The Phoenix Conspiracy (3 page)

He shifted his things around, only
unpacking the boxes that were on his bed. His better judgment knew
he should unpack everything now and avoid taking a nap in order to
adjust to Local Time. But, to Calvin, better judgment wasn't all it
was cracked up to be. And he knew he couldn't be productive while
tired. So, with a heave, he pushed the last box off the bed so he
could sleep. The box spilled open and a lemon-shaped chargeball
rolled out. He scooped it up, feeling the firm leather, and turned
it in his hands. It was worn from casual play and bore the white
and crimson colors of the Camdale Cardinals.

He, Anand, and Miles had all been part
of the so-called "miracle class" of 1212. The year when their rogue
public school—from one of the dumpiest parts of Capital World—beat
all the premiere universities in the Empire at both academics and
the only sport the Empire seemed to care about, chargeball. And
though he and his friends rarely played chargeball, and never
attended a single game, it was still one more thing to be proud of.
The rebel underdogs with the surprising—and never
repeated—upset.

He smiled, thinking back on some of
the "glory" days of just six years prior. From outlandish, and
often unsuccessful, forays with girls to pranks and parties that as
often as not ended on a low note, their academy years had brought
them all together. Now, partly as a reward for his efforts on the
Hadar Mission and partly because of good luck, he and those he
trusted most had managed to spend the past few standard-months
assigned to the same ship. He knew it wouldn't last. But for as
long as it did, he’d enjoy it.

He lied down and rotated the
chargeball in his hands while staring up at the ceiling. His
thoughts shifted from back home to the present and his encounter
with Summers Presley. He had a keen memory and as he played it over
again in his head, remembering the image as if he were staring at a
picture, he focused carefully on her body language and the
intonations of her voice. Something about the conversation bothered
him. Yes, he didn't like that it had been cold and unsuccessful,
but more importantly—she'd inadvertently given something away. She
liked Asari Raidan. For all her cold words she couldn't hide the
fact that she felt betrayed by him personally and not just
professionally. At one point or another, she'd had opposite
feelings for him. Admiration? Friendship? Romance?

But Calvin hadn't picked up on
anything more. Summers had been too distracting; flowing hair, eyes
like deep green pools, luscious lips, teeth white and glossy, and a
face that was both delicately crafted yet confident and strong. Her
beauty pit his body against his mind, making her incredibly
difficult to analyze. Eventually he gave up. Deciding she was
probably not part of Raidan's scheme to attack the Rotham
ships—though her relationship with Raidan was definitely more than
she made it out to be.

The chime broke his
concentration.

"Come," he said

The door slid aside and Anand stepped
in, complete with stubble and mussy brown hair that matched his
skin but contrasted with his overly-immaculate black uniform. In
one hand he held a set of papers.

"Who dares disturb my slumber?" Calvin
asked as he sat up. He tossed the chargeball to Anand who botched
what would've been a slick one-handed catch. Anand reached down to
scoop up the ball but Calvin stopped him, "Don't worry about it,
the room's a mess anyway."

"It wouldn't be you, if it wasn't,"
Anand smiled.

"Ha ha, very funny," Calvin rolled his
eyes. "Is that what you're here to do? Harass your superior? Keep
him from his much-deserved nap?"

"Easy there, Cal, I'm the
one who's a full Commander here," Anand pointed to the gold bar on
his lapel. "So I'm perfectly safe disturbing you and your much
undeserved nap,
Lieutenant
Commander
."

"You know that's the second time
someone's reminded me of that today. I should just never step off
the ship again... But don't think just because we're ashore that
you get a free ride. The minute we're back I'll have you on
continuous watch for days," said Calvin. "And don't think this big
vacation will make me forget it either. I'll stew over it the whole
time. I take my naps very seriously, you know."

Anand laughed, but there was a tinge
of sadness in his laughter, and when he stopped his face became
pensive. "Actually that's why I'm here to see you. I'm not going
back aboard the Nighthawk."

"What are you talking about?" Calvin
stood up and Anand handed him the papers.

"I've been given command of the
Phoenix, effective immediately. It seems the Fleet isn't very
confident Captain Raidan will return to active duty any time soon.
And they want an outsider to do a full audit of the ship and
crew."

“And that’s you?”

Anand nodded. “Who better than Intel
Wing?”

Calvin thumbed through the documents
which were all very official, complete with digital seal. "Why
wasn't I notified by the Fleet about this?"

"After I found out, I asked the Vice
Admiral to let me be the one to tell you."

"Well... that was nice they let you.
Did they say who my new XO is?"

"No. I bet they're waiting for the
trial to be over to announce it."

"Yeah right. I give it nine
to one
on
that
they haven't even decided yet."

Anand laughed. "That's the Imperial
Fleet for you."

"Well..." Calvin wasn't sure what to
say. He felt a little hurt but masked his disappointment. "Your own
command..." he floundered for words. "That's got to be
exciting."

"I'm ecstatic," Anand said, perhaps
more eagerly than he’d intended. "Not that I won't miss the
Nighthawk or anything."

Calvin forced a chuckle. "Yeah right,
you'll forget all about us the minute you sit in that big chair and
hear someone call you captain for the first time."

Anand shrugged.

"Well I guess we'd better get it over
with." Calvin signed the papers and handed them back.

Anand then read the orders of
detachment. "Commander Anand Datar, you are ordered to take command
of the ISS Phoenix immediately, and all current assignments are
hereby dissolved." He continued until he'd read the whole
address.

"I relieve you as Executive Officer of
the IWS Nighthawk," said Calvin.

