Prologue
Three Years Previously
The “Sunfire” – Confederation Navy Heavy Cruiser, Beta Hydri System
The distant star of Beta Hydri was barely visible. Only an occasional flicker of light penetrated the depths of space this far out on the very edge of the star system. It was just another pinprick of light, lost among the other millions of stars that illuminated this spiral arm of the galaxy. Deep in interstellar space the solar wind, that exotic mixture of charged particles emitted by the star, was pitifully weak. Apart from a few particles, the sole remnants of the mighty dust cloud that millennia before had formed this System, nothing stirred.
Suddenly, as if a breath of wind had picked up, those specks of dust went spinning away, as the high-energy particles of a forming wormhole began to leak into space from that higher dimension where distance and time had little meaning. Where once had been quiet and solitude, a swirling maelstrom of energy and matter now started to form, tiny at first but growing rapidly, until it was a gaping void, large enough for the massive starship to easily slip through.
With its large forward particle cannons, heavy rail guns, pulse cannons, missile batteries and heavy armour, nobody would mistake the warship for anything else. The Sunfire was the newest and most powerful heavy cruiser in the short history of the Confederation Navy. It only existed because the hull had already been completed before the collapse of the once-great Empire and scrapping the whole project would be more expensive than that of finishing the ship.
*****
The door to the bridge slid quietly open once the ship had completed the transition into normal space. Dressed in the immaculate white uniform of the Imperial Navy, Commander Jonathan Radec observed the scene before him with distant grey eyes, watching the officers diligently going about their duties and monitoring the consoles with quiet professionalism. It had been many years since he had last stepped foot onto the bridge of such a warship. It once again brought home the stark differences between him and the crew. For in sharp contrast to Jon in the white of the Imperial Navy, the crew was dressed in the dark black and red uniforms of the new Confederation Navy.
The Imperial Navy had been disbanded some years earlier, the first official act of the newly formed Confederation Senate, and why would they not have? The mighty Empire that had lasted over five generations had been brought to its knees by the actions of one rogue Imperial Fleet officer. The newly formed Senate had no intention of letting history repeat itself, so had ordered the fleet disbanded and in its place the new Confederation Navy was formed.
Looking at these young men and women attending to their stations, the first generation of Confederation officers, Jon had his own doubts. However, what the crew lacked in experience they made up for in spirit. Having worked with them for almost six months, having talked with them, eaten with them and fought with them, Jon did not doubt their courage.
“Attention on the bridge,” one of the junior officers called out, having finally noticed his presence. The rest of the crew immediately turned to face him, straightening their posture, awaiting his orders. Jon’s position within the chain-of-command on the ship was vague. Not being part of the Confederation Navy he held no rank and was officially attached to the Sunfire only as an observer. Nevertheless, for the young men and women on board, the vast majority of whom had only recently graduated from the naval academy, they looked upon the Commander with something akin to awe and worship.
The Commander’s reputation preceded him. The youngest Commander ever in the history of the Imperial Navy and one of only a handful to have been awarded the prestigious Aurelius Star Cluster. Not to mention his previous role as Commander of the Praetorian Guard, personal aide to the Emperor and his only daughter, Sofia Aurelius. Jon tore himself away from that trail of thought, as the pain of recently parting with Sofia was still deeply upsetting.
“At ease,” Jon responded, observing as the crew once again turned back to their consoles. From his position Jon could easily observe they had not relaxed completely, knowing the gaze of the infamous Commander Radec still lingered on them.
“What’s our position?” Jon directed the question at Captain Stephen Ferguson, the Commanding Officer of the Sunfire.
“Following your suggestion we’ve exited faster-than-light on the outskirts of the Beta Hydri System, just within the Heliopause. All sensors are on passive. We are not detecting any energy signatures coming from within the System. However, if there is anybody out there it’s unlikely that they will have detected our arrival.” The Captain concluded his brief summary by offering his chair to the Commander.
“You’re the Captain now, Steve, that’s your place on the bridge,” Jon replied, shaking his head. “I am just here to observe and occasionally advise.”
“So what do you advise that we do now?” Ferguson asked with a smirk, once again taking his seat.
The Sunfire and crew had spent the past six months in this sector trying to track down a group of separatist rebels. Not the usual work for a Confederation Navy heavy cruiser and most certainly not requiring the presence of an ex-Imperial Navy Commander. However, rumours emanating from this sector were alarming enough for Navy Intelligence to requisition the ship and crew to the area. Admiral Sterling, one of the few Imperial Navy Admirals who had survived the Senate purge, had personally requested Jon’s presence on the ship. Navy Intelligence had tentatively identified that this particular group of rebels had been busy devising a new weapon system, one perhaps dangerous enough to threaten entire star systems. Tracking down the source of these rumours for the past several months had finally brought the ship and her crew to this remote, isolated System.
Staring straight ahead, observing the screen, Jon knew the view was only an illusion. The Sunfire was a state-of-the-art warship and the bridge was located many hundreds of meters within the heart of the ship. However what they saw was reassuring and reminded the crew of the vastness of space they had covered.
“If we take the Sunfire deeper into the system it will most likely alert the rebels, assuming that our intelligence is correct and they have made this System the base of their operations,” Jon reasoned aloud. “The last thing we want to do is to scare them off, otherwise we will need to start the search from scratch. Hence I suggest that I take the Eternal Light and scout ahead. The ‘Light is far smaller and would therefore be harder to detect. Even if the shuttle is detected it’s no warship and I could bluff my way out of any situation, another privateer trying to avoid paying duty.”
“It could be risky Commander,” Ferguson refuted. “If the rebels don’t buy it then we will be too far away to offer any assistance.”
“It’s worth the risk. While I have enjoyed your hospitality, I don’t think any of us would be looking forward to a further six months tour of duty in this sector hunting them down again.”
Pausing before replying, Ferguson cast his gaze around at the young officers on the bridge. While they were all far too professional to comment, he knew none of them wanted to extend this tour of duty any longer than necessary. Many of them had families back on Eden Prime they were eager to get back to. Therefore, with a strong sense of foreboding, Ferguson nodded, agreeing with the plan. “We will continue on this heading on low power, it’s unlikely the rebels have sensors that could detect such low energy emissions, so we will be a little closer if you require our assistance.”
Neither man needed to mention what type of help the ship could offer if called upon. The Sunfire was the finest vessel within the Confederation Fleet and could comfortably face off against any other craft, with the exception of the Imperial Star—mighty flagship of the old Imperial Navy—but nothing had been seen or heard of that ship in over two years.
“Very well,” Jon replied. “Wait for my signal.” With that he pivoted and left the bridge, the doors once again quietly sliding closed behind him.
The tension on the bridge dropped noticeably following the departure of the Commander, the combined release of breath being almost audible.
“I have just one word, Yum-eee,” said Janet Ryan, the ship’s Executive Officer, her eyes still lingering on the now closed doors through which the Commander had just departed. “Captain, how about putting in a request to the Admiral that the Confederation Navy revert back to the white Imperial Navy uniform. The Commander is a walking sin, wrapped in that uniform. What I would give to unwrap it!”
“Down XO,” Ferguson replied, his lips upturned in a smile. “Anyway I hear that the Commander, uniform and every other part of him, is totally owned by Princess Aurelius.”
“Damn, what I would give to swap places with her,” Janet murmured, licking her lips. “The Eternal Light has just departed the flight deck,” she added, turning her attention back to the job at hand.
“Thanks XO, please notify me if we receive any further communications from the shuttle. Also let’s keep a close eye on the passive sensors. I want to know immediately if we detect anything, or anyone.” Ferguson’s eyes tracked the departing shuttle on the view screen, until it had completely disappeared from sight.
The ship’s Tactical Officer interrupted Ferguson’s thoughts. “Captain, what do you think the Commander is going to do if he discovers the rebels?”
“Considering the Commander’s reputation?”
“Yes sir, some of the rumours that I have heard—”
Ferguson nodded his head in understanding. He had heard several of them himself. “Intelligence seems fairly certain that the rebels have established their base of operations in this System. Hence, if they are here, it seems fairly likely the Commander will find them, and then—” Ferguson thought for a moment, grinning, before continuing, “The Commander is an honourable officer and hence I expect he would at least ask for their surrender first.”
“And if they refuse?” The Tactical Officer inquired.
“Then I expect the Commander will probably board the rebel facility, kill most of their troops, forcing the remaining crew to surrender. He will restrain these, locate the weapon, neutralise it, then return to the Sunfire to inform us that the mission is complete and we can all go home,” he replied with a straight face.
Sniggers could be heard from the other officers throughout the bridge who were listening into the conversation. Many nodded their head in agreement. It was exactly the sort of thing that their enigmatic Commander would do.
*****
It was some hours later and the Sunfire was still progressing slowly deeper into the System when the Sensors Operator called out, “Energy spike detected!”
Ferguson hurried over to his side, peering over his shoulder at the sensor readouts. “What have you got?” He asked, able to make neither head nor tail of the readings.
“Energy spike Captain, I would stake my life that it was not there a minute ago. Approximately one-hundred and twenty kilometres ahead, a few degrees to starboard.”
“What do you think it is?”
“Best guess?” Ferguson nodded. “I think it’s another ship doing the same as us, Captain. Either running cold, passive sensors only, or running under minimal power. This energy surge looks like a reactor spike caused by a main engine start.”
“Can you track them?”
“Sure Captain, now that their power levels are above our detection threshold.”
“XO, sound general quarters. Bring our weapon systems on-line.”
“What happens if it’s a civilian ship?” The XO inquired reasonably, while the noise of the general quarters alert resounded throughout the ship.
“This far out? Running silent? What would they be doing, sightseeing? Best-case scenario is the same as the Commander’s cover story, they are either privateers trying to avoid customs, or pirates. However, this could be the ship Navy Intelligence alerted us to. Either way I’ll offer them a chance to surrender, just in case. Hail the ship.”
“Channel open, Captain,” the XO confirmed.
“Unidentified ship, this is Captain Ferguson of the Confederation Navy heavy cruiser Sunfire. I am ordering you to power-down your ship’s engines and prepare for boarding and inspection. Please respond.”
After a few moments, the XO shook her head. No response.
“Captain I am detecting a main engine start. The ship is starting to pull away from us and, based on the energy signature, I am estimating a destroyer or light cruiser class vessel,” the Operations Officer called out across the bridge.
“Flank speed,” Ferguson ordered the helm. “Bring us within weapons range of that ship. Communications, can you contact the Commander?”
“Negative sir, the shuttle seems to be on the dark side of one of the inner planets, we cannot bounce a signal to him.”
“Very well,” Ferguson muttered determinedly. “We do this ourselves. Tactical, let me know when we are within range of our weapons. Communications, let’s try one final warning.”
At the nod from the young woman at communications, Ferguson tried one last time. “Unidentified ship, this is your last warning. Power down your engines and prepare to be boarded, otherwise I will authorise lethal force.”
However, before he could get any acknowledgement, another urgent call rang out across the bridge from the Operations Officer. “Launch! I have multiple missile launches from the enemy contact. Tracking. Time to impact thirty seconds.”
“Tactical?” Ferguson called out.
“I’ve got them, no worries. Weapons are on-line, tracking, tracking, weapons free, weapons free.” The Tactical Officer called out, passing ultimate fire control over to the ship’s computer.
The point defence guns, which covered the bow of the powerful cruiser, orientated themselves towards the direction of the incoming missiles. As soon as the missiles came within range, the guns opened fire. Targeting the nearest missile first, then the next and the next. Within the space of a couple of seconds the incoming missiles were reduced to fragments as they were all torn asunder by the crushing gunfire.
“Captain,” the Operations Officer called out, after the bridge officers released a sigh of relief that their training and equipment had paid-off and that the incoming missiles were no longer a threat. “I am detecting another energy spike, this one is massive. The enemy ship is powering up their FTL engines to escape.”
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Ferguson disagreed, furious the unknown ship had fired upon them. “XO are we in weapons range yet?”
“Bow particle beam cannons are just within maximum firing range,” the XO confirmed.
“Then target their engines. Do not destroy the ship, but I don’t want them escaping. We need that ship in one piece and the crew to interrogate.”
“Firing now,” the XO confirmed, as one of the massive particle beam cannons on the very front of the ship orientated towards the escaping vessel. Now within range, a beam of light, brighter than any sun, shot out from the Sunfire, striking the stern of the target. While too distant to actually penetrate the hull, the beam vaporised the power transfer conduits and engines. The engines immediately shut down and the Sunfire started to close rapidly on the now drifting ship.
“Direct hit,” the XO called out. ”Target is no longer accelerating and their reactor is powering down, looks like we immobilised them.”
“Good job people.” The Captain congratulated his crew. “Let’s get a boarding party ready. I want them heavily armed just in case.”
However, Ferguson’s next words were cut off as the ship pitched hard to port, the crew desperately holding onto anything within reach to avoid being thrown clear across the bridge.
“Report!” Ferguson shouted.
“Weapons fire from the enemy contact, sir. Looks like a couple of dorsal mounted rail-guns. Minor damage reported, mostly to our bow point defence guns. Looks like the enemy guns cannot penetrate our thick bow armour.”
“Take out those guns,” Ferguson hissed, furious with himself. He had got so caught up in the excitement of disabling the enemy vessel, he had not considered they might still be a threat to his ship and crew.
“Direct hit. Enemy gun emplacements have been destroyed Captain.”
“Very well, bring us in closer and prepare a boarding party.”
Those were the last words that Captain Stephen Ferguson, Commanding Officer of the Sunfire ever uttered.
History has demonstrated, over and over again that many of the greatest human tragedies were not the result of a single fatal mistake. Instead such disasters were the result of several small, unfortunate events happening in sequence.
The terrible fate that befell the Sunfire and her crew was no different. The first mistake in the tragic sequence of events that followed was the failure of the ship’s crew to reduce speed after disabling the enemy vessel. This resulted in the ship being far too close to the enemy vessel. In such ship-to-ship combat, distance is essential to give crews time to react to events. Hence the crew of the Sunfire had no such time to act when the enemy weapon was finally deployed.
The sole missile was ejected from the aft missile battery of the enemy ship and immediately went to full speed. Launched from such a short distance, it could hardly miss. The ship’s sensors detected the launch almost instantaneously and, with the Sunfire’s point defence systems still on automatic, the computer immediately targeted the missile with the bow guns. However, many of these were still inactive, damaged by the earlier gunfire from the enemy ship, the next step in the unfortunate sequence of events that had already doomed the ship and crew.
The few active defence guns within range targeted the enemy missile, fired, but missed, the closest shell passing within inches of the missile and its deadly payload. Had this been any ordinary missile the remaining guns would have had time to destroy it, or the heavy bow armour of the massive warship would have mostly contained the blast. Unfortunately this was no ordinary missile, and it detonated a few hundred meters from the bow of the Sunfire.
Upon detonation the thermonuclear reaction immediately started and began emitting high-energy neutrons on an exponential scale. The theory of neutron bombs had been well understood since their invention in the mid-twentieth century. Unlike normal fission weapons, the explosive energy from a neutron bomb was miniscule. Instead its deadly effect was the result of the enormous radiation it released—deadly to any living organism. Such were the horrific effects of these weapons that every nuclear non-proliferation treaty signed ever since had banned them.
While the warship’s systems had been shielded against the radiation and electromagnetic pulse of a nuclear explosion, none of this was enough to save the crew of the Sunfire, as within seconds the entire crew had been exposed to radiation levels a thousand times greater than any lethal dose. Those lucky enough to be nearer the hull and exposed to greater levels died within a heartbeat. Those further away and somewhat shielded by the ship’s hull took several agonising seconds to die.
In a final act of perhaps divine justice, as the Tactical Officer collapsed against his console, with his last dying breath he triggered the Sunfire’s own missile batteries. Dozens of missiles sped from their launch tubes, streaking towards the immobilised enemy warship. While these were only armed with conventional high explosive warheads, they were more than adequate for the task at hand. Impacting along the length of the enemy ship they tore through the armoured hull. Compartments explosively decompressed until eventually the missiles penetrated the very heart of the enemy vessel. As the shielding around the fusion reactor was breached, the core detonated, vaporising the enemy warship, leaving behind only the lifeless Sunfire to continue her final journey alone.
A ghost ship.
*****
Even tens of thousands of kilometres away, the sensors on the Eternal Light easily picked up the sudden burst of high-energy neutrons. Immediately Jon was almost blinded by the sudden flash of light. It was only the ship’s quick action to reduce the contrast of the cockpit windows that saved Jon from permanent blindness. The massive flare of light was followed quickly by a second, smaller burst. He had seen enough similar blasts in his life to recognise a reactor core breach. With a frantic hammering on the controls Jon opened a communication channel to the Sunfire but there was no response, only static. Reversing course, ignoring subtlety, Jon increased power to the engines to maximum. Even then the two-hour wait until he arrived at the last known position of the Sunfire was one of the longest of his life. However, by then he was too late.
Even twenty kilometres distant from the ship, sensors sounded a radiation warning. It was far too dangerous to proceed any closer. While Jon repeatedly tried to hail the warship without success, the Light’s sensors reported minimal external damage to the ship, except for the deadly levels of radiation.
It would take many years before the ship would be safe to approach.
Closing his eyes in despair, Jon let his head fall back gently against the pilot’s seat. The soft seat of the shuttle, moulded to the contours of his body, seemed to console him against the terrible loss.
After a few moments of silent grief for the loss of so many people, so many good friends, Jon focused on the controls in front of him and established a connection between the Sunfire’s main computer and the one on the ‘Light. With a few more deft touches of the controls, Jon brought online the main self-destruct routine for the warship. Ordinarily such actions would have been completely impossible, as these programmes were highly restricted, only accessible from within the Sunfire and only by the Captain or senior bridge officers. However, while the Sunfire was a Confederation Navy warship, her heart, and main computer, belonged to the now disbanded Imperial Navy.
Having once been the Praetorian Commander, the right arm of the Emperor, Jon had command codes to all Imperial ships, access far beyond what many would believe even existed. Fingers hovering over the execute command, Jon took a final moment to admire the beautiful ship as she glided through the depths of space, starlight sparkling across her bow. Like himself, the ship was a throwback to an earlier age, a relic, a survivor from a bygone era.
Angrily Jon cancelled the programme and instead started rapidly transmitting new orders to the ship’s flight computers. With a short burn of the main engines, the massive ship fell into a stable orbit on the dark side of one of the smaller moons, orbiting the second planet of the System. Slowly, one-by-one, the lights of the great ship extinguished, until eventually it was just another patch of darkness floating around the small moon—the Sunfire now the final tomb and resting place of the brave crew.
Once Jon could no longer see the ship, he powered up the FTL engine for the shuttle, turning the prow to point towards a far more distant star—home. With a final flash of light the Eternal Light disappeared into FTL, leaving no trace of the terrible events that had taken place.
Chapter One
Present Day (Three years later)
Planet Tartarus, Sigma Draconis System
On a startled cry his eyes flew open, his breath coming in short, fast gasps, as if a huge weight was bearing down upon his chest. His memory of the nightmare was already receding, but he could still remember being unable to draw breath, the cold and dark closing in upon him, suffocating.
He stayed still for a long time. Lying in the same bed he always woke up in, staring up at the same bare, featureless ceiling, waiting for his breathing to even out and his heart to stop beating wildly in his chest. Anyway, why the rush to get out of bed? His day would follow exactly the same routine it had every day for the past five years, ever since he had been interned in this apartment.
He had spent the first few weeks inspecting every inch of the apartment, until he could picture it from memory. The small, sparsely decorated bedroom, with the soft, comfortable mattress, white linen sheets and thick shag pile carpets. The bedroom led into the spacious combined living-dining room area, where he spent most of his waking hours. With a comfortable sofa, coffee table and small dining table that could easily fit two—but he rarely invited guests over. One wall of the room was taken up by a massive projection displaying soothing outside scenes. From the trickling noise emanating from underneath the bedroom door, he guessed it was the small stream, winding its way through the luscious green meadow this morning.
He snorted in amusement at the joke.
He knew for a fact the outside landscape was no pleasant green meadow, but something more akin to Dante’s Inferno. For Tartarus, as a recently formed planet, relatively speaking at a little over one million years old, was still highly active, with numerous volcanoes spread along the edges of the planet’s many tectonic plates. The lethal cocktail of gasses emitted, including carbon dioxide, sulphur dioxide, methane and carbon monoxide, weren’t conducive to supporting wonderful green meadows and woods. The planet could barely sustain life, and anyone not using a respirator definitely would not survive for long outside.
Finally, deciding he had been lying in bed long enough, he quickly rolled out, getting to his feet. Suddenly small bright lights were floating in his vision, impairing his sight, and his head started to spin. Reaching out, he leaned heavily against the bedside table, until his sight was restored and he once again felt stable enough to stand on his own two feet. These dizzy spells were becoming more and more frequent, and he knew it was not just as a result of his advancing years.
When he had been first brought to this planet, many years earlier, he had been frequently tortured because his captors believed he knew deep, dark, cosmic secrets, including startling truths about the nature of the galaxy and the meaning of life. He laughed out loud to himself. All the torturers had managed to succeed in doing was bringing him to within an inch of his life. Finally they had given up, obviously viewing his life as more valuable than any secrets they might have extracted. Then his captors had thrown him into this apartment. But a jail was still a jail, no matter how comfortable it appeared to be. The door was securely locked and he knew for a fact there were two armed guards stationed outside twenty-four hours a day, or however long a complete rotation was on this this god–forsaken world.
