The Phoenix Conspiracy

  ***

  On the way to the elevator, Summers ran into Calvin.

  He didn’t make eye contact for more than a second, and, when they reached each other, he veered away. Summers couldn’t guess where he was going, but, since he really had nowhere to go, she didn’t blame him for wandering aimlessly. She could understand that. He must be dealing with a lot of complex thoughts and emotions, and she understood how being cooped up in one’s quarters might feel like torture under those circumstances.

  “Calvin,” she said.

  He didn’t stop walking. Simply acknowledged her with a cold word. “Commander.” He didn’t even look at her.

  Seeing him reduced to this bothered her. “Calvin, stop.” She’d meant it as a command, but it came out as more of a plea.

  He stopped but didn’t look up. “What?” There was no edge to his voice but no softness either. More like apathy.

  “About what happened earlier …” She searched for the right words but couldn’t find them. “I hope I didn’t give you the wrong idea or anything.” She didn’t want him to think it was personal between them, nor did she want him to think they had, or ever could have, the romantic spark he seemed to have wanted. “We will keep things professional from here on out.”

  He looked at her finally but said nothing. And his eyes betrayed no emotion.

  She didn’t see seething hatred in them, but there was no compassion there either. “What I did was necessary. The ship was off mission. I had to do it.” She couldn’t help but explain.

  He didn’t move or reply.

  It made her feel even more uncomfortable. “No hard feelings?” she asked.

  “No hard feelings,” he said. His voice was quiet, like a ghost’s whisper, and carried no more emotion than a stone. No sarcasm. No bitterness. Not even resentment. Just … emptiness.

  “Well, okay then,” she said and straightened her uniform. She hadn’t expected him to be so cooperative. Perhaps acceptance had set in and he too realized he was defeated. And now that there was nothing more he could do, his eyes were distant and thoughts introspective.

  She saluted, but he didn’t salute back. Instead he turned around and continued on his way. Like a zombie. A sad, pitiful zombie.

  “I hope you get the help you need,” she whispered, watching him go. “I truly do.”