Chapter 19

 

Raidan hesitated before signing the order. He didn’t enjoy hurting people. But he’d do it if he had to, if that’s what it took to save the Empire. He’d do anything. But there was a delicacy to his operation and it required a lot of consideration.

“She’ll be expecting you to sign it,” said Mira Pellew over the screen. Raidan was in the privacy of his office on the Harbinger and was communicating with Mira over kataspace. The paper before him, with instructions on where and when to deploy the weapon, was meant to be deployed against someone else.

“I know,” said Raidan. “But White Rook trusts me to make the right decision, and I intend to.”

“Right decision?” asked Mira. “This is war. Don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft.”

“It is war,” Raidan agreed. “But it’s also complicated. And the target we’ve selected… they haven’t been involved in this war. They’ve taken no part in it.”

“Collateral damages,” said Mira. “We are only taking the game to the same level as the enemy. They’ve already proven they’re willing to go for the jugular—just look at Renora. If we aren’t willing to do the same, we may as well throw in the towel. And start learning to speak Rotham.”

“I know,” said Raidan. He’d worked the logic through his head a thousand times. “I just wonder… if we’re willing to do this, then what separates us from them? What is the difference between us after that? Is there one?”

“The difference is this time it’s not our people getting hurt, it’s theirs. They have made Imperial citizens bleed and suffer; it’s time to repay the favor.”

Raidan nodded. It was true. This was the ugliest, dirtiest sort of war and the side that wasn’t willing to do what it took to win, wouldn’t. He wrote an amendment to the order, allowing for the weapon to be moved into position and prepped for deployment but insisting it not be fired without his go-ahead. Then he signed the paper.

“You made the right choice,” said Mira. The screen winked off. Raidan leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. It was a dangerous gambit. By inciting this attack, if all went well, the human element of the Phoenix Ring would be blamed. Certainly there was enough evidence for MXR to be implicated. And that corporation, more than any other, seemed to be the heart of Phoenix Ring operations. The danger was, should the Imperial government be implicated, and not the Phoenix Ring, then that risked war with the Republic. And war was that last thing the Empire needed. In truth it was already at war, on the inside, it didn’t need enemies abroad to catch the death stink and help it along. The Rotham and even some of the Polarians were like vultures, circling patiently, waiting for their prey to die. Coveting the Empire’s vast territory. They had to be stopped. Something had to be done. Letting things continue on course was unacceptable, Renora was fast becoming a disaster and the King was only barely clinging to his crown. Replicants had spread far and wide and the Organization’s resources were shrinking, many of its key assets now killed or vanished into thin air. The Empire’s days were numbered and Raidan knew he had to act. Someone had to. And he was one of the only people in a position to do something.

If all went well, the Rotham element of the Phoenix Ring would blame the human members of the Phoenix Ring—and not the Empire—for the attack. The seeds of distrust and discord would be sown. Ending their cooperation and weakening their influence. Perhaps creating a war between members of the Phoenix Ring. At the very least, funds flowing out of the Empire and to god-knows-where in the Republic would be cut off. Maybe the breaking of ties between the Rotham conspirators and the humans would be enough to weaken the element that was steering the Republic toward a course of inevitable war with the Empire.

Raidan silenced his thoughts and tapped the intercom. He summoned Tristan to pick up his handwritten order. And wondered if, when the time came, he’d be able to do what was necessary.

 

***

 

Still no one had come forward with information about Rafael or either of the other two former Nighthawk officers that’d been seized. It made him anxious and concerned, but also all the more determined to get to the bottom of it. And expose the Phoenix Ring.

Calvin did as much of the investigative grunt work as he could stomach, but the Intel Wing archives, as well as the public network, contained so much data that it would have taken him many-many lifetimes to comb through it properly. So he instructed his teams on how to focus their investigation, and they undertook the daunting task.

He identified corporations that had even the most remote—but still plausible—link to the Phoenix Ring and had all information on them pulled. He put key corporate officers under surveillance, had computer hard drives seized and searched, and used the executive authority of his new office to tap into communication lines.

He hated that someone, even himself, had the power to invade the privacy of others so thoroughly and unilaterally, but with the fate of the Empire on the line Calvin intended to do everything he possibly could to root out the lead conspirators and arrest them.

Most angles of the investigation were slow to produce leads, or did not produce leads at all. Many of the people they brought in for interviews proved to be very tightlipped. Calvin’s best lead, he believed, was to crack the nut that was MXR. That corporation was clearly linked to the Phoenix Ring. He was sure of it. After all, they’d been behind the intended purchase of the Beotan Cargo—the replicants. Unfortunately Zane Martel and his high ranking corporate officers ran a tight ship and no one in their confidence was willing to talk.

Calvin also investigated the individual members of the Assembly, with a special interest in Caerwyn Martel. He hadn’t found anything on him yet, but he had a suspicion that the Martel family was involved in the conspiracy, and not just because they owned MXR. It was also because Caerwyn was one of two likely challengers to King Akira should the king lose his throne.

An especially difficult angle to investigate, but an important one, was that of tracking the movements of the Empire’s military leadership. The very top levels of the Fleet and Intel Wing were scattered throughout Imperial space. And of the ones who were headquartered on Capital World, many had jumped system since Calvin was put in as Executor of the Empire. He noted their names, ordered investigations into them and their recent behavior, but he didn’t quite have the authority or the means to drag them back to Capital World for interviews. Of those who did remain, none had revealed anything useful.

