The Phoenix Rising (36 page)

Calvin feared the worst. There were dozens
of explanations for why Rafael had failed to make contact that
didn’t involve him being discovered by Intel Wing—but Rafael had
never been late making contact before... and last time they’d
spoken, Rafael had said that people were asking questions about
him.

Calvin felt a wave of guilt. If something
had happened to Rafael... it was his fault. Sure, Rafael had known
the danger and had still volunteered to go. But, ultimately, he’d
just done what he knew Calvin wanted.

He tried not to think about
it.
If I don’t hear from you... if
something happened to you... I swear, I’ll come for you,
Rafael.

Calvin had planned to tell Rafael about the
isotome weapons and the inbound Rotham fleet. He knew there was
nothing Rafael could do—or Intel Wing for that matter—to help
Calvin and his shore party’s operation on Remus Nine. But if the
worst happened, and they didn’t succeed, the galaxy deserved to
know what the threat was that was out there. And maybe, if Rafael
got the information to the right people in a timely manner, human
kind would not be taken by surprise when whole star systems began
to be wiped out...

But, now that Rafael was not contacting
him—and potentially removed as an asset—Calvin wasn’t quite sure
what to do. He didn’t want to sit on the intelligence he had.
Humanity deserved at least a fighting chance if he didn’t succeed.
But he didn’t want to send his intelligence to the wrong person and
inadvertently spook a member of the Phoenix Ring, who might alert
their allies on Remus Nine to watch out for Calvin’s arrival. Or
potentially even scare them off-world. Taking the isotome weapons
with them...

He debated this for some time, all the while
hoping to hear from Rafael. Eventually he decided that there was
still someone in Intel Wing that he could probably trust. Someone
who had proven his worth to the Empire a hundred times over.

Calvin organized his intelligence, including
whatever information he had on the isotome weapons and the
impending Rotham fleet, and then transmitted it through a secure,
thoroughly-encrypted line to the Desert Eagle. Marked for Nimoux
personally.

Lafayette Nimoux might be hunting Calvin
across the galaxy, but he was still a hero of the Empire. And the
standard that Calvin had measured himself against ever since he got
his first command. If Nimoux was even half the man everyone
believed him to be, including Calvin, he could be trusted with this
information. And maybe... just maybe, he would call off his
pursuit. And perhaps even assist in the destruction of the isotome
weapons.

But even if not, it still made Calvin feel
better to have told someone—even though he’d conveniently neglected
naming his destination. Now another person in the Empire knew about
the isotome weapons—in case Calvin failed, humanity still had
hope.

***

Nimoux watched the message from Calvin
again. It was short and made many wild, sweeping allegations that
were completely unsupported. But they were creative ones—talk of
star destroying weapons, deep conspiracies, and impending alien
fleets. Nimoux was skeptical of these claims but, as he noted
Calvin’s earnest eyes and the levelness of his voice, it seemed
that Calvin—perhaps—did believe what he was saying.

It made as much sense as anything else.
Calvin had either snapped and entered a deluded state of mind, or
else had been fed false or wantonly exaggerated information. And he
was acting for someone else’s interests, believing that what he was
doing was somehow justified. An unknowing puppet.

Or, another intriguing possibility was that
this was a ruse—and a rather desperate one—to sabotage Nimoux’s
pursuit. Confuse him. Give him false leads to chase after. Cleverly
written fiction meant to win sympathy and trust. Or, at the very
least, get Nimoux to lower his guard, give him a reason to show
hesitation at a critical moment and thereby enhance Calvin’s
chances of continued escape. Perhaps even buying him the time he
needed to perform whatever mission he was working on.

