The Phoenix Conspiracy (17 page)

"Duly noted, Shen," said Calvin,
irritation pierced his voice but he was more annoyed at himself
than his officer. He hated breaking his word to anyone, even a
remorii, but there was a lot more at stake here than his honor.
Unfortunately, by handing Tristan over to the port authority,
they'd lose out on any valuable information the werewolf had
withheld—although Calvin expected the werewolf would have just lied
to them anyway.

"It's just that a lot of people could
get hurt, sir."

"Yes, Shen, people could get hurt.
Which is why we're giving up the chance for more information to
better ensure public safety. Even in this nest of crooks and
cutthroats there are still people who deserve better than a death
at the claws of a lycan. And the last thing the galaxy needs is
more werewolves, should our friend spread his poison. Aleator
deserves to know what it's inheriting, then they’ll at least have a
chance of dealing with it.”

Even though Shen had questioned him,
that was the kind of thoughtfulness he liked from his officers. He
needed them to keep him in check and often their eyes were as good,
or better, than his own.

"I think you're doing the right
thing," said Summers from his side.

He looked over at her. "You do? Then
maybe I’m doing the wrong thing after all,” he said with a slight
smirk.

Her smile faded.

Sarah spoke up. "Now at sixty million
km and still no sentry ships. Just a third-rate freighter refit
closing in on our position."

"Project it," said Calvin. Shen
acknowledged and, a moment later, a hovering 3D model of a rebuilt
freighter appeared, replacing the image of Aleator.

"
That's
the sentry ship?" asked
Miles.

Calvin laughed. "Welcome to Aleator. I
take it some of you, aside from our secret jaunts into the DMZ,
have never set foot outside of the Empire."

"Aleator just looks like a bunch of
outposts orbiting a planet," said Shen. "What makes it so
different?"

Miles' reply was almost a shout. "It's
anything goes! No laws. You can do whatever you want as long as you
follow one rule, don't piss off the Roscos."

"I've spent some time across the
Polarian border a few years back, but even there everything was
patrolled and civilized," said Summers.

"You'd especially hate this place,"
said Calvin and he turned back to Sarah. "Open up a channel to the
sentry ship and set up rendezvous coordinates. Let the captain know
we're bringing the werewolf aboard his ship and none of his
personnel will be allowed to step even one inch onto the Nighthawk
once we dock."

"Can do."

Calvin tapped the intercom. "Okay,
Major, we'll be docking shortly. Get the package ready to go and
make sure your men don't leave him until the Aleator crew has him
well in hand."

"You got it, and frankly, I'll be glad
to be rid of him"

"You and me both," he let go of the
comm just as Sarah waved for his attention.

"Slowing to match approach vector and
docking in... just over two minutes.”

As the ship docked and the seconds
ticked away, Calvin tried to mask his anxiety. A part of him wanted
to see to the werewolf's eviction personally, but this kind of
operation was the Major's purview, and if the werewolf did break
free somehow, and saw Calvin there... things could get ugly. He
waited on the bridge, letting the slow minutes disappear in silence
until the Major's voice came back over the intercom.

"It's done. The werewolf is in Aleator
custody now and all hands are safely back aboard."

"I trust you had no problems," said
Calvin.

"None, he didn't even try to
fight back. In fact, he
claimed
he knew this was going to happen."

Calvin chuckled nervously. "I bet he
did. Very well, Major, good work," he turned off the
comm.

"That was too easy, you know... I'm
kind of disappointed, in a weird way," said Miles.

Calvin smirked. "That's usually a good
thing."

"The uh...
sentry ship
has
disengaged and is pulling away," said Sarah.

"Very good, Sarah, set course for
Aleator One. And, Shen, project the image."

The primary station appeared in orbit
around the planet. Calvin would have described it as more of a
conglomerate of containers and retired spaceships than any kind of
platform. But apparently it did the job, despite looking like
garbage.

"Wow, what a piece of sh—"

"
Miles
," Calvin interrupted him. "Come
with me, we're going aboard so it's time to suit up."

"Me?"

"Yes,
you.
Go get your mission clothes from
the quartermaster and meet me outside my quarters. The rest of you
will be staying on board. The minute we're ashore, have the
Nighthawk withdraw from the station and engage the stealth system.
Then sweep the sector for even the slightest trace of the
Harbinger, but do not approach Aleator One until I contact you and
say otherwise, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," said Summers.

"Good. And Shen, tap into the local
databases and mine whatever information you can. I want to know if
the Harbinger ever arrived, if it docked, if it took on or let off
any passengers, I want to know everything. And flag every name on
the manifest, see if anyone had any history here—coordinate your
efforts with the deck two analysts."

"On it," said Shen.

"Good. Summers, you have the
deck."

Chapter 12

"I'm not gonna lie, I'm not too
excited about this," said Miles as their elevator zoomed for the
deck two airlock. "I mean, in the Empire if you get behind a few q
and can't pay your debts they garnish your wages or lock you up or
something, but here, I hear, they blow your head off in a public
place."

Calvin laughed. "You really haven't
been to Aleator before have you?"

"No, but I've heard my share of
stories."

"And they're all just ridiculous
stories, don't believe them."

"Oh good," Miles smiled.

"The Roscos would never be so careless
as to blow your head off in public, they'd much rather torture you
first then blow your head off in private."

His friend’s smile faded and Calvin
couldn't resist continuing. "Drag you off in your sleep, take you
to some warehouse basement and light you on fire, or maybe run a
nail through your head nice and slow."

"Really, that's very
comforting."