Now he was awake he indulged in a long, hot shower, in which he lingered. After all it was not his hot water and with a little luck one of his captors was currently experiencing a short, sharp, shockingly cold shower. Later he towelled himself off, staring at his face, reflected in one of the few mirrors in the apartment. The mirror was not glass; he had checked. During one of his bouts of depression he had tried using a chair to smash the glass, only for it to resolutely refuse to break. He assumed it was some sort of highly polished alloy, firmly affixed to the wall.
He was sad to note only a few strands of dark hair now remained, the rest having long since turned grey, whether from old age, the enforced imprisonment or his torture, he had no idea. Similarly his green eyes seemed dim, and the once-smooth face now showed signs of aging, along with a few days’ worth of stubble.
Glancing down at his hands, he muttered to himself, “Let’s give it a try this morning. After all, you need to look your best, if any ladies care to dine here tonight.” Although he knew they never would.
Carefully picking up the razor, holding it lightly, he started to run it across his cheek, slowly trimming his whiskers. However, after only a few strokes, his hand began to shake. A few more attempts and the hand suddenly started to spasm, the razor dropping into the small sink. “Maybe tomorrow then,” he sighed, turning his back on the small on-suite bathroom to find some clothes.
Sometime later, dressed and looking a little more presentable, he sat on the comfortable sofa, gazing at the sole datapad resting on the low coffee table in front of him.
“So what is it this morning, reading or writing?” He asked the empty room. Unfortunately the room was of little assistance in answering this question. “Writing it is then,” he said jovially, picking up the datapad and staring at the few sentences he had managed to write over the intervening years.
The Imperium or more commonly referred to as “The Empire” was founded circa 2312AD (Old Earth calendar). Arguably the most powerful and enduring geo-political structure since the Roman Empire’s repressive form of government, almost two thousand years earlier.
After staring at the words for almost half an hour without any new inspiration, he threw the datapad back onto the table in frustration. He had first thought of the idea of writing a book on the history of the Empire a few years into his incarceration. After all, he felt, he was more than eminently qualified and had ample time on his hands, but he just could not seem to get past the first few sentences.
Reading also held little interest to him. His captors limited the library accessible on the device to classic literature, nothing more current. He had been engrossed in Meditations for quite some time, written by his namesake almost three thousand years earlier, but for some reason Julius Caesar also seemed to hold some sort of morbid fascination. He was about to reach for the datapad once again to work on his book when the door suddenly opened, surprising him.
Is it breakfast time already? How time flies.
Even more surprising was who followed behind his breakfast. A tall officer, dressed in a dark uniform with silver epaulets. He looked the complete opposite of an officer in the Imperial Navy. It was not his uniform that drew the prisoner’s gaze, it was his face. This was the man who was responsible for his capture, his on-going incarceration and torture. It was for these reasons, and more, that he detested him with an almost fanatical passion. However, at the same time, there was also a longing for the sight of this man, his antagonist, as over the past five years this was the only man who had ever spoken a single word to him. The only person to give him a hint, even an inkling of events transpiring beyond these four walls.
“You don’t mind if I join you for breakfast this fine morning?” he asked, casually slipping into one of the two chairs set around the small table. It was obviously a rhetorical question.
Taking a seat opposite him, the prisoner’s eyes scanned the table, which was adorned with the usual fresh breads, fine fruits, jams, tea and coffee. They certainly didn’t want their most prized possession starving to death. Reaching forward for the coffee, he attempted to pour himself a cup, but once again his fine muscle control failed him and more coffee spilt across the table than went into his cup.
“Let me,” the immaculate officer insisted. Smoothly taking the pot of coffee and filling his cup for him. The captive could only nod his head in thanks, while still looking at the food covering the table. However, one could only gaze at a table for so long, and finally he lifted his head to stare at his antagonist.
With dark-brown, almost black eyes, his dark mop of hair and immaculately groomed, short, pointed beard, Alexander Sejanus’ rise within the officer corps of the Imperial Navy had been nothing short of meteoric. The only son of a rich industrialist’s family, they had spent their money lavishly on him, sponsoring his admission into the Imperial Academy and then paying for his even more rapid promotions. At the same time using their wealth and connections to cover up for some of his more depraved excesses.
It was at this point the officer had first caught the older man’s eye, just as he started to give some serious thought to his own succession. At the time he had been drawn to the young officer’s obvious strengths; his keen intellect, ambition and wealthy background. Overlooking or perhaps just ignoring his more negative traits, he elevated him to the elite Praetorian Guard, and Sejanus had exceeded his wildest expectations, but at a cost. For the rumours and depravities surrounding the officer refused to disappear and, indeed, seemed to become more excessive over time. Until a point was reached when they could no longer be ignored and Sejanus had to be stripped of his rank and position, dishonourably discharged from the Imperial Navy.
However, it was none of these things that drew his gaze to the other man. Instead it was the long, sheathed Valerian sword resting at his side, the ornate hilt just poking above the low table. As always he averted his eyes, refusing to dwell upon the mistakes of the past, instead focussing on the warm bread roll he was slathering with one of the jams he was particularly fond of.
However, very little went unnoticed by Sejanus and he laughed. “Having second thoughts, old man?”
“That I didn’t follow advice or my better judgement and have you hung, drawn and quartered when I had the opportunity?” The prisoner responded mildly. “Absolutely.”
The only response from Sejanus was a tightening of his jaw, sign of his frustration at once again not being able to get a reaction out of the older man. The only time he had ever managed to make even a dent in the thick veneer of the other man’s expression was when he had gleefully informed him of the destruction of the Praetorian Guard, the elite military unit who protected the Emperor and his immediate family. Then, only for a brief instant, had the prisoner’s expression wavered and he had the pleasure of seeing the shock on his face. However, even that short triumph was ruined when the crafty old fox had soon realised not all had died, but one had escaped.
Sejanus had to suppress the incandescent rage he felt toward that incompetent fool, Harkov. Always strutting around his bridge like a goddamn peacock—the pompous idiot. Always making proclamations and declaring himself to be the next Emperor. Harkov had only one task to carry out, only one. To ensure the complete and utter destruction of the Praetorian Guard. And he could not even manage that. He had the full might of an Imperial Navy Taskforce to ensure their annihilation, but even that had not been enough. With his incompetency the officer had allowed the Praetorian Commander and Princess Aurelius to escape. Well, at least Harkov was no longer a thorn in his side, hence his presence at breakfast that morning.
“I brought some news I thought you might be interested in hearing,” Sejanus mentioned aloud, as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Knowing the old man must be desperate for news, any news. He knew it was a petty thing, but still it gave him a small ripple of pleasure, to see the eager look on his captive’s face.
“Oh? Pray tell. Any luck attempting to complete the job you left half-finished and finally kill Commander Radec?” This statement was delivered with a wizened cackle.
Once again Sejanus had to fight to keep the anger from his face. He constantly wondered how this old man, permanently sealed in this room, with absolutely no contact with the outside world, seemed to so accurately identify his continued frustration. He had spent years trying to track down the location of Radec, who seemed to have vanished as quickly as he had appeared. Only resurfacing some eighteen months prior on a remote station named Terra Nova, the head of Vanguard Shipping, a small logistics company operating far out on the Rim. Sejanus had spent most of the past year fruitlessly trying to put an operative in place who could eliminate the Commander. All to no avail. The station was impenetrable, the crew equally so. Sejanus idly wondered what it was about the man that seemed to instil such devotion in the people surrounding him, so none could be brought or bribed.
The only opportunity that had arisen was when Radec made a rare trip off-station to a civilian trading post called Transcendence. That operation had been an unmitigated disaster when the Commander and an unknown civilian had killed several of the assault team and managed to escape.
Sejanus refused to rise to the old man’s gloating, although it mattered little. His silence was enough to answer the question. The prisoner just gave a short bark of laughter, going back to spreading the jam across his warm roll.
“I thought you might be interested in news regarding Admiral Harkov?” Sejanus was pleased to note that the knife the man was using to spread the jam stilled.
“How’s the old boy doing?” Came back the disinterested response.
“Not well. He’s dead.”
“That’s unfortunate,” the old man replied, placing the knife carefully back down on the table and finally looking Sejanus in the eye once again. “I was hoping to have a chance to talk to him one final time. When I could look him in the eye, before ordering his execution. I hope he died painfully?”
“I can only assume so,” came back the response. “I understand that somebody rammed a nuclear warhead into his flagship.”
“Really?” The old man trailed off. For the first time in a very long time the vigour and fire was present in his gaze once again. “I wonder who possibly could have done such a thing and, of course, who would have known the necessary codes to activate such a horrific weapon? Tut, tut, so many safeguards in place to stop just that sort of thing occurring.” Once again the old man cackled, with just a hint of the madness lurking in his mind.
Sejanus ground his teeth together in annoyance. The news coming out from the Zeta-Aquilae System was fragmented and confused at best. His spies inside the Confederation Fleet had been able to confirm the destruction of the Imperial Star and the death of Harkov, but little beyond this. It would seem the Commander or somebody on his staff had used the weapon, but where it had come from or how it was activated was purely speculation. Sejanus had hoped their prisoner would offer some insights, but sadly conceded the secrets locked up in the old man’s head would forever remain beyond his reach.
“I just thought that you would be interested in the news.” Sejanus stood in preparation for leaving the old man alone with his secrets.
The old man cocked his head to one side, as if deep in thought, for a moment. “In gratitude for this news I will agree to share one secret with you.” He interrupted Sejanus’s departure. “As I would never dream of taking this secret to the grave with me.”
Sejanus turned to face the frail man, who was leaning heavily against the table, curious about what secret he was finally prepared to divulge.
“I made a terrible mistake with you Alex. I recognised in you power and ambition, and naïvely thought these were the traits needed for a great leader. Well I was wrong. I have since come to observe that love is far stronger than hate. Love is not a weakness, but a source of limitless strength, something you will never be able to comprehend. Hence, while the Praetorian Commander was your replacement, he is in no way the lesser of you. You will never be half the man he is, and will always live in his shadow.”
He failed to mention it was only with the certain knowledge that the Commander still lived, and hence his daughter was safe, that he was able to maintain a trace of his sanity. Locked away in this comfortable cage for so long, he had never regretted turning his back on this dark, evil man. He found it ironic he had been so obsessed with finding somebody to succeed him, and to care for and love his daughter, that in the end it was she who had made the right choice, not him. She had opened his eyes to realise that love, duty and honour could conquer all. He only slept at night knowing Commander Radec would always be there at her side, watching over her, keeping her safe, loving her.
“Perhaps,” Sejanus replied, keeping a tight rein on his temper. “But when I find him and kill him, and this I promise you I will, I’ll bring your daughter before you, on her knees, and force you to watch as she submits to me. Finally, and only then, will it be my turn to step out of the shadow and into the light.”
The old, frail man, merely a shadow of his former self, watched helplessly as the doors slid shut, locking firmly behind Sejanus.
“Commander,” he spoke to the empty room, aloud. “If you can hear me, then help me. Please,” pleaded Marcus Aurelius. The last Imperial Emperor, a man who had once ruled over almost ten billion individuals.
Little did he realise that he was already speaking to a ghost.
Chapter Two
Terra Nova, Zeta Aquilae System
The doors to one of the station’s pressurised docking bays slid open to reveal the commanding presence of Master Sergeant Patrick “Gunny” Reynolds. At over six feet in height and weighing almost two-hundred pounds, the man’s presence was intimidating enough, without the addition of the heavy pistol that was firmly strapped to his thigh. Rumour had it Gunny had once, single-handily led a marine boarding action against a pirate cutter, only to have the pirates immediately abandon ship when faced by him.
The pistol, however, was enough to raise a few eyebrows on the station, as these days the station was completely safe—in contrast to several weeks earlier. Seemingly a lifetime ago for the crew considering more recent events, when heavily armed Syndicate Enforcers had swarmed throughout the station, only to be abruptly halted by the combined efforts of Jon, Miranda, David and Gunny. In addition the station was now protected by significant space-based weaponry and a still sizable contingent of Confederation Navy warships, the remnants of the Confederation 12th fleet, the rest having departed only a few days earlier.
The need for the pistol quickly became apparent after Gunny stepped into the small docking bay, coming to a halt next to Paul Harrington, the station’s chief of operations. Up until recently Paul had reported to Commander Jonathan Radec, the owner of the station and Vanguard Shipping, the company that presently inhabited it. However, with his death several days earlier and the announcement of Miranda Sun as the interim-CEO of Vanguard, there was currently a question mark over who was actually in charge of the company and station.
Gunny looked up in surprise at the dark, twisted shape resting several meters in front of the pair. “Another one?” He asked, surprised. “I thought that we had found all of the escape pods by now.” Almost fifteen meters in height, half that in width, the pod had definitely seen better days. Scratched and twisted in places, it had deep rents running along one side where it had obviously collided with something larger. Gunny was astonished it still seemed to be mostly intact.
“Space is a large place, Gunny,” Paul replied, “and the Commander made one almighty mess out there,” he added sadly. Paul had known and worked with Jon for several years and counted him as one of his closest friends. He felt his absence keenly.
“It’s safe?” Gunny inquired. In a suicidal mission, Jon had flown a nuclear warhead into Harkov’s flagship, the Imperial Star, destroying it utterly. Many of the escape pods that had been recovered had particularly high levels of background radiation.
“For the moment, but we don’t want to linger too long. You ready?” Paul inquired, motioning towards the weapon at the sergeant’s side. Some of the occupants of the pods had been extremely hostile upon being rescued. A mixture of fear, oxygen deprivation and in many cases concussion from the explosion could make a dangerous combination. Hence they had made it a standard operating procedure to always have at least one armed member of security present any time opening one of the pods.
“Sure. Do we know if there is anybody alive in there?” Gunny asked.
“According to the status readouts, there is probably at least one person alive on-board, as the pod displays a higher than expected level of carbon dioxide.”
“Okay, then open the pod bay doors, Paul.” Gunny imitated with a grin, releasing his pistol and flicking off the safety. Taking a step forward, toward the darkened pod.
Paul approached the pod and, studying the controls briefly, activated the emergency release for the doors. Both men tensed as the door slid partially open before jamming, the malfunction obviously caused by the damage to the pod after it had ejected from its mothership. With a resigned expression both officers cautiously approached the pod, with Gunny easing his head slowly between the gap left by the now partially opened door.
“Looks like the pod is running on emergency power only,” Gunny grunted. “I can’t see a thing inside, emergency lights only. I’ll go first,” he stated in a firm tone that brooked no dissent.
Paul just nodded in agreement. After all, Gunny was armed, and had at least three inches and seventy-five pounds on him. Paul had complete confidence the sergeant would be able to handle any situation that might arise. Hence waiting for a count of ten in his head, to give Gunny a head start, he slipped into the pod behind the sergeant.
With the extremely low light, mostly just shadows cast by the dim emergency lighting, it took several seconds for Paul’s eyesight to adjust to the gloom. Eventually he could make out Gunny standing above a body in a white Imperial Navy uniform, collapsed in a foetal position on the floor of the pod. Quickly glancing around Paul confirmed there were no other survivors and was disappointed nobody else had been able to make it off the ship in time. Turning back to Gunny, Paul was surprised to note the sergeant still had his weapon drawn and pointed unwaveringly at the body on the floor. It was obvious the man was unconscious and therefore no threat and, as he was the only occupant of the ship, there was no obvious need for the weapon any longer.
“What’s going on Gunny?” Paul inquired, moving closer to the pair. It was only when he reached Gunny’s side that he noticed the tight expression on the other man’s face, and the firm grip he held the pistol with, his fingers turning white with the strain. The pistol remained unflinchingly pointed towards the motionless body.
“Gunny—” Paul’s voice trailed off when, in the dim light, he finally could make out the features of the sole occupant of the pod. His breath caught in his throat. Staring in disbelief at the body. “No, it’s not possible,” he stated in shock, subconsciously taking a step back. “We saw him die. We saw his ship explode. It’s not possible. He’s already dead.”
“He soon will be,” Gunny agreed. His finger tightening around the trigger of the pistol, now squarely pointed at the unconscious man’s head.
“No!” Paul loudly interjected, suddenly breaking out of his stupor, realising what the sergeant was contemplating. “We don’t execute prisoners.”
“Normally I would agree with you,” Gunny replied in a grim voice. “But I’ll make an exception in this one case,” he added, continuing to put more weight on the trigger.
“Holster your weapon. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it. We’re better than he is.”
“You were in the C&C. You heard what he threatened to do, what he almost succeeded in doing. He doesn’t deserve the chance to live.”
“That’s not our decision to make,” Paul replied firmly. Relived to see some of the tension being released from the trigger of the pistol.
“Then whose decision is it?” Gunny asked reasonably.
Having no answer to that question, instead Paul ordered, “Take the prisoner to sickbay and get the Doctor to check him out. And Gunny?”
“Yes?”
“Try not to bounce his head off every bulkhead between here and medical. Once there I want a security team to lock down medical. Nobody goes in or out without Doctor Richardson’s prior approval.”
“That’s assuming the Doc doesn’t just shoot him on sight? You do remember he was Marcus’s personal physician for over a decade, and personally delivered Sofia. He always had a soft spot for Sofia. You remember what those mercenaries almost succeeded in doing to her upon this man’s orders?”
Paul winced. He had forgotten and could feel a headache quickly coming on when he began to realise he was possibly the only person on the station who did not want this man dead. Sighing aloud, Paul just replied, “Just do the best you can Gunny. I’ll try and work out what to do with him next. Perhaps we should just hand him over to the Confederation.”
“You mean to the President?” Gunny’s eyes brightened at the prospect. Sofia had been elected Confederation President several months earlier, and everybody on the station knew she had harboured strong feelings toward their recently-deceased Commander. A man who gave his life to stop the actions of the very man lying at their feet. “I fully endorse that decision. After all, I would have just shot him. Sofia will likely do far worse. She has more of her father’s steel in her than she realises.”
With that Gunny reached down and effortlessly, but none too gently, threw the man over his shoulder. The dull thud of the body colliding with the bay doors on the way out reverberated throughout the small pod.
Rubbing his eyes wearily, Paul realised that he had a long day ahead of him, trying to decide what to do with Admiral Harkov. The individual personally responsible for the death of Emperor Marcus Aurelius, the downfall of the Imperium and, indirectly, the death of Commander Jonathan Radec, owner of Vanguard Shipping and Paul’s closest friend.
*****
With a massive roar of the powerful twin ion engines, the heavy fighter shot away from the station. Its destination? Well the pilot had not yet thought that far ahead. Miranda Sun had grown up within the Syndicate, a powerful shadowy organisation spanning multiple star-systems, unscrupulous in what goods they dealt in, concentrating on whatever had the highest profit margin. Be it contraband, weapons or even people. The organisation had come to an abrupt end, however, only several weeks earlier, in no small part to Miranda’s own actions. Her eyes had been opened to the organisation’s true nature due to Jonathan Radec, starting with the death of her own parents at the hands of the Syndicate.
Now in her late twenties, with a slim, willowy body, long, dark, flowing hair and exotic features, her face was definitely oriental—high cheekbones, full lips and straight nose. Combined with her almond-shaped brown eyes, Miranda had garnered a lot of attention since her abrupt arrival on Terra Nova almost six months earlier. However, during that time, she had made such an impression on the crew she had recently been promoted to interim-CEO during the Commander’s recovery. Following his recent death it seemed this temporary arrangement was likely to become permanent, as the only other candidate, Paul Harrington, had made it perfectly clear he had no desire for the job.
It was in no small part due to the recent death of Jon that Miranda found herself fleeing the station at high speed. During her short stay she had found herself developing strong feelings for the young, enigmatic Commander. Since his death it had seemed every room on the station, every corridor held painful memories of their short, but poignant, time together. Hence, desperate for some solitude, she had taken her ship for a brief flight. However, even then she could not entirely escape, for this beautiful ship—a now long since decommissioned Imperial heavy attack fighter, a Wraith—had been a parting gift from the Commander. In memory of Jon she had named the ship The Last Praetorian. A fitting tribute, she felt, to the person who had bestowed this expensive gift upon her. Even now she could picture the last few moments of the Commander’s life, as his personal shuttle, the Eternal Light, barrelled into the massive star carrier. Both disappearing in a blinding flash of light only moments later.
Turning her thoughts away from such painful memories, she once again focused on piloting her ship. Prior to this Miranda had never actually owned anything of her own, hence found herself cherishing the ship even more. With a deft touch of the flight controls, the ship danced around a particularly large piece of space debris. This corner of the system was now littered with detritus from the recent battle. The Confederation Navy had issued a cover story about a fatal ship accident to account for the large amount of debris and higher than ordinary background radiation from the nuclear explosion. Only a few people in the Confederation, the crew of the Terra Nova included, knew what events had actually transpired here.
A battle that had probably determined the very future of the young Confederation.
Turning her attention back to the area of space around her fighter, she set the ship darting to the right, then the left, evading particularly large pieces. It seemed that the debris field was particularly dense in this area of space. It mattered little, as it was only when she glanced down at the navigation computer that she realised just how far away from Terra Nova she had travelled. Lost in her thoughts, she had flown far farther than she had originally intended. Taking one last look outside the cockpit windows, she prepared to swing the large fighter around and reverse course back to Terra Nova. As CEO she now had responsibilities and could not afford to just disappear for significant periods of time.
