The Phoenix War (41 page)

He began the hike. Finding he had more
strength left than he would’ve thought possible. His heart kept
pounding, sending the blood where it was needed, and he found the
mental and physical strength to soldier on. Reminding himself just
what was at stake, and how it was so much more than his freedom and
survival. Whether or not he got off this planet alive, and managed
to send warning to the Empire about their abducted and replaced
leaders, might determine if billions of people lived or died. He
hoped not, he wanted to believe the situation was not so dire as
that, or that Calvin Cross was already handling it sufficiently,
but he knew he couldn’t depend on that. And his worry helped propel
his footsteps, ever forward and upward. Pausing only when he
absolutely needed to.

Though I tread the path of sorrow, I shall
not wander. Nor shall I fear. Because the light of life dwells
forever in here
, he pointed instinctively to his heart.
And
comfort is always near. The road ahead is twists and turns. And
fires and winds that may give me burns. But I shall not bend. Nor
shall I break. To give in would be a great mistake. I shall
conquer. I shall win. I shall find the strength within.

It was a foolish, nonsense children’s rhyme
that he found himself instinctively reciting. One he’d been taught
in primary school, along with the other children, to help them
overcome scraped knees and bee stings, not literally conquer
mountains with death at their heels and the fate of the Empire in
the balance.

I must be delirious
, he thought.
If
I am reciting children’s rhymes
. And yet, oddly enough, it
helped. And he kept going. Kept fighting for the peak of the
mountain, which always seemed just a little bit farther.

By midday, he was terribly thirsty. His last
taste of water had been at a brook he’d chanced upon at the base of
the mountain before beginning his ascent. Now, several intense
hours later, his throat was parched. Sweat seemed to glue his
clothing to him and he was filthy and hungry besides.
But at
least I’m not cold anymore
.

A few more hours passed and he reached it. It
wasn’t the very topmost peak of the mountain, that seemed
inaccessible from this side unless he wanted to climb a sheer face
of rock and cliff with his bare hands. But he reached the highest
point that he could get to. Just beyond was a narrow col leading to
more mountains and cliffs farther away.

I hope this is good enough
, he
thought, setting down the pedestrian transmitter and prepping it
for kataspace transmission. There was no guarantee that it still
worked, but he hoped desperately that it would. And believed he’d
gained enough altitude, and gotten far enough away from the
basecamp to minimize interference. In fact even the clouds had
parted and opened up to clear blue sky. Everything seemed to be on
his side.
Now, if only
…

The transmitter activated and went live with
its kataspace connection. Nimoux instinctively keyed the digits to
connect directly to the Desert Eagle.
Once I tell my crew I’m
here, they’ll race to my rescue
. He thought of his loyal
officers. Jorgensen, Danza, Parkhurst and the others… and then he
froze.

I’m so stupid
, he thought, annoyed
with himself. Frustrated that his senses had become so dulled. He
cancelled the transmission and deleted the code, fortunately before
the transmitter had sent anything. So no one on the Desert Eagle
would be alerted to any distress call.

If all the prisoners on this world are
here because they’ve been replaced with some look-alike, then
surely I’ve been replaced too. Which means another Nimoux, a fake
one, is on the bridge of my ship. He’ll never allow the ship to
come to my rescue. If anything he’d warn his friends that such a
transmission was made. Perhaps have his allies, or his employers,
or whoever the hell these people are, send additional ships to
block the system. Or reinforcements down to the prison. Maybe
they’ll use it as a reason to give the final order and eliminate
the prisoners..
.

No, he couldn’t trust sending his distress
call to the Desert Eagle. He had to assume it was compromised. But
if he couldn’t trust them, then who?

