The Phoenix War (34 page)

“Okay…” said Alex, considering the details.
That angle should probably work
, he thought. He’d operated
with weaker cover stories before. But he’d also been found out and
exposed before. Which was how Calvin and his shipmates had come
across him in the first place. “There are quite a few concerns
still.”

“The fine details are for you to worry
about,” said Calvin.

Typical
… Alex’s eyes narrowed but he
accepted that there would be no changing the human’s mind. And
probably for the best. If any of them were going to survive this
jaunt into hell in a two-bit cargo vessel, they would need every
detail meticulously considered, planned, and prepared for. Alex had
no doubt their best hopes depended on his skill and knowledge, and
that no one else here could do a better job.

“Best get to it,” said Calvin. “We depart at
oh-six-hundred hours.” And then, in a pathetic display of human
humor, he added, “oh and remember to pack light.”

“Very droll…” said Alex, unamused. Since he’d
been plucked from one form of captivity and put into another he had
virtually nothing to his name.

Calvin nodded. Alex wondered if the human’s
attempt at a joke had been for his own benefit rather than Alex’s.
Indeed as he examined the human’s face, he could tell the man was
on the verge of saying something else but held his tongue. Like
there was some further detail, some warning perhaps, that he wanted
to share but was afraid to. Like he was doing some kind of
balancing calculus, trying to decide whether or not it was in his
best interest to inform Alex. And, truthfully, Alex couldn’t say
what was in Calvin’s best interest, but he knew what was in his own
best interest.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” he
asked, looking at Calvin shrewdly.

“Yes, there is one other thing,” said Calvin.
Apparently that was all the coaxing he needed. “After we’re done in
Alliance space, the mission isn’t over.”

Alex waited for the punch line. Wondering if
that meant they were going to do something even more dangerous than
the planned suicidal jaunt through Alliance space.

“We’re going into Rotham space. That’s right,
we’re going to spy on your people,” Calvin’s eyes probed him.
“We’re going to see if the Republic is gathering its fleets and
making ready for war. And then we’re going to report that to the
queen. I need you to make sure you’re okay with that. If you have a
problem, you need to find a way to deal with it. Because this is
happening.”

Alex wasn’t as comfortable with that as
Calvin probably hoped. Mostly because he doubted that was truly the
only reason Calvin had for spying on the Republic. But Alex also
understood that voicing any objection now, or even showing a
glimmer of hesitation, would do nothing to help him. Best-case
scenario, Calvin would keep him on a shorter leash, he’d still be
going but would have zero autonomy. Worst-case, Calvin would leave
him behind. Rendering him useless. But if Alex cooperated with
Calvin, and gave him his support, then Alex would be able to tag
along and see what Calvin was really up to—if anything. And, when
the time came, assuming they even survived their mission inside
Alliance space, and Calvin presented a danger, Alex could make a
move. Either stopping the clever human or else making every effort
to do so. Best of all, Calvin was unknowingly presenting Alex with
a golden opportunity.
If I’m in Republic space again, and I have
access to the communication equipment, and I know I will—I’ll have
to, I’m the only Rotham he’s got to manage the comm
, thought
Alex,
then that means I’ll be able to re-establish contact with
the Advent
!

“Yes, I’m all right with it,” said Alex
carefully. “We can gather intelligence on the Rotham fleets,” he
didn’t want to sound too eager on the one hand or too suspicious on
the other. “If it means we’ll be preventing a war.”

Calvin nodded and Alex was unable to tell
whether or not the human believed him. “Glad to hear it,” said
Calvin, clapping Alex on the shoulder. A clumsy but very common
human gesture that was undoubtedly the source of countless
unnecessary bruises.

With that, Calvin left. And Alex was alone
once more. But with so much more to think about.