As her fingers were about to dance across the fight controls to alter course, she saw a flash of light from the periphery of her vision. Assuming that it was just some starlight reflecting off another piece of space debris, she ignored it and had once again reached for the flight controls when she saw it again. It was too regular a flash to be just a mere reflection of light. Something was broadcasting that signal. Miranda finally did alter the course of her ship, not towards Terra Nova but in the opposite direction, towards the beacon of light, curious about what the source could be.
The closer she approached the source of the light, the thicker the debris became, causing her to have to focus more on her piloting abilities. She eventually realised she must be flying through what remained of the Imperial Star, the flagship of the old Imperial Navy, destroyed by Jon with the warhead secreted on his personal shuttle. Only that massive warship could have produced debris of this size and density. Finally arriving at the source of the light Miranda was disappointed to see it was just a navigation beacon from the Imperial Star, which had miraculously survived the explosion. Probably still running on some internal emergency power supply.
Taking one final glance at the wreckage floating around the now stationary fighter, Miranda took a moment to reflect on all the people who had lost their lives in this huge flagship. She was sure a large number of those had been individuals like her, good men and women just following orders. Realising she was long overdue back at the station, she wondered why she had not restarted the engines, somehow feeling drawn to this location, not just by the light but also by a feeling—.
Miranda found herself staring directly out of the cockpit at one piece of wreckage floating directly in front of the ship. A small piece. A dozen or so meters in length, half that in width. Perhaps it was the shape that drew her gaze? More angular than the other more ragged pieces floating around, almost the shape of a wedge, tapered towards one end. Something about the shape of it triggered a memory. She was sure she had seen this piece before. Turning the object around in her head, finally it occurred to her it was a smaller piece of a much larger ship. Running through all the ships she knew off the top of her head—until she came to an abrupt stop.
It couldn’t be.
But rotating the ship to orientate the fragment correctly, she was certain. Peering more closely she could see underneath the black exterior to the once pristine white hull, in a few places the black exterior coating was smudged enough that she could see through to the cockpit windows underneath. She was looking at the cockpit of the Eternal Light! Suddenly her heart seemed to stop beating, her mouth went dry. The cockpit looked intact. Perhaps…
She slapped the communications panel, broadcasting an emergency request.
*****
It took far longer to recover the fragment of the shuttle than Miranda ever expected. Precious minutes were wasted fruitlessly trying to convince the junior officer on duty in the C&C she had not completely lost her mind and was not hallucinating. Eventually she had to order the officer to put her though to Paul. Even then it took him an agonisingly long time to answer. Paul already looked ashen faced and pale before Miranda even explained her discovery. After quickly recounting her story and describing what she believed she had discovered, Paul quickly assented to dispatching a Search & Rescue shuttle to her location. For a time Miranda wondered what had already shocked Paul so badly that he acceded to her outlandish request so quickly.
Instead Miranda urged the S&R shuttle to hurry. Fuming at the time it took to arrive and to attach towing cables to the remnant of the shuttle. For the cockpit of the Eternal Light was too big to bring on board the shuttle, and had no docking hatch to allow a team to board. Hence the only option was to tow the piece back to Terra Nova, into a pressurised docking bay to open.
Miranda flew ahead of the S&R shuttle, docking at Terra Nova. Not even waiting for all the ships systems to power down she hurried to the docking bay to await the arrival of the S&R shuttle. Miranda was pleased to note Paul seemed to have taken her story seriously, as there was already a small crowd of technicians and an emergency resuscitation team from medical swarming around the entrance to the docking bay.
Paul was at the head of the crowd, waiting for the green light indicating the docking bay was pressurised and they could safely enter. He still looked as pale as a ghost.
“Paul, what’s going on?” Miranda demanded, still dressed in her flight suit, having come directly from her ship.
“We’re just waiting for the bay to pressurise, the S&R shuttle with the fragment is on final approach now.”
“Not that,” Miranda replied exasperatedly, leaning forward and lowering her voice so that she could not be overheard. “Why do you look like you have just seen a ghost?”
Paul glanced around to make sure that nobody could overhear their conversation. The rest of the crew were completely focused on the docking bay pressurisation light, which still glowed a warning red. “That’s because I have just seen a ghost. He’s currently confined to medical under heavy guard,” he explained evasively.
“Who is in medical under guard?” She insisted, trying to understand Paul’s cryptic response.
But Paul was interrupted, before he could reply, by the chime of the bay door, and the light changed from red to green. With a cry the crowd surged into the small docking bay, carrying both Paul and Miranda along with them. Paul’s response lost among the noise.
The engineers immediately swarmed around the blackened exterior of the object. Up close Miranda was even more certain of her original guess. One of the engineers confirmed this, as not even waiting for the others he started to rub away the grime from the object. Clearly visible under the black exterior was the name Eternal Light, imprinted across the hull. The Aurelius’ family crest was also partially visible, dispelling any possibility this was another shuttle with the same name. A hush fell across the crowd after the name became visible. Nobody, not even Miranda, really expected that it might actually be the shuttle.
Redoubling their efforts, the engineers continued to brush off the external filth, until with a cry of success one of the engineers finally managed to find the manual control for the emergency cockpit escape hatch. With a glance at Paul, who gave a nod of approval, the engineer twisted the control, finally pulling down upon the revealed lever. With an audible pop of equalising air pressure, the hatch slid open leaving a dark hole, big enough for one man or woman, to enter or exit.
The room collectively held their breath, but after a few moments it became apparent nobody was exiting the cockpit.
“Make way. Make way,” Gunny called out, pushing through the eight-person deep crowd, his pistol from earlier still firmly strapped to his thigh. Without even breaking stride Gunny caught the handhold above the emergency hatch and slid his body through the narrow gap. The crowd held their breath as the sergeant disappeared from sight.
One minute.
Two.
Time seemed to stretch out endlessly. Suddenly Gunny’s head appeared back out of the hatch. “Somebody give me a hand,” he called out, reaching back within the portal. First an arm appeared, encased in the white Imperial Navy uniform of a fleet Commander, then another, finally followed by a head. Two of the nearest engineers darted forward, supporting the head as Gunny eased the rest of Jon’s body out, finally laying the Commander spread eagle on the floor of the docking bay, in front of all that remained of the Eternal Light. Casting his eyes towards the body, the sergeant whispered dejectedly, “I can’t find a pulse.”
Not a word was spoken by the crowd. Everyone frozen at the sight of the body lying on the bay floor. Still. Motionless.
Pushing his way through the crowd, Doctor Richardson kneeled beside the body, looking for a pulse, unable to find one, but instead finding the body freezing cold. “Get a resuscitation team over here. Now,” called the Doctor, as the medics pushed to the front of the crowd, laying out their equipment around the body, as if in benediction. One of the medics slipped an oxygen mask over Jon’s face, while another medic handed the doctor the small portable defibrillator.
“Clear,” he called, activating the massive electrical charge to surge through Jon’s body, jumpstarting his heart muscles.
Jon spasmed, but was then still.
Checking once again for a pulse, but unable to find one, the Doctor reapplied the defibrillator, once again sending the massive jolt of energy through the body—again with no success. The crowd started to back away, the mood turning bleak as they recognised the Commander had passed away.
“By the great Maker. Live!” The Doctor roared only centimetres from Jon’s face. “I didn’t spend this much time patching you up for you to die on me now. Again,” this last instruction was directed at the medic clutching the defibrillator.
“Doctor, there is no sign of any brain activity.”
“I said again!” Richardson thundered.
The medic gave a nervous glace at his colleague, and with a subtle nod from him, applied the defibrillator, one final time.
Again Jon spasmed and was then still.
Shaking his head in despair the medic turned to the Doctor to pronounce the verdict, when suddenly the monitor flickered to life, only for a brief moment. The medic had to blink twice before he could believe what his eyes were telling him.
“Doctor, we have a pulse,” he stuttered in disbelief.
“Keep the oxygen flowing,” Richardson insisted. “Let’s get him to medical ASAP. Clear a path, out the way,” he called, pushing his way through the stunned crowd, with Jon and the attending resuscitation team following close behind.
Miranda felt her legs give out beneath her and she slid to the floor. Unable to comprehend what had just happened. Jon. Alive! If she had not felt the need to take her ship off the station, if she had not followed that beacon, had not recognised the object floating in front of her ship…
Suddenly a shadow blocked the light and she lookup up into Paul’s pale face. But this time, instead of frowning, he shared her weak smile of relief.
“You okay?” He asked, giving her a concerned look.
“I will be. I just cannot believe it. You think he will be okay?” She suddenly asked worriedly, remembering the medic announcing there was no brain activity.
“We’ll just have to wait and see, but I’ll tell you this, it’s not the first time that Jon has cheated death. It makes you wonder just how many lives the man has.” With this he offered a hand to the younger woman. “Join Gunny and me in my office? I have an expensive bottle of Scotch that has been waiting for just such an opportunity—and there is something else we need to discuss. The Scotch will help.”
*****
Sometime later, after Miranda had managed to catch a quick shower and change out of her flight suit, she found Gunny and Paul in his office. An unopened bottle of Scotch resting on the table between the two men.
“Just in time,” Paul called out cheerfully. “We were about to start without you.” He gracefully plopped ice cubes into a cut crystal tumbler, then splashed two generous fingers of Scotch over them before offering her the glass. “Bottoms up,” he said with a smirk, raising his glass before swallowing the contents in a single gulp.
With Gunny doing likewise, Miranda followed the example of the two officers. Her eyes bulged as the fiery liquid splashed down her throat. “Garr,” she exhaled, pounding on her chest, desperately trying to catch her breath.
“Another glass?” Paul inquired, trying to supress a laugh.
“I’m good,” Miranda wheezed.
Paul just laughed before his expression turned more serious. “Miranda, how did you find Jon out there? Do you know what the odds are of you just stumbling on the remains of his ship?”
Miranda averted her eyes from the two men. She had been hoping that question did not come up, as she had no good answer for them. “It was just the damn strangest feeling,” she said trying to put into words the sensation. “First I was feeling claustrophobic stuck on the station. Ever since Jon’s supposed death, it felt like every corner I would turn and bump into him. Every room that I entered, he would be there waiting. That it was all just a big misunderstanding. Then when I was out there in my ship, it just felt like something was continually pulling me in that direction. It’s just so hard to put into words.”
“I told you so,” Gunny said to Paul.
“Let it be, Gunny,” Paul said with an angry glare.
“Told you what?” Miranda asked, looking between the two men.
“It was destiny,” Gunny replied succinctly.
Miranda’s jaw dropped open in shock. “It was what?” She asked in disbelief.
Giving Gunny another evil glare, Paul turned back to Miranda resignedly. “Gunny has got some crazy, half-assed ideas about destiny and predetermination.”
“They’re not crazy.”
“Then you explain it to her then.”
“Sure. You know what predetermination is Miranda?” Gunny asked.
“I think so. You mean that our future is already predetermined, like written down somewhere,” she said.
“Exactly,” Gunny replied, with a wide grin, a teacher pleased with his star pupil. “Now, everyone is born with a small smidgeon of destiny, but most waste it—”
“How can you waste your destiny?” She interrupted confused.
“By not using it,” Gunny exclaimed, smacking his palm down on the table, hard enough to shake the ice cubes in their glasses. “By following some mundane nine-to-five job, spending your life being a bean counter; or god forbid a politician, by wasting your life away.”
“Ok, so what happens to all this unused destiny?” She asked, ignoring Paul who was rolling his eyes exasperatedly. Subliminally trying to communicate to her not to encourage Gunny.
“That’s where it gets interesting, you see. It builds up, drop by drop, until eventually it becomes a vast torrent of potential. Eventually it finds an outlet—an individual, a special one—and breaks through, affecting him or her and all the people and events surrounding them.”
“You mean Jon?”
“Exactly. They are like giants that walk among us; but there have been others, throughout history.”
“Like?” Miranda asked curiously.
“Edward Aurelius.”
“Oh, come on, Edward Aurelius founded the Imperium. Are you saying Jon is like him?”
“You don’t think the Commander could carve out an Empire if he so desired? It’s not recorded in any history books or the official archives but it was Jon who was instrumental in founding the Confederation. His signature is on the founding charter.”
Miranda remembered Paul had mentioned something similar a while back, prior to the battle that so nearly cost the Commander his life. She looked at Paul for confirmation and he slowly, but reluctantly, nodded his head in agreement with Gunny.
“It’s possible that your destiny, the sole reason for your existence was to find Jon out there,” Gunny stated firmly.
“But that’s crazy,” Miranda refuted.
“See. That’s what I said,” Paul replied emphatically.
“So what else was it that you wanted to discuss?” Miranda tried to change the topic, not wanting to acknowledge what Gunny was suggesting, as something had drawn her to that area of space. Something she could not quantify or explain.
“That’s the other thing,” Paul went on to describe the events earlier in the day, from the discovery of the battered escape pod. He was only interrupted once during the recounting, by Miranda changing her mind and requesting another glass of Scotch.
*****
Meanwhile, several decks below in medical, Jon had finally been taken off the respirator, having eventually started to breathe without the aid of the machine. Following that he had been moved to a private recovery ward. Considering the other patient currently occupying medical, Dr Richardson had felt it unwise to have both occupying the same room. Hooked up to several machines monitoring his recovery, the only sound in the room was the regular beep of the heart monitor.
The machine dedicated to monitoring his brain activity, which had been flat, started to show signs of life. Slowly at first, but with increasing intensity his synapses started to fire, his eyelids flickering as he dreamed. Dreaming of a similar room, but on a different ship, many years before.
Chapter Three
Five Years Previously
System Patrol Craft Intrepid, Eden System
“Clear!” The Chief Flight Surgeon of the SPC Intrepid called out, sending a massive jolt of energy into the Commander’s chest to restart his heart. Having been quickly transferred from the Eternal Light, the Commander’s heart had stopped beating soon after arriving at the medical bay. “I’ve got a pulse,” the doctor exclaimed, looking up relieved, observing the spectacle his usually orderly medical bay had turned into.
For the room was not just occupied by his patient who, he had been reliably informed by the Captain, was the Commander of the Praetorian Guard. This man, being a firm favourite of the Emperor, was not a person they could afford to have dying on their watch. Following directly behind the Commander was a young woman, dressed in jeans, ankle boots and what had once been a tan coloured blouse but was now stained a deep crimson red. The doctor assumed this was from the Commander’s blood. He had no idea who the woman was, but with her auburn hair and deep emerald green eyes she was startlingly beautiful and determined not to leave the Commander’s side. Even more strangely, the Captain and the Executive Officer, who had followed the pair into medical, kept acceding to her. Casting worried glances her way, they supported her decision to stay, overriding the doctor who had insisted that she must leave. It was all very confusing and was rapidly turning his medical bay into a circus.
Checking the readouts of the numerous medical devices currently attached to the Commander, the Chief Flight Surgeon turned to face the crowd and said, “The Commander is stable now, as I have managed to restart his heart and stem the bleeding. He is a very lucky man, because the tactical armour he was wearing saved his life. We should all thank the Maker that he was hit by a fragmenting round, for if it had been a piercing shot he would now be down in the ship’s morgue. Fortunately the armour managed to stop the majority of the fragments, the remaining ones mostly halted by the time they pierced his flesh. The Commander’s back is a mess right now, but they can repair that damage back on Eden Prime, although the Commander is going to be very stiff for the next several weeks.”
“Thank you Doctor,” Captain Turner replied, wiping away a bead of sweat that had formed on his forehead while waiting for the diagnosis. He dreaded to think what the consequences to his future career and life would have been, had anything happened to this man on his ship. He could imagine that both would have been abruptly cut short.
“I’m staying. I’m not leaving him.” Sofia insisted stubbornly, taking Jon’s hand in hers, as if to reassure herself what the Doctor said was true and he would live. For she had felt the life draining out of him whilst cradling him on the floor of the Eternal Light, as she had waited for what had seemed an eternity for the Intrepid to arrive.
“I assure you ma’am, I will notify you immediately if there is any change in his condition, however the medical bay is not equipped to host guests,” the Doctor replied exasperatedly.
“I’m staying.”
The Doctor looked despairingly at the Captain, who shook his head, denying the request. Instead he caught the eye of his XO and subtly nodded his head in the direction of an empty corner of the medical bay where they could talk without being overheard.
“I have been in communication with the admiralty, the Intrepid has been recalled with immediate effect. Our new orders are to make best possible speed back to Eden Prime. We are also under a communications blackout, no information leaves this ship about the distress signal, the shuttle or its two occupants,” Turner informed his XO.
“They are recalling the entire ship?” His XO asked aghast. “But what about our patrol schedule? Not to mention the fuel reserves that we will have to consume for a direct trip.”
“It’s even worse. We have been ordered to make best speed for Eden Prime and are not to divert course for any reason, including any further distress calls.” It was obvious from the tone of the Captain’s voice what he thought of that particular order. Having been in the Imperial Navy for the past twenty years, finally achieving the rank of Captain, it was an unwritten rule in the navy (and had been ever since the old sailing ships of Earth), that you always responded to a distress call, as you never knew if one day it might be you in distress.
“But—”
“Those are our orders XO, directly from the office of Admiral Sterling. We might not like them, but I expect us to follow them. Please tell the bridge to set a new course for Eden Prime, at the best possible speed.”
“Yes, sir,” The XO replied stiffly. However, as he was turning to carry out his orders, the Captain interrupted him one last time.
“And try to find a spare change of clothes for the woman. I don’t want to present her to the fleet admiralty looking like she has just crawled out of a slaughter house.”
The XO was about to make a sharp retort to the Captain, that it was not his job to play dressmaker for the female occupants of the ship, when he recognised the expression on the Captain’s face and wisely kept such thoughts to himself. “Sir,” he replied disapprovingly, departing from the medical bay.
Returning once again to stand beside the young woman, whose gaze had not once left the Commander, he observed the way she closely cradled his pale hand in hers. He had no idea what had transpired between these two in the past, although from the injuries sustained by the Commander and her own blood-splattered attire, he could make some educated guesses. The Captain could only assume the two had become very close, as the way she was holding him, refusing to leave his side, demonstrated far greater concern than one would usually show for an injured guard.
“Princess,” he interrupted her contemplation. “I have asked my crew to bring you a change of clothes. I understand that the Doctor’s office has an adjoining washroom that you may use and I will give orders that you are not to be disturbed. Is there anything else that I can do for you?”
“I assume that we are heading towards Eden Prime?” She inquired in a quiet, subdued voice.
“Yes Princess, those are my orders.”
“Then I will require an audience with Admiral Sterling immediately upon our arrival. I need to make sure that he is aware of recent events.”
“Very well Princess, I will pass on the message.” The Captain tried to finish the conversation, but his curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask. “Princess, what happened?”
Looking up at the Captain, the despair clear to see in her green eyes, she simply replied, “My father, the Emperor, is dead.”
Those few, simple words hit the Captain with the force of a jackhammer. Reeling back in shock, speechless, he didn’t know what to say. So with a bowed head, he muttered his condolences to the Princess and quietly left the medical bay.
Suddenly best speed back to Eden Prime did not seem fast enough.
*****
Jon woke from his restful slumber to a warm breeze, which smelled of freshly cut grass and flowers in bloom, just like summer in full swing. The smell was invigorating and revitalising. With his eyes still closed, Jon could feel the warmth from the sun on the left side of his face. Obviously during his convalescence he had been moved planet-side. Jon’s memories of prior events were still hazy. He remembered the meeting on Memphis, the hurried departure and then only blinding pain. He could vaguely recall Sofia sobbing that she would not leave him, the dampness of her tears wet against his cheek.
Sofia!
Eyes wide open, he tried to sit up, but his movement came to an abrupt halt. It felt like his whole back was on fire. Overcoming the pain, like he had been forced to do so many times in the past, Jon tried to sit up again. This time it was as if a heavy weight was lying across his chest, like a tight band around his lungs. Ultimately defeated by these two factors, he lay back on the bed, eyes staring up at the white, featureless ceiling.
Events suddenly came rushing back in a kaleidoscope of images and sounds. The brief and very one-sided duel in the officer’s lounge of the Imperial Star, the meeting with the Emperor and their rushed departure from his flagship. Followed by the fight to escape the ambush, with the resultant sacrifice of his fellow Praetorians to allow the Eternal Light to escape. Jon had been so busy trying to keep Sofia and himself alive he had not had time to reflect on that sacrifice. His squadron, his friends, the closest that he had to family aside from his parents, now all gone.
Thinking of his parents, it reminded Jon of their time on Altair. With Sofia in his arms, the feel of her soft body pressed so intimately against his and the feel of her lips against his own. Jon found it ironic that during the bleakest, darkest moments of his life he had managed to find absolute serenity. It had only been at that moment in time when it felt as if he had finally found the missing part of his life he had always been searching for, ever since the death of his sister, Catherine. Jon remembered when they were children his sister had foretold he would fall in love with a beautiful princess. With a faint smile, it occurred to Jon that if there was a heaven Catherine would be there at the moment, laughing.
His thoughts were interrupted by another sound. Initially Jon had thought it just the sound of the breeze, but this was deeper, almost a low rumble. Casting his gaze to his side, at the source of the sound, Jon was astonished to see a mass of red hair lying across his chest, the sound emanating from within. With a soft smile, Jon recognised the face of Princess Sofia Aurelius, lying across his chest, asleep and snoring gently. He was relieved to see she appeared unhurt, if not a little more pale and thinner than he remembered. She at least accounted for the weight bearing down on his chest, causing his lungs to expand and contract painfully. Jon, however, would not have changed anything about that moment, ignoring the pain from her weight. Instead he reached up with his free hand and gently ran it through her soft, gentle locks. In Jon’s mind her hair was the second most beautiful aspect about her, the best being her sparking emerald green eyes, so full of life, intellect and mischievousness. Jon longed for her to open her eyes so he could gaze into them once again, but instead he let her sleep, recognising she probably needed that more.