The least likely—but not yet
falsifiable—explanation was that Calvin was speaking the truth.
Nimoux was almost afraid to even consider the possibility. Not just
because it was ludicrous on its face and seemed to defy the
principles of probability—specifically that the simplest
explanation is the likeliest—but also because it implied severely
dark things for the galaxy’s near future. War, mass destruction,
and possible governmental collapse. The potential end of a society
that had resiliently withstood an abusive and difficult century in
space. Only two reasons kept Nimoux from dismissing this
possibility out of hand. First, Calvin’s record was good enough
that he’d earned the right to be taken seriously. And second, Abia.
More had happened there than Nimoux had been told. All that debris
from all those ships, many of them alien ships... something strange
had caused that.

Calvin’s intelligence was far from a
complete story, and seemed to introduce more holes than patches,
but Nimoux was open-minded—though skeptical.

Whatever the truth turned out to be, Nimoux
looked forward to a very long, very interesting conversation with
Calvin the minute he was brought into custody.

Nimoux decided to keep this new intelligence
to himself for now, not even telling his XO. There was no reason to
distract his officers with what was probably a red herring. But,
just to be safe, he ordered a probe dispatched to the Xenobe Nebula
Region. If any isotome had been taken, the probe would notice the
disparity.

Chapter 21

“
My God..
.”

Calvin stared at the scene. “I... don’t even
know what to say.” He grimaced, strangely unable to look away from
the gruesome sight, even though it was the most revolting thing
he’d ever laid eyes on.

He stood in the head on deck one, having
been called there by Pellew—urgent priority. The special forces
captain leaned over a barely recognizable human corpse with a
shredded special forces uniform. Pellew combed through the gore
with rubber gloves. Gently moving bits of it around, collecting
evidence. A forensics expert from the analysis lab was there too,
assisting him. Calvin couldn’t get himself to approach any closer
than three meters.

“
Who was he?” asked
Calvin

He didn’t recognize the victim. The body lay
sprawled on the ground lying face up, next to the back wall. His
head was thoroughly smashed open, blood was everywhere, and bits of
grey matter, ripped tissue, and bone fragments were almost
ritualistically spread out.

“
Still figuring that out,”
said Pellew.

“
If we don’t find an I.D. on
his person we may need to do an analysis of his teeth and check our
records.”

“
It shouldn’t come to that,”
said Pellew. “I’ve already ordered my soldiers to report in to
their squad commanders. We’ll see who’s missing.”

About half the skull and most of the jaw was
intact—but the distinct features of the face that would have
identified the victim, such as its shape, eye color, and hair
color, etc., had been brutally smashed.

The most disturbing part of the scene was
actually above the victim. The assailant had taken the victim’s
blood and used it to smear a word on the wall just above the
corpse. In furious crimson letters it read, “JUSTICE.”

“
Who would do such a
thing—?” asked Calvin, talking to no one in particular. A murder on
his own ship... he didn’t believe it. And didn’t know how to
process it. He looked around, trying to understand why and how this
had happened.

The rest of the room was
untouched. And there was no sign of a struggle. The mirrors weren’t
smashed and the stalls, toilets, and sinks seemed undamaged. Calvin
guessed the attacker had taken the victim by surprise—perhaps it
had been a friend or trusted fellow soldier—killed him, then
desecrated the corpse afterwards. This was undoubtedly a crime of
passion, the attacker had enjoyed this.
Justice—for what?

“
Pellew, the moment you
identify the victim, I want to be informed immediately,” said
Calvin. He then looked at the crewman kneeling next to the special
forces captain. “Tell the lab that this investigation takes top
priority. I
need
to
know who did this.”

“
Yes, sir!”

“
I’ll be anxiously awaiting
reports from both of you.” Calvin then darted out of the head,
through the barracks, and into HQ. The attending soldiers seemed
confused by his presence—they were probably unaware of the recent
murder. When asked if they could help him, Calvin ignored them and
proceeded directly to the nearest comm panel and hailed the
bridge.

“
Bridge, this is the
captain. Set condition one throughout the ship. And implement code
fifteen. I repeat. Implement code fifteen.”

“
Yes, sir.”

