The Phoenix War (16 page)

“Raidan told me that it was divided into
Groups which are led by Group Leaders, all of whom are then
subordinate to White Rook. Raidan claims to be a Group Leader and
the ships that met with us at the rendezvous coordinates Raidan
provided are probably all of the ships in Raidan’s Group—assuming
he told me the truth. He wouldn’t tell me how many Groups there
were but it seemed more like a handful than a swarm. Other than the
Harbinger, I wouldn’t expect the Organization to offer much by way
of military strength. That said, it has tremendous value as a
network of connections and information. Raidan made it sound like
they have people everywhere, and eyes watching a lot of secret,
hidden places.”

“I have eyes too,” said Kalila. “What about
funds? Do you have any idea what kind of financial power the
Organization wields?”

“Sadly, no,” said Calvin. “It seems large
enough to be influential and they are probably paying a lot of
people for information but I’d guess they have a mere fraction of
what you have at your fingertips. Though I’m just speculating at
this point.”

Kalila nodded. “Thank you, Calvin. Truly.
Your information is most helpful. And I am grateful to count you
among my most loyal friends.” Her eyes probed him, as if
testing.

He gave her nothing, keeping his face
unreadable and his tone neutral. “As ever, it is an honor to serve,
Your Majesty.”

She nodded and dismissed him. Just as he was
about to leave, he turned back. “Queen Kalila,” he said. “There is
something else.”

“Yes? What is it?”

He was hesitant to bring it up; he knew there
was probably nothing she could do. And that she had much bigger
worries to contend with right now: her claim to the throne, the
civil war that was brewing, alien threats just beyond…

But this wasn’t a matter that Calvin could
set aside lightly, rather it was one that had been weighing on him
heavily. And, even if it mattered to no one else in the galaxy, it
meant almost everything to him. “It’s about my missing mother,” he
said. “Has there been any word? Any new leads?”

Kalila gave him a pitying look. “I’m sorry to
say that I have heard nothing more,” she said. Her voice dripped
with sympathy. Calvin nodded. He’d expected this. And felt half a
fool for asking, she was the princess—no, the
queen
—of
course she hadn’t had time or resources to spend on trying to find
his missing mother.

“Is there anything that can be done?” he
asked. Half-wishing that she would dismiss him from the Black Swan
and send him away with his own ship, or even a shuttle, to
spearhead his own investigation. It was true that the political
crisis within the Empire, and the inevitable civil war, and the
threats of alien invasion, were all of more importance to the
galaxy than one missing person, but to Calvin he was not so sure he
could get himself to keep caring more about the greater good.
Especially now that things seemed so hopelessly grim. He felt a
great deal like how he imagined a terminally-ill patient would
during the final months of his life; a part of him wanted nothing
more than to live out what few days remained with family and loved
ones. Now that he’d come face-to-face with his lowlife father
again, Calvin felt even more strongly that his mother was his only
family.

“There is nothing I can do,” said Kalila
honestly, though she seemed sorry to say it. “But I promise you
that once this is over, and I am no longer ruling the Empire from
exile, I will see to it that anything and everything that can be
done to find her is done. You have my word.”

Calvin nodded. Not quite sure what he’d
expected but feeling somehow disappointed. “Thank you,” he said,
knowing that this was the best he should have hoped for. Kalila had
no time to help him find his mother, nor did she have the resources
to spare to pursue the mystery.

It’s all right
, he told himself on the
way out. The war will end, Kalila will take the throne—somehow—and
then we’ll scour the Empire looking for Olivia Cross.
I’ll find
you, Mother. I swear it
.

Calvin departed the Black Swan’s command deck
and headed to his quarters. He wasn’t tired but he wasn’t sure
where else to go and he felt like being alone. He exited the
elevator and quickened his pace. As he rounded the corner, however,
and caught sight of his quarters, he noticed a man leaning against
the door with his arms folded, waiting. He wore a black eye-patch
over his left eye.

“Well look who it is,” said Calvin as he
approached. “At least now I know you’re still on the ship, and not
on the wrong side of an airlock.”