Continuing to run his fingers through her hair, Jon was puzzled for a moment, trying to remember why this feeling was so similar, until finally it came back to him. Sofia sleeping gently on his chest, in his parent’s guest bedroom, at their small house on Altair. Jon remembered at the time wishing the moment would last forever, and he felt the same now.
Now that he was awake, he cast his gaze curiously around the room. It was obviously a private recovery room, as Jon was the only occupant, apart from Sofia. Jon hazarded a guess that the room was part of a larger medical facility. It was painted white and sparsely decorated, with only the bed, chair and some miscellaneous medical monitoring equipment, which he assumed were to monitor his health. A sliding door, which was slightly ajar, took up one length of the room, from floor to ceiling, and was obviously the source of the warm breeze. The window was slightly tinted one-way glass, Jon could only assume. Beyond the door Jon could just make out the sight of green grass and trees in full bloom. The slight red-tint of the sunlight streaming through the door was the final confirmation Jon needed to know they had made it to their destination. Eden Prime.
The sound of the door sliding open was enough to rouse Sofia from her light sleep. She looked around, disorientated, for a moment before her gaze came to rest on Jon’s open eyes.
“Jon, you’re awake,” she exclaimed delightedly, throwing her arms tightly around his neck. Covering the rest of her body with his, draping herself across his bed.
While he was ecstatic to once again have her in his arms, the feel of her body against his, Jon’s gaze was instead locked on the amused face of the doctor whose entry into their room had roused Sofia from her slumber. Gently, but firmly, Jon disentangled Sofia from her embrace. “I am fine, thank you Princess,” he replied brusquely, purposefully ignoring her hurt expression. “Doctor where am I? How long have I been unconscious?” He directed this question at the doctor, hoping to draw his attention away from the very improper actions of a certain Imperial Princess, who shouldn’t even be touching another individual.
“In answer to your questions, you are currently in the Imperial Military Medical Centre on Eden Prime. After transferring you from the Intrepid we ensured you were stabilised, before cloning the necessary skin grafts for your back. I am sure you will be pleased to hear you are recovering nicely; the pain is a good sign. It means your nerves are reattaching themselves to the new skin. You should make a full recovery, although your back will be stiff and painful for several weeks. I would not recommend any strenuous physical activity.” The Doctor delivered this medical prognosis with a knowing smirk that irked Jon no end. “In answer to your second question, we kept you in an induced coma for the past week, to allow the skin graft to take.”
“A week,” Jon exclaimed, astonished. No wonder his legs felt so rubbery. “I need to get up, I have to make a report to Admiral Sterling, Harkov—” Jon trailed off, realising that the Admiral would not be best pleased hearing the report about the Emperor’s death from a doctor.
“Doctor can you please excuse us for a few minutes,” Sofia interjected politely, but with a hint of command in her voice.
“Yes, well, sorry. I guess that you have a lot of catching up to do.” The doctor replied with another patronising smirk. Turning about face and leaving the couple alone, he slid the door firmly shut behind him.
Jon’s angry gaze followed the doctor out of the room and would have burned a hole through the door if Sofia had not interrupted him.
“I have already met with Admiral Sterling, while you were unconscious,” Sofia explained. “I told him about my father,” she added, her shoulders slumping dejectedly.
Jon’s heart broke at the sight of the defeated young woman, wishing that he could have been by her side for what he knew must have been a very painful conversation. Knowing he was breaching protocol, for he could not be seen touching her in such a facility, but desperate for the contact, however brief, Jon gently took her into his arms, rubbing her back reassuringly. “What did the Admiral say?”
“He wanted to know my decision,” Sofia replied miserably.
“Your decision? Your decision regarding what?”
Sofia squared her shoulders, looking up from the bed meeting Jon’s gaze squarely. Taking a deep breath she replied, “The decision if I will succeed my father, continuing his rule. To become the first Empress of the Imperium.”
Jon sucked in a deep breath, as he knew this would have been the question Sterling needed to ask, after all it was the most pertinent one. Jon knew Sophia would eventually have to make this decision, although he wished she could have had more time to decide. Such weighty decisions resting on the shoulders of one who was still so young. Deep inside, Jon knew Sofia would make the right decision, although which one that might be he had no idea. Over the past few weeks he had come to recognise a strength and determination in her that had taken him by surprise. This, together with an understanding and compassion he honestly felt her father lacked. Jon had absolute confidence that if Sofia did decide to succeed her father, she would be a leader like no other. One the Empire desperately needed at this time in its history. But wisely he did not voice any of these thoughts aloud. The final decision had to be hers, and not influenced by his own personal feelings. “So what did you tell the Admiral?”
“I told him that it was an important decision, which I needed to have time to think about, and I would let him know,” she replied in a hesitant voice.
Her sidestepping such an important question disappointed him, but at the same time he could hardly blame her. If he were asked to decide the fate of the Empire, he would probably want to think about it too. “And when are you going to make your decision?” he inquired delicately.
“I don’t know Jon. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to become like my father, so intricately involved in the day-to-day running of the Imperium that I lose sight of what is in front of me,” she explained, hesitantly at first but then with more confidence. A political problem in front of her, to be analysed and debated, just as she and her father used to do over dinner. “However, what is the alternative? The power structure of the Imperium is built around the Emperor. He is the linchpin and without him the Empire would fall apart with all the component pieces grinding to a halt. The Empire would disintegrate, and the result?” Sofia had no need to continue, both of them had studied pre-Empire history. All the individual systems warring against each other, countless millions dead with human civilization on the brink of collapse. “The Emperor is the key to the current power structure,” Sofia repeated aloud. “Without him we would need a completely different political structure, something else—” Sofia trailed off in thought.
Wincing in pain Jon lay back on the bed, his back in complete agony having spent so much time sitting up. “I’m just a soldier,” he replied painfully. “I follow orders and leave those decisions to the politicians.”
“What did you just say?” Sofia asked sharply.
“I said I leave the big decisions to the politicians,” Jon replied, closing his eyes, waiting for the pain to dissipate.
“You’re a genius!” Sofia exclaimed in delight, leaning forward brushing her lips against his. Without even considering his actions, for they were automatic, he immediately opened his mouth and Sofia’s tongue swept in, trailing fire. Once again Jon was swept away on a tide of emotion, a feeling of completeness overcoming him, a strong sense of fulfilment, the way the universe should be.
All too soon reality came crashing down on him, like a blast of cold water. His eyes snapped open and he none too gently pushed Sofia away, however desperately his body yearned for her touch. His eyes came to rest on Sofia, now a couple of steps away. Her face was flushed, lips swollen from their passionate kisses, but her face and eyes displayed her complete shock and disbelief.
“Jon,” she pleaded.
“Stop. We cannot do this.” Jon gasped out loud, trying to get his racing heart under control. “You are the Imperial Princess Sofia Aurelius, the daughter of the Emperor. It’s death for anybody to even touch you.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Sofia cried, tears streaming down her face. “I want you. I love—” she snapped her mouth shut abruptly, realising what she had so nearly uttered.
Gritting his teeth, trying to blink away the pain, Jon slowly sat upright in bed, swinging his feet to the side. He had no intention of actually trying to stand as it would look embarrassing for anybody entering the room to see the invincible Praetorian Commander on the floor, unable to even stand upright. Instead, looking up at Sofia’s tear-stained cheeks, he wondered if he was cursed to go through the rest of his life hurting this wonderful woman. Not trusting himself to even attempt to touch her, he tried to explain.
“It’s not a question of what we want, but our duty. Here and now you are the Imperial Princess Sofia Aurelius, daughter of the late Emperor Marcus Aurelius, and your duty is clear. You might not like it and you might not even want the role, but that is who you are and you cannot change it. Likewise, I am the Praetorian Commander, my sworn duty is to protect you and the Empire from any threat. Nothing more, nothing less, but I must also be seen to be fulfilling my duty. This must come before our personal desires, as that is what people expect of us. To be idols, put on a pedestal and to be an example to others. Elsie and the other Praetorians sacrificed their lives in the name of that duty and I cannot, and will not, taint their sacrifice in the name of my own selfish desires.”
Distraught beyond belief, Sofia just stared at Jon in shock. Each one of his words shattering her heart until it seemed broken, beyond repair. “In that case perhaps I should succeed my father,” she spat back. “One lesson I learned clearly from him is that what he wanted, he got. If I want you, I will have you. Brought to kneel at my feet in chains if that is what is necessary,” she cried, whirling around and fleeing the room.
As an automatic door it could not be slammed, but the kick that Sofia gave the door had a similar effect.
Jon stared at the now closed door in despair, wondering how events in his life had managed to spin so quickly out of control. A few moments later the door slid open again and looking up Jon tried to explain. “Sofia—” But it wasn’t a Princess standing in the doorway, but a tall officer wearing the Imperial Navy uniform of a Fleet Captain. With his blond hair and bright cerulean-blue eyes, the officer looked like he belonged on the front cover of some modelling magazine, instead of leading a special forces task group and being one of Jon’s closest friends.
Paul looked on with some bemusement as Sofia disappeared around the corner, still in tears. “What is it with you and women?” Paul asked exasperatedly. “They all seem to flock to you, but soon after head off in the opposite direction, in tears. Me, on the other hand, with my young, good looks, they seem completely immune. By the way, you look like shit.”
“Thanks Paul, it’s good to see you again too. How about closing the door so that the whole planet doesn’t see how bad I look,” Jon replied irritably.
“So who was the stunning redhead that just flashed past?”
“That would have been the Imperial Princess Sofia Aurelius, daughter of the late Emperor Marcus Aurelius.”
Paul’s jaw dropped open in disbelief. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Wow. She’s stunning, not at all what I had in mind when I pictured Marcus’ daughter.”
Jon had to bite back his irritation at everybody constantly referring to the late Emperor as a distant uncle. “So what did you imagine that she looked like?” He asked curiously.
“Older, and fatter,” he laughed. “So what did you do to upset the Princess?”
“It’s a long and convoluted story, and you wouldn’t find it interesting,” Jon replied. Knowing for a fact Paul would find it completely hilarious. He would be sure to tell his wife and before Jon knew it most of the planet would be aware of what had transpired between the two of them. The Imperial Navy had yet to invent an information dispersal system as quick and effective as the navy rumour mill.
“By the way, I just got out of a confidential briefing by Admiral Sterling. He is quietly moving the fleet in this sector onto an alert footing. He is obviously expecting trouble. I am sorry to hear about Marcus and your fellow Praetorians. If only my taskforce had been in the system at the time. We might not have been able to save Marcus, but at least we could have helped your squadron.” Paul frowned, well aware of the futility of playing the ‘what-if’ game.
“Thanks Paul,” Jon replied honestly. It was good to have at least one friendly face around that he could trust. Eyeing the floor speculatively, with his feet still dangling several centimetres above it, he estimated the distance to the furthest wall to be around fifteen meters. “Do you have anybody here you could trust to man the door for the next twenty minutes?”
“Sure. I arrived planet-side with one of the marine’s special operations teams, on rotation. The Master Sergeant is an old friend of mine. What do you need?”
“Can you ask him to guard the door for twenty minutes, so nobody comes in?”
“Sure,” Paul replied, intrigued at the unusual request and, using the communications equipment on the desk, summoned him. Several minutes later the Master Sergeant arrived, introducing himself as Patrick Reynolds, but everybody just called him Gunny. Observing the huge sergeant, Jon concluded Gunny was perfect for what he had in mind.
“Could you man the door for twenty minutes, Gunny? So nobody disturbs us.”
“Sure thing Commander,” Gunny replied, exiting the room and placing his imposing self in the doorway, back to the door, as it slid shut behind him.
“So, now that nobody is coming in for the next twenty minutes, now what?” The bemused Paul inquired.
“This,” Jon replied pushing himself off the bed and landing heavily on the floor. He kept his balance by firmly grasping the railing that ran along the length of the bed.
“Are you crazy?” Paul hissed in disbelief, stepping closer, ready to catch him, on the off chance his legs failed him.
“That’s not crazy, this is,” Jon said, releasing the bedrail. With his eyes firmly fixed on the far wall, pale-faced and fighting back nausea from the pain, he gingerly put one foot in front of the other.
“Praetorians are we,” Jon wheezed, taking another step forward. “The elite us be, unafraid of death are we, for invincible us be.” Jon gave a cry of relief as he finally managed to make it to the far side of the room unaided. Turning to face Paul in triumph, a startled expression suddenly appeared on his face. “Oh crap,” Jon uttered, as his left leg gave out beneath him and he tumbled to the floor. Fortunately the floor was thickly carpeted, which absorbed most of the impact, hurting his pride more than anything else.
Laughing heartily Paul peered down at Jon with a smirk on his face. “So how is this invincible thing working out for you at the moment? I must say that while you could probably take out my three year old daughter, my five year old son would completely kick your ass.”
“Paul?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up and help me get back up will you?” Jon asked, grimacing in pain.
Hauling Jon once again to his feet, Paul glanced at the younger man with some considerable concern, as his face had gone completely white and rivulets of sweat were pouring down his forehead. Combined with the fact he did not seem at all steady on his feet. “So what now?” He asked with a hint of worry. “You have another fifteen minutes before the hordes get past Gunny.”
“Now I do it again,” Jon insisted, gritting his teeth in determination.
“You’re crazy you know that?” Paul exclaimed in disbelief. “You are going to kill yourself.”
“That is a distinct possibility,” Jon muttered, taking another faltering step towards the bed, only a few metres out of reach but seeming like another world away.
*****
Sofia punched the pillow next to her in frustration. It was late at night, Eden Prime time, five days after Jon had first awoken and their heated argument. Afterwards she had wished she could take back her words, never really entertaining the possibility. Anyway who would willingly follow such an order? She had a feeling the only people actually capable of bringing Jon back in chains were far more loyal to him than to her.
Jon had been discharged a few days earlier from the medical institute, much to the astonishment of the staff. For what they had predicted would take weeks of rest and physiotherapy to recover, Jon had completed in a couple of days.
Sofia had not been able to talk to Jon for the past week, as he had been accompanied most of the time by an older, very handsome Fleet Officer. From what she had been able to ascertain, they were old friends.
Sofia had therefore remained in the background while Jon thanked the doctors, when discharged from the hospital. She wondered if she was the only person who noticed how pale he looked and how each step looked like complete agony. Yet Jon had always been a master at hiding his emotions from others—except perhaps Paul. Sofia noticed he had kept close beside Jon the entire time and recognised the concern in his gaze, one that mirrored her own. Jon now occupied a similar apartment to hers, farther down the hall. He had made it clear to all that her protection was still his responsibility and therefore insisted on remaining close by. She was unsure what protection he could offer as it looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over at any moment.
Glancing back at the chronometer, she observed it was now very early in the morning and it was not just her anxiety for Jon that had kept her awake these past few nights. If she was completely honest with herself, she had become accustomed to the reassuring drumbeat of his heart while he had remained unconscious. Ever since then she had found it impossible to sleep.
Sofia once again glanced at the datapad resting on her bedside table—the other reason why she had been unable to sleep, for she had finished working on her first draft on this device only a few hours earlier. It had been Jon’s comment about leaving politics to the politicians that had given her the seed of the idea. She had spent the past week in the Senate library researching historical records for inspiration. Hopefully, what existed on that datapad would solve all their problems and give Jon and her a chance to be together, something he had so painfully reminded her was not currently possible.
Finally, recognising sleep would not be forthcoming and that there was no time like the present, she climbed out of bed remembering the first time she had sneaked into Jon’s quarters late at night. Looking back at the incident on the Imperial Star, many months earlier, Sofia giggled at the memory of Jon’s look of complete shock and disbelief when she had pushed back her hood to reveal her face. However, the strongest memory of that event was how her mouth had gone dry when she had, for the very first time, seen Jon in nothing more than a pair of shorts. She vividly remembered how, as she had gazed upon his perfect figure, his sculpted chest, an unexpected bolt of desire had hit her, leaving her breathless.
Perchance the same cloak she had worn that night was resting on the back of a chair in her apartment, one of the few articles of clothing she had brought with her. Giving the datapad one more thoughtful glace, a naughty smile spread across her face. I wonder what Jon is wearing tonight?
Putting on the cloak and grabbing the datapad, she hurried from her room to find out.
*****
As had become his habit of late, Jon awoke slowly, clinging to the edge of a dream about Sofia. He was still half asleep and caught up in the strangeness of the dream, when something halted his progress. Something warm and soft, something that, when he reached over to drape an arm around to pull closer towards him, murmured a quiet, satisfied sound. His eyes still closed, he moved his hand leisurely down the length of it, only to have it stretch lazily and curl its bare legs with his.
Slowly, it dawned on him he wasn’t alone in his bed. So he opened one eye slowly and, in the thin morning light that floated into the room, he saw Sofia and heard the soft sigh of her breathing. He smelt the musky fragrance of her hair and felt the heat of her body pressed intimately into his. His fingers wandered through her hair, skimming lightly over the silky strands before winding a single bright red coil around his finger.
“Sofia,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “What are you doing in my bed?”
She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled sleepily. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open, curling into the hint of a naughty smile. “Hmm,” was all she said in reply. Her eyes remained closed.
“What are you doing in my bed?” he repeated more urgently. “How did you get here?”
“I climbed in, silly,” she yawned. “I sneaked into your room earlier, as I wanted to tell you something, but you were already asleep.”
Jon could hear the irritation in her voice. “You sneaked into my apartment while I was asleep?” he asked. Surprised at how calm he managed to keep his voice, not to mention himself.
She wrinkled her nose a bit. “Hmm, considering my current position, I prefer to think of it as sneaking into my apartment.” She yawned again and brushed her hands through her hair.
“So did you sleep well?” He asked, considering this was the second time they had now slept together, he decided it was not worth the trouble to argue about it.
“Hmm,” was all she said in reply. Her eyes remained closed.
“So can I ask you why you sneaked into my apartment in the middle of the night?” He asked, genuinely curious. Anyway his body was starting to react to her closeness, as he could feel the warmth of her, pressed firmly against his bare chest, though her short, thin, white silky nightgown. Talking was a good idea; it stopped his mind drifting to other things.
Finally opening her eyes, she stared into Jon’s beautiful grey eyes, only inches from her own. She could feel the warmth of his breath, but her gaze kept being drawn to his soft lips, so close to hers. Trying to focus on what he was saying, she finally remembered the purpose for her visit. “I’ve found a way for us to be together, for me to overcome my father’s burden. Please believe me Jon, it’s all on this datapad.” She motioned to the device she had slipped onto his bedside table, prior to climbing into bed with him, having been unwilling to wake him.
Rolling over, so he was hovering over her, he stared into her sparkling emerald eyes, seeing the honesty of her words reflected in them. He didn’t even glance at the device on the table, for in truth he cared little for what the device might hold. All he ever wanted was right in front of him, here, now, and he finally gave into his long held desire for her. “Good enough,” he growled, a husky note clearly audible in his voice as he leaned forwards to kiss her passionately.
Sofia had no chance to escape, and had no desire to do so. She suddenly found herself within his embrace and only had time to gasp with surprise as his mouth descended on hers. The touch of his mouth once again caused her whole being to explode into a thousand pieces of light. With a moan, she wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back with a passion that was causing her head to swim.
Hearing him groaning, the sound so full of need as to feed her own desire at that moment, she felt his hands move over her body, the warm touch of him raising such need so deep within her. Sofia groaned back, moving in even closer against him, and felt his arousal against her leg through the thin shorts he wore in bed. She could feel herself sinking under the desire he was raising within her and her fingers moved shakily against his naked chest.
As she moaned gently, she felt the rough hair of his chest under her fingers. Continuing down, they brushed along his firm stomach. With a deep masculine groan he pulled the top of her nightgown down in one quick, simple action. Sofia shuddered, her firm breasts revealed, the nipples so hard, as his hands cupped one, gently nipping the stiff centre before his mouth descended, his tongue teasing it so exquisitely. As she groaned, he pushed the thin garment down farther, allowing it to pool at her waist as he once more pulled her in tightly against him. Now their bare flesh was crushed together, sending shock waves through both of their bodies.
With a deep, husky sound he swept her into his arms, gently laying her back down onto the bed, his mouth kissing her, keeping her head spinning, before moving away as she whimpered, wanting him back. However, she watched him with dark, passion-filled eyes as he quickly pulled off his shorts, his eyes moving down to admire her slender figure, all of which was quivering with such a need for him.
Sofia watched him, gasping as he finally lay next to her, completely naked. She saw how aroused he was, how he devoured her with eyes which were glowing with such fire within them, as he once more lay over her. He saw the hesitation enter her eyes, along with the need in them. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, taking each in turn, his tongue causing such sensations to travel through her as her back arched against him. As she writhed under him, her fingers ran down his side so gently that he shivered violently, once more consumed with the need to fill her, burying himself within her. As he raised himself over her, looking into those large emerald eyes, he saw such passion in them, watched as they fluttered closed, her legs automatically opening for him as he prepared to enter her.
