The Phoenix Conspiracy (47 page)

***

They whipped him. And when that didn't
work they applied electric shock.

Major Jenkins writhed in agony,
strapped to the cold table that was far too narrow for his broad
shoulders. Aside from the noises of anguish he couldn't keep back,
he remained silent. Telling them nothing. Enduring the bone
twisting, muscle ripping pain that scorched him head to
toe.

"Where is the Harbinger?" a voice
asked.

He said nothing. Bracing for their
next action as best his weakened body could. Scrapes, bruises, and
deep lacerations graffitied his arms and torso. And some kind of
fluid was poured over them, amplifying the pain.

"What did Asari Raidan tell
you?"

Even if the Major had known the
answer, he wouldn't have revealed it. This treatment only made it
harder to think clearly. His vision blinked in and out and he could
scarcely understand what was going on.

He held to a singular
thought and pushed everything else out. Calvin
had
to survive to lead the others to
freedom. He was their best chance. Nothing else
mattered.

He gritted his teeth as more pain
followed. Thin rivers of blood snaked down his arms and chest. The
tickling sensation only added to the torture. And the chemicals
they poured onto his wounds! Who knew pain like this existed? But
everything began to fade and he knew it would all be over
soon.

"Where is the Arcane
Storm?"

He didn't understand the question. He
couldn't. Before his brain could even try to process the
significance of it, they poured a different, hot liquid over his
damaged skin. It was so terrible he lost his bearings and for
several moments did not comprehend where he was or what was going
on.

"Where does the Harbinger make
port?"

The words felt strange and alien. Like
sounds he'd never heard before.

"What Asari Raidan stole on Aleator.
Where is it? What does he plan to do with it?"

He had to keep fighting.
He
had
to! But his
strength and will to live faded like shadows in the
light.

Until he couldn't fight
anymore.

Chapter 29

It wasn't easy from her restricted
position, but with a little struggle Summers managed to input the
command codes and activate the beacon. It blinked once, then made
no sign it was on. Just like it was supposed to.

"The silent beacon is activated," she
whispered to Pellew.

He said nothing, and they waited,
smashed against each other in the cramped container for what felt
like forever. With their two bodies, Pellew's carbine, the beacon,
two handguns, and her submachine-gun, there was literally no wiggle
room. She could tell Pellew—at least partially—enjoyed being
squished against her, but she could have done without the
experience. At least she was closer to the tiny vent that provided
them with fresh air.

"You're nervous," Pellew
whispered.

She shushed him quietly. But
she
was
nervous.
The fate of the crew depended on them and they were surrounded by
hundreds of hostiles.

Not to mention her confusion
and mixture of emotions regarding recent events. What the hell were
the rotham doing here? Was Calvin onto something after all? Had he
been right? No... he'd flown the ship right into this mess, he
didn't know what he was doing... but still, he
had
discovered something... she tried
not to think about it.

Every time a noise filtered in,
regardless of how quiet or muffled, her heart lurched at the fear
their cover had been blown. If that happened... she didn't know
what she'd do. Or could do. She forced herself to be calm, or tried
to, by reminding herself the Nighthawk's blueprints were so
classified that, even when she'd been made executive officer, she
wasn't privy to that information until she was actually aboard the
ship. So, until the Rotham mined the ship's hard drives and decoded
everything, they couldn't possibly know about these
containers.

"We could just wait for the Fifth
Fleet here," whispered Pellew.

She didn't like that idea.
"I don't know if the beacon can be detected through both the
Nighthawk's
and
the Rotham ship's hulls."

"I suppose you're right. It's too bad,
really. It's kind of nice here."

She grimaced. "Think it's clear?" she
asked. They hadn't heard anything for awhile now.

Pellew listened. "Yeah, let's
go."

Very stealthily, they opened the
container and crawled into the narrow corridor of deck three. No
one was around. They fixed silencers to their weapons and Summers
followed Pellew's lead.

They moved as fast as they could,
sneaking around corners, through hallways, and down ladders,
pausing whenever they heard voices until the coast was clear again.
Eventually they reached an airlock.

"I doubt anyone's looking at this
one," said Pellew, unlocking it. "Cover me."

Summers held her submachine-gun at the
ready and kept her eyes vigilant. The beacon, which she carried by
its handle in her other hand, was beginning to feel heavy but she
knew she couldn't let that distract her.

"Okay, we're through," said Pellew. He
pulled the metal fixture open and poked his head out. "Looks clear,
let's move." He climbed down an external ladder and Summers covered
him from above. Once he reached the main floor of the Rotham
hangar, she dropped the beacon to him and climbed down herself.
When she reached the ground he returned it and she looked
up.

The hangar was enormous, even by heavy
cruiser standards. At full capacity it could fit a large number of
fighters or shuttles. For now, though, only the Nighthawk and a few
fighters were on the ground. Summers could hear a half dozen or so
Rotham voices out of sight, presumably working, but she didn't see
anyone.

Pellew moved ahead and assessed their
surroundings. He flashed her the hand signals for three enemies to
the left, clear on the right, follow him. She did. They snuck
around stacked crates and various equipment.

It was an annoying process, forcing
them to backtrack at times, and it took several minutes. But they
managed to escape the hangar into the corridor without incident. It
was empty and they picked up the pace. Summers wasn't sure where
they were going, but knew, ultimately, they were looking for a
hiding place for themselves and the beacon.

