The Reforged Trilogy: Book 1 — Crucible of Stars
Chapter 3
The Blue Phoenix
“Life is one journey in which we hope never to reach the inevitable destination.”
– Hadrian proverb
“Stop, damn it! Put that away,” Tiberius shouted. “Gripper, get down from there!”
Xia lowered a silver laser pistol fractionally and Duaal dropped gloved hands back down to his sides. Gripper was still clinging to the ceiling, eyes squeezed closed and shaking with terror. Tiberius growled under his breath. The Arboran had dug his huge claws almost knuckle-deep into the Blue Phoenix’s fibersteel bulkheads. It was going to take days to hammer those marks out.
“What’s he doing here? What’s going on?” Gripper asked, eyes still screwed tightly shut. “Is it over yet?”
The source of the crew’s alarm waited silently in the airlock. Logan Coldhand seemed utterly unfazed by the frightened, violent greeting. He stood close beside Maeve and a young Dailon woman sobbed between them.
“Princess, get that girl away from him,” Tiberius said, stabbing a calloused finger toward Coldhand.
The bounty hunter narrowed his eyes, but Maeve took the blue-skinned girl by the arm and pulled her back.
One problem at a time. And Tiberius’ first mate had brought back several of them, as usual. There was a heavy thump as Gripper dropped to the cargo bay floor and sidled nervously over to Maeve, hunkering near her for protection. In any other situation, Tiberius would have laughed to see the massive Arboran trying to hide behind a fairy a quarter his size. Gripper awkwardly patted the weeping Dailon on the shoulder.
“It’s okay. You’re safe now,” Gripper assured her, then looked at Tiberius. “Uh… she is, right? We’re not going to let him get her, are we?”
“I’m not after the girl,” said Coldhand.
“Then why–?” Gripper started to ask.
Tiberius waved him into silence. He didn’t care about the answer. Prians weren’t exactly known for their tact or grace, but Coldhand was worse than most. Prianus was the furthest planet of the Alliance, thousands of light-years from the nearest major outpost. Not much trade and no military presence made Prianus a poor, unimportant and unprotected planet. As a result, few Prians managed the journey off world and those that did were generally considered uncultured bumpkins, little better than fairies.
Coldhand wasn’t doing very much to improve that perception. Tiberius took in the younger Prian’s appearance: no shirt and blood drying on his bare chest, streaked with something black and sticky. Tiberius detected the over-sweet scent of Vanora White. He had been a cop on Prianus too long to mistake that smell.
“What the hells are you doing here?” Tiberius asked.
Coldhand arched a blond eyebrow. “You know the answer to that. I’m chasing Cavainna.”
“That’s not what I’m asking,” said Tiberius. “What are you even doing on Axis? We were a day ahead of you, at least!”
Coldhand shrugged. He watched Xia and Duaal, attentive but not at all afraid. Tiberius’ crew stood to either side of the airlock, tensed to move if the bounty hunter twitched toward his Talon-9.
Tiberius drummed his fingers on the stock of his own weapon, a stubby old-fashioned null-inertia gun. It worked more or less like an ancient gunpowder weapon, but helped along by a null-field to minimize the recoil. Guns like this used to be the height of modern efficiency, but then manufacturers like Starwind had perfected the laser. The new guns were smaller, lighter, and could fire hundreds of shots before they had to be recharged. Overnight, lasers transformed NI guns into antiques.
Old and outdated, Tiberius thought. Just like him.
What was he supposed to do now? It was Maeve’s job to keep the Blue Phoenix crew flying smoothly. Tiberius knew only bits and pieces of the fairy’s life, but Maeve had said that she held a command position before the fall of the White Kingdom. She wasn’t the smart choice for first mate that Tiberius had hoped for, however. Maeve brought Tiberius little luck and a lot of trouble.
And today was no exception. Maeve had returned with not only the bounty hunter who had been chasing her for the last year — for reasons that Tiberius still didn’t understand — but a pregnant and hysterical Dailon girl, too. So much for a quick stop on Axis and an easy getaway. Tiberius turned to Maeve.