As he slowly began to thrust within her, she gasped loudly, her eyes flying open as he felt the resistance, the tear within her. Jon groaned, the realisation of her untouched state coming to him even while unable to stop his body’s determined advance. He kissed her stunned mouth, continuing to push more slowly as she stayed motionless. The sudden shock of his penetration stilling her before once again, with a small shudder, she began to move under him, as he finally felt his whole length filling her.
Feeling the tightness all around him made him groan, as he felt the waves building within him. Stopping, panting gently, he held back from his need to thrust hard within her, his whole body shaking with what it took him to resist, as the sweat broke out on his brow. Finally, he was able to begin moving gently as she gasped below him, her hands moving along his back, causing him to moan even louder.
Sofia felt the pain as he took her, but it was a sweet pain, soon replaced by the wonderful sensations his movements were raising within her, as he rocked so gently. With each thrusting action she could feel the most amazing tremors running through her body, until with a cry, she felt herself erupt from the very core of her being. The waves of pleasure ripped through her entire body as she gasped, her head thrown back, unable to stop herself with the power of her orgasm which continued to hold her as she quivered, her whole body shuddering.
Feeling the waves beating around him, Jon groaned with relief as he thrust deeper and faster, keeping her rocketing through space. When he came, such blessed relief filled him, the sensations so intense he heard himself crying out, becoming momentarily separated from his body, floating with her. After what seemed an age he fell limply over her softness, his weight pinning her as they both fought to steady their ragged breathing.
Finally, in a state of euphoria, he gently kissed her, seeing the happiness in her eyes at what had just happened between them. At last he experienced the emotions he had been missing for so long. He looked down at her wonderful face, her expression showing the depth of her emotion and, for the first time since his sister’s death, he felt happy to be alive.
Moving from her, he lay on his side, spooning her back against this chest, his fingers softly raking through her hair, before whispering into her ear. “Sleep, we can talk more about your idea later.”
Sofia looked over her shoulder drowsily, nodding and giving him a tender kiss on the lips before her eyes fluttered shut.
Jon waited until her breathing evened out, ensuring she was sleeping soundly, her naked form firmly wrapped in his arms, both of them covered by the blanket, before allowing his own eyes to slowly close, contentment overwhelming him.
*****
Jon awoke slowly, worrying for a moment that everything had just been a fantastic dream, but glancing at the sleeping angel in his arms, he was reassured that it was indeed no dream. Comforted that Sofia was fine, he slowly stretched his tired muscles, trying not to wake her, idly wondering what it was that had awoken him.
Only half-awake, Jon wondered if it was really ringing that he could hear in the distance or whether it was just the gentle sound of Sofia’s heart, beating in rhythm to his own. Seeing her eyes flutter open, he asked her sleepily. “Is it just me or can you hear ringing from somewhere?”
Turning around, to bury her face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling him contently she replied drowsily. “Isn’t that my line? Something about how I hoped that Eden moved for you too?”
Deciding to ignore the noise, as Jon had far better ideas of how to spend the morning than going to investigate, he pushed the blanket from their warm bodies and started to kiss Sofia’s neck, heading lower. The small gasps this provoked from her only encouraged him more. So intent was he on this task that he failed to hear the door begin to slide open. It was only the cool breeze from the now open door that alerted him and he immediately rolled over onto this side, carrying Sofia with him, protecting her modesty with his own body.
“Jon!” Paul shouted, rushing into the room red faced. “We cannot find the Princess. She seems to have disappeared from her room. Security has already sealed off the complex and are starting a room-by-room search.”
Jon’s only response was to curse softly into Sofia’s neck, invoking a giggle from the woman. He was just about to respond to his old friend, first with the suggestion that next time he knock and then to reassure him that the Princess was well and safe, when Sofia beat him to it.
Peering over Jon’s shoulder at the shocked Paul, who was only just taking in the scene before him, she gave him a dazzling smile. “Hi, Paul isn’t it? Are you looking for me?”
Paul could only gape, speechless at the scene in front of him. His gaze shifting repeatedly between Jon’s naked back, Sofia’s green eyes, sparkling with amusement and the rumpled bed, quickly drawing his own conclusions.
He flushed an even brighter scarlet, and started backing out of the room. “Uh, I’ll let them know where you are. I mean, I’ll call off the alert and tell them what you are doing. I mean, that you are safe.” His final vision of the occupants of the room as the door slid shut, was a goodbye wave from Sofia.
With another laugh, she pushed Jon onto his back, straddling him. “Well, I think we can rely upon Paul to ensure we are not interrupted for a couple more hours. So how do you think we should pass the time?” She asked seductively.
Reaching backwards Jon snatched the datapad from the table, powering on the device. “I thought that you wanted to explain your idea to me?” He asked with a smirk.
“Later,” Sofia replied starting a trail of kisses down his chest.
As Sofia reached lower, the datapad fell from Jon’s twitching fingers, bouncing off the bed, coming to rest underneath it. Fortunately the device possessed a power saving mode, and after a few hours of inactivity, shut itself off.
Chapter Four
Present Day
Terra Nova, Zeta-Aquilae System
“Commander, if you can hear me, then help me. Please.”
Jon’s eyes flashed open, as his body hurled itself off the bed with the shock of hearing that voice still ringing in his head. Unfortunately this thought was quickly followed by the next. Where was the ground? As his hands vainly clawed at thin air, the rest of his body plummeted to the floor. Fortunately the bed was not set that high off the ground and the thick carpet cushioned his fall, somewhat. Still, Jon could feel the air rush from his lungs. All he saw were stars, his head spinning from hitting the edge of the bed on the way down.
The next thing he felt were strong hands grasping his shoulder, rolling him onto his back, and then a blinding light in his eyes, first one then the other. Now completely blinded, first from the impact and then the bright light, he struggled to get a firm hold on the person who was restraining him. Finally, managing to catch hold of something he could use for leverage, he pulled the stunned individual closer, shouting, “Where is he? Where is Marcus?”
“Commander. Let me go.” The startled voice replied. “I was just trying to check that you’re not hurt. I was worried the fall might have given you a concussion.”
Blinking rapidly, Jon tried to see once again. “Where is he? Where is Marcus? What have you done with him?” He angrily repeated the question.
“Where is who, Jon?” Another deeper voice sounded from behind him.
“Marcus, Marcus Aurelius. What have you done with him?”
“He’s dead Jon. He has been dead for over five years now. Let’s try and get you back onto the bed shall we?” The voice continued soothingly, seemingly unfazed at his outburst.
Finally with his vision somewhat restored, Jon turned to face the second voice, instantly recognising the concerned face of Doctor Richardson. “I thought I heard Marcus. He was calling for help,” Jon explained in a confused voice.
“It was just a dream,” the Doctor reassured him calmly. “You have been through a major trauma and your brain was deprived of oxygen for a short while. It’s not surprising you are confused.” The Doctor cast a practised eye over the last few minutes of the ECG, which monitored the Commander’s brain activity. The medical device did indeed show an elevated level of brain activity indicative of a patient dreaming during rapid-eye-movement sleep. Although the Doctor had never seen such extreme brain activity, as this was not his area of speciality, some unusual brain waves were probably to be expected considering the recent trauma.
After completing a quick, but thorough physical examination, the Doctor permitted Paul and Miranda to enter the small, private, recovery room. While the scans showed no indication of any brain damage, the best indication would be to monitor the patient closely for a time, especially considering his more recent short-term memory impairment.
“Jon!” Miranda cried out, throwing herself into his arms, almost knocking the two of them off the narrow bed. In Jon’s case for the second time.
“Whoa,” Jon exclaimed, taken by surprise by her actions, his arms hesitantly coming to rest around the young woman.
Suddenly looking up into his surprised face, she asked suspiciously. “You do know who I am, don’t you?”
Rolling his eyes in amusement, Jon was about to respond that he had no idea who she was, when he noticed both Paul and the Doctor observing his response closely. Not wanting to prolong his stay any longer than necessary he replied truthfully. “Yes I know who you are, Miranda Sun of Zeta-Aquilae, and you Paul, and yes, I even remember you Doc,” Jon exclaimed with a smile.
“Well I am glad your oxygen deprivation has not affected your sense of humour, Commander,” the Doctor replied, taking care to hide the relief in his voice.
“What happened out there Jon?” Paul asked. “We were all sure you were dead, since you had been missing for five days, and we were just about to prepare a lovely send-off for you. I even opened that bottle of Scotch we had been saving for the right moment.”
“The Imperial Star?” Jon ignored the question, asking one of his own.
“Gone,” Paul confirmed. “Your plan worked, the weapon vaporised the ship and the rest of the fleet surrendered soon after. We, well you, did it.”
“All I care about is Harkov, as long as he is gone,” Jon insisted. So relieved that their plan had succeeded, he did not notice the shared glance between Paul and Miranda. “In answer to your question the last thing that I remember was a few moments before the impact with the ‘Star. The collision alarm sounded and I was trying to angle the ‘Light towards one of the flight decks—”
“You succeeded,” Paul interrupted.
Nodding his head in thanks to Paul for filling in the gaps, he continued. “The next thing I knew was that the ship’s computer took control of the helm, the cockpit sealed itself and the ‘Light ejected the entire cockpit module from the rest of the ship,” Jon explained in wonder. Even in its final death throes, the ‘Light had once again saved his life. “I never knew the ‘Light had such an emergency escape system,” he said in complete amazement.
“She was a fantastic ship,” Paul agreed, patting Jon on the back. “We’re all just glad that you are back safe and well, the station was not the same without you. Anyway we’ll let everybody know the good news and get out of here to let you rest. You have much catching up to do on recent events,” Paul commented softly, throwing another concerned glance at Miranda.
This time, receiving the message loud and clear, she removed herself from Jon’s embrace, giving him a final hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “We’re all glad that you are back in once piece,” she insisted. Brushing away a tear, she followed Paul out of the room, leaving him to wonder what he had missed out on while he had been unconscious.
*****
A few days later Jon was finally able to make good his escape from the Doctor’s clutches, by employing his usual modus operandi of making everybody else’s life unbearable. Jon had always taken the view that if he was to be stuck in Medical feeling miserable, why shouldn’t everybody else be equally unhappy? However, the Doctor had absolutely refused to sign off on him returning to active duty, including his still revoked flight status. Instead, he was sent back to his quarters with strict instructions to rest. So closely following the doctor’s orders, he had spent the past couple of hours catching up on the station’s latest reports and logs.
Finally with a headache threatening to overwhelm him, he pushed back his chair from his desk, opened a beer (the Doctor had also strictly forbidden any alcohol), and wandered over to the small window in his quarters, lost in thought. After awakening in Medical Jon had felt out of sorts; as if he was standing at a crossroads in his life, unsure which direction to turn. Ever since Harkov’s betrayal and the death of the Emperor, Jon had been so consumed with the need for revenge he had little time for anything else. Only when he had finally conceded defeat, believing that Harkov had truly vanished, did Jon take up the offer from Paul to head-up Vanguard. He was not immune to the irony that it was only after abandoning his search that Harkov had finally come to him—and now what? Harkov was dead, the Imperial Star and the Eternal Light were gone. Almost every link to his past gone, except for Sofia.
Sighing to himself, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to her, although she had never been far from his mind even before he regained consciousness. Jon remembered clearly hurtling towards the Imperial Star and that his biggest regret was not being able to say goodbye to her. That their last spoken words had been ones of anger rested heavily on his soul. He knew he should call her and tell her he was alive and well and Harkov was dead, but something held him back. The same something that stopped him calling her prior to the arrival of Harkov—fear. The fear that he would look into her eyes and see happiness there. That she had already moved on with her life, perhaps found somebody else…
His continued musings were interrupted by the sound of an argument taking place outside his quarters. Cocking his head to one side, listening intently, Jon could clearly make out the sound of both Paul and Gunny’s voices, although the words were too quiet to be heard clearly. He was curious to know what they were arguing about and even more curious why they were doing it in the corridor outside his quarters. Striding to the door, which slid open at his approach, Jon stepped out into the corridor to quite an astonishing scene. For there, as expected, were Paul and Gunny, almost nose-to-nose exchanging angry words. Even more astounding was that Miranda had wedged herself between the two senior officers, obviously struggling to keep them apart and stop events escalating.
“Excuse me,” Jon interrupted angrily. “Would somebody like to explain why two of my most senior and trusted officers look like they are about to start a brawl in the corridor? I hardly think that this is an example you should be setting for the rest of the crew.” Turning towards the small group of onlookers who had gathered to observe the spectacle, he gave them a hard stare and the group quickly dispersed. Turning his gaze back towards the three senior staff, he was at least relieved to see the argument seemed to have stopped in its tracks. “Well? I am still waiting for an explanation,” Jon ordered angrily.
“Tell him. Jon has a right to know,” Gunny insisted vehemently.
“I’ll deal with this. Jon is still recovering from his latest trauma and he doesn’t need to be involved with this at the moment,” Paul refuted angrily.
Both of the senior officer’s eyes swivelled towards Miranda, obviously giving her the deciding vote. “Well thanks, boys,” Miranda replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Leave it to me to make the final decision. You,” Miranda turned to point at Jon. “Inside and sit down. I am not going to tell you this while you are standing up. The Doctor has already picked you up from the floor once this week and you are not going to be any help to anyone in Medical with concussion.”
Eyes narrowing, Jon gave Miranda a disapproving stare. “You cannot go ordering me around on my own station,” he spluttered.
“Fine. I won’t tell you,” Miranda insisted, crossing her arms resolutely.
“Women!” Jon cried, spinning on his heel, stalking back into his quarters and slumping down on his sofa. “Okay, fine, I am now sitting down,” he sulked.
Following Jon into his quarters, Miranda stood a couple of meters in front of him, both Paul and Gunny hovering nervously behind her. “Okay, now where to start?” she said aloud, before glancing at the computer, still displaying the latest reports that Jon had left powered on. “Okay, so you are familiar with recent events, good. So I assume that you know we have been picking up the odd escape pod from the Imperial Fleet?”
Jon nodded.
“What is not noted in the latest reports are some details about the last pod we discovered on the same day we found you.” Miranda did not want to dwell on such coincidences, which recently had started to become the norm. She most definitely did not want to dwell on how she had managed to find him in the middle of that debris field.
“So what was special about this pod?” Jon inquired, curious why his three most trusted friends would be arguing over it.
“Not what, who,” Miranda replied nervously. “Okay, there is no way to break this to you easily, so I will just come out and say it. Harkov was in that pod.”
For a brief instant what Miranda said just did not register—Harkov was dead. Looking at the three grim faces in front of him, he knew she was not making it up. All the colour drained from his face and for once he was glad he had followed Miranda’s instructions to sit down, doubting his legs would have supported him.
“He’s alive?”
Three worried heads nodded in answer to his question.
“He’s still alive?” Jon clarified his earlier question. Surprised that nobody had already put a bullet in him or, to save the ammunition, just thrown him out the nearest airlock.
Paul cleared his throat, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. “I ordered him to be taken to Medical and placed under armed guard, until we decide what to do with him. I don’t need to remind you of our duty regarding the ethical treatment of prisoners do I?”
Jon’s eyes flashed angrily, but he did not respond to the implied rebuke. As far as Jon was concerned Harkov had discarded any rights he might have had by murdering Marcus, massacring the remaining Praetorian Guard and, even more recently, firing on ships flying under a flag of truce. “Where is he now?” Jon demanded.
“In the brig, still under armed guard,” Gunny replied promptly. “My men have orders to shoot-to-kill if he so much as looks at them strangely.” The statement would probably have been humorous, if Gunny had not delivered it in a completely serious tone of voice.
Nodding in understanding, Jon replied, “Very well. I want to meet with him. Alone,” he insisted, upon seeing the shocked faces in front of him. “Gunny, please have your men escort him to my office.”
Miranda was going to make some quip about it currently being her office, but one look at the expression on Jon’s face and she wisely remained silent.
“Dismissed,” Jon ordered.
*****
Jon was seated in his usual place, behind his desk in his office, idly spinning a knife, which was lying flat on the otherwise bare table. With Miranda having rearranged his office, behind him was the invisible energy field holding back the depths of space. Between the knife on the table and the gaping void behind, it made for a very bleak impression. Jon was a firm believer in visual stimulation during interrogation, as, often, an individual’s imagination could conjure up far worse than Jon could possibly inflict. When Jon heard the chime announcing Harkov’s arrival, he took a deep breath, preparing to face his antagonist. “Come,” he called out.
As the door slid open to reveal Harkov, flanked on either side by one of Gunny’s marines, Jon came face-to-face with him in person for the first time since the Emperor’s death. Harkov had not changed significantly since Jon last saw him on a view-screen several days earlier. However, this time the situation was very, very, different. If anything he looked even paler and more sickly looking, but his eyes still gleamed with the same arrogance and overconfidence Jon had always associated with him.
That confidence quickly died when he took one look at Jon and came to an abrupt halt. His face went completely ashen and, lifting a trembling hand, he pointed at Jon. “You’re dead,” he stammered. “I saw your ship collide with the Imperial Star. You’re dead.”
Standing from behind his desk, Jon replied in a grim voice. “It was a strange thing because upon arrival in hell I found myself all alone, so I decided to come back and retrieve you. I always promised I would see you there first.”
Unsure if Jon was an apparition, resurrected from the dead as he claimed, or simply a ghost, Harkov could only quake at the sight in front of him.
“Take a seat, Admiral” Jon replied forcefully. The two marines flanking Harkov pushed him into a chair on the other side of the desk, opposite Jon. The two marines then took up position, one on either side of Harkov. Jon re-took his seat and looked at Harkov thoughtfully while spinning the knife, now resting between the two of them on the desk.
“What do you want?” Harkov asked in a subdued voice, still staring at Jon with undisguised terror.
“I’ve already told you what I want Admiral. I want to see you safely back in hell, where you belong.” With that he snatched up the knife from the table, twisting it in the air between thumb and forefinger, before impaling Harkov’s hand with it.
Harkov could only stare incomprehensibly at the hilt of the knife, his hand pierced by the blade, which had buried itself a couple of inches further into the desk. Almost instantly, a wave of agony emanated from his arm, engulfing him. He tipped his head back and screamed deafeningly as he tried to draw his hand back, but was unable to. Gazing in horror and disbelief as the blood started to pool under his hand, which was trapped between the hilt of the knife and the table. Rivulets of blood ran across the surface, staining the desk blood-red.
“What are you doing?” He cried. “I’m a prisoner of war and under your Confederation Charter I should be well treated and unharmed.”
“I care nothing for the Confederation or its Charter,” Jon sneered, leaning forward until they were almost eye-to-eye. “This is my station! My home and I have the final decision as to what takes place here. The Confederation is weak, being run by spineless corrupt bureaucrats, incapable of making the slightest decision. It only exists because of the continued support of the fleet, a fleet that still answers to the Fleet Admirals. They are either more loyal to me than their political masters or they lie awake at night, terrified to close their eyes, in case when they open them I am standing there. Now don’t go anywhere.” With that Jon started searching through his desk, opening and closing drawers, with increasing frustration. “Where is that blasted thing,” Jon muttered aloud. “Seriously, I wish people would put back things once they had finished with them.” Finally it dawned on him that the pistol he kept in his desk was no longer there. He had offered it to Miranda a few days after she had arrived on the station.
Growling in frustration, Jon turned to one of the marines standing ramrod straight next to Harkov. “Sergeant-at-Arms, your sidearm, please,” Jon ordered.
With a look of consternation at his fellow marine, the sergeant withdrew the heavy pistol from its holster, offering it to the Commander, grip first. Then with another nervous exchange of glances the two marines took a step back from the Admiral. It was obvious he was not going far, at least physically. Metaphysically was an entirely different matter.
Chambering a round into the barrel and flicking off the safety, Jon drew a bead with the pistol directly at Harkov’s forehead. “I am not one for long monologues, so I’ll see you in hell Harkov.” With that he began to squeeze the trigger.
“No!” Harkov screamed, like a baby. “Marcus is alive!”
It was such an astonishing proclamation, that temporarily Jon released his finger from the trigger. “You’re lying,” Jon insisted, dismissing it as the last desperate plea for survival from a man who knew he was looking death in the face. “Even if the Emperor was still alive, you would have boasted about his capture years ago. You’re a conceited bastard Harkov and you would never have been able to keep his capture a secret for long.”
“I said he was alive. I know where he is. I never said that he was in my possession,” Harkov babbled, aware his life was hanging in the balance.
“Where is he then?”
“Not until you give me your oath that you will release me, unharmed, if I tell you.”
Jon gritted his teeth in frustration. This snake always seemed to wriggle out of his grasp. “You have my word,” Jon cursed.
“Not good enough,” Harkov insisted, knowing that he had the upper hand, if only for a short time. “I already had your word that the shuttles leaving your station were unarmed and that was a lie.”
Jon felt like reminding the Admiral he had first given his word that the shuttles would be permitted to leave, unharmed, but viewing the futility of it he remained silent to see what Harkov’s demands were.
“I want you to swear on the life of Marcus’ daughter, Sofia Aurelius, that you will let me leave the station, alive and unharmed.”
Grinding his teeth together in frustration, red-faced with fury, Jon replied, “I swear.”
Harkov looked pointedly at the knife, still pinning his hand to the desk. With a grimace, Jon took the knife by the hilt and, with a sharp tug, pulled it free, taking some delight in the groan of pain from the Admiral. Leaning forward, Jon hissed, “Now I want to hear everything, and, if I hear one word of mistruth, well, we still have my original plan,” Jon tapped the pistol now resting on the desk, clearly pointing in the direction of Harkov.