“Yes, I’m still here,” said Rafael. “For all
the good it’s doing…”

“What are they having you do?” asked Calvin,
remembering that Rafael didn’t seem to get summoned to the bridge
the way Calvin did—which he suspected meant Kalila didn’t fully
trust the man, not yet at least.

“I’m doing kataspace analysis with six junior
officers, I assume they’re the Black Swan’s nearest equivalent to
Green Shift lab analysts.”

“Any interesting comm traffic?” asked Calvin
as he opened the door to his quarters and invited Rafael
inside.

“Yes and no,” said Rafael. He followed Calvin
in and the door whisked shut. “Imperial frequencies are all lit up,
of course. Lots of chatter. There are thousands of panicked and
confused starships, especially in and around the major systems.
Most of what we’re picking up is of really limited use—civilians,
traders, that sort of thing, but there’s some military chatter in
there too. Of the Imperial navy that hasn’t declared for a side,
we’re trying to get a sense of which ships and fleets are likely to
remain neutral, and which might be open to persuasion after one or
two decisive victories.”

“Sounds useful,” said Calvin, trying to be
optimistic, even though he and Rafael both knew this assignment was
a brush off, a way of keeping him on a short leash.
He gave his
left eye and two fingers out of loyal service to me
, thought
Calvin as he tried not to stare at the stubs on Rafael’s left hand.
And yet it’s not enough for Kalila to trust him? Perhaps that
means she doesn’t completely trust me either
…

“It’s useful enough,” Rafael admitted. “But
if you ask me, we’re listening to the wrong chatter.”

“What do you mean?” asked Calvin.

“What Imperial ships are doing and thinking
is important,” said Rafael. “But only to a point. Mostly we have a
pretty good idea about what is going to happen in Imperial space,
it’s just a matter of placing which ships where. But out in Rotham
space… that’s where the real mystery is. What’s being spoken over
the Republic’s kataspace channels right now is what’s going to
determine our fate, not what’s being said in the Empire, I’d stake
my remaining eye on it.”

Rafael thought like a proper Intel Wing
analyst. That was something Calvin really liked about him. He tried
to look at the facts as they were, not how he wanted them to be—or
how others tried to skew them to appear, and he remained rational,
collected, and calm while doing it. No matter how grisly the
implications.

“I’m sure you’re right,” said Calvin. “But
even Intel Wing doesn’t have the necessary ciphers to break the
encryptions you’re talking about.”

“Not all of them,” admitted Rafael. “Not even
most of them. But we should be trying. We should be doing
everything we possibly can to learn anything and everything going
on in Rotham space right now. For all we know their fleets are
already assembled. Perhaps the order to invade Imperial space is
being given as we speak.”

For what it was worth, Calvin agreed with
Rafael’s main point. They needed to be more aware of what the
Rotham were doing, and that they represented a far greater threat
than anyone was giving them credit for. But he decided to play
devil’s advocate, as he often did. “They say the Rotham fleets
can’t be on the move against us, not yet,” said Calvin. “Because
they have no way to mobilize such a force without risking conflict
with the Alliance or the Confederated States.”

“Yes, I have considered that,” said Rafael.
“And it is true that, at least superficially, that does present a
problem for them. But can you honestly tell me that a single,
logistical hiccup like
that
will stop them?” He shot Calvin
a skeptical look.

Calvin wanted to say
yes
, because he
wanted to believe
yes
was the answer, but he just couldn’t
find the cockeyed optimism within himself to do so. “No,” he
admitted. “The peach is far too juicy.” The Rotham had envied the
Empire’s rich swathe of systems for decades. Now that they had the
opportunity, and the means, to make claim to it… they wouldn’t let
the fear of bumping noses with the Confederated States—which they’d
ravaged rather effectively during the Great War—stop them, and even
less so the tiny, albeit the paranoid and highly-militarized
Alliance.

Rafael nodded. “Exactly. And when have you
ever known a Rotham to give up?”

“Never,” said Calvin. It was a stereotype,
but one that illustrated an important point. The Rotham were
generally known to be tenacious, persistent, stubborn, patient—when
they needed to be, and above all cunning.

