The Phoenix Darkness (19 page)

“Very well,” said the officer. He hissed
another set of commands in Rotham and two of his men went inside
the cargo hold of the landed freighter. When they returned, they
had a soft globe of the planet Renora, complete with its geographic
features and dots and names representing all of the important
cities. A good seven hundred of them, at least. No doubt most or
all of the three hundred were here, so long as Ryker could get
himself to remember. They’d also brought a box of pins, and Ryker
understood what they wanted him to do. Stick in a pin in every city
that had been assigned a CERKO cell.

Probably still a test of proving my
identity
, he thought. Since, if they were using this
intelligence to go and extract the other cells, they’d have a much
easier job of getting that intelligence from Zane Martel directly,
and likely they already had. Which was how they could test his
knowledge on the subject.

“I want you to use the pins to identify the
cities,” said the officer.

“I understand.” Ryker took the first pin and
stabbed it into the capital, the most obvious one. He reached for
another pin and stabbed it into Kroit, then one into Bathe, and
continued this process. As he did, the officer had Micah, Tank, and
Vulture moved into the cargo ship. No doubt their fates would be
decided by how well Ryker handled this test which, to his surprise,
he found himself remembering the cities rather easily, so it was
likely to end well.

They’ll be prepped for immediate
launch
, he told himself, stabbing another pin into another city
on the globe.
Then, when I’m done here, I’ll join them. They’ll
take us to Zane and we’ll finally get our rewards.

He felt a sense of calmness overcome him,
helping him to finally relax, and as he continued poking the globe
with pins, only occasionally having to pause for thought, he let
his imagination wander to that grand estate he was going to buy for
himself. To go from an impoverished scoundrel boy who had to live
on scraps to survive, becoming an escaped convict and then an
accomplished mercenary commander, all to finally end up living in
the lap of luxury like some kind of pampered lord. It had been
quite a story, his life, and one he was eager to enter the second
act of.

He finished stabbing the pins, all
two-hundred and ninety-seven of them. Three remained but, after
repeatedly insisting to the officer until he was believed, the
CERKO cells had never actually covered an entire three hundred
cities, only just almost.

“Yes, very good,” said the officer,
inspecting the globe and reading off some of the cities to himself.
He handed it to one of the Teldari soldiers and gave him a command
in Rotham. Upon hearing it, the soldier seemed to handle the globe
with extra care.

“Now, tell me, what of these caches you spoke
of?” asked the officer. “Can you identify where they are? And tell
me of what supplies they contain?”

“I could tell you where they are…” said
Ryker. “But that would take a great deal more time and effort to
remember. Though I
could
do it; don’t you worry.” He was
reasonably sure this was true. But desperately hoped they didn’t
require him to remember all of them to prove who he was. “I can
easily answer your second question, though.”

“Yes? The supplies?”

“There aren’t any supplies, not anymore.
Whatever had been in there was used and looted long ago. There
won’t be a single thing in any of those caches by now,” said Ryker.
“We’ve been trapped here for a while, and mostly the caches had
uniforms and guns anyway. The little bit of food and aid supplies
were either distributed to the population under the Rotham banner
or else eaten and used a long time ago. It’s all gone for
certain.”

“I see,” said the officer. He nodded,
appearing satisfied.

“So that’s it, then?” asked Ryker.

“Yes, I don’t see any reason to keep you from
your home.”

Ryker felt a rush of relief and joy pour
through him. “And my reward?” he felt bold enough to ask.

“Yes, of course your reward. You and your
people have done us a great service,” the officer said. He took
Ryker by the shoulder and led him toward the open cargo bay of the
ship. Ryker walked with him eagerly. The Teldari followed, no doubt
under orders to act as the officer’s personal bodyguard.

“I cannot thank you enough, sir,” said Ryker.
Finally, to be home. To never eat fish again or berries or
mushrooms or to fight the elements to survive again.

As they entered the ship, the first room
appeared to be a large cargo hold, which made sense. It was only
partly lit and Ryker’s boots echoed as they clicked against the
metal flooring inside what was essentially a large metal chamber,
with no décor to speak of. There were several crates still inside
the hold, some stacked thirty feet high. As they continued inside
the ship, moving between the crates, ostensibly making their way to
the hatch where the passengers could ride in comfort, they spoke
very little.