“Damn it, dove!” he snapped. “Is someone still looking for this girl, whoever she is?”
“Kessa,” Maeve said. “And yes.”
“What happens when they find her?”
“They’ll kill you,” Coldhand said in a flat voice. “The men first.”
“Why did you bring her here?” Tiberius asked.
“I could not leave Kessa where her enemies would catch her,” Maeve answered.
Tiberius balled his hands into fists and braced them against his hips. “There are police on Axis, princess. Why didn’t you just go to them?”
“I… I told them not to,” Kessa said in a voice so shaky and quiet that Tiberius almost missed it. “The Axis police can’t help me.”
“Why the hells not?” Tiberius asked.
“The Sisterhood operates openly on Level Seven,” Coldhand said. “They’ve bought off at least some of the cops there.”
“Bribed? The police?” Tiberius repeated, eyes narrowed.
“They’re not like the ones on Prianus,” Coldhand told him. “And while a single precinct might be the only one compromised, all of their computer systems are connected. As soon as someone reports picking Kessa up, it’s just a matter of time before that information and some cenmarks trade hands.”
Tiberius shot a glare at the bounty hunter and then scowled at Maeve. He thrust his chin at the pregnant blue girl still huddled in her arms.
“Fine! Then we better get this bird up into the black,” Tiberius growled. “You brought the girl, princess, so you go strap her down. And when we’re safely off Axis, you’re going to tell me what you were thinking.”
“What about Coldhand?” Duaal asked.
“I don’t want him on my ship, but I want him chasing us even less,” Tiberius said. “He stays until I figure out what’s going on. Xia, search and disarm him.”
The Ixthian’s eyes flashed a darker red. “You want me to disarm him?”
“My Raptor–” Coldhand began, then fell silent. He clenched his jaw shut, unwilling to say more.
Tiberius regarded the other Prian without pity — bloody, shirtless and stinking of drugs. Bounty hunters were no better than the criminals they chased. Worse, sometimes.
“Duaal!” Tiberius said, turning away. “Get this bird ready to fly!”
“Already on it, captain!”
Duaal dashed up the stairs with a grin and vanished into the ship. A moment later, the Blue Phoenix rumbled, the deck vibrating as the engines charged. The cargo bay airlock hissed, cycled and slid shut. The intercom clicked on.
“She’s all warmed up and ready for you, captain,” Duaal said through the speakers. “I’ve put in for liftoff.”
Xia had stepped in behind Coldhand and was gingerly patting the human down. She took his Talon, holding it at arm’s length like a snake. When she had set it aside, Xia unbuckled and removed the entire holster, including a battle-scarred com and a pair of handcuffs.
“He’s clear,” Xia said. “I think. But this isn’t a prison ship. What are we supposed to do with him now?”
“Take him to one of the extra rooms and lock him in,” Tiberius ordered. “We’re taking off in five minutes.”
“Even disarmed, Logan Coldhand is a dangerous man,” Maeve said. She was still standing in the cargo bay with a wing held protectively around Kessa. “I doubt our ability to contain him.”
Maeve seemed almost pleased by that prospect.
“Get out of here! I said to get that girl belted down,” Tiberius told her.
He jabbed a thick finger toward the metal stairs that led into the rest of the ship. Maeve’s storm-gray eyes narrowed and she held the Dailon girl close, not moving. Xia gestured at Coldhand with her laser pistol and directed him up the steps. Maeve watched with a frown until the bounty hunter had disappeared into the Blue Phoenix before finally escorting Kessa away.
Shaking his head, Tiberius climbed the stairs and hurried up to the front of his ship. Duaal was waiting for him in the cockpit. The boy was strapped into the copilot’s chair and his hands hovered ready over the glowing control panels. Tiberius dropped himself into the pilot’s seat.
“Get us disengaged,” he said.