Instinctively he entered the command code to
the Nighthawk, which he’d memorized while studying the ship during
his pursuit. Back then he’d been under orders to capture or destroy
the vessel at any cost. Now he was about to ask them for help.
I
hope you’re not mad at me, Calvin
, he thought, as he typed in
the command code and activated the distress signal. Unfortunately,
try as he might, he couldn’t figure out how to make the transmitter
send any voice messages or even text. All he could make it do,
perhaps all it was still capable of doing after the long, hard
march through such terrain, was send a generalized distress
message. And the only tag he could add to the transmission was a
location stamp. He keyed in
Gamma Persei Three
and then
marked the priority as highest.

Now all he could do was wait. Wait and keep
moving. He needed to stay ahead of his pursuers and find better
cover to hide in. And better shelter from the cold, brutal night
that would set in in just a few more hours.

I hope you’re out there, Calvin
,
thought Nimoux.
I hope you come
. He picked up the
transmitter with a heave and moved on.

It was White Shift and Sarah was on the
bridge, keeping an eye on the Nighthawk’s navigation and
communication systems.

As important as the job was, it was often
boring. And now was one of those times. They’d left Aleator, after
dropping off Calvin and some others, including the aliens they had
aboard, and now they were sitting in open space. Waiting. Lying
within arm’s reach of several systems and outposts that their
intelligence told them were often frequented by Zander, the man
they believed to have the isotome weapons. It was an important
mission, Sarah knew, but she hated sitting around. It felt like
they were doing nothing. Hoping, probably against the odds, for
some sign to magically appear. For something in this grim,
depressing galaxy—that seemed to be getting grimmer all the time—to
finally go their way. Because, considering that Zander could be
anywhere by now, and there was no guarantee that he’d even make
port again, or that he’d go to some spot where they had eyes, it
seemed to Sarah that they were hoping for a miracle.

And, despite the coolheaded,
grace-under-pressure, optimistic face she tried to show her friends
and colleagues, more often than anyone knew, Sarah found herself
struggling. Found herself sad and wanting. Found herself confused
and lonely.

She wished Calvin had taken her with him on
his top-secret mission. But he hadn’t. Instead he’d left her behind
on the Nighthawk with
him
. She looked at the back of Shen’s
head, he was seated at ops and looked busy doing some kind of
adjustments to the ship’s systems.

What is the matter with me?
She
wondered for what seemed like the millionth time.
Why do I even
care at all
? Shen wasn’t good enough for her. Sarah knew that.
She could do better, she always had. It didn’t matter that Shen had
rejected her. In fact it was for the best, Sarah had someone else
far better waiting for her.
Somewhere
. And as for Shen… he
was damaged goods. He’d always been too shy and too lacking of
confidence, but in a lovable side-kick sort of way. Now though… now
that he’d gotten back from Remus Nine, and barely escaped lethal
infection, now he was different. He was changed. He was darker.

And, despite everything, Sarah couldn’t help
but feel reeled in by Shen’s somber expressions, his newfound
confidence, the grim, hardened, more manly way that he looked at
her. The hint of fire in his eyes. The way he walked now, no longer
anxious, or timid, no longer with shoulders slumped, now he walked
where he wanted when he wanted. He
did
whatever he wanted.
He didn’t care. Didn’t worry. And somehow… for all his issues and
problems and difficulties, Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about him.
She couldn’t resist the urge inside her to rescue him, to comfort
him, to fix him. Make him happy with life again.

Yep it’s official. There is something
definitely wrong with me
, she thought. Forcing herself to look
away from Shen and try not to think about him. It was difficult,
since the ops position was at the front of the bridge, so if she
looked forward at all she saw him. So she turned her chair left, to
the center of the bridge, and her eyes found Summers.

“Are you all right, Lieutenant?” Summers
asked. Despite her all-business, emotionless, professional way of
doing things, the part of her that was human—whether that was five
percent or fifty—was getting better at reading the crew’s
emotions.

Sarah sat up and rubbed the slightest hint of
a tear from her eye. “Yes, of course,” she said coolly. “Why do you
ask, Commander?”

Summers looked at her for a moment. Then
said, “no reason.”

Sarah turned her attention back to her
controls and tried to busy herself with monitoring the kataspace
frequencies and checking on the helm. But, since nothing seemed to
be happening, and there was nothing to do, it was only a matter of
time before her thoughts drifted back to Shen. As did her eyes.

She stared at the back of his head, watching
him work, and she thought of the moment they’d had in his quarters.
What she’d said, what he’d said, how she’d opened herself up—for
god knows what reason—and he’d rejected her. And how very different
it had been from not too long ago when he’d cooked her a homemade
meal and the situation had been reversed; back when he’d taken a
chance on her and she’d turned him down.

It had been so easy then
, she thought.
Things had made so much more sense. They’d been clearer. Now… I
don’t know why but suddenly everything seems more complicated. And
feels so different
…

She let out a quiet sigh and shook her head.
Silently berating herself for the feelings she felt. Knowing that
it was stupid that she had them at all. As the silence droned
on—Summers preferred to limit the chatter on the bridge—and
everyone managed his or her post, watching,
waiting
, Sarah
found herself increasingly agitated. She hated the silence. She
hated the awkwardness. Most of all she hated how she felt so
confused and conflicted. She hated that she had feelings.

Why can’t I be more like her
? She
thought, looking at Summers. Whose hard face and steel eyes seemed
unmovable. Despite the commander’s physical beauty, and the fact
that every heterosexual man that crossed paths with her seemed
caught in her web, Sarah had never considered Summers very womanly.
She lacked warmth, she lacked passion, she lacked feeling. Sarah
had always thought less of her for that, even pitied her. Now
though, now it didn’t seem so bad.

I could be stoic
, thought Sarah.
Knowing immediately that it wasn’t true.

Oh damn it all, I am who I am
. She
decided then and there that she needed to break the silence. That
she needed to tell Shen exactly what she thought. That she wanted
her old friend back. And she wanted the silence and the awkwardness
to end.
Yes, he might not take it well. And yes, Summers will
snap at me for bringing up unprofessional conversation on the
bridge. But to hell with it all. I have to say it, I do
. She
knew that if she didn’t, if she just sat there, allowing this to go
on, the awkward silence would drive her completely mental. At least
if she opened up, and got her feelings out on the table, she’d get
some measure of peace, regardless of how they reacted.

“I—” she started to say, but, before she
could continue, her comm panel lit up. A high-priority alert
flashed. “Sir,” she said, switching gears immediately. Summers spun
her chair to face Sarah, a look of concern showed on her face.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”

“I have a high-priority alert coming in over
kataspace,” said Sarah. “It’s a distress call.”

Summers stood up in a snap and walked to the
helm. “Do you have any further details, Lieutenant? Such as its
source.”

“Yes,” she said. “It’s a generalized distress
call, there is no attached message, but the priority is set to
maximum. And the message’s code indicates it’s originating from
Gamma Persei Three.”

“The Gamma Persei system?” asked Shen, he’d
spun his chair to face the helm too. “That’s about nine hours away
at deepest jump.”

“And get this,” said Sarah, keeping her
attention on Summers, who seemed to be resisting the temptation to
hover over Sarah’s shoulder and examine the display screens for
herself. “The message was sent exclusively to the Nighthawk.”

“What?” demanded Summers, voicing the
surprise they all felt. “How is that possible? They’d have to know
the Nighthawk’s transponder code exactly.”

“You’re right,” said Sarah, feeling a rush of
excitement. “And whoever it was must have, because they did just
that. It’s a critical emergency message, and it’s being trusted
only to us.”

“Calvin…” Summers mumbled, barely even a
whisper.

“Unlikely,” said Shen, somehow hearing her.
“Calvin and his team left Aleator in the direction of the DMZ.
Gamma Persei is the other way.”

Summers folded her arms, seeming momentarily
unsure what she should do. Sarah decided to help her out. “We need
to jump there now. By the time we get there, whoever it is… they
could be dead.”

“It could be a trap,” said Summers.

“What?” Sarah looked at her with genuine
surprise.
Is she paranoid
?

“Consider it,” said Summers. “Who knows the
Nighthawk’s transponder code?”