As he set to task drawing up the particulars
of the cover identity they would need if they encountered a
Republic patrol ship, Alex thought of the irony that he even
bothered to do anything. Since, on some cerebral level, he knew for
a fact that the universe and everything within it would eventually
end. And when it did nothing he did, nor anything anyone else did,
would matter, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from caring, no more
than he could stop himself from doing everything possible to affect
whatever short-term outcome he felt was best. Perhaps it was just
the brain chemistry, the firings of electrical activity in his
head, but he was undeniably compelled to do everything he could to
ensure the future of his people and prevent as much slaughter and
suffering as he could. Even though he knew, at best, he had ten
more decades left of breathing and feeling and thinking and then…
he’d be gone and wouldn’t care.
No one survives their own
death
, Alex was sure, which meant he wouldn’t be able to care
one way or another how his efforts had gone, once his final moment
transpired.

And yet he did care. And felt driven to do
all he could, compelled to make every possible effort. Despite the
futility. Despite the inevitability. Despite the knowledge that he
was just a squishy sack of goo, like every other Rotham, human, and
Polarian, a squishy sack of goo that happened to be self-aware—for
the moment anyway—and would eventually rot and decay and
deteriorate.

I’ll do everything I can
, he thought.
I’ll succeed and the Republic will endure. It has to
.
Else the blood will run like the vast rivers of Ro, mighty and
endless.

As he cleared his head and got back to work,
he couldn’t help but wonder if he really was more grounded in
reality than the Polarians, or if he was actually every bit as
delusional and it just manifested itself differently.

The prison colony of Gamma Persei Three
seemed like a much different place than it had before his time in
the black cell. Most notably, the number of guards had been greatly
reduced. There were still enough guards to manage the various
watches, and more than enough to keep the prisoners under control,
but the number had diminished. Additionally, many of the portable
structures had been taken off the power grid, and only blackness
could be seen through their windows. Clearly much of the prison
staff had gone away, probably for good.

Unmistakably, it was a bad sign for the
prisoners. The whole operation was shutting down.
That means
they’ll start to sweep away the evidence any day now
, he
thought darkly.

There were other changes too that only added
to his suspicions. A sense of tension in the air, anxious-looking
guards, no new supplies were being shuttled down—or prisoners for
that matter. No doubt they were just waiting for some kind of final
order to come down the pipeline.

Another problem had surfaced during his
confinement in the black cell. The escape plan had called for
Edwards and Harkov to escape with him. Nimoux would get all three
of them out of the prison and off this planet and then Harkov and
Edwards would testify with him before the Assembly. What would
corroborate his story better than joint testimony from the
Commander of the Fifth Fleet and the Director of Intel Wing? But
unfortunately, Edwards was no longer able to escape. Just a week
prior to Nimoux’s release from the black cell, Edwards broke his
ankle. There was no way he could run three meters less yet escape
into the nearby mountains. Edwards would have to be left
behind.

It was regrettable, but Nimoux could think of
no other way to handle the situation. Edwards’ best chance,
everyone’s best chance, was for Nimoux and Harkov to slip away and
call for help. At least then rescue would be on its way.

Harkov thought differently and she refused to
leave Edwards’ side.

“You go ahead,” she told him once they had a
moment alone.

“You should come with me,” he said. “Together
we can make a much stronger case before the Assembly and…” he
hesitated to say the rest. That she was in mortal danger if she
remained. Not that attempting escape promised to be much safer.

“I can’t leave Jack. He needs me.”

“He wants what’s best for you and the
Empire,” said Nimoux, trying to be persuasive. “If we ask him, I’m
sure he’ll tell you—”

“I’m sorry but the answer is no,” Harkov’s
eyes made it clear she was unwilling to budge. “I just can’t leave
him. If the love of your life were here, I’m sure you’d feel the
same way.”

“I suppose so,” Nimoux said. And as he
thought about it, he did somewhat understand. He still thought it
was irrational, Harkov’s presence here did nothing to improve
Edwards’ chances, but he understood the feeling of devotion. He
even thought she was probably right. “I’m going tonight.”