*****
A few hours later Harkov left the office, once again flanked by the two marines. The Admiral had bandaged his hand with a torn strip of his sleeve, after Jon refused any medical assistance, reminding him that he had sworn not to harm him after impaling him with the blade.
In the meantime, quite a crowd had assembled outside his office, as word had spread around the station that Harkov was alone with Jon. There was more than one disappointed face to be seen as Harkov walked out alive. After all, the Commander did not have a reputation for leaving enemies alive in his wake.
After the Admiral had departed, Paul, Gunny and Miranda hesitantly approached Jon’s office, surprised to find the door opening at their approach. Peering into the office they were pleased to observe Jon in his usual position, back to the room, gazing out at the stars, deep in thought.
“He’s still alive?” Gunny broke the silence, not needing to state explicitly whom he was referring to.
“I decided to sleep on it,” came the non-committal response.
“Jon, are you okay?” Miranda asked worriedly.
Finally turning around to face his three most trusted confidants, he refused to meet their gaze, his expression—troubled. “Harkov told me some unsettling news,” he said.
The three of them exchanged worried glances, before Miranda ventured, “What news Jon?”
“I need to think and reflect on this first. Schedule a senior staff meeting for tomorrow. You all need to hear this.” With that he once again turned his back on the room, looking out into the depths of space. Troubled.
*****
The sword flashed towards Jon’s face. Only at the very last instant did he manage to deflect the blow with his own blade. However the force of the impact pushed him back, off-balance. The time it took for him to take a step back and regain his footing was all that was required. With a rapid riposte, the blade flew at him again, aimed at his shoulder. Jon was unable to ward off this blow, only having just regained his balance. The blade cut cleanly through uniform and flesh. With a cry of pain Jon stepped back, his hand touching the small cut.
“I thought you were meant to be teaching me how to wield a sword, not trying to kill me?” Jon snapped, wincing in pain, wiping the sweat from his brow. They had been at this for the past half-hour and Jon was already exhausted. Unfortunately his opponent had yet to break into a sweat. Standing a few inches taller, with a far stockier figure, a chiselled, angular face with a touch of grey in his hair, his opponent was a good twenty years older than him. Letting his sword rest, point down, on the ground to relieve his burning shoulder, Jon was forced to concede that the other man was also far fitter.
Gideon, the Praetorian Commander observed Jon with a bemused expression. “I have always believed that learning to wield a sword and not dying to be complementarily, boy.”
Jon eyed Gideon angrily. Ever since the Emperor had reassigned him to the Praetorian Guard, he was expected to attend these training sessions several times a week to learn how to fight with the Valerian sword from the famous Praetorian Commander. Not that Jon had ever actually held such a sword, he would only be able to claim that prize if he passed the final test and was accepted into the unit as an official Praetorian. The nature of this final test he had no idea and it did not help that Gideon continued to call him boy, even though Jon had repeatedly asked him to call him by his name, or rank.
Frankly, after several weeks of this Jon was fed up. The rest of the unit treated their newest recruit with little more than contempt, only Lieutenant Elizabeth Sun, or Elsie as she had asked him to call her was barely civil. On top of this Jon had to endure these regular sessions of ritual humiliation. Jon had finally reached his breaking point and he wanted to quit. As far as he was concerned the Emperor could go find a new recruit. He had no idea why he was chosen in the first place. However, first he owed this old bastard some payback for all the hours of belittling, insults, cuts and welts he had received at his hand. Eyes turning a steel-grey with unrestrained fury, Jon snatched back up the sword.
“Fine. If you want to fight Gideon, let’s fight!” Jon roared, moving back towards Gideon, slashing at him furiously with the blade. Jon was under no illusion that in a duel with this man he could win. Indeed, he was going to lose, and badly at that. Gideon’s skill with the blade was legendary, the rumour being that he had never been beaten. Jon, however, had no intention of duelling with Gideon, for he had grown up in the slums and backstreets of Altair, where you fought with everything that you possessed just to stay alive.
Hence rushing at Gideon, slashing away and trying to put the Commander on the defensive, which only made the older man laugh. Having taken a combat stance, his feet planted wide apart, there was no possibility of him being taken off-balance and he easily deflected each of the blows.
“What did I tell you about letting your emotions get the better of you, boy?” He laughed. “You must fight with your head, not your heart.” So confident was he in his own abilities he used his free hand to point, first at his head, then his chest.
However, Gideon had misinterpreted Jon’s intentions, for he had no plan to try and push the old warrior off balance, instead all he wanted to do was get within striking distance of his other weapons. Gideon, seeing an opening in Jon’s defence, laughed again, pulling back with his sword to strike, but Jon struck first. So intent was the older man on Jon’s sword that he failed to notice his foot lash out, striking Gideon on the knee. With the wide combat stance, it was not enough to fell him, but the sudden pain did cause him to pause for an instant. Jon took advantage of the opportunity to lash out with his hand, catching Gideon’s sword arm in a tight grip. Stunned at the move Gideon glanced at the hand encircling his own, before turning has gaze back towards Jon. After that he only saw stars. For Jon’s head came crushing down on Gideon’s forehead, just above his nose, with a resounding crack. It was a testament to the old warrior that he still remained standing after receiving such a forceful blow, but with his ears ringing and sight blurred, he failed to see Jon’s blade descending towards his head.
However much Jon hated the old Praetorian Commander, he had no desire to kill the man. Hence it was the hilt of the sword that struck his head, not the blade.
Totally senseless, Gideon went crashing to the floor.
When he came-to a few moments later, shaking his head to restore his vision, he found himself looking into the flashing eyes of his antagonist. Feeling a sharp prick to the neck, Gideon cast his gaze downwards, following the blade that Jon held, the point touching his throat.
Leaning forward to emphasise the point Jon snapped. “I quit and don’t ever call me boy again.” With that he tossed the blade aside, turning his back on the Praetorian Commander.
Gideon could only stare in disbelief at the retreating man’s back, wondering what the hell had just happened? As the Praetorian Commander, he had never been defeated, never bested by a blade before. Yet this had just happened, at the hand of some new, young recruit, with barely a few week’s training.
When Marcus had first ordered him to train the boy, Gideon had glanced at his personnel file, and was unimpressed. The boy came from a poor background from Altair. Altair? Where the hell was Altair? While obviously courageous and loyal to the troops he commanded, Gideon viewed him as young and reckless, with little or no discipline. Definitely not the usual Praetorian material. Gideon had idly wondered why Marcus had chosen him.
Quit? Gideon laughed out aloud, calling out to the retreating officer. “I like you, boy. A big improvement over your predecessor, Sejanus.” Gideon touched the side of his head painfully, feeling the small cut from the hilt of the blade. Perhaps he would no longer refer to the officer as boy. He had earned that.
*****
Jon’s eyes snapped open. Wide awake with Gideon’s final words ringing through his head.
“I like you boy. A big improvement over your predecessor, Sejanus.”
That made it twice in as many hours he had heard that name mentioned. Wondering if it was just his imagination, Jon replayed the encounter with Gideon, many years before, over and over again in his head until he was convinced he had not been imagining it. Gideon had definitely used the name Sejanus. Perhaps it was just a coincidence? But Jon had never believed in coincidences. He made a mental note to bring up the name during the senior staff meeting later.
Glancing at the chronometer, Jon observed it was still very early in the morning. Now that he was wide awake he knew that it would be futile to try and get back to sleep. Anyway it was still several hours before the senior staff meeting was scheduled to commence and Jon had some unfinished business to take care of first.
*****
As it was so early the corridors were pretty much deserted. The station only ran a skeleton shift at this hour of day, especially as it was still on shutdown following the destruction of the Santa Maria and the arrival of Harkov’s fleet.
Thinking about Harkov, Jon finally arrived at his destination, the brig, where Harkov had been held prisoner for the past couple of days. The two armed guards, standing diligently at attention, both reached for their side arms as the door slid open. It was so early in the morning they were not expecting any visitors. Both returned the pistols to their holsters upon sighting the Commander.
“Return to your posts men, I am dismissing this security detail,” Jon ordered curtly.
The two guards eyed each other nervously, as they had strict instructions to guard the prisoner until relieved, but finally acknowledging the order from the Commander, saluted, and hurried from the brig.
Unlocking the door to the cell that contained Harkov, Jon could just make out his form, sleeping restlessly in the dim light. Kicking Harkov in the side, none too lightly, Jon roused him from his slumber. On seeing the Commander, Harkov scurried back into the corner of the cell. Recognising that even a coward like Harkov would probably fight if cornered and, as he was running on a tight time schedule, Jon ordered, “Harkov, get up. We are leaving.”
“Going where?” Harkov replied, looking at him suspiciously.
“I thought that you wanted to leave the station?” Jon inquired. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
“No. No, I still want to leave. You remember your promise? Alive and unharmed?”
“I remember,” Jon said, nodding reluctantly. “Now come on, we do not have much time before somebody notices your absence.” With that Jon departed the cell, with Harkov scurrying quickly behind him. Fortunately the corridors were still empty and nobody saw their swift departure. Jon closed and locked the cell door, and after they walked through the door to the brig it slid shut behind them. Hopefully that would buy them more time before anybody noticed him missing.
“Where are we going?”
“The docking ring,” Jon replied lengthening his stride, praying to whichever deity might be listening they would not encounter anybody on their route. Fortunately their luck held and finally the two of them arrived in front of one of the airlocks on the docking ring. Jon motioned towards the open portal. “As per my promise, you are free to leave. Alive and unharmed.”
Harkov looked at the open door greedily, before turning to face the Commander one final time. “Your problem Radec is that you still believe in honour. You are a relic from the past and like all relics you will soon become extinct. You mark my words Radec; your honour will be the cause of your downfall one day. Until we meet again!” Harkov exclaimed, hurrying through the airlock towards the waiting ship.
Only to find another closed airlock door, facing out into the deep emptiness of interstellar space. “What the hell?” He exclaimed whirling around just in time to see in horror the airlock door that he had just stepped through closing behind him. “Radec!” He screamed in terror, pounding on the door with his fists. “You gave me your word, your honour on the life of the Princess. You lying son-of-a-bitch!”
As Harkov stepped into the airlock, Jon activated the controls to cycle the airlock. Watching stone-faced as the door slid shut, observing through the small viewport the realisation and horror on Harkov’s face. “As promised Harkov,” Jon said softly, knowing that the other man could not hear him though the airtight door. “You are free to leave the station, alive and unharmed, but perhaps next time you might also request a ship.”
With that the outer airlock door cycled open. The explosive decompression pulling the screaming Harkov out into space.
Having thrown out the trash, Jon went in search of a cup of coffee. He was expecting the senior staff meeting to be a long one.
*****
Jon was already on this third cup of coffee of the morning, patiently sitting at the head of the briefing room table, waiting for the rest of the senior staff to file in.
David McNeill, the station’s Head of Security, hurried into the room, his face as white as a sheet, ten minutes late. “Commander,” he exclaimed breathlessly. “Harkov is missing. I have just interrogated the guards, they insisted that you dismissed them.”
All eyes in the room swivelled to face Jon.
“Everything is under control,” Jon replied unperturbed. “Please take a seat and I will explain.”
David shot Jon a look of complete and utter disbelief, before sinking into the remaining seat dejectedly.
“Now that everybody is here,” Jon began, ensuring he had everybody’s attention. “I want to explain the purpose for calling you all here today. During the interrogation of Harkov, some rather startling new facts have come to light regarding events that transpired five years ago on the Imperial Star.”
The senior staff exchanged puzzled looks, not understanding how events that happened so long ago could have any bearing on the present.
Taking a deep breath, Jon knew there was no easy way to break this news, so he just came out and said it. “Harkov informed me that the Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, is still alive.”
The room was deadly silent for a moment, you could have heard a pin drop, before it exploded into a dozen different voices, all shouting at once.
“Rubbish.”
“Nonsense.”
“Can’t you see Jon, he is spinning you moonbeams. Telling you what you want to hear?”
Jon was expecting such a response and waited for the room to quieten down once again. Finally Jon turned to Paul, one of the few voices that had been silent. “Paul?”
Paul was silent for a few moments, before looking up. “What did Harkov say?” Paul asked guardedly.
Jon nodded his head acknowledging the question. While they had never spoken of it before, Jon had long felt that Paul also harboured some of the same suspicions that he did. How did Marcus die? Why had his body never been presented or found? What happened during those last fateful hours on the Imperial Star? Touching a control on the desk, Jon activated the voice recording he had made of Harkov’s confession the day before.
“I do not know everything that happened.” Harkov’s voice bellowed out of the room’s concealed audio system. “But I will tell you what I know.”
“Just get on with it Harkov,” Jon interrupted irritably on the recording.
“Very well then. The plan first started to go awry after your meeting with Marcus and your abrupt departure took us all by surprise. I had spent the past several months transferring people personally loyal to me into key positions throughout the fleet, positions on the command deck and in engineering. I had also been quietly transferring in troops to help me seize the rest of the fleet. However, I did not have any people loyal to me or any of my own troops stationed on the flight deck, hence I could not stop or delay your departure. However, I had replaced the fighter crew on the ship and they were all loyal to me. I had these launch ahead of you and ordered them to be stationed within the asteroid belt, ready to ambush you. Soon after you and the Praetorians departed, I put the plan into action. It went flawlessly, with only one officer managing to activate the emergency distress beacon before he was shot. Once the Imperial Star was under my control I sent troops to arrest Marcus, but he was gone. The guards I had posted on the door denied he had ever left.
I ordered an immediate search of the ship, but no trace of him could be found. However, it was discovered that his personal shuttle, the Endless Light, was also missing. The ship’s computer and external sensors didn’t detect the shuttle or other ships leaving, apart from your own and the Praetorians’. Marcus and his ship just vanished into thin air, like a ghost.
You know what happened next. Somehow you evaded the ambush I arranged for you and managed to escape with Marcus’ daughter. By then the plan was in complete disarray. I had lost both the Emperor and his daughter, my only two legitimate claims to the Empire. Worrying that you might have signalled for reinforcements, I jumped the taskforce to an uninhabited system, which we had identified several weeks before, to decide on the next course of action.
While there, I received a message from Alexander Sejanus, Chief Executive of the Tyrell Corporation, claiming that he had the Emperor in his possession and wanted a trade.”
“And you took his word for it?” Jon’s cynical voice interrupted on the recording.
“Of course not,” Harkov responded indignantly. “I demanded proof that they had Marcus and he was still alive. After all, he was no use to me dead.”
“And?” Jon demanded urgently.
“They sent me proof of life. A live recording of Marcus as he was being tortured. My technicians confirmed the signal was live and had not been altered in any way. Sejanus also sent me his DNA sequence. As you know there are no copies of this held on any database in the Imperium, only on the main computer of the Imperial Star and this cannot be copied, only verified against.”
“What do you know about this Sejanus, what does he look like?”
“He wouldn’t reveal himself to me,” Harkov insisted. “All our communications were via audio only, no visual communication.”
“So what did Sejanus want in exchange for the Emperor?”
“Two things,” Harkov said. “First he wanted the Emperor’s daughter, Sofia Aurelius. Alive.”
“The second?”
“You. Dead. He insisted on having your head delivered with the Princess. Those were the terms of the deal.”
“And you accepted?”
“Of course I did. What other option did I have? At the time I had nothing to lose.”
“So you sent your spies, assassins and mercenaries after us?” Jon deduced.
“Yes, as I could not risk my task force being so deep in Imperial space.”
“But that was over five years ago. How do you know that Marcus is still alive today?”
“Because Sejanus contacted me only a few months ago. Again, he demanded your head and Sofia, alive, in exchange for the Emperor. He again sent proof Marcus was still alive.”
“But you said that you knew where he was?” The voice of Jon on the recording prompted Harkov, once again. “So where is he?”
“I didn’t just send my spies after you,” Harkov gloated. “I sent them after Sejanus too. He is currently located on the planet Tartarus, in the Sigma Draconis system. That is where you will find your beloved Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Alive and imprisoned.”
Chapter Five
Terra Nova, Zeta Aquilae System
“It’s just not possible. By the Maker, what have we done? We abandoned him there and left him behind. Alive and all alone,” Doctor Richardson whispered in a voice, full of despair.
“What is done is done!” Jon snapped, slapping the palm of his hand down firmly on the conference room table. “We cannot change the past, we can only alter the future. Occasionally we are offered the opportunity to put things right, but the question is what are we going to do about it now that we know?”
All eyes in the room turned to face Paul. “Why is everybody looking at me as if I know the answer?” he asked, surprised.
“I think this is normally about the time when you butt in, saying this is not our problem, that we should tell the Confederation,” Jon smirked.
“Hell no,” Paul shook his head emphatically. “You go to the Confederation with this news and the Senate will send the fleet out for sure, to finish the job! To make sure Marcus is dead and buried this time. The only thing that jointly united the Senate was their all-abiding deep hatred of the Emperor. If we are going to do this, we do this. Alone.”
The nodding of heads around the table was unanimous.
“Jason?” Jon asked. “What do we know about the Tyrell Corporation and the planet Tartarus?”
Jason looked up from the datapad that he had been furiously tapping away on, ever since he had heard Harkov had stated where and who was currently imprisoning the Emperor. “According to public records, the Tyrell Corporation is a private incorporated company. As a private company it does not need to publish annual reports. Hence its current owner is listed as unknown. According to their data-net they are a private security company, that trace their roots back to a small Old Earth company called Blackwater, which was founded in the late 20th Century in Virginia, one of the many different countries that existed back then, I guess.”
“Mercenaries then,” Gunny cursed in distaste.
“Looks like they are more than that, as according to their data-net they also have a large Research & Development arm, and own a number of munitions factories and shipyards.”
“Even better. Arms dealers, run by mercenaries,” Gunny growled.
“I thought I recognised the name,” Paul added. “We have done some business with them in the past during our special operations days.”
“We’ve worked with them before?” Gunny demanded, aghast.
Paul just shrugged his shoulders. “Plausible deniability. Today a friend, tomorrow a foe. They have always made themselves just useful enough in the past to avoid having the Imperial Navy shut them down permanently.”
“What do you know about the planet Tartarus?” Jon asked, realising that the company was going to be a dead-end.
“We have more information on the planet,” Jason confirmed. “It was originally discovered by the Imperial Navy during our last big expansion, one hundred and fifty years ago. According to the original scans it was classified as a habitable planet, but only just. The initial scan reported significant volcanic and tectonic activity, high concentrations of carbon dioxide, sulphur dioxide, methane and carbon monoxide. Day time temperatures reported as high as 65oC, night time temperatures reported as low as minus 35oC. It was classified as low priority for settlement, the final report in the database listed it as being sold to the Tyrell Corporation for fifty billion credits.”
“Sounds like the perfect home for a bunch of devils,” Gunny exclaimed.
“Oh, knock it off Gunny,” Jon insisted, beginning to feel the start of a headache, as he had still not completely recovered from his last ordeal. “Paul, you said that the Imperial Navy drew up at least one strike plan against the company?”
“Should be in the classified Confederation Navy data-net,” Paul nodded.
“Okay, I’ve found it, bringing it up now,” Jason confirmed. Nobody in the room having the slightest concern that they had such easy access to a secure, military-only network.
The holo-projector in the room came to life, displaying a large yellowish-red planet, about thirty centimetres in diameter, hovering just above the conference table. The display suddenly superimposed three large objects orbiting the virtual planet, each highlighted with detailed technical specifications displayed parallel to them.
Peering closely at the display, Paul whistled out loudly. “Okay, that’s going to be a big problem.”
“What is it?” Miranda asked anxiously, looking around at the general shaking of heads around the table, not understanding the detailed specifications being rendered.
“It’s a Titan Mk. III,” Paul replied as if that explained everything.
“What the hell is a Titan Mk. III?”
“It’s a stationary orbital defence platform,” Jon explained. “Think of it as a really, really big, mean, nasty battleship. Strip out the engines, give it even more weapons emplacements, double the armour and you have a Titan Mk. III.”
“And Tartarus is protected by three of them,” Paul added unhelpfully.
“Anything else?” Jon directed the question at Jason.
“According to the last report, which is a few years out of date, a number of warships have also been observed, at least one battleship, a couple of heavy cruisers, several light cruisers and destroyer class warships,” he replied.
“I think we are in the wrong line of work,” David quipped. “They must be making some serious credits to be able to afford that lot and seriously paranoid about their privacy.”
“What was the gist of the Imperial strike plan then?” Jon asked resignedly, being able to predict the answer.
“A reinforced Imperial strike force. Backed up by at least two star-carriers. The plan called for the strike group to engage any enemy ships, while repeated bomber wings engaged the Titans from a distance.”
“Twenty or thirty warships, with around two hundred fighters and bombers in support,” Jon summarised mostly for Miranda’s benefit, rubbing his forehead, his headache back with a vengeance.
“And we have?” Miranda inquired.
“Jason?”
Looking backwards and forwards between Jon and Miranda, he inquired. “Are we including Miranda’s Wraith heavy-attack fighter?”
Miranda shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
“One Wraith heavy-attack fighter,” Jason deadpanned.
“We’re so screwed,” David said.
“Maybe not,” Jon replied after a few moments of deep concentration. “There is another ship that we have,” he said, looking at Paul.
“You cannot be serious,” he spluttered.
“It’s our only option.”
“That was over three years ago, you don’t even know if it’s still there.”
“I know it is.”
“Then you don’t even know if it is safe.”
“We need to take the risk.”
The rest of the senior staff watched the backwards and forwards conversation between the two officers with increasing confusion.