It occurred to Ryker it was strange for the
officer to be leading him inside the innards of the ship
personally. Was he planning to come along on the journey? Perhaps
to collect
his
reward for finding the CERKO leader of the
entire operation?

As they rounded a corner, maneuvering around
yet more crates, the officer subtly distanced himself from Ryker.
He heard breathing behind him that seemed louder than before, as if
the Teldari soldiers had moved closer, now mere inches behind him.
It was odd and it set his instincts on alert. Suddenly, he felt
that something was very, very strange, and possibly very wrong.

His heart began pounding rapidly and he tried
to figure out just what had set him off, and whether or not he was
in any actual danger. And, if he was, what he could do about it. By
now, the officer had stopped following him; Ryker glanced over his
shoulder to see the man several meters behind, standing and
watching.
Is he saying goodbye to me?
Wondered Ryker.
Or
does he expect something?

They rounded another crate and then clarity
struck him like a crashing cylinder.

Spread out on the ground before him were
three human bodies, mutilated. Tank was sprawled on his belly,
skull smashed in. Vulture lay on his back in a pool of blood. There
were no visible wounds, and Ryker knew immediately he’d been
stabbed several times in the back. As for Micah, his corpse was a
few feet away. He was the only one that seemed to have managed to
put up some kind of resistance. His concealed pistol lay by his
side, along with several spent casings, but there was no Rotham
corpse nor any sign of Rotham blood. Of all the bodies, his was the
most revolting to look upon. He’d been hacked to death and was
barely recognizable.

Betrayed! We’re betrayed! Zane has betrayed
us!

Ryker dove forward, avoiding any chance of
being stabbed in the back, and then rolled along the ground until
he got to Micah’s pistol, which he picked up and aimed at the
nearest Teldari soldier’s face and fired.

“You treacherous bastards,” he said, as the
Teldari soldier dropped to his knees, blood squirting from his eye.
Ryker managed to change targets and fire another shot before the
Teldari rifles lit up, scorching him with hot flashes of energy. As
he swiftly immolated in excruciating pain, he tried to form one
final sentence. But couldn’t quite make out the words. “
Zane,
you fu
—”

Chapter 7

“Commander, the
Duchess
has dropped
out of alteredspace,” said Nimoux, eyes keen on the scanners.

“Match course and pursue,” ordered Summers,
twisting the command chair to the right to look at the helm.

“Aye, sir,” said Sarah, adding, a few seconds
later, “dropping out of alteredspace in three, two,
one
…”

The view filled with stars. Summers looked at
the 3D display. It showed nothing but the
Nighthawk,
and
what looked to be another ship far ahead. There was no local star
nor any other celestial object to be seen.

“Where are we?” asked Summers.

“We appear to be in open space,” said Nimoux.
“Approximately one-point-two-five kliks distance from a neutron
star, Rana Kentaurus.”

“Are we in any danger from that neutron star
with our shields down?” asked Summers. She wanted to maintain the
stealth system awhile longer until she knew exactly what
the
Duchess
was up to, but she wasn’t about to do that if it meant
exposing
the Nighthawk
to danger.

“Not at present, Commander,” said Nimoux,
after performing a quick analysis. “We’re too far away to be
affected by the star’s potent magnetic field and, similarly, the
pulsar radiation is too dispersed to strike the vessel directly
from this distance.”

“Thank you. Keep an eye on it, Captain,” said
Summers.

“Yes, sir.”

“Lt. Winters, fire up our standard thrusters
and commence pursuit of the
Duchess
, I don’t want to fall
behind.”

“Aye, sir.”

“And, whatever you do, don’t bring us any
closer to that neutron star, not without shields.”

“Understood, Commander.”

“Captain Nimoux, what have we got on our
scopes?” asked Summers.

“Nothing I can see,” he replied. “Initial
scan reveals us and the
Duchess
. It is moving ahead in a
straightforward trajectory, speed of 90,000 MCs per second.”

