painted in exotic shades of blue, red, white, and green.

“That’ll work,” said Calvin, taking his seat. He began to shuffle the cards. Miles sat opposite him and divvied out the chips. He made sure to give himself one extra blue chip—this was a practice he always did, he called it his “lucky blue.” Once, when called out on it by a shrewd Shen, Miles had insisted he never bets the “lucky blue;” he only keeps it around as a good luck charm. Of course that was a lie, the extra chip was only lucky if he could play it and use it to save his bacon—but Shen hadn’t needed to know the nuances of that.

If Calvin noticed the extra blue chip in Miles’s inventory, he failed to mention it. Miles doubted Calvin had picked up on it; after all, Miles prided himself on being pretty sneaky, but he also knew Calvin wasn’t the type to make a big deal over something so trivial. That was partly why Miles liked Calvin so much as a friend…he knew how to simply stay chill.

“My deal?” asked Calvin, once he’d stopped shuffling the cards.

“Why not?” said Miles. “Just be sure to ante up.”

“Right,” said Calvin, sliding a chip into the center of the table. With only two players, it felt annoying to worry about big and small blinds, and so Miles usually insisted they play without them. Calvin must have remembered this because he matched Miles’s ante exactly, without a thought.

“So, tell me,” said Calvin, as he dealt the cards. “How have you been?”

“Not bad, not bad,” said Miles. “Though I’ve got to admit, I wish I could get a mulligan on that last mission we went on. That one nearly had my number.”

Calvin nodded, looking just a little bit somber as he thought back on it. “Yes, that one nearly had all of our numbers, didn’t it?” Calvin picked up his cards and Miles did the same.

“Two to play,” said Miles, sliding two chips to the center.

“I’ll call,” said Calvin. Calvin next dealt three cards face up on the table. “It’s to you, Miles.”

Miles had to think about it. He had bad cards in his pocket, except for the fact that they were both diamonds. Of the three cards that had been cut up, two were diamonds. Figuring that at least one more diamond would come out before the end, Miles decided to go in heavy. Calvin matched his bet at each phase, though never raising him.

“So, you don’t hold it against me?” asked Calvin. “Everything that happened back there—the extraction…”

“No, of course not,” said Miles, raising again, even though the last card cut up was not a diamond, and therefore his flush never materialized. When he was in this deep, he just had to see it through. It didn’t matter how many times Shen had tried to use math to explain to him that you shouldn’t stay in when you knew you had nothing, Miles preferred to fly by the seat of his pants and bluff, if necessary, to stay in the game. This time, it worked, as Calvin folded. Miles collected the chips and Calvin passed the cards, Miles’s deal.

“I mean, I wouldn’t say you got off scott-free either,” said Miles as he dealt.

Calvin looked alarmed. Miles smirked. “I mean, sure the alien torture was bad, the fact the ship lost its air and nearly exploded, that was bad too. But none of that was your fault; I call, by the way,” he slid more chips to center and then dealt the flop.

“So, what do you blame me for?” asked Calvin. Miles could tell that Calvin wasn’t sure whether he should brace himself for something serious or if he was about to bust a gut at one of Miles’s many hilarious jokes. Miles supposed the truth fell somewhere in between.

“Well, obviously I blame you for stealing the girl,” he said with a big smile—one that was mostly happy, though it also hid the slightest pain and envy.

“Oh, that,” said Calvin, looking suddenly surprisingly glum. “Well there’s nothing to worry about there,” he said. “Not anymore anyway.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Miles, raising after dealing the next card. “I saw the two of you; she was all over you, mate, she’s definitely got a thing for you.”

“I thought so too,” said Calvin, now taking a moment to decide whether or not to call. Miles was more than happy to be patient, especially since he was bluffing again.

“So go on down to the infirmary and plant a big wet kiss on her,” said Miles. “That’s what I would do.” And the truth was, if he had the guts to get himself to do it, and thought he would get away with it, he really would do exactly that.