“So then I guess this is goodbye,” she
said.

“For now. But I’m coming back soon, I
promise. And when I do, I’m bringing the cavalry with me.”

She gave him a hopeful smile. “We’ll be here
waiting. Good luck to you, Captain.” She saluted him.

He returned the salute. “I won’t be leaving
until after dark. If you change your mind… just let me know.”

She thanked him but she didn’t change her
mind. And by the time he’d finished his preparations it was clear
he’d be escaping alone.

At least it’ll be easier by myself
, he
thought. But he still felt sorry. He briefly considered inviting
one of the other prisoners to join in his escape but there was none
he trusted and it was too late to involve anyone else anyway.

“All prisoners will fall into line
immediately and proceed to the cell block without delay. Failure to
comply will result in extreme consequences,” announced a voice over
the loudspeakers in the yard. Nimoux took his position in line with
the other prisoners as they started forming up into rows and
columns, the announcement repeated twice. Some of the other
prisoners looked at him, remembering that he was the one who’d
failed to comply
before, however long ago that’d had
been—Harkov and Edwards had told him their best estimate was he’d
been in the black cell for around thirty days.

The guards patrolling the yard converged on
the group of prisoners and additional guards emerged from the
barracks to help ensure that nightly lockup went smoothly. Nimoux
complied and cooperated in every way, making sure not to draw
attention to himself. His only thought at that moment was making
certain he wound up in the correct cell. He counted the prisoners,
thought of how many cells there were, and remembered the pattern in
which the guards loaded the cells:
always on the second floor,
starting from the east, three prisoners to a cell. That means I
need to be in line here…
He knew a wrong calculation would mean
losing out on his chance to escape tonight.

Normally he would have lined up with Edwards
and Harkov and shared a cell with them, that would have been
easier, but because of Edwards’ injury and the fact that he had to
rely on other prisoners to be his crutches, it was almost
guaranteed he’d be the last to the cellblock and wind up on the far
end. Nimoux couldn’t be in that cell tonight, not if he was going
to escape. And so Nimoux fell into line with two total
strangers.

He’d briefly considered hiding in the yard
again and making his escape from there. That way he wouldn’t have
to deal with the additional obstacle of the cellblock. But, as
appealing as it was, he had to discard that idea practically as
soon as he thought of it because the guards would be onto him too
fast.

They entered the cell block and the guards
began distributing the prisoners into the cells exactly as Nimoux
had calculated. Once any particular cell had three inmates the door
was slammed shut and locked, an official tally was adjusted, and
the group proceeded forward. Eventually it was Nimoux’s turn and,
like he’d hoped, he wound up in the very cell he’d planned.

The door closed shut. The guard turned and
removed the key, announced the count as he did, another guard
adjusted the tally accordingly, and the group of prisoners
proceeded on. Leaving Nimoux alone with his two cellmates for the
night.

This presented a difficult consideration. He
knew he couldn’t invite his cellmates along for his escape, but he
also worried they might notice his absence. Or worse, see him
leaving and demand to go with him, threatening to alert a guard if
he didn’t allow it.

Both of his cellmates were slim and tan,
their malnourished, sun-kissed skin had the telltale signs of being
prisoners on this planet for too long. Neither looked particularly
violent, or strong. Though one seemed a lot more energetic than the
other.

“Hero of the Empire,” the energetic one
whispered, he had sandy colored hair. He shot Nimoux a sardonic
smile. “So, are you going to save us?”

Nimoux didn’t answer. Instead he looked
through the bars and watched as the other prisoners were filed
away. Because the cell walls protruded several inches on either
side of the barred door, it was almost impossible to see much on
either side. A fact Nimoux counted on to execute his plan without
any of the other prisoners noticing.

He knew it would be another twenty minutes at
least before the rest of the prisoners were counted and secured so
all he could do was wait. He casually stretched his arms, knowing
that the first part of his escape depended entirely on strength and
endurance.