Duaal nodded and punched three buttons in rapid succession. A deep boom rang through the Blue Phoenix as the mooring clamps unlocked. The black- and orange-striped mechanical arm grasped Tiberius’ ship, carried it along a massive rail to a huge hatchway and set it onto a platform beneath. The doors grated open and flooded the cockpit in bright silver starlight, but the automated lift plate didn’t move them up toward the surface.
“I thought you already put in for takeoff,” Tiberius said.
“I did,” Duaal answered. “But the wait time is three hours.”
Tiberius flicked a switch and opened a channel to the control tower.
“Axis Flight Control,” he said. “This is the Blue Phoenix. We’re requesting immediate departure.”
There was a loud burst of static, and then a clipped female voice answered. “Midnight push is on, Blue Phoenix. It’s going to be a few hours yet before we can get you out of here.”
The channel hissed again and then went silent. Tiberius looked up through the massive hatch above. True to the controller’s words, the starlit sky was full of ships taking off and landing, swarming like a hive of great fibersteel bees. A sleek chromite Hyzaari skimmer flew low overhead, down under a lumbering Starwind Enterprises freighter.
Tiberius sucked a long breath between his teeth. Was whoever chased Kessa really that dangerous? Tiberius wasn’t sure, but he had no intention of sticking around to find out. He activated the channel again.
“Control, this is the Blue Phoenix,” Tiberius said. “We need immediate flight clearance.”
“Blue Phoenix, this is Axis Flight Control,” the same crisp voice replied. “Everyone needs to lift off immediately. I’m afraid that you’ll just have to wait your turn.”
“Axis Control…” Tiberius said, but the frequency went dead once more.
He pounded his fist down onto the radio panel. The lights flickered, dimmed then resumed their defiant red glow. The Phoenix was accustomed to her captain’s less-than-gentle attention. Tiberius glanced at Duaal, who was toying with the beaded hem of his coat.
“So… we’re waiting?” he asked.
“No,” said Tiberius. “We’re getting out of here.”
He punched the ignition switch and the ship’s engines ceased their sleepy rumble, roaring to life. Duaal grinned and grabbed at the arms of his chair. Tiberius slammed the throttle pedal to the floor, throwing pilot and copilot against their seats and kicking up a storm of loose blastphalt. The Blue Phoenix hurled itself off the ground, into the air and toward the waiting stars.
The runstrip lights below flickered from steady blue to angrily flashing red as the plates registered an unapproved takeoff. In the cockpit, the communications panel lit up with a riot of flickering indicators.
“Now they want to talk to us,” Tiberius said.
Hydraulics grated through the Blue Phoenix’s wings as they rotated in their sockets, turning the blasting engines away from the ground and toward the tail of the ship. The sudden transition from upward to forward thrust lurched the starship into a stomach-churning dip. Tiberius swore and yanked on the control yoke to pull the Phoenix’s nose back up. Outside, the landing field was a raucous symphony of blaring alarms and proximity warnings as they flew overhead. Klaxons screamed from the runstrip and sensor spires, all ablaze with strobing red lights.
“I sure hope everyone’s secure,” Duaal said over the intercom. “Tiberius is taking us up!”
“What? I thought that had to be you flying, Shimmer!” Gripper’s small, plaintive voice came through the speaker. “Can we go back for my guts?”
The ventilation system gave a strained groan as it struggled with the pressure change. Tiberius winced. Their hasty departure from Axis hadn’t given Gripper time to fix the air scrubbers.
“We’ve got contacts, captain,” Duaal said. “Four of them and they’re close!”
A display showed Tiberius a storm of blue and green indicators scattering in their wake, ships milling in confusion as their crews tried to recover altitude and adjust their courses. But four dots broke from the pack and raced after the Phoenix. Duaal flipped over to a different screen and it lit up with a hazy video feed from the rear of the ship. The horizon was full of swirling pewter predawn clouds as the freighter shot through Axis’ atmosphere toward the rising sun.
“Where are they?” Tiberius asked.