“I don’t think she’d like that very much,” said Calvin, folding his cards once more.

“Why, she didn’t like the taste last time? I keep telling you, you’ve got to brush your teeth
first
!”

Miles passed the cards to Calvin, who began to shuffle. He snickered a little at Miles’s joke, but then looked glum again. “The thing is,” said Calvin. “There is no relationship. Not anymore. She made that clear as day to me.”

“Ohh,” said Miles, eagerly awaiting Calvin’s deal. “So you had one of
those
kind of talks.”

“Yes, we did.”

“And then you just pictured it and it made you want her all the more,” said Miles with a big grin.

“Yes…
wait
, what kind of talk are you referring to?” asked Calvin.

“Deal and I’ll tell you.”

“Right,” Calvin passed out the cards.
Pocket Rockets
, thought Miles,
Nice!

“So, obviously,” said Miles, “and I think it was pretty clear from the context. I meant you had one of those heartfelt conversations where you swore your undying love to her and she told you the truth.”

“Not really undying love,” said Calvin, looking a bit confused. “Wait a second, what truth?”

“Oh, that she’s a lesbian, of course,” said Miles. “Surprised I figured it out? Well, I have a very good nose for that sort of thing. I can sense a person’s sexual preference from a hundred miles away; I’m like a tiger.”

Calvin almost doubled over laughing. “No, no, no, she’s not a lesbian.”

“Not a lesbian, you say,” said Miles, intrigued. “And yet she doesn’t want a relationship with you…”

“Correct.”

“One plus one, times six, divided by three, carry the one…” Miles pretended to draw math in the air. “Ah, yes, eureka, I have it!” Calvin looked at him with an amused and curious face.

“Have what?” he asked.

“That can only logically mean…
she’s available
,” said Miles. “Quick, help me find my best cologne. I haven’t showered in three days and I need to woo her with my masculine scent.”

Calvin laughed.

“No, I’m serious,” said Miles. “I want her.”

Calvin’s eyes glazed over wistfully at that. “Don’t we all. And yet she’s not for the taking.”

“Hey just because you blew it with her doesn’t mean I still don’t have a chance,” said Miles.

“I suppose you’ll have to ask her that yourself,” said Calvin.

“Well, maybe I will,” said Miles. Then, after a pause, “Seriously, though, Calvin, did she say why she rejected you?”

“She—” Calvin hesitated. “She’s, well, she’s very sick.”

“Oh, come off it,” said Miles. “She’s
not
sick in the head, that’s not why she rejected you.”

“No I mean she’s ill, like physically quite ill,” said Calvin. “I don’t think she wants to be in a relationship while she’s so ill, at least, that was what she told me.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” said Miles, making himself look smug.

“I have a feeling I’m going to regret asking this,” said Calvin, “but, what makes sense?”

“Why she picked you over me, of course,” said Miles, folding his beefy arms. “It’s because she’s sick. And that sickness clouded her judgment. That or maybe she thought I was out of her league…on account of her being sick and all.”

“Yes,” said Calvin. “I’m
sure
that was it. Now, are you going to call or fold? I’ve just been waiting.”

“Oh, right.”

***

Sarah continued to circle the LZ from an altitude of just under a thousand meters, after making what felt like the thousandth loop, she widened her circle, ever keeping a vigilant eye out for the ground team.

For a split second, as she carefully maneuvered the craft to avoid some of the taller structures, she thought she caught sight of a small group of humanoids moving rapidly across the pavement between structures. Before she could get a good look and identify them, they were gone.

“That better have been you,” she said to nobody, but thinking about Shen. “You had better be all right down there!”

She knew her job; she was to keep lookout for enemy vessels and to provide swift escape to the away party once they signaled her. But, until then, she felt a strange combination of boredom and anxiety. There was little she could do to help them now, which was profoundly frustrating, but she also didn’t dare land the craft, or widen her circle any farther.
I have to be ready at a moment’s notice
, she reminded herself.