“My guess is, they’ve already figured out
their way past this little obstacle of how to maneuver their ships
here,” said Rafael. “Whether they’ve cut a deal with the Polarians
or are willing to suffer all-out-war with the Alliance for the
chance to seize The Corridor, they know exactly how they’re getting
here. And they’re coming. Whether it’s today or a year from now,
they’re coming. You can take that to the bank.”

Calvin hoped Rafael was wrong, but he knew in
his gut that he was right. Once the human fleets had sufficiently
decimated each other through civil war, the Rotham would pour over
the borders. Striking without mercy…

***

Humanity may have given up on me,
thought Samil,
but I haven’t given up on them
.

He watched the two Rotham strangers
cautiously, as best he could. Even though his eyes had become
rather accustomed to the darkness these past years, it was still
hard for human eyes to make things out in the black catacombs of
the Enclave lair, especially nearsighted human eyes. Which was one
reason why he preferred the isolation and soft white lights of the
small apartment they gave him. The tiny oasis in this
long-stretching lair of blood, darkness, and death.
Perhaps it
is only fitting that I ended up here, trapped in this
place
…

Most of the strigoi who lived here, which
Samil was given to understand was most of the strigoi in existence,
seemed to be away. It wasn’t unusual for the Enclave to send its
members in groups to perform certain missions. To subtly retrieve
captives, or steal supplies, or send and receive messages from
outside the Waeju Canton—the floating city where the Enclave’s
sanctuary was buried and hidden. But as a rule, the Enclave leaders
never sent more than a few strigoi topside or off planet at any
given time. Larger groups attracted more attention, and were harder
to control. But recently things seemed to have changed. And now
nearly all of the strigoi seemed constantly busy or away.

Once the great many of them had spent most of
their hours asleep or in meditation. Content. Perhaps even
patiently waiting.
Now though they are scrambling. Putting
wheels into motion
.
Something is happening… if only I knew
what
.

The presence of two Rotham inside the
Enclave’s secret sanctuary only added to Samil’s suspicions. The
Enclave had had dealings with the Rotham Republic and various
smaller Rotham groups for years, but their dealings had always been
done elsewhere, or over kataspace, never had the Rotham been
allowed to know the location of the Enclave sanctuary, less yet
been invited to visit. Samil could only imagine what it had taken
for two Rotham to be smuggled into Alliance space and brought onto
the floating cantons of Tybur itself. If the Alliance government
knew that Rotham agents had infiltrated its most important world…
ships would be readying for war.

The Alliance was led by a vastly paranoid
regime which had successfully educated its populace to hate and
fear all other nations, especially the Empire and the Rotham
Republic, the two major powers which sat on either side of Alliance
space.

But for all their paranoia, and xenophobia,
and caution, and control, and military obsession, the Alliance’s
many layers of defenses had failed to stop at least two Rotham
agents from reaching the delicate insides of the Waeju Canton.
Which begged the question,
how deeply and how far has the
Republic penetrated the Alliance?

“What are you doing, Savetnik?” hissed a
voice from just behind. Samil felt a jolt of adrenaline shoot
through him, not expecting that someone had snuck up behind him.
Even though it wasn’t the first time, and he was well aware that
the strigoi could move more fluidly and stealthily than any human,
he still never got used to it.

“I am resting,” said Samil calmly. His voice
betrayed none of the sudden rush of fear that had washed over
him.

“Well rest
elsewhere
,” ordered the
strigoi. “The First would not want you listening.” By the pitch of
his voice, Samil guessed it was Reshka. Reshka was only the Tenth,
still a relatively high rank among the members of the Enclave, but
there once had been a time—not too long ago—when only the First
would have dared give an order directly to the Savetnik. Now even a
Tenth seemed to have no qualms doing so. Sure, Samil had never been
a part of the Enclave’s hierarchy, he held no authority here and
wasn’t foolish enough to believe that they weren’t in command of
his life, but they’d once shown him respect. They’d even valued him
beyond simply the information he could offer them, or at least made
a pretense of it. Now though things had changed… it had all
happened rather suddenly, when the Second had murdered the First
and declared himself the First. Ever since then, nothing had been
the same.