He left HQ and jogged for the nearest
elevator that would take him to the bridge. As he ran, he heard
Summers’ voice come over the shipwide intercom. Drowning out the
deck-by-deck emergency klaxon. “Attention all hands, this is
Commander Pressley. Code fifteen is active. I repeat, code fifteen
is active. This is not a drill. All off-duty personnel are ordered
to their quarters immediately and required to remain until further
notice. All decks are locked down and all active personnel are on
continuous duty. Effective immediately.”

They were only hours away
from Remus Nine, and perhaps the most crucial mission of their
lives, and now there was a killer on the ship. A killer
and
a hostile informant.
Far too many dangerous loose ends...

***

Calvin had scarcely reached his office when
a call came in from HQ. It was Pellew. He’d identified the
victim.

“
The slain soldier is Staff
Sergeant Gary Patterson.”

The name clicked in Calvin’s mind. “He was
one of the two who interfered with the Polarian religious service,
wasn’t he?”

“
That’s right. This killing
was probably retribution.”

If so, then Rez’nac had been wrong about his
people. They were unwilling to let by-gones be by-gones. Calvin
worried that this would be the beginning of a war between the
dominant two species on the Nighthawk.

“
Were any Polarians seen on
deck one around the time of the killing?” asked Calvin.

“
Not that I know of. But
it’s not like I have surveillance cameras in the barracks and
corridors. One or two might have gone totally
unnoticed.”

“
I see. What about Alldroit,
wasn’t he in the barracks at the time?”

“
No, he wasn’t. He was in
the mess hall, in defiance of orders to remain in the barracks. I
have suspended him from duty and placed him in the
brig.”

“
So then no one was near
Patterson at the time of the killing?”

“
That seems to be the
case.”

“
Damn
.” A witness would have made things a lot easier.

“
Another thing,” Pellew went
on. “You should know that I haven’t been able to keep a lid on
this. Word of the killing is spreading fast—and so are rumors of
who was likely responsible. It’s all I can do to keep my own men
from marching to the Polarian quarters and opening fire. Patterson
was well-liked by most everyone in the detachment—even the ones who
didn’t mind the Polarians before now feel like Patterson’s murder
deserves severe redress.”

“
Your men are not to leave
deck one for any reason,” said Calvin. “Confine them to the
barracks and HQ.”

“
I’ve already done
that—however, I’m afraid keeping them cooped up will only rile them
up further.”

“
Do whatever you have to
do,” said Calvin. “I will
not
have a war between the Polarians and the humans on
this ship. Especially now.”

“
I’ll do everything I
can.”

“
And remember,” said Calvin,
almost more to himself than to Pellew, “we don’t know for sure that
the assailant was a Polarian. For that matter, it could have been a
fellow human who wanted the Polarians to look responsible—perhaps
to encourage a violent incident that might lead to the expulsion of
the Polarians from the ship.”

“
Maybe,” said Pellew. “But I
doubt it.”

Calvin agreed that the likeliest scenario
was that a rogue Polarian—or small group of them—had taken it upon
themselves to avenge their gods, or religion, or whatever it was
they felt had been trampled upon by Staff Sergeant Patterson’s
disrespect. “Have you informed Alldroit that he’s potentially in
great danger?”

“
I have the brig under guard
by two soldiers on rotational watch and camera surveillance. He
should be alright.”

“
Good,” said Calvin.
“Hopefully the lab will come up with convincing evidence soon of
who the attacker was—but until then, standing orders remain in
place and there will be
no
interaction between any human soldiers or
Polarians, and all non-essential personnel are confined to
quarters.”

“
What about when we reach
Remus Nine?” asked Pellew. “Assuming the murderer hasn’t yet been
identified and brought to justice. How do you plan on performing
the op without Polarians and special forces crossing
paths?”

“
I don’t know,” said Calvin.
The team he’d selected included several soldiers from both groups.
Clearly he’d have to re-think some things. “I’ll let you know when
I’ve figured it out.”