“Enough!” Bellowed Gunny, slamming his fist against the table. “Will one, or both of you, please explain to the rest of us what you are talking about?”
Paul made an ‘after you’ gesture with his hand towards Jon, who, taking a deep breath, explained. “There is another ship that we possess. A warship. A Confederation Navy heavy cruiser to be precise, The Sunfire.”
The shocked silence in the briefing room was interrupted by Gunny raising his hand. “Excuse the interruption, but just where is this ship? As when I woke up this morning and looked out the window I failed to notice a big damn Confederation Navy heavy cruiser parked outside.”
Jon ignored the sarcasm and simply replied, “It’s currently, or was, in orbit around the dark side of a moon, around the second planet in the Beta-Hydri system.”
“It’s just out there, floating around?” Gunny inquired in disbelief.
Paul and Jon exchanged another brief glance. “Sort of,” Jon replied evasively.
Jason meanwhile was once again accessing the Confederation data-net and brought up the schematics of the Sunfire on the holo-projector; the three-dimensional image almost taking up the entire length of the briefing room table.
“Heavy cruiser class, dual bow particle beam cannons, heavy rail-guns, pulse cannons, both fore and aft missile batteries, double hulled, a ship-of-the-line.” It was Jason’s turn to whistle out loud, even more impressed by the powerful warship displayed in front of them than the defences around Tartarus.
“Excuse me,” Miranda interrupted. “But what is a ship-of-the-line? I have never heard that term before.”
“Warships are hugely expensive Miranda,” Paul explained. “Your average citizen just assumes they are out there, floating around somewhere until they are called upon to blow something up, but that is just not the case. Most navy warships are actually multi-role. They might have an extended cargo hold and be armed merchants, or with faster engines and be used as fleet couriers, but a ship-of-the-line is different. It only has one purpose and that is to be first into battle. For this reason it is more heavily armed and built with thicker armour than any other comparable ship. They are called ships-of-the-line because on Old Earth ancient sail ships used to form a line of battle and they were the first in that line.”
Miranda nodded in understanding.
“Then the only issue I can see,” Jason continued. “Is that according to the last status update, the Sunfire was confirmed lost, with all hands, while on operational deployment. Which raises the interesting question, if it was lost with all hands, how was the ship ever confirmed lost? There is no record of its destruction.”
All eyes in the room, once again turned questioningly back to Jon.
“It was lost, with all hands, except for me. I wrote that final entry, but I was never officially attached to the crew. I was there as an independent observer, so the final report is accurate.”
“Even if what you say is true and the ship is still in orbit, this will be a fantastic asset to us, but against three Titan orbital defence stations? It’s not going to be enough,” Paul pointed out.
Jon cast his gaze away from Paul, ashamed. While they had been friends for a long time, Jon had not shared all of his secrets with him and it was going to be necessary to reveal what he had long kept hidden from his old friend. “It’s not just the ship that we need,” Jon whispered out loud. “It’s what is stored on the ship.”
“Nothing is listed on the ship manifest,” Jason replied confused. “What is so important that is on the ship that we need?”
“Three, Mk. VI tactical nuclear warheads.”
The silence in the room was deafening as nobody knew what to say. Everybody had witnessed the hugely destructive capability of such a weapon, when Jon had used one against the Imperial Star only weeks earlier–but three of them? Floating around in space, for anybody to stumble across—the possible consequences were terrifying.
Paul threw back his chair, stumbling to his feet, red faced with fury. “You never told me!” He yelled, pointing his finger across the table at Jon. “You never told me what was on that ship, otherwise I would never have kept silent about it. By the Maker, Jon! If somebody stumbles on that ship and finds those weapons—each one could level a city. Millions, tens of millions of innocent people could die. What were you thinking?”
Jon looked grim faced, hurt both by the accusations and the knowledge that while he had not lied to Paul, he should have told him about the cargo. “It was my decision,” he replied firmly. “Any consequences, any blame for my actions rests solely with me. The weapons are safe because anybody approaching the ship without transmitting the correct codes, will trigger the self-destruct mechanism.”
“Perhaps you should tell us what happened?” Jason interrupted the argument that was obviously just getting started.
So Jon recounted the rumours that had filtered out of the system. How he had been assigned to the Sunfire as an independent observer, their search for the weapon and finally the tragic loss of life of the crew. “Naval Intelligence had assumed the weapon being developed was biological in nature, as the rumours suggested that while the weapon killed, it left the infrastructure intact. It was a reasonable assumption, but totally wrong.”
“That was why you and the weapons were assigned to the Sunfire?” Paul asked. His temper cooled by the retelling of the death of so many. “As they assumed it was some bio-weapon, the only way that the Confederation could ensure its destruction was by nuking the facility from space?”
Jon nodded his head.
“And we are sure that the ship is now safe?” Doctor Richardson asked, concerned about the possible radiation effects on the crew.
“It should be Doc,” Jon replied. “The neutron dose delivered by the weapon was lethal, but the resulting radiation does not last long, it has an extremely short half-life. That was the intended purpose of the weapon.” Looking around at the unsure looks on the faces of the senior staff, Jon pronounced passionately, “At the time I could not understand why I couldn’t scuttle the ship, it just seemed wrong somehow. Now I understand. This is the purpose for the ship, call it fate, call it destiny, I don’t care, but the Sunfire will be there. This is what she was built for, what she has been waiting for since I abandoned her.”
“So let me get this straight,” Gunny said. “We go find this ship and, assuming that we can salvage it, we fly it to Tartarus. Once there, we nuke the orbital defence platforms, destroy any other ships that get in our way and assault whatever ground based facilities that they might have. We go in, rescue the boss and then hightail it out of the System?”
Jon nodded his head in agreement. “Pretty much.”
“Sounds good to me. Now how about lunch? I’m starved.”
*****
After breaking for a light lunch, or a heavy one in the case of Gunny, who claimed he needed the extra carbs for the up-and-coming mission, the senior staff reconvened in the briefing room a few hours later. They immediately discovered a glaring hole in the dash-in-shoot-everything-up-rush-out plan, as Gunny so eloquently summarised it.
“It’s not going to work,” Paul stated firmly. “Even if we do manage to get past the Titan defence stations and whatever other fleet assets that they might have in orbit around Tartarus, they are going to see us coming from a million kilometres away. Best-case scenario, they will just move Marcus to another, hidden, location. Worst case they will just threaten to execute him on the spot unless we back off, so we need to retain the element of surprise.”
“You’re talking about a covert infiltration of the company?” Jon guessed.
“Isn’t that what we do best?” Paul smirked.
“But how do we sneak past those defence platforms?” Jon mused out loud. “The way they are positioned gives them complete coverage of the entire planet, so we will never be able to sneak a ship past them.”
“I might have an idea regarding that,” Jason added. “After all it’s a company planet; so there are ships coming and going all the time. We need to simply find the flight schedule of one such ship, hijack it off planet and then fly it back to Tartarus, on schedule.”
“You propose that we take a page out of the Syndicate organisation’s tactics?”
“Why not? It worked for them up to a point,” Jason shrugged.
Some months earlier, the Syndicate organisation, a shadowy cartel of pirates, thieves and slavers, had tried to assassinate Jon by sneaking onto the station via a hijacked ship, the Santa Maria. The attempt had failed only after they had first tried to cut power to Jon’s office, in an attempt to murder him by dropping the energy field that protected his office from the depths of space. Fortunately, the attempt had failed and in doing so alerted Jon and station security to their presence. Jon and Miranda had killed one of the groups of attackers, Gunny, David and his marines, the other. While the attempt on Jon’s life was unsuccessful, their plan had been tactically sound.
“You can get access to their shipping manifests?” Jon asked Jason, surprised.
“Not from the Tyrell Corporation data-net, I have already checked. They have so many firewalls, Trojan programmes and logic bombs, I worry I might alert them to our presence. However, I can easily obtain the manifests from a docking control on one of several planets in the adjoining systems. Every ship needs to file a flight plan before docking control will permit them to depart. I just need to find one that fits within our schedule and lists Tartarus as its destination. The more difficult problem will be to get the flight crew to divulge any authentication codes or docking procedures we will need to get past the defence platforms.”
“That won’t be an issue,” Gunny replied confidently, cracking his knuckles.
“Very well, that sounds like a plan then. We will split into two teams,” Jon summarised. “Gunny, you assemble a team of your best marines. I’ll accompany you to pilot the ship. No offence but your piloting skill leaves a lot to be desired. Miranda, you will be my co-pilot, as you have the most experience flying such freighters.”
“I cannot come with you,” Miranda shook her head sadly.
“Why not?”
“Because I cannot land with you on Tartarus. It’ll kill me.”
“Excuse me?”
“I was born in space, I’ve never been planet-side. My heart cannot adapt to the additional gravity and it would kill me.”
Miranda’s abrupt explanation was interrupted by the doctor falling off his chair with laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Miranda demanded crossly.
“My dear,” the Doctor replied, trying to supress his laughter. “I was Chief Flight Surgeon in the Imperial Navy before you were born. I have never heard such a ridiculous story in all my time in the navy. I gave you a complete physical when you came aboard Terra Nova and can definitely assure you your heart is perfectly fine. Perhaps the Commander could also confirm this fact, as I am sure he has heard your heart beating wildly?” Neil asked with a smirk in Jon’s direction. The older doctor loved teasing Jon.
Jon simply looked away, but not before everybody could see his flaming cheeks. “I’m sure your heart will cope just fine,” he said, clearing his throat. “I am just sorry that Tartarus will be the first planet that you step onto as it’s not much of a place for a vacation. If we all make it through this alive, I’ll approve a company paid vacation for everybody.” The declaration reminded Jon he had promised to also take Jason and his intelligence team on a long holiday. They had been pulling off miracle after miracle over the past several months and deserved a well-earned break.
Looking around the table, he realised Jason was not the only one looking ragged. The faces reflecting back at him were all long and drawn, with too many dark patches under their eyes, symptoms of too many long hours, not enough sleep and enough stress to last a lifetime. It seemed events had been non-stop ever since the Magistratus’ visit from the Syndicate a little over a year ago. Silently Jon made a promise everybody would be given a well-deserved break after this operation, including himself.
Jon had resorted to tightly clasping his hands together during the briefing, to avoid any of his crew noticing the uncontrollable trembling of his fingers. Even his body was starting to show signs of the continued demands put upon it, having been injured by a stab wound in his back by a Syndicate enforcer during the battle for Terra Nova and then having died and been resuscitated only at the very last moment by the doctor and his medical team. No, Jon promised, after this was all over everybody would have a well-deserved break.
“It’s settled then,” Jon stated finally. “Gunny, Miranda and I, with a team of Special Forces will infiltrate the complex, locate Marcus and rescue him. Paul, you will take command of the Sunfire and cover our retreat.”
“Yeah, that should be easy enough,” Paul muttered. “We only have to fight our way past three orbital defence platforms and whatever mobile fleet assets that they might have in place.”
“I’ll join your team Commander,” Jason added. “I might be of assistance once on Tartarus, in locating and freeing the Emperor.”
Jon nodded his head in thanks.
“I will also come aboard the Sunfire,” Neil insisted firmly. “I want to make sure that the ship is safe for the crew. In addition we are going to take casualties, so you need a medical team on board. Also we have no idea what condition Marcus is in.”
Jon was reminded the Doctor had been a close friend of the Emperor for many years, also being his personal physician and present at the birth of his daughter, Sofia. Of course he would want to come along.
“That raises another problem,” Paul pointed out. “While the Sunfire is a modern warship and heavily automated, it still requires a large crew. We are going to be looking at taking almost all of the crew from Terra Nova, which is going to leave the station here woefully undermanned.”
“The station will remain closed for business,” Jon insisted. “We will leave enough crew to maintain the station. Security should not be an issue, as we still have a large complement of Confederation warships in the system to maintain security. We will ask for volunteers from the crew, but the exact details of this mission remain strictly between us until after we depart. We will simply inform them that it is a rescue mission. I trust the crew implicitly, but informing them means we also need to trust their families, their friends and whoever else they might tell. If word leaks out of our operation to the Tyrell Corporation, it will have failed before we even start.”
There was a general nodding of heads around the whole table. Many of them having worked in covert operations before, they knew the importance of operational security. Their very lives could depend upon it.
“Is there anything else that we need to discuss?” Paul asked the occupants of the room.
“Just one final question, has anybody heard the name Sejanus before?” Jon asked. For some reason the name stuck in his mind, as it was now twice that he had heard the name mentioned. However, once again there was a general shaking of heads amongst his staff. “Jason?” Jon inquired.
“As I have mentioned before, there is nothing in the public domain about the owners of the Tyrell Corporation, as it’s a private company. According to the data-net, there are fifty thousand citizens registered with that name.”
“Any of them registered as being members of the Imperial or Confederation Navy,” Jon asked curiously.
Jason raised an eyebrow at the unusual question, before cross-referencing the names against past and present members of the navy. He shook his head when the results were displayed a few moments later.
Paul leaned forward curiously. “Why the question about him being in the navy? Do you have any additional information about this person?”
“Not really, no,” Jon responded. “But it is the second time I have heard that name.”
“Where did you hear it first?” Paul asked, surprised.
“From Gideon.”
Paul’s eyes clouded over in confusion, before the name registered. “You mean the old Praetorian Commander? Your predecessor?”
Nodding his head Jon replied, “He mentioned the name in passing to me once.”
Looking between Paul and Jon, Jason asked hesitantly. “Can we not ask this Gideon what he knows about Sejanus?”
“No. He’s dead now.”
“Oh,” Jason asked surprised. “What happened to him?”
“I killed him.”
“Oh, why?”
“It’s a long story, but basically it was either me or him. I won.”
There was a general clearing of throats and averting of eyes around the table. Nobody was comfortable with this line of questioning. The history and traditions of the Praetorians were surrounded by a cloak of secrecy and rumours.
“Well what about asking Harkov?” Paul suggested reasonably. “Perhaps he knows more about this Sejanus than he is letting on.”
“I will be happy to volunteer to get the information out of him,” Gunny added with a sly smirk.
“We cannot,” Jon replied, having hoped to avoid this line of inquiry. “Harkov is gone.”
“Gone?” Gunny asked, puzzled. “Gone where?”
“Harkov made me swear an oath that if he volunteered this information I would let him go, alive and unharmed.”
“And you did?” Gunny asked aghast, the rest of the table staring at Jon in disbelief.
“You might have given him your oath, but we certainly did not,” Paul insisted. “We’ll bring him back here and get the answers we need out of him. Where is he?”
“Right now?” Jon asked, purposely trying to avoid the question. Paul nodded. “I would estimate he is floating a few kilometres off the main docking ring.”
“He’s dead?” Paul asked surprised.
“I would certainly hope so,” Jon said. “As he did not request either a ship or a space suit prior to his departure, which was probably a serious oversight on his part.”
The gleaming smiles around the table were indication enough of what the senior staff thought of that. The only exception was Jason, who was frowning.
“You never make it easy for your intelligence team, Commander. I wish you would not go around killing everybody who might have useful intelligence. Can I please request that in the future you hold off throwing them out of an airlock, at least until my team and I have had a chance to interrogate them first?”
Jon shrugged. “Sure.”
As the meeting came to a close, David, who had been pretty much silent throughout the briefing, finally raised a point that had been troubling him.
“You are all aware that this plan involves taking the Sunfire, a ship, which, please correct me if I am wrong, is a ghost ship, to the planet Tartarus, the place where souls, judged after death to receive punishment, are sent for all eternity?”
A deathly silence filled the room following the announcement, all eyes upon David, in disbelief. “I was just saying…” he added, self-consciously.
*****
Several hours passed and it was late at night station time, but Jon found sleep elusive. Speedy preparations had been put in place and all was ready for an early departure from Terra Nova in a few hours. Unsurprisingly the crew had volunteered almost unanimously to join the rescue mission, even not knowing the full details. Jon had never been more proud of his crew. Remembering David’s parting comment about taking the Sunfire into the underworld, Jon was confident that if any crew could do it, and return safely, it would be his.
Unable to sleep, Jon stared at the stars through the small viewport in his quarters. He had lost count of the number of hours, days, weeks, years that he had stood in this very spot, gazing into the depths of space. The last time he stood in this spot, he had been contemplating his own death, secure in the knowledge he was going to die by flying his shuttle into Harkov’s flagship, the Imperial Star. The fact that he now stood here, alive, seemed a miracle. A second chance at life, a rebirth. Jon remembered, in those final seconds before the collision, the regret he would never be able to speak to Sofia one last time, the regret he would never have the opportunity to say goodbye. To tell her how much he missed her and how much he loved her.
Moving swiftly, before he changed his mind, he slid into his seat at the communication console, rapidly inputting Sofia’s personal code, which he knew by heart. Jon felt this mission was doomed to failure anyway, but he had no choice but to try. He owed it to Marcus and Sofia, for his own personal failures in the past. If he died trying, well it was for a worthy cause, but this time it would be different. He would face this having no regrets and he would let Sofia know of his true feelings for her first.
The communication console chimed to acknowledge the call had been accepted and the view-screen came to life.
Chapter Six
Planet Eden Prime, Eden System
Sofia Aurelius, third President of the Confederation, rubbed her eyes wearily. It was still early evening on Eden Prime and the last of the sun’s rays were falling on the Senate. However, she had been awake long before dawn; attending one meeting after another with regards to the present crisis, and a crisis it was, even if the average citizen was not aware of the fact.
For what the average citizen did not know was how perilously close the Confederation had teetered on the brink of an all-out civil war. It was only by sheer luck one of the navy’s deep cover agents had stumbled across the conspiracy, managing to pass on the information before his untimely death. It was even more of a miracle, since the information had been passed to Commander Jonathan Radec, who had kept it secret, under the misguided belief that by doing so he would personally protect her. Events had come to a head anyway when the key conspirators had moved against the Commander and his station, in the process fatally underestimating the man. The net result had been their complete and utter destruction. Firstly the shadowy Syndicate organisation was brought down by public opinion, and then the rogue Imperial Admiral, Harkov, had been vaporised by a nuclear warhead when Jon, on a suicide mission, had flown his shuttle into Harkov’s flagship.
Sofia had spent the longest, loneliest week of her life, honestly believing the Commander, one time Praetorian Commander and her former lover, was dead. She had only recently been informed he had been found alive. Her emotions were now a total mess, part despair at the news of his death, part elation now she knew he still lived, but still with the continual cloud of uncertainty hanging over them. She could not forget that many years earlier he had betrayed her for another woman and to this day Sofia did not know the reason why.
“Madam President, you are running late for the senate sub-committee meeting on the Zeta-Aquilae crisis,” her aide reminded her. The name the Senate had given to this latest crisis to rock the Confederation.
“I’m coming,” Sofia replied resignedly, putting the picture of Jon and her back on the desk, her feelings still in complete disarray. Sofia had hoped Jon would call soon after he regained consciousness, but he had not.
As she had almost reached the door of her spacious apartments, the workstation on her desk started to chime, reporting another incoming call. Sofia wavered, as she had already fended off a dozen such calls from suspicious senators demanding to know the reason for the recent cover-up.
“Madam President, we must go now,” her aide insisted firmly. Deciding that she could reply to the message later, Sofia Aurelius, the last Imperial Princess turned her back on the workstation and walked out of the apartment, ignoring a call she had been waiting at least five years for. After some time the workstation once again went dark, a blinking light the only indication of the stored message.
*****
It was later, much later, when Sofia finally returned to her apartment. Feet dragging she looked the complete epitome of exhaustion. Not unexpectedly the meeting had overrun, continuing late into the night. It seemed every member of the committee wanted to use his or her full allotment of time to make the point, repeatedly, that steps were necessary to ensure a repeat of Zeta-Aquilae could never happen again. Of course the Senators were a little vague on how they might be able to accomplish this. The general consensus seemed to be that further cuts to the Confederation Navy were necessary to ensure its loyalty to the Senate. This made no sense to Sofia, as it was only the swift action of the Confederation fleet, with a little assistance from some civilian ships, that had averted the disaster in the first place—or that at least was what the majority of the Senate thought had happened.
Sofia threw a weary glance at her workstation, observing the blinking light indicating she had messages waiting for her. Instead, she once again turned her back on the device, heading for her bedroom. She let her dress pool at the foot of her bed and crawled under the covers. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Many years later in life, Sofia looked back on that day, wondering how different her life might have been had she answered that call. Possibly she could have responded in time, catching Jon and changing their fate, and that of the Confederation. Unfortunately that is the thing about fate—it’s incorrigible.
*****
Sofia slowly came awake to the feeling of a warm, hard body pressed intimately up against her, its warm breath slowly caressing the back of her neck. Sofia stretched languidly, pushing herself further into its embrace, the warmth a cocoon surrounding her, protecting her. Sofia could feel short whiskers rubbing against her cheek, and their bare legs were entwined. Over the years Sofia had lost count of the number of times she had woken up to such sensations. Wondering if fate was just cruel or at least had a twisted sense of humour.
Turning in her bed, Sofia opened one eye hopefully, praying this time her dream lover would be there, in the flesh, but as always only observed a wide expanse of empty bed. On slow mornings, like this one, Sofia contemplated all those who woke in a similar fashion, wondering who was their perfect dream lover. For Sofia it was far, far worse, for she knew exactly who it was. The few mornings when she had actually woken in his arms were seared across her memory with painful clarity.