“Accelerate to 125,000 MCs per second,” said
Summers, “until we’re
right
behind the
Duchess
, then
match speed.”

“Still…he’s got to be here for something,”
said Nimoux. “Even if we can’t see what. Request permission to
perform a deep scan, Commander.”

“We hardly have time for that,” replied
Summers.

“I meant a deep scan over a very specific
region of space, namely along the
Duchess
’s targeted
trajectory. If he’s here for something, I’m willing to bet he’s
moving right for it, especially if he doesn’t see us.”

“Permission granted,” said Summers, realizing
this was a good idea and would take far less time than a general
deep scan. If they were lucky, they might even be able to see just
what had caught the
Duchess’s
interest. Although, to Summers
money, she guessed the
Duchess
was here to make a
rendezvous, probably to transfer its cargo of isotome weapons to a
Rahajiim warship likely due any minute. “But keep a sharp eye on
our broad range scopes,” she added. “If another ship is on its way,
I’d like to know it before it gets here.”

“Aye, Commander.”

Just then, she heard the sound of the
elevator opening from behind. Summers didn’t have to turn around to
know who’d arrived. By the sound of the footsteps, there were three
people…
again
.

“What have we got?” asked Pellew, once he’d
reached her side. He took the XO’s chair since Captain Nimoux was
currently at the Ops station. Summers considered protesting, but
decided it’d be a waste of breath. Although Summers had command of
the crew and the ship, she did not have direct command over Pellew,
or his soldiers, and so there was little point in trying to argue
with him to obey her wishes.

“The
Duchess
is dead ahead,” said
Summers, pointing to the 3D display. “It’s moving, as if on
approach, but we can’t see anything else out there.”

“Could there be a stealthed vessel here
besides us?” asked Pellew.

Summers raised her eyebrows.
It is
possible?
she thought, feeling surprised she hadn’t reached
that conclusion herself.
If the Rahajiim are here already, and
they're stealthed…perhaps they are in one of those Hunter ships the
Nighthawk’s former prisoners warned Pellew and me about
.

“Opinion, Mister Pellew,” said Summers.
“Based on a ship of that size, do you believe your men can
reasonably board and capture her without considerable loss of life
or risk?”

Pellew gave the
Duchess
a good long
look. It was a lot easier to see on the 3D display, now that the
Nighthawk
had gained on her. “Shouldn’t be a problem,” he
said. “If we align the hatch on deck four to their main hatch, we
can blow our way in and take them deck for deck. I doubt that ship
has many soldiers on it; probably none. They won’t be able to stop
us.”

“Excellent. In that case—”

“I have it,” interrupted Captain Nimoux. He
turned his head, looking sorry about the interruption, but got to
the point quickly. “There is a small object, too small to be a
ship, about the size of an escape pod. The
Duchess
is fast
homing in on it.”

“What is it; can we tell?” asked Summers.
“Display it, if possible.”

“I can’t tell, but I suspect it’s an isotome
missile,” said Nimoux.

“My suspicion as well,” said Summers. With a
blink, a 3D model of the image appeared on the display; Nimoux
adjusted the magnification so they could get a good look at it. It
did indeed appear to be a small payload-carrying missile.

“
The Duchess
has slowed to dock with
the object,” announced Nimoux.

“If we clear for action and arm weapons, do
we have time to target and destroy it before they can bring it
aboard?” asked Summers.

“Negative,” said Mr. Roy from the defense
post. “We don’t have enough time.” Summers wondered momentarily if
she should have dismissed Mr. Roy beforehand and simply managed the
defense post herself, no doubt she was more practiced with it,
having trained as a defense officer before entering command.

“He’s right,” Nimoux added, unknowingly
coming to Mr. Roy’s rescue. “The
Duchess
has already managed
to dock with the object. They’re bringing it aboard.”

Summers felt a rush of adrenaline. She
couldn’t allow them to have that weapon, or any weapons. And if the
entire inventory of the galaxy’s isotome weapons were indeed aboard
that starship, maybe she should take advantage of the opportunity
before her and eliminate it, and them, for once and all.