"I stand relieved." Anand
saluted.

"Well, Anand. You'll be missed. It was
an honor serving with you. Do me a favor and try to keep yourself
alive out there, it's a scary galaxy."

Anand laughed. "You're the one I'm
worried about. How many times did I save the Nighthawk when you
tried to crash it into a planet or something?"

"At least a hundred."

"More like a thousand."

Calvin smirked. "All right, Anand, see
you around the stars."

"Take care, Calvin.” He nodded and
left.

Once the door whisked shut Calvin
shook his head. He'd just lost an excellent officer. And as a CO
who put a lot of value in his XO’s capabilities, he hoped his next
one would be as good.

***

Calvin awoke slowly, rubbing at eyes
that seemed to be glued shut. His throat was parched and his
stomach growled like a beast on the brink of starvation. Everything
was black, except for the blinding glow of the clock on the
nightstand.

0430 L.T. & 1950 S.T.

A yawn escaped him as he
stretched out his limbs and crawled out of bed. His fingers skimmed
his clumpy, messy hair and he realized he'd slept on-and-off for
the better part of fifteen hours. The unhealthy result of sleep
deprivation, stress, and way too much equarius.
Speaking of which...
he reached for
the bottle of pills and placed it back in its locked case, which he
then buried in one of his many boxes. It had been sloppy to leave
the bottle in plain sight, even in his own quarters. Had someone
seen the pills, he'd be in a lot of trouble.

His shirt was sweaty as he peeled it
off and he realized he hadn't showered in over a day. For someone
obsessed with being clean, hygiene trumped breakfast as top
priority, despite the protests of his stomach. Food would have to
wait a little longer.

The private shower was much larger
than his on the Nighthawk and being on the station carried another
advantage, the hot water seemed endless. He scrubbed himself more
than he needed to, lathering everywhere with soap as he enjoyed the
soothing hot water and steam. It was relaxing, like his own
personal chamber of solitude. There was a tranquility here that
even equarius couldn't offer, and in his relaxed state his mind
wandered like a dream.

Until a chirping sound
brought him back to the present. At first he didn't know what it
was, but had to cut his shower short when he realized the sound was
the comm panel. As he grabbed for a towel to wrap around himself he
wondered who would call this early.
If
it's a sales call they'll never hear the end of my
wrath!

He tapped a button on the
panel and the screen came to life, blue text informed him that a
private call was coming through. He tapped
Accept
to the audio but denied the
visual, since being broadcast wet and shirtless wasn't his style,
even if a few people might have enjoyed it.

"Lieutenant Commander Cross, is that
you?" The voice was obviously computer-generated.

"Yeah, it's me," said Calvin. "Who is
this? What do you want?"

"I just want you to know that I'm
sorry."

He wondered if this was some kind of
prank. "Sorry for what?"

"For involving you in this. But I
hope, when the time is right, you'll understand there was no
choice."

Calvin didn't say anything for a few
seconds, wondering if the mysterious voice would
continue.

It didn't.

"Okay, I have no idea who
this is. If you want something from me, you're going to have to
give me more to go on than that. Like your name and what
this
thing
is
you're involved in."

"Goodbye."

The screen flashed the text "Call
Terminated." Calvin searched for caller information but there was
nothing, not even a call-back link. Maybe the caller was harmless,
but then again maybe not.

He wrote down what the voice had said,
verbatim. Including details about the voice's sound and texture,
and he described the intonations as best he could remember them. No
detail was worthless until proven otherwise. His memory of sound
wasn't nearly as sharp as his memory of images, but it was still a
cut above most people.

The panel chirped again. He quickly
tapped Accept Call and, in his haste, forgot to deny the
visual.

"Well, that's certainly...
unprofessional attire." From the other side of the screen was the
narrow brown face of Vice Admiral Harkov in full dress uniform,
including her emerald rank insignia.

"Hey... what I wear at obscenely early
morning hours—while on leave, is my business and not the Fleet's."
He cracked a smile. He'd been chastised in the past for being too
casual or "sarcastic" in tone while talking to the top brass, but
since he wasn't part of Harkov's Fifth Fleet, he didn't care what
she thought of him. Being part of Intel Wing made it easy to feel
above the rules.

"They moved the trial from 0800 to
0600 to decrease media attention. Also it'll be in chamber three
instead of one. You're still expected to be there early and in full
dress uniform—I hope you packed one."

"So do I," he said with a
smirk.

"That is all."

Calvin saluted and the call
terminated.

So... two unwelcome calls
already and before six in the morning...
I
can already tell what kind of day this is shaping up to
be
.

He scrambled to find the pieces of his
dress uniform which were mostly wrinkled, "where's that damn hat,"
he mumbled, while hopping on one foot to get his pants on. He
dreaded the thought of wearing the whole outfit all day, including
the coat and heavy boots. Sure it looked great but it was
completely uncomfortable.

Once he was technically
presentable, deciding not to brush his hair because he was pressed
on time and had to wear a hat anyway, he dug through a box of
rations and grabbed a dehydrated breakfast to eat on the
way.
Mmmm... everyone's
favorite
.

He locked the door and headed for the
trial chamber, deciding not to worry about the mysterious
call.

Chapter 4

Calvin entered the court chamber
behind the other commanding officers who'd taken part in the
interdiction of the ISS Phoenix, including Vice Admiral
Harkov—who'd held the overall command. They took their seats
together at a designated table and were sworn in, just in case the
court wanted them to testify. It was kind of exciting to sit on one
of the raised platforms apart from the general audience.