She stayed like that for a long time. Lying in the same bed she always woke up in, staring at the same bare, featureless ceiling, waiting for the feeling of Jon to recede. His warmth, his smell, his touch and the taste of him on her lips.
However, finally Sofia did rise from bed. She realised that if she did not under her own time, she would soon be roused by one of her numerous aides, politely reminding her of some urgent, overdue appointment. She poured herself the first coffee of the morning, always smiling at the knowledge that Jon started his morning in exactly the same fashion. After all it was she who had first introduced him to coffee, made with real coffee beans.
Without glancing at her workstation, she tapped the screen to start replaying the messages from the previous day, deeply inhaling the rich aroma of the fresh coffee. So intently was she enjoying the smell, still somewhat asleep, that she paid little attention to the voice of the recording, after all it was a voice she was intimately familiar with. One that occupied her dreams, every free minute of every day. It slowly dawned on her the voice that she was hearing was not coming from her, but from the workstation. Turning back to the screen, she stared into Jon’s deep grey eyes. Forgetting for an instant that this was a recording, Sofia dropped her coffee in shock. The contents spilled across the desk before dripping onto the richly upholstered carpet, the drink totally forgotten.
With a trembling hand she reached out to pause the recording, needing to overcome her shock before she could focus on what he was saying. Glancing at the timestamp of the message, she observed that it had been recorded some twelve hours earlier. Casting her mind back, she remembered the console lighting up to signify an incoming call just as she had left for the sub-committee meeting. It had been Jon calling! Sofia would have torn her hair out in despair, had she thought that it would have made any difference. A call she had been waiting years for and she had ignored it. To attend a pointless senate meeting, which meant little and achieved less. Hand trembling, terrified of what the message might say, equally worried of what it might not, she hesitantly touched play, Jon’s rich baritone voice filling the room, caressing her.
“Hello Sofia, I was hoping that I could talk to you, but I guess that you are busy,” the recording of Jon’s voice started without any preamble. Sofia could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Anyway, you know how I hate talking to these things, so I will keep this brief. I am sure you know by now that rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”
Even while making the recording Jon realised that Sofia could tell that the joke fell flat; and instead of smiling he just gave her a self-conscious shrug. “Anyway I hope that you are well,” Jon continued guardedly, as if he was unsure of the question or the answer. “I’m not really sure what the point of this call is, perhaps I just wanted to hear your voice, to see you one last time.”
A shudder ran through Sofia, as she felt that this message sounded far too much like a final goodbye.
The recording of Jon seemed to rouse himself from whatever wave of uncertainty had overcome him and he turned his gaze firmly back to the screen, a resolute expression on his face. “That’s not true,” he said. “I know exactly why I wanted to talk to you. For in the last few moments of my life, seconds before my ship was about to collide, I realised that I had a one final regret. That I could not see you for one last time, to talk to you and say things to you that I should have said many years ago. However, I was too proud, or too scared, that you might have moved on with your life and at last found the joy I could never seem to give you. We parted with such harsh words and I did not want those words to be the last between us. So maybe it’s a good thing I can only leave a message, as it will give me the opportunity to tell you what I should have said many years ago.”
With a quivering finger, Sofia paused the playback, wiping away the tears from her eyes, so that she could watch the recording clearly.
“The first thing that I need to tell you is that I am sorry. Sorry for so many things that it would take me a lifetime to list them all. However, the thing that I am most sorry for is hurting you as I seemed to do so much of the time when we were together. Although it was never my intention, it always seemed events around us conspired to keep us apart.
The second thing I wanted to tell you is that I miss you, so much that it hurts. You exist in my dreams and when I wake up I wonder why you are not by my side. I go through every day, every waking moment, wondering if I am truly awake and this is not just a nightmare, and that I will eventually wake up—with you in my arms. My life now exists in shades of grey, I can barely remember what it was like to live in colour, as when I was last with you.”
Sofia ran her finger gently across the surface of the screen, imagining it was Jon’s soft, warm cheek she touched, not the cold, hard, unyielding screen. Tears streamed down her face. Realising Jon had not finished, she once again focused on what he was saying.
“I wanted to let you know this, while I still can. I need to leave for a while and I cannot tell you why or where, but it is something I need to do, or at least try to do. I could not live with myself if I did not and I certainly could never speak to you or look you in the eye again. This is my burden to bear and I must do it alone. If I never speak to you again, please do not think harshly of me. Forget our last words together, instead remember this; I will never forget you, as I will always carry a small piece of you with me, in here,” he said, laying his hand across his heart.
With that the screen went blank, the message delivered.
Many times Sofia played and replayed the message, over and over again. The years they were apart seemed to vanish with each playback. Eventually Sofia looked up from the screen, looking around at the richly furnished apartment. Her robes of state, freshly cleaned and folded, waiting for her next official engagement. The next meeting, the next vote, the next bill—all for what? She had spent the past five years fighting to try and make a difference, to make her idea, her dream, a reality. Looking back she came to realise that, instead, she had become like her father, just what she was most trying to avoid. So caught up in the day-to-day politics of an empire, she lost sight of what was most important to her. Her family. Jon.
Determined to put things right while she still had time, she wiped away her tears and slapped her palm down on the call option on the console. Perhaps she could still reach him in time before he embarked on whatever foolish mission he was about to launch? For while Jon knew her, she had also become adept at reading him and although he did not say anything in the message, she could read it in his eyes. He did not think he would be coming back alive.
After the third attempt, Sofia had to admit defeat. Either Jon had already departed the station or he was in the process of doing so. Therefore Sofia tried calling anybody else, on the assumption that somebody would be there and could call him back. However, to her increasing frustration and disbelief, she could not reach anyone. Not Jon, Paul or even Neil. Nobody answered. Finally in desperation she called the command centre, using a code Paul had given her, but only to be used for emergencies.
Miraculously somebody answered this call and as she stared into the astonished face of Lieutenant Chris Patterson. Sofia vaguely recognised his face, as being one of the station’s more junior shift commanders. Patterson could only gape at Sofia, speechless, before a bright red flush spread across his cheeks and he quickly averted his eyes.
“Princess, Sofia, uh, Madam President,” Chris mumbled, still desperately trying to avert his eyes.
Sofia wondered what had embarrassed the young officer so much. While obviously a call from an ex-Princess and Senate President was unusual, the officer’s reaction seemed extreme. It was only when she glanced down that Sofia realised that she had not dressed after rolling out of bed, only planning on reviewing her messages. Hence she was still dressed in her underwear, not having the energy to get changed the night before. Blushing Sofia reached behind her, snatching up her dress and hugging it closely to protect her modesty.
Glancing back at the screen, relieved to see that the Princess was now showing distinctly less flesh, he cleared his throat, asking politely. “Ma’am, what can I do for you?”
“I’m looking for the Commander, is he still there?”
“No ma’am. The Commander, Paul, senior officers and the majority of the crew departed the station several hours ago.”
Sofia blinked. “All of them?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yes ma’am.”
“Where did they go?”
“I don’t know ma’am. The senior officers would not say. The Commander just said that it was a rescue mission and they would be gone for several days. We’re running a skeleton crew here at the moment.”
“You have no idea where they went?”
“No, but—”
“Just tell me Chris,” Sofia interrupted insistently.
Lieutenant Patterson blinked, wondering if it was a good thing or not he was on first name terms with the Confederation President. “It’s the armoury, ma’am.”
“What about it?”
“They’ve emptied it.”
*****
Sofia spoke to the young officer for several minutes, but quickly ended the call when it was obvious that he really had no idea where they had departed to. Damn Jon and his secrets, Sofia raged internally, trying to think of who else might know where they all went.
In desperation, she tried calling somebody she had only spoken to infrequently over the past few years. This time the call was connected almost immediately and Sofia was staring into the face of a surprised older woman.
“Sofia!” She exclaimed, her surprise morphing into delight. “It’s been far too long since you last called. You are not getting enough rest and not eating enough,” she was quick to observe.
Ever since being introduced to Jon’s mother several years earlier, they had occasionally kept in touch. Mrs Radec had immediately, upon first meeting her, made it her personal mission to look after her health. Constantly chiding her on the long hours she worked and the poor diet.
“Mrs Radec, it’s good to see you again.”
Jon’s mother gave Sofia a cool gaze, immediately seeing through the façade. “I keep telling you to call me Irene and, more importantly, what has my son done now?”
Sofia sighed, remembering the reason why she now rarely called. Ever since managing to extract from her the sequence of events leading up to Jon leaving her, Jon’s mother, Irene, was always quick to assume the worst about her son whenever Sofia called. “Nothing, really.” She was quick to reassure her, noticing her disbelieving expression. “Jon just left me a message that he was going away for a while, I just wondered if you had any idea where he might have gone?” She asked mildly.
“Gone away?” Irene replied, misunderstanding. “Jon never goes away; I don’t think he has ever taken a vacation since running off and joining the navy. However, I think he is long overdue one, perhaps he should pay a visit to Eden Prime, and you could do with a holiday too. You both work too hard.”
Sofia couldn’t supress a laugh at her words, as Irene had always been convinced Sofia and Jon were the perfect couple. While Sofia had never found out what she had told Jon upon hearing of how he left her, Sofia could well imagine the sharp tongue-lashing that her son had received. “How is the new house?” Sofia asked, changing the subject when it became obvious Jon had not told her where he was going and not wanting to worry the older woman.
Irene could only stare out of the wide floor-to-ceiling patio windows, to the endless garden stretching out around the spacious property. She could just about make out the imposing gate to their new home, a few hundred meters distant. “It’s a lot bigger than our last place,” Irene stated hesitantly. “It takes me days just to clean it from top-to-bottom, but Ryan and I both love it,” she was quick to add, not wanting to give offence.
After Jon and Sofia’s last visit she and her husband had moved back into their small apartment in Carrington City on the advice of Jon, who worried the people hunting them would come after his parents too. Several months later they were stunned by a knock on the door, a courier giving them an unmarked package, simply addressed to Ryan & Irene Radec. Inside was a short note from Sofia thanking them for their hospitality and in return a small gift of her gratitude. The gift had turned out to be the deeds to a spacious new property on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by beautiful fields and trees. At the same time they had received a call from their bank, which had spent the past few years hounding them for the repayment of a loan, now asking them how they would like to invest their new-found wealth. For it seemed that their bank balance had swelled significantly, to the point that it was now worth a small fortune.
To say Irene was shocked was an understatement. It was only when her husband had taken her aside and informed her who their guest had been that events started to make sense. Irene had been mortified for weeks after, remembering how she had asked the daughter of the Emperor to help her prepare dinner!
“It’s beautiful thank you,” Irene finally replied. “But I am not sure about all the men with guns at the gate. We had a delivery last week and I had to sit the poor boy down with a cup of tea to stop him shaking so much. He kept talking about ghosts rising from the ground with guns.”
“I’m very sorry about that,” Sofia replied. “Jon and I were just worried about your safety, so we thought that it would be a good idea to ask some of his old friends to keep an eye on your house for a while,” Sofia explained, embarrassed.
Irene just brushed the comment away unconcerned. “They are such nice polite young men, I bring them hot cocoa during the evening, as it gets terribly cold at night.”
Sofia could well imagine the scene, the battle-hardened group of ex-marines and Special Forces, sitting around being passed cups of hot cocoa, probably with some roasted marshmallows, by Irene. The mental picture brought a smile to her face.
Sofia talked for several more minutes with the Radec matriarch, signing off by promising to come and pay them a visit sometime in the near future.
*****
Sofia frowned. So far she had spent most of the morning calling everybody she could think of who might know Jon’s whereabouts or destination, but nobody knew. Sofia was certain by now the only people who knew their destination were already en-route. It was just the sort of thing Jon would do to ensure nobody could discover his plan.
Sofia needed somebody who was paranoid enough to know everything—and everybody. A person who had spies on every planet, every station and probably even every ship. Somebody who was morally bankrupt enough to be willing to sell to Sofia Jon’s destination, and purpose—for a price. As Sofia was only aware of one person to meet all these requirements, she booked herself passage on the next ship to the Memphis station, under an assumed name.
She asked her aides to clear her schedule for the next week. There was much complaining at the short notice they had been given, which fell on deaf ears. With that Sofia turned to her wardrobe. Over the years, aside from her formal robes of state, she had accumulated many different clothes, ball-gowns, evening dresses and cocktail dresses. Going through her extensive wardrobe, it reminded her of how her work had taken over her life, as she had nothing suitable for such nondescript travel. Finally, at the very back of the wardrobe, tucked away in a disused corner, she finally found something practical. Observing herself in the tan coloured blouse, jeans and ankle boots she wore, she remembered that it was these very clothes that she had arrived in, almost five years to the day, with Jon. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Sofia was startled by the transformation.
Gone were the dark lines under her eyes, the pale skin and dull, lifeless eyes, which had stared back at her for so long now. Instead with these clothes, her hair tied back into a long braid, she looked years younger, reminiscent of the young woman who had first arrived on Eden Prime. For her skin now seemed to glow and her eyes sparkled once again. For the first time in a very long time, she felt she was doing something right. Slipping the knife Jon had given her into her boot, she set off, lengthening her stride to reach the spaceport in time for her departing ship.
*****
Stepping off the passenger ship, almost forty-eight hours later, Sofia was in a foul mood. She had never travelled by commercial passenger liner before and was amazed at the disorganisation. Although she arrived promptly at boarding time, the ship had then been delayed many times. Firstly by a missing passenger and then by the requirement to off-load that passenger’s luggage. This was quickly followed by a technical fault in the FTL drive, which resulted in a missed departure window. All-in-all the ship departed almost six hours late. To add insult to injury, they had then lost their arrival slot and had to wait for one to become free. The ship finally docked twelve hours behind schedule, by which time Sofia felt ready to scream.
She had already done a quick search of the station’s data-net and discovered there were presently one thousand, two hundred individuals living on the station with the name Albert. As this wasn’t much of a help, Sofia had decided to start with his last known location, on the assumption that hopefully somebody might know where he had moved to, assuming he was still alive, of course. For the last time Sofia had seen Albert, Harkov’s mercenaries were kicking down his door. Not actually knowing the address also did not help, so Sofia resorted to following the roundabout route Jon had taken the last time they were on the station. At the time Jon had suggested it was necessary to do this to lose anybody who could be following them. Sofia wondered if she might have to adopt this same plan, because out of the corner of her eye, she kept seeing a glimpse of movement.
Finally arriving at the nondescript door that was her destination, Sofia took a deep breath and touched the announcer. After several long seconds, with no response, her heart fell. It was obvious nobody was there. Which left her in a bit of a quandary, as she had no idea where to go next.
She felt the movement of somebody behind her, long before she heard it, the displaced air raising the hairs on the back of her neck. Pivoting smoothly around on the balls of her feet, knife suddenly in hand, in a manoeuvre Jon would have been proud of, she forced her forearm up against her attacker’s throat, the knife hovering inches from him.
“Agh!” He screamed in terror.
Sofia blinked in surprise. “Albert?” she asked, shocked. “What are you doing following me around?”
“Grr,” he replied, motioning towards his throat, where Sofia still had him pinned.
“Sorry,” Sofia apologised, releasing him. “What are you doing following me around? You scared me to death.”
“Scared you to death? You were not the one pinned against a wall with a knife hovering in front of you. Who taught you to do that anyway? Sorry, silly question. I need to have a serious word with that boy, you’re an Imperial Princess, girl, he cannot go around turning you into some sort of warrior Princess.”
Sofia giggled at the description, before enfolding the small man in a massive hug. Albert had originally come from Kesser IV, where the gravity was much stronger, so while he was very short, barely over five feet, he was extremely strong, as he had demonstrated on their prior visit by effortlessly lifting a table with one hand. “How did you know I was coming anyway? I was travelling under an assumed name.”
Albert’s gaze softened as Sofia gently let go of him. Sniffing he replied, “While you might have picked up on Jon’s way-of-the-warrior, your skills as a spy are absolutely terrible. You were travelling under the assumed name Sophie Radec.”
Sofia blushed, embarrassedly. “When they asked me my name, it was the first thing that came into my head.”
Albert just rolled his eyes, stepping past Sofia and tapping his personal code into the door, which slid open. Stepping into the darkened room, Albert motioned for her to follow. “Come into my humble abode and take a seat Princess,” he bowed mockingly. “And we can get down to business, as I assume you did not come all this way in person just to check up on my health?”
“I was worried about you,” Sofia confessed. “However, I just got so caught up in setting up the new Confederation I lost sight of what was important in life.” She cast her gaze down, ashamed at her actions in the past. When she felt his soft hand take hers, her eyes were brought up to stare at Albert, who was gazing at her with an understanding look in his eyes.
“You are more like your father than you ever realise.”
“You knew my father?”
“Yes, I know him. Although I doubt he remembers me. It was a long time ago, before you were even born.” Albert subconsciously cursed his slip of using the present tense referring to her father, but it seemed that Sofia had not noticed the mistake. “Anyway enough about the past, let’s discuss the present,” he said rubbing his hands together. “What can I do for you Princess?”
Looking Albert straight in the eye, Sofia asked. “I want to know where Jon has gone and why. He left me a message saying goodbye. Whatever crazy plan he has in mind is going to get him killed and I want to stop him. It’s long overdue that Jon and I talked.”
Albert leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. Truth be told he already had a strong idea of the purpose of Sofia’s visit before her arrival, as some truly incredible information had recently been brought to his attention. “Yes, I might be able to assist Princess, but there is a price.”
“I can pay any amount that you require,” Sofia replied confidently.
“My price is not always in credits.”
Sofia’s face paled, but she still lifted her head high, looking him in the eye. “Name your price then, whatever it might be and I will pay it. I’ve already lost Jon once before, I refuse to do so again.”
Albert looked at Sofia in a new light. He had been impressed with the girl when they first met. She was not at all what he had expected, based on facts he had read about her. There was an inner strength about her, a determination of purpose. She was both steadfast and loyal, traits Albert prized highly. All-in-all, Albert thought Sofia was a good match for Jon. Coming from a harsh planet, where it was a daily struggle for survival against the harsh elements, divorce was unheard of. Albert’s own mate had died many, many years before. Their lifespan being far longer than others, due to their stronger metabolism caused by the high gravity, Albert had first taken notice of Jon when he was still a young boy. He admired his strength and determination, but also his compassion, his desire to help others. It seemed she shared many of those same traits.
“My price is three-fold then. First you will owe me. One day I might need to call in a favour, it’s always useful to have an Imperial Princess and Confederation President owing you.”
Sofia nodded in agreement.
“The second is that whatever happens in the future, you will always put Jon’s needs before your own.”
“I don’t understand.”
Albert closed his eyes in frustration, trying to think how to explain. “I get lots of information that passes across my desk Princess. Some of it is huge; it could topple governments, but others are tiny, personal things. I have been doing this for a long time, as I mentioned, before you were even born. I can feel a storm coming. I don’t know what it is, or where it will come from, I can just feel it. We will need everything we can to survive this storm, but most of all we will need somebody to lead us and Jon is the only person who can do this. Maybe your father could have, but that is no longer an option we have. But not even Jon is perfect. He has weaknesses, flaws, but most of all he needs you for your support and help. Together you are stronger, and maybe it will give us a chance. Hence my second price Princess, whatever happens you promise that you will put Jon’s needs before your own.”
While Sofia did not fully understand, she nodded her head in agreement. “And the final price?” She asked.
Albert now lowered his head in embarrassment. “After I have given you the information you require, you promise to stay awhile and talk. While I have many customers, I have very few friends, could you stay and keep an old man company for a while?”
Understanding what it was like to be so lonely, Sofia just nodded her head, touched by this little man.
“Then I will tell you what I know Princess, for Jonathan is travelling to Tartarus.”
Sofia blinked in surprise. “Jon is travelling to Tartarus, the prison of the damned?” She exclaimed in disbelief. “For whoever has lived unjustly and impiously goes to the dungeon of requital and penance which, you know, they call Tartarus,” Sofia recited. “Plato,” she added in response to Albert’s shocked expression.
“I know that,” Albert said astounded. “Thank the Maker, that Jon came and rescued you from your father’s tutors,” he muttered aloud. “There is a place called Tartarus,” he quickly added.
“There is?” Sofia replied, dumfounded. “Where the damned go?”
“No, no, no.” Albert interrupted waving his hands furiously. “There is a planet called Tartarus, the corporate headquarters of the Tyrell Corporation.”
“Never heard of it. Why is Jon going there?”
“Jon believes that they are currently holding somebody important hostage there,” he replied vaguely.
“Who?”
Albert took a deep breath, for the first time in his life, preparing to lie to a customer. But Albert had no idea what Sofia would do if he told her the truth, perhaps she would travel straight there, to a certain death. Albert was fond of this girl and did not want her death on his conscience. “It doesn’t matter who,” he said glancing around, but no bolt of lightning struck him dead, much to his relief.
“What else can you tell me?”
“Sejanus now runs the Tyrell Corporation.”
Sofia went deathly still, her breath caught in her throat. It was only Albert’s reassuring hand on her own that kept her from crying out in fright.
“Does Jon know about Sejanus?” Sofia asked in a terrified voice.
“I don’t know. I don’t see how. Sejanus had left long before Jon joined the Praetorians. They would never have met.”
“I thought he was dead,” Sofia said, looking down at her hands clasped tightly together in his. “After what he did to me, he vanished. I just assumed that my father—”
“I don’t think Gideon told your father everything that happened.”
Sofia was not in the slightest bit surprised Albert knew about that dark time in her life. It had taken many years for her to get over it, almost becoming a recluse in the process