It was an exhausting and frustrating enterprise, but slowly and surely Calvin’s teams were putting the picture together. A clue here and a clue there, bits and pieces of information that hadn’t been fully whitewashed or buried. Not enough to go after the big fish, like Zane Martel, not yet, but there were plenty of minnows. Calvin’s teams identified a list of several individuals, mostly low-level politicians and mid-level corporate officers, who were likely to be associated with the Phoenix Ring. Probably as seconds and thirds, each representing one of the top members. If true, it was an enormous breakthrough. Calvin dared to be hopeful.

He put out an order for each of the names on the list to be brought in for questioning. After what’d happened to Michael Evans, Calvin made sure that this time every person he’d ordered brought in was to be granted protective custody immediately. Hopefully it would be enough. Especially since Calvin now knew he had a leak in his organization—someone had shared that he’d wanted Michael Evans brought in—and that meant this list of names would probably be leaked too. He was aware that he was probably painting targets on these peoples’ heads, but he hoped his people would find them first. Before the Phoenix Ring could erase them.

 

***

 

“What is this?” asked Zane. As pleasant as Celeste’s face was to look at over the secure comm screen, Zane was not happy to see her. She’d interrupted his bath and now he stood wet in one of his private chambers wearing only a lavender robe.

“I forwarded you a list of names, did it go through?” she asked. There was a surprising amount of alarm in her voice and it made Zane wonder what had gone wrong now.

He touched the computer panel and discovered that yes, Celeste’s list of people had arrived. He scanned over a few of the names and recognized them immediately. “Some of these are our people,” he said. Many of the names on the list were inferior members of the Phoenix Ring, including Zane’s own third.

“The Executor has ordered these people be brought in for questioning.”

Zane felt his heart quicken. There were enough people here that, under aggressive interrogation, at least one would crack. And that might give the Executor all the cause he needed to swoop in and put a stop to everything, possibly even before the Ascension.

“Does he have any of them in custody?” asked Zane.

“Not yet. His organization is making security preparations to avoid another Michael Evans type incident before he brings them into custody. There are also several on that list whose locations haven’t yet been uncovered by the Executor’s people.”

That was good. At least it gave them some time. “Tell the others—” said Zane. To his surprise Celeste interrupted him.

“I’m sorry but you’ll have to tell them yourself. I’m jumping planet. I’ll be in touch again when Ascension comes.”

The screen winked off. Zane almost couldn’t believe it. Had she hung up on him? And interrupted him? He’d have to discipline her later, but for now there were far more important matters.

The Executor of the Empire had just proven himself too meddling to be left alone. The boy wasn’t just a thorn in Zane’s side, now he was a legitimate threat. So Zane decided to deal with it. He reached out to the organizations that might be persuaded to act against the Executor—though this were merely a precautionary fallback if Blackmoth wouldn’t take the job. This list included CERKO, which Zane contacted with some hesitation. There were several professional, well-operated cells within CERKO but most were too disorganized and unprofessional for his liking. One of the less competent groups had already botched one targeted hit on Calvin earlier on Aleator. Zane now wished he’d paid more money and hired Ryker and his people for that operation. At the time, though, Calvin was a name on a piece of paper and not someone Zane expected to become a key player. He’d ordered the hit almost as an afterthought, believing that if the officer pursuing Raidan happened to be brutally murdered and news of that reached the public, it would damage Raidan’s reputation and put additional pressure on his organization.

If Zane had known then that Raidan would recruit Calvin and that Calvin would become the biggest threat to Ascension just as the hour was nigh, Zane would have made certain to eliminate him. Hopefully it wasn’t already too late. He moved significant liquid capital to see that the matter was taken care of.

Then he made the truly important call.

 

***

 

One of the two false masters contacted him.

“I need him dealt with. Immediately,” the false master said.

Blackmoth closed his eyes and considered it. He could see the Executor in his mind, a man Blackmoth had never met or previously interacted with, but his connection to the targeted soul made no difference. All that mattered was the will of the One True God. So he opened himself up and asked if Calvin Cross’s time had come.

The One True God answered him.

“So will you do this?” asked the false master.

“No,” said Blackmoth calmly. “It is not the will of God. His time will come, and come soon, God has told me, but the hour of his soul’s liberation is not yet upon us. There is more he must do before he is thrown into the void.” It was the will of the One True God, Blackmoth knew, and as the sword of the One True God, he would obey.

The false master offered him riches and lands and titles and women, but all was empty. Such treasures meant nothing. They added no life to a man’s body. And they added no worth to a man’s soul. They were distractions. Red herrings. Temptations even. But Blackmoth would not be tempted.

“Anything you want,” said the false master.

“There is nothing that I want that you can give me,” he said simply. He would take money from his false masters from time to time—he needed to survive to do the will of the One True God—but it held no worth to him otherwise. He existed for only one purpose—to be an angel of death. Nothing more. And as he watched the great consumerist society surrounding him, countless people obsessed with the pursuit of material gain, and lust, and avarice, he pitied them. Pitied them and yet cared nothing for them. They were lost, strayed souls that would be thrown into the void soon enough. Blackmoth knew the time of their deaths was coming soon. For the One True God willed it. And no material treasures could appease the just and merciful wrath of the One True God.

“I understand,” said the false master, finally accepting that Blackmoth could not be persuaded to send Calvin Cross to his maker. At least not while the One True God forbade it. “In that case I have another request for you.”

The false master gave Blackmoth more names. He conferred with the One True God and found that this request was in harmony with the will of the Divine.

“I shall do as God demands.”