"I'm only half joking, you know. So be
careful." Calvin had heard of even worse punishments inflicted by
the Roscos to their enemies, but he also knew they claimed to have
a sort of code and would never hurt someone who hadn't crossed them
first. And if they saw someone abusing a woman, child, or the
handicapped, they might kill him on the spot. If you were an
outsider, who didn't piss them off, you'd get very little
attention. Unless you had a lot of money. Then you'd be treated
like a king, but you'd pay more than full price for everything. And
if you were a traitor to the family, an insider gone bad, you'd get
the worst of all punishments���which Calvin didn't even want to
imagine.

The elevator came to a stop and the
doors slid open. "Here we are," said Calvin, stepping out with
Miles in tow.

"I still think someone else should go
instead, maybe Summers or Sarah."

Calvin spun around. "Are you
scared?"

"No, no, no. It's just... we're too
valuable, me and you, for such a risky mission."

Calvin laughed. "And I suppose Summers
and Sarah are expendable? As much as I'd love to see our delicate
XO try to blend in with the thugs and keep their hands off of her,
the mission would be a disaster. She could never pass for an
outcast. She's too uptight, too disciplined, too unable to
improvise, and she's got no street-sense. As for Sarah, without her
no one is flying anywhere. There's not a better pilot in the whole
Empire and when the missiles start flying, evasion and escape can
be more important than even your sharp shooting, Miles."

"What about some of the junior
officers?"

"Relax, you're staked. You have 1200q
to drop a little at a time and no credit to go any deeper. All your
accounts are frozen and your cards are staying here. Your fake ID
is convincing enough it would fool Customs at Capital World.
Besides, you look great—like the perfect Imperial reject. We both
do." Calvin sported a worn jacket over a casual shirt and
loose-fitting jeans. Miles' attire was similar in theme. "And if
that's not enough, here comes the rest of our party."

Two soldiers from Special Forces met
them at the main hatch. Instead of uniforms they too wore casual
clothes with handguns and radios well hidden.

Miles looked both pleased and
irritated. "Why didn't you tell me we have backup?"

"What, you thought it'd be just us,
two disguised Imperial agents setting foot aboard Aleator One by
themselves?" Calvin laughed. "That's crazy talk."

The lead soldier spoke up before Miles
could reply. "Uzbeck and Jackson reporting as ordered,
sir."

"Okay, Uzbeck and Jackson, once we
step through that hatch you're no longer Uzbeck and Jackson.
Remember your fake ID's and use street lingo. Stick to your mission
and act like fugitives. Anything less will compromise everything.
Keep your distance but don't lose sight of us. And whatever you do,
don't exit the set without us."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Miles, Uzbeck is going to be your
ghost. Once we go aboard we're going to split ways and Jackson will
tail me, from a distance. You take the Crystal Mist Casino and
whatever is above it. Scope out shops, restaurants, whatever you
find. Be thorough but don't ask too many questions. I'll take the
Rodeo Den and make my way down the lower decks. We'll meet up at
the Crystal in four hours, got it?"

"Yeah."

"And at least
try
to be
inconspicuous."

"I know the drill, I trained for Intel
Wing too you know."

"Good," said Calvin. "Then you have
nothing to worry about."

"What if I lose my ghost and
accidentally piss off a Rosco?"

Calvin grinned. "Then you do what they
teach at the academy."

"And what is that?"

"Close your eyes and kiss your ass
goodbye."

The hatch opened and Calvin motioned
toward the jetway. "After you."

***

The Rodeo Den Casino was everything it
claimed to be. Bright lights, lots of noise, smoke everywhere—all
kinds of explicit drug use—and crowds of people representing every
culture and kind of alien. Calvin heard so many different languages
he couldn't tell them apart, picking up bits and pieces from a few
but not enough to get by on. Fortunately, most everyone spoke human
since the Roscos did their business transactions exclusively in
human.

He didn't draw much attention as he
strolled past the tavern and around some of the game tables.
Several of the games were electronically projected but most
weren't. For some reason physical dice and cards seemed, to most
gamblers, harder to rig than software, and since most of the
players here were swindlers anyway they demanded nothing
less.

Calvin hoped to pick up gossip about
the Harbinger’s visit. He hung around groups of people long enough
to catch the drift of their conversations, but not long enough to
be noticed. If their topics were uninteresting or he felt he'd
overstayed his welcome, he'd slip away and get lost in the
crowd.

He liked the bars and lounges most
because they were natural gathering points and no one would raise
an eyebrow if he stayed for long periods. But, unfortunately, not
much gossip was going around. Mostly these areas were trolled by
liars who spent their time arguing over bets, complaining about
losses, or bragging their supposed conquests. Many of the details,
if believed, were sickening.

He rarely spoke unless spoken to and
when people realized he was alone they'd sometimes come over and
badger him for money, either by begging or trying to intimidate
him. It reminded him of the backstreets of Capital World back home.
He knew how to look a thug squarely in the eyes and seem deadly;
they mostly left him alone. He relied on body language and cold
expressions to avoid drawing attention rather than arguing back or
making threats of his own. Once in a while he'd reach into his
jacket pocket—as if about to draw a weapon. This seemed to work,
even though he had no gun. Firearms and knives were banned on
Aleator One by the Roscos, and if caught with one the perpetrator
would be beaten and locked up. But since the environment was so
dangerous anyway, it was no secret that many people here—if not
most—had a weapon stashed somewhere on their person, like his two
ghosts did. The Roscos and their soldiers didn't do pat-downs or
searches, so smuggling was easy.