Before Duaal could answer, another ship punched through the clouds, followed closely by the other three and all flying together in a tight diamond formation. Each one was a sleek silver blade under Axis’ brilliant starscape, like soaring nanoswords. The ships were narrow and angular, with cockpits pressed forward into the nose to keep their pilots far away from the powerful engines.
Not just any ships, Tiberius noted with dismay. Those were police-issue fighters. He saw the guns affixed beneath their shiny, backswept wings. Pulse cannons, by the look of them. The electromagnetic bursts would do minimal damage to Tiberius’ ship, but were designed to burn out all of the electronics inside. The Axis cops had to be equipped with clamps and cables to keep the dead starships from simply tumbling back down to their planet’s silver surface. Standard police equipment and procedure, Tiberius knew. Clip and capture. He never thought he would be on the receiving end of those magclamps.
The four fighters split off into pairs and gunned their engines to swoop in alongside Tiberius. Every screen in the cockpit crackled and went black, then lit up with the same image as the lead fighter overrode the Blue Phoenix’s com frequency to display a Lyran pilot, age and gender obscured by the hose-covered mask.
“Civilian transport Blue Phoenix, power down and prepare to be escorted back to the planet’s surface,” the Lyran growled. “If you comply immediately, you will only be charged with traffic disruption. Your ship will be impounded and you will be fined.”
Tiberius lifted one hand from his control yoke long enough to clench it into a fist. He raised his thumb and last finger at the Lyran. Fly off.
Even if the other pilot wasn’t familiar with Prian obscenities, they understood enough to snarl and end the transmission.
“Impound? No one takes my bird,” Tiberius growled.
“So… what now?” Duaal asked. “We’re a bit outnumbered and we don’t have any weapons.”
Tiberius grinned tightly in his beard and toggled up the superluminal controls. Duaal laughed and switched on the ship-wide intercom again.
“Everyone hold on to something,” he said. “We’re about to go flying in fire!”
The Blue Phoenix hurtled across the Axis terminator line, from darkness into the dazzling dawn. Tiberius raced up through the swiftly thinning atmosphere, pointing the nose of his ship toward the stellar system’s brilliant yellow-white sun. The polarized viewport saved them from the worst of the sudden glare, but it was still enough to make Duaal throw an arm across his face. Sweat beaded on Tiberius’ brow and ran into his eyes, but he squinted and moved his thick old fingers over the controls. The entire ship thrummed and shook as the superluminal engines cycled up. Monitors flickered throughout the cockpit again and the Lyran growled at them over the connection.
“Blue Phoenix, disengage your engine! What are you doing? You can’t use SL in-system. Do you want to tear your ship apart? Disengage!”
“Just a short hop from the nest,” Tiberius said. “Don’t you worry about us.”
“What the hells are you doing? You’re nosed right at the sun!” shouted the Lyran pilot. “Are you trying to kill everyone on that ship, old man?”
“You’ll never take my wings,” Tiberius said. “Never.”
“Blue Phoenix–!”
Tiberius flipped up the ignition cover and punched the button. In a flash and then a shuddering lurch, the Blue Phoenix jumped. The engines hurled the starship at faster-than-light speeds for less than a second before the navigational computer errored out and pulled them back into subluminal propulsion.
The searing, burning light of Axis’ sun filled the viewports, eclipsing everything in blinding white radiance. Control panels all through the cockpit lit up with warnings — the Blue Phoenix was too close to the star. Great looping streams of plasmic hydrogen and helium coiled through the corona, so vast that entire planets could have fit inside their arcs, and burning like the flame of a celestial dragon. Tiberius brought shields slamming down over every viewport on the ship as radiation readouts leapt into the red.
But the Blue Phoenix lived up to its name. The hull glowed an angry scarlet as the sun’s heat enveloped it in a deadly tide of primal fire. Sparks raced across the metal like their own miniature stars, and then the whole ship burst into sapphire-blue flame. The shielding burned but held, even under the brutal onslaught of the stellar inferno. Tiberius smiled and patted the consoles.
“Good girl,” he said.
