The Phoenix Rising (32 page)

“
Because...” Samil looked
up, into Calvin’s eyes. “I saved your life.”

“
You?”

“
Titus was a friend of mine.
I was very sorry to hear about his death.”

“
I don’t understand.
Explain.”

“
My friend Titus was a
member of CERKO. He heard that they’d been hired to kill you on
Aleator. He didn’t know why, and didn’t know how the buyer knew you
would be there, but their contract was clear. For funding and
equipment they would go to Aleator, find you, and take you out.
Titus noted the similarities between your features and mine—you
clearly got your good looks from my DNA—and asked me if you were my
son. I told him that you were. I then asked him to sabotage the
operation, so you would be safe. I even offered to pay him to do
it. Whatever it cost. Are you listening to me, Calvin?
Any
amount.”

Calvin’s head was spinning. “Why would you
do that?”

“
Because you’re my son,”
said Samil. “And someday, when you have children, you’ll understand
that feeling. That need to defend the life you brought into this
galaxy. You
don’t
have children, do you?”

“
No.”

“
Damn. I guess I’ll have to
wait for grandchildren—”

“
What did you pay him?”
asked Pellew, seeming intrigued by the story. Perhaps tales of
another soldier of fortune struck a chord with him.

“
Nothing,” said Samil.
“Titus owed me a debt and insisted that he would do this thing for
me—putting his life in jeopardy—as repayment. I agreed.”

“
The Organization I work for
uncovered the same thing,” said Tristan. “That Calvin was going to
be murdered on Aleator. I was there to make sure he was safe too,
your friend’s sacrifice was totally unnecessary and ineffective,
I’m sorry to tell you.”

“
I wouldn’t say that—” said
Calvin. “Whoever he was, and why ever he did it, Titus Antony saved
my life. Only minutes before you did, Tristan.”

“
So you see, I
do
care about you,” said
Samil. “And always have. I hope you’re not too ashamed of your
father...”

Calvin was completely thrown askew by this
revelation, and knew he had to re-think several things, but this
one deed, and sharing the intelligence he had freely, was not
enough to acquit Samil in Calvin’s mind. He was still a terrible
father. And still someone Calvin resented. If he ever did have
children—which he doubted—he would make sure Samil never knew about
them.

“
I think it’s time for us to
go,” said Calvin. “We have a stockpile of weapons to eradicate and
a fleet to outrun.”

“
I understand,” said Samil.
“I hope I see you again soon. Safe and in one piece.”

“
Goodbye.”

Chapter 19

The annoyingly small crawlspace didn’t feel
nearly so confining on the way out as it had on the way in. Calvin
was just glad to be getting out of there, away from the Enclave,
away from Tybur, and—most of all—away from Samil. It would probably
be a long time before he could emotionally process what he’d just
learned about his father, but for now he decided to store it away
and try not to think about it. They had a clear objective that
needed one-hundred percent of his attention. Get to Remus Nine.
Find the isotome weapons. And destroy them. Until then, nothing
else mattered. Least of all Calvin’s conflicted feelings regarding
the man whose only real contribution to Calvin’s life was DNA.

“
Almost out,” said Tristan.
“The ladder is just ahead.”

Calvin led the way, followed closely by
Tristan. Pellew and the other soldiers lagged a little behind. “I
need to ask you something, Tristan.”

“
What?”

“
You’ve obviously been to
the Enclave before—and you knew my father was there—what business
did you have with the Enclave in the past?”

“
I already told you. I
follow the one great commandment.”

“
That doesn’t actually tell
me anything. Why didn’t you at least warn me that my father would
be with the Enclave?”

“
Why ruin the surprise?”
asked Tristan.

They reached the ladder and Calvin allowed
Tristan to lead the way to the top, since he was the only one who
knew how to open the trapdoor. Calvin followed closely behind.