"Over here," said Pellew, waving his
rifle toward a nook. It was a stubby dead-end of a hallway,
complete with a ventilation grate, some crates, and a computer
terminal. She followed closely.

As they approached, two Rotham crew
members could be seen at work. One popped up from behind the
computer console, some wires in his hands, and the other came
around a stack of crates, carrying something she didn’t
recognize.

Pellew steadied his rifle and took two
quick shots, dropping both aliens. Summers didn't fire, knowing
Pellew with his carbine was much more accurate than she would be
with her one-handed submachine-gun.

"Cover me while I move the bodies out
of sight," said Pellew.

He set down his carbine and dragged
the first corpse behind a crate, leaving behind a mess of blood.
Summers had seen her share of blood, but Rotham blood looked
strange.

"We'll have to do something about that
blood," she said.

"Move a crate on top of it,” said
Pellew, now dragging the second body out of view. Summers kept an
eye on the corridor and followed his command, moving one of the
smaller crates. Pellew then adjusted the computer table so its
shadow covered the rest of the blood.

"So I guess we hold out here?" asked
Summers, retrieving the beacon.

"No, let's stash the beacon in one of
these crates," said Pellew, "and then rescue our crew."

Summers felt uneasy about that plan.
"The beacon is more important, we have to protect it."

"We can't protect it if they find us
here," said Pellew. "They'll kill us eventually. All we can do is
hide it. Staying to guard it will only draw attention to this
area—and it."

She knew he was right, but didn't want
him to be. "What about the dead bodies? That'll draw attention to
this spot too. Maybe we should find a new spot."

"I don't think we'll find
anything better. We're lucky we found
this
spot. The longer we delay, the
more we carry the beacon around, the more likely they'll find
us—and it—and everything will be over."

"Fine, then what do you propose we
do?"

"Leave it and attack the
detention center. You don't have to come if you don't want to but
my men are locked up in there and
I
have to do
something
."

"We don't even know where that
is."

"Yeah we do. We passed the door on our
way here, didn't you notice it?"

"No. All these Rotham halls and doors
look the same to me."

"There are subtle differences," said
Pellew. "But it helps if you can read and speak Rotham, like I
do."

She should have realized that by now.
The way he so easily reacted to the rotham's movements as they
snuck through the hangar. Rotham fluency wasn't as uncommon as most
people suspected; the academy she went to, for instance, taught it
at all levels. But she hadn't made that her focus and felt in the
dark now.

"Have you heard anything interesting?"
she asked. "Maybe what they're doing here and what their plans
are?"

"No. The people in the hangar weren't
talking about any of that. But I do know where the crew was taken.
And I'm sure we could take the guards by surprise."

"We could die."

"Yeah," he said with a crooked grin.
"And if no one helps them, they could die. And for that matter, if
we hang around here, we could die. And even if we succeed at
everything, we're all going to die anyway. Eventually. Don't you
want to at least die doing something meaningful?"

***

Calvin couldn't see it from his
cramped cell, but he knew the sound of gunfire when he heard
it.

Automatic weapons with suppressors,
shouted orders in Rotham, the distinct whine of alien rifles, and
of course the thud of bodies smacking the deck.

He got on his knees and tried to catch
a glimpse of something, anything. He saw black boots and the bottom
of camouflage trousers moving his way, stepping over fallen Rotham
corpses.

Farther away he heard Summers’
distinct voice, "there we go," she said from out of sight, followed
by the snap hiss of dozens of cells unlocking. Calvin tested his
but it wouldn't budge. "I can't unlock the priority cells from this
switch."

"Use this," it was Pellew's voice.
Calvin wished he could see.

"Good timing," Calvin shouted through
the bars, thinking his back couldn’t take much more of this
contorted position. "Is it clear out there?"

"For now," said Pellew. "Where's the
Major?"

"They took him. No idea where." He
could hear several people moving around and cell doors opening.
Hearing them roam free and knowing he was still trapped in this
claustrophobia-inducing cell was unbearable.

Summers came into view and bent down
to unlock his cell with a key from one of the dead guards. He tried
to read her expression but her face was mostly obscured. What he
did see, though, seemed cold and neutral.

"Summers Presley …” said Calvin. "I
can't believe it but I'm actually glad to see you." His door
unlocked and she opened the cell.

"Pfft, I'm not," said Miles from the
other side. "And I never will be."

"I don't have to let you out you
know," she said.

Miles made a face. "If you don't,
Calvin will."

Calvin crawled out and stood to his
full height. Even though he hadn't been in the cell for long, it
felt great to be out. It was too small for an adult human and a
prolonged stay would probably drive a grown man insane.

Calvin scanned over their
surroundings; the detention block was effectively a long corridor
with cells on both sides, able to hold up to a hundred prisoners,
much more than the Nighthawk's crew. And fortunately everyone,
except the Major, was here.

"Pellew what have we got?" asked
Calvin, moving to the raised platform in the center.

"Twenty two soldiers, thirty-nine
crew. Everyone is accounted for except the Major."

"At least they were kind enough to put
us all in one place," said Calvin. He looked over their faces and
saw a lot of angry, healthy, mostly youthful people. They were
tired. They were confused. But they were ready and willing to
fight. Only one looked unfit for a lot of action. "How are you
holding up, Monte?"

"Don't you worry about me," the old
doctor said, pointing a crooked finger. Calvin knew better; he knew
Monte was in pain and wouldn't be able to keep up well. But he also
understood that Monte would not let himself be seen as a
liability.