The Phoenix Conspiracy (15 page)

"Put out a distress call," he
instructed Sarah. "But only use frequencies watched by Intel Wing.
Inform them we have a two-nineteen and need to be boarded by a
large, heavily armed unit."

Barely two minutes later she radioed
back. "Intel Wing confirms the Avenger is inbound to board us, six
clicks away. We've altered course to rendezvous. ETA... three
hours."

"Three hours?"

"That's the closest ship capable of
handling a two-nineteen."

"All right, burn the engines at full
capacity and get us into as deep a jump as possible. Hopefully we
can reach ninety-nine point nine percent potential. Keep me
informed."

He gave Pellew back the radio with a
sigh, knowing he could have expected no better. His ship was way
out in deep space, a region inconveniently between the Empire, the
Rotham Republic, and the Polarian Confederated States, and mostly
ignored by the major powers. Just as the radio had changed hands, a
soldier's voice crackled over it.

"Team two found something in the port
quarter of deck three."

"In the storage containers?" asked
Calvin.

Pellew raised the radio to his mouth.
"What is it, sergeant?"

"You'd better get over here,
sir."

Pellew looked to Calvin for
confirmation.

"You heard the man, let's
go."

Chapter 11

"It's the two missing crewmen," Major
Jenkins said.

Two men lay on the ground near an open
storage container where, apparently, they'd been stashed. Dr. Monte
Blair knelt over one, a medical bag at his side.

"Are they dead?" asked
Calvin.

"No, just unconscious," said Monte.
"Being trapped in a crumpled position for an hour isn't good on the
joints, but it isn't horrible either. These men are lucky. I see no
cuts, no teeth marks, not even bruises. I'm not sure how the lycan
incapacitated them."

"If he was the one who did
it," Calvin thought of the missing surveillance tape. And the fact
that even a lycan shouldn't have been able to slip past his
forcefield. It
was
a forcefield after all.

"You think it was one of ours?"
Captain Pellew asked.

"Can't rule it out," Calvin bent down
to look at the unconscious soldiers. "Either that or someone else
was on the transport besides the werewolf."

"And the Nighthawk's scanners missed
them? Impossible. A craft that size in open sight? We have the best
equipment in the Fleet and we sealed it shut after our last soldier
was back aboard. We definitely would have seen someone."

Calvin shrugged. "At this point I'm
willing to believe anything. And suspect anyone. Considering what’s
happened lately, I don’t think anything’s crazy anymore.” He rose
to his feet and smoothed out his uniform.

"Monte, get these men to the infirmary
at once. I want them to stay there until we’ve had a chance to
question them. Let me know the minute they come to.” Calvin looked
to the Major. "Jenkins, I need you to post some men at the
infirmary for the time being."

"Agreed," the Major nodded. "Captain
Pellew, see to it."

"Right away, sir."

***

After apprising Summers Presley of the
situation below decks, Calvin released the very tired active crew.
Once the replacement officers took their stations, and his Second
Officer took the command position—with strict orders to inform
Calvin if even the slightest thing happened, he left. Moving with a
pack of officers to the lower decks, fully armed, travelling in a
group—like he'd ordered. They dropped off a person at a time as his
or her quarters were reached.

Summers had wanted to stay on the
bridge but Calvin insisted she get some rest. She agreed, on the
condition that Calvin get some rest also. He doubted he'd be able
to sleep but preferred to relax in privacy. And he knew if he let
his stress overwhelm him it would impair his judgment.

They reached his quarters on deck five
and he took his leave and locked the door. He wasn't sure if the
triple seal would stop a werewolf, since he'd never encountered one
before, but it would at least slow one down. He didn't undress
except to remove his shoes, then he lay in bed and stared at the
ceiling, taking in slow breaths.

"Lights off," he said and they turned
off. Everything was quiet, except for the slight breeze coming
through the air vent. Calm and peaceful. He shut his eyes, trying
to close his mind to the many questions spinning inside him like a
raging storm. But to no avail. He had too few answers and his mind
was what it was. Compelled to chew away at every puzzle and mystery
until it was solved. And there were far too many:

Raidan’s choice to attack the rotham
freighters—sacrificing everything for the “good of the Empire”; the
weird message Calvin had received on Praxis before the trial; the
Harbinger’s disappearance; the Fleet’s unwillingness to cooperate
with Intel Wing; Princess Kalila’s strange visit and behavior; a
randomly-exploding star right in his flight path—one that had
otherwise seemed healthy; and now he had an insane werewolf running
loose on his ship—doing god knows what—with no explanation for how
he got loose and an AWOL surveillance tape.

It was way too much to process now. He
felt like he was thinking in slow motion. Groggy, blurry eyed, and
lightheaded.

He spent most of an hour eating away
at these unsolvable riddles, jumping between them scatterbrained,
frustrated to no end. Wondering how many of these puzzles linked
together. And how many were just bad timing.

His job came with stress, he knew
that, but somehow he felt worse than ever. He just couldn't get his
mind to calm down. In frustration he lurched to a sitting
position.

"Dim Lights," he said and the room
brightened a little.

As he thought about the
lycan, the nightmarish images of the Trinity's blood stained walls
came to mind without effort. More vivid than memories of yesterday.
And Christine... dear sweet Christine. His memories of her tortured
him, her smile, her laugh, her hands playing gently with his, the
joking, the tickle-fights… and those soft brown eyes—full of
mischief and curiosity. He missed her. He missed her
so
much. And he hated
himself for letting it all happen to her.

It wasn't until she died that he awoke
to how merciless and unfair the universe really was. Cold and
cruel. Sparing no one. Christine had been the gentlest, kindest
person he’d ever known. And what had fate dealt her?

The events leading up to the Trinity
disaster flashed through his mind and he saw his old friends and
comrades come alive like ghosts hovering all around. If only they
knew what was coming. If only he could warn them... He wished he
could go back and undo it all.

Swimming upstream through his memories
he was in college again. Anand, Miles, and other friends were
together in their apartments talking about everything, anything,
and nothing. Wondering about the uncertain future, idealists with
high expectations. The galaxy was their oyster and nothing would
keep them from their dreams. He smiled at the banter, the teasing,
and the good times. Miles spiking Anand's drinks. Anand getting
back at him by putting soap in his cup. Calvin longed for those
days again... cutting classes and chasing girls. Those were the
golden days, when everything seemed possible. Before real life
crushed them and stole their naivety. Calvin had made so many
mistakes since then... his eyes drifted to his safe where the
equarius was kept. If only he could do it all over, he could do so
much better, be so much more.

His thoughts took him through his
bittersweet childhood growing up on Capital World without his
father. Being called bastard by the bullies. He remembered his
first fight, when he pushed the biggest bully into the lake without
warning. He'd paid for that one with a black eye and bruises. But
it had been worth it to see the other children laugh. And he
remembered Sandy. His first girlfriend. How they used to make-out
in the tree house, hold hands while walking the lake's edge, and
talk about the future. He didn't realize then how different they
really were. She dreamed of kids and family and making a
difference. While all he cared about was action, romance, and
adventure. He didn't think ahead like she did, he just expected
everything to work out in the end. When she left Capital World with
her parents, she never came back, and he didn't get over her for
years. At least not completely. Not until he met
Christine.

Once, a long time ago, he'd used his
Intel privileges to look Sandy up, out of innocent curiosity, and
discovered she was a Planetary Senator. Already established, making
a difference, and successful. And she was married to a very
prominent police inspector and she had three children. She knew her
dreams early, worked for them, and now lived them. She'd fulfilled
her own great expectations. Now that he knew that, Calvin couldn't
help but wonder about his own.

Had he achieved any of his
dreams? He'd never figured out what his dreams were, really. And he
still didn't know. But it wasn't this, was it? He looked down at
his crumpled uniform on the bureau...
Is
this my legacy?
... it felt incomplete.
Everything was at his fingertips—money, status, power... things
people spent their whole lives pursuing. But they'd come to him so
easily that they meant almost nothing. Empty. Hollow. Leaving him
wondering
what's next?

He gazed out the window at the empty
blackness and he felt like nothing. A lost soul in a void of empty
barren darkness. His beating heart a ticking time bomb, destined to
stop eventually. And when it did... what was the point of anything?
In time, there'd be no one left to remember him.

Then he started laughing... "What's
the matter with me? I've got it great," he tried to smile but ended
up with a weak grin. "Okay, this is ridiculous..." he climbed out
of bed and unlocked his safe. A part of him resented himself for
opening the bottle of equarius again but somehow that didn't
matter. It seemed like nothing mattered. And he knew the pill would
make the aching go away, at least for awhile, it would stop the
flood of memories that tortured him. It was both his lover and his
enemy and he turned to it, dear sweet equarius.

***

Faces blurred through the shadows like
ghostly whispers. Children became adults and in the ethereal grey
realms of everything and nothing, Calvin felt light like a feather
as he moved everywhere and nowhere. But on his back was a heavy
mountain of snow, cold and crushing, the flakes of a thousand
yesterdays piled upon him.

He awoke with pain biting the insides
of his head. He recognized the dim features of his room once he
lurched to a sitting position, but he felt elsewhere—like it wasn't
real. The world flipped upside down and he began to spin. Losing
sight of everything—like he was falling in all directions, trapped
in a psychedelic vortex.

He screamed in the darkness, clutching
the foot of the bed—which he held for dear life, until, suddenly,
his world calmed like a sea of glass. He was panting, heart
thundering, but eventually his breathing became slow and deep.
"Lights," he said, ripping off his sweat-drenched shirt.

As he stood up, his movements were
ginger and almost off-balance. He couldn't remember having a worse
nightmare. The dream was lost to him but he knew this wasn't just a
simple night terror. He glanced at the bottle of equarius he'd
again failed to lock up. He went to it, snatched it up, and peered
into the orangey translucent bottle at the small white pills.
"Could it be you?" he wondered then hurled the bottle against the
wall.

"This is insane..." he took a shower
in his cramped bathroom and changed clothes—it was almost 0500 and
he knew he wasn't going to get back to sleep. He wondered if this
was the first of many nightmares to come, if so, eventually, he
wouldn't be able to command the ship. He needed a medical opinion
and decided to find Dr. Blair.

Since the lycan had gone missing, he'd
forbidden anyone from moving around the ship alone. But he made
himself an exception, deciding it was worth the risk. And if he did
run into the werewolf, he wasn't going down without a fight. He
clipped on a sidearm, picked up the assault rifle, and set
out—quick and silent.

He avoided the elevators and climbed
down the ladders, even with such a powerful weapon he knew stealth
trumped force. Every creak and noise of the ship jumped out at him,
and twice he resisted the urge to shoot his own shadow. But he
reached the infirmary without incident. He pressed his thumb
against the plate and unlocked the door. Three soldiers and the
doctor on shift saluted as he stepped inside.

"Are you all right, sir?" the young
medic asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just need to see
Monte."

"He asked not to be disturbed unless
it was a real emergency."

"I insist." Calvin stepped past and
knocked softly on the door to Dr. Blair's adjoining quarters. When
no one answered, he pounded the door with the flat of his hand. It
slid open to reveal a very groggy, unhappy looking Monte Blair.
"What the Sam hell?" He squinted and shielded his eyes from the
infirmary lights. Calvin stepped into the bedroom and the door slid
shut.