“
The lycans on Echo Three,”
continued Calvin, “your people, they believe my father is dead, and
you let them believe that. Why?”

“
They are happier believing
it. What good would it do to tell them otherwise?”

“
I don’t know,” said Calvin.
“But if you only tell people what you think they should know, isn’t
that an indictment against your credibility.”

Tristan laughed in response and opened the
trapdoor, allowing some white light to spill in. Calvin was glad to
see it. Even if it was too bright.

“
If you’re willing to
deceive your own people,” said Calvin, “how do I know I can believe
anything you say?”

“
I told you once that my
word is my bond,” said Tristan. “I gave you my word that I would be
honest with you. That should be enough.” He reached the top and
disappeared.

“
Doesn’t that seem a little
inconsistent to you? If your word is your bond, how can you justify
deceiving your own people?” Calvin reached the top and climbed out
into the storage room. Fortunately, it seemed that no one else was
there. He looked Tristan in the eyes, making it clear that he
wanted an answer.

“
I would never deceive my
own people,” said Tristan. “Omitting truth and lying are not the
same thing. I have never lied to my people, and I never
would.”

“
I don’t think it really
matters,” said Pellew as he came through the hatch. “Let’s just get
the hell out of here.”

“
No argument from me,” said
Calvin.

After the last soldier reached the top and
climbed out, Tristan re-sealed the hidden trap door and they walked
as a group toward the exit. But, before they got there, a voice
spoke.

“
Calvin Cross?”

They all stopped dead in their tracks.
Calvin didn’t recognize the speaker, or see him. He drew his
firearm and the others did the same.

“
Who’s asking?” Calvin’s
eyes surveyed the crates and other stored items, behind which any
number of people could be hidden.

Several men emerged from their hiding
places, forming a tight circle around Calvin’s group. There were
eight in total, and all of them—except for one—brandished weapons.
A mixture of submachine-guns and pistols.

“
What do you want?” asked
Calvin. He held his gun steady, aimed at one of the newcomers, who
pointed his submachine-gun right back.

“
We’re here because we have
something to discuss with you,” said a brown-haired man, perhaps
their leader. He, like the others, wore common Tybur civilian
clothing and seemed to have no armor or tactical gear other than
weapons and ammo.

“
I’m listening.” Calvin
looked at each of the men, trying to determine his group’s chance
of winning a violent engagement—and predicting how severe their
casualties would be. If nothing else, at least one of them had to
survive and get word back to the Nighthawk regarding Remus Nine and
the isotome weapons.

“
Monte Blair, he’s a friend
of yours, isn’t he? We’d like to have a word with him.”

Monte? Why would they—? And then it made
sense. These men were part of the criminal outfit known as the
Khans. The rapidly-expanding organized band of thugs that aspired
to one day challenge the Roscos for dominance in the galactic
racketeering market. Unfortunately, the Khans had none of the honor
the Roscos prided themselves in, and were willing to do anything—no
matter how heinous—for the right price.

“
So where is he?” asked the
Khan leader.

“
I’m sorry to say that Monte
is no longer with us. He was killed in battle a little while
ago.”

“
I’m sorry to hear that,”
said the Khan leader. “But no matter. That only means his debt
falls to you.”

“
His debt?”

“
That’s right, Monte owed us
a great deal of money. Now what he owes us, you owe us.”

“
Why?”

“
Because no one reneges on a
debt to the Khans. Even if the debt covers four or five
generations, it doesn’t matter. The debt gets paid. With interest.
Or else... bad things happen. Really bad things.”

“
We can take these guys,”
whispered Pellew. “Just say the word.”

“
How much is the
debt?”

“
Five-hundred thousand
q.”

“
I don’t have that kind of
money.”

“
In that case, you just
earned a lifetime of indebted servitude. Since there are six of
you... I’d say that that makes us even. Now why don’t you lower
your weapons, while we still let you.”

Curiously, the one stranger who was unarmed
and dressed more formally than the others, flashed a look of
disapproval at the Khan leader. The leader seemed to notice this
and he shot a gaze of steel back at the unarmed man. As if daring
him to challenge the decision.

Calvin wasn’t one who
delighted in bloodshed, and though he’d personally killed some
Rotham as recently as the battle in Abia, somehow it was harder to
kill fellow humans. It felt more real. More severe. But he wasn’t
about to let that feeling keep him from acting when he had to.
“
Now
,” he said,
noting the moment of confusion in the Khans’ faces as the unarmed
man and the apparent leader seemed to stare each other
down.

Calvin’s group opened fire, dropping three
of the Khans immediately. The others managed to take cover. As the
Khans returned fire, Calvin and his group crouched down and
scrambled for cover of their own. Now it was six against five, with
the numbers in their favor, but Calvin knew they had to end this
fight fast and get away. Before Tybur security showed up. Otherwise
they’d never make it back to the Nighthawk.

Tristan seemed to fathom the urgency. He
bent down, his muscles rippling, and leapt over the enemies’ cover
and into the line of fire. He began ripping into them with deadly
claws and teeth. All fury unleashed.

Calvin’s group moved out of cover and
converged on the enemy, taking advantage of their surprise. Pellew
and his men opened fire to cover their swift advance.

A fierce hiss sounded on
Calvin’s right. He turned, a little too slowly, to see the unarmed
man bearing down on him. Seemingly darting through the air with the
speed and grace of a hawk. His teeth were bared—thin, sharp, and
deadly—and a feral lust for violence shined in his eyes. Calvin
knew the look. Remembered it all too well...
The unarmed man was a strigoi!

He struck Calvin hard, throwing him down on
the ground with a powerful crunch. Calvin ignored the pain that
shot across his back; adrenaline fueled his body, pumping through
every vein, throwing him in a state of intense fear, and hate. He
was there again. On the Trinity. Only this time he didn’t hesitate.
He opened fire mercilessly. Letting the strigoi have it with all he
had.

His target hissed and snarled, stung by the
bullets that tore into him, but he kept going. Once again bearing
down on Calvin. As if the hollow points striking him were mere
inconveniences. Calvin’s clip ran dry and the chamber stuck back.
He was a goner.

Out of sheer instinct he
closed his eyes and covered his face with his arms. Waiting for the
fatal strike to fall.
Christine, here I
come...

There was a horrible snarl a few feet away
and the sound of bones cracking. Calvin opened his eyes to see
Tristan ensnared with the strigoi, both powerful Remorii grappling
fiercely. Tristan was the larger and stronger one, but even his
awesome dexterity struggled to keep pace with the lightning-fast
strigoi whose fluid movements were almost too quick to follow.

Calvin climbed to his feet, taking care not
to get into the cross-fire of what was left of the on-going
firefight. By now most of the Khans had been slain.

Tristan and the strigoi ripped into each
other, tearing at flesh and biting and snarling. It was an intense,
vicious bloodbath of hate and raw carnage that lasted only a few
seconds—but seemed much longer. Calvin wanted to intervene, to do
something to help Tristan—who had once again saved his life. He
replaced the magazine in his firearm but realized that even with a
fresh clip he had no shots worth taking; Tristan and the strigoi
were too tightly interlocked as they clawed, bit, and choked each
other. He couldn’t hit the strigoi without risking hitting
Tristan—not that bullets had proved useful anyway.

Eventually Tristan got the better of his
strigoi opponent; he bent him backwards and with a powerful blow
forced the other’s head back hard. His neck snapped with an audible
pop, killing him instantly. The fight was over, but Tristan
continued tearing into the strigoi’s corpse. An animalistic rage
had been unleashed inside him. His eyes glowed brighter and more
intensely red than Calvin had ever seen, and he wondered if Tristan
was even conscious of his actions.

“
Tristan,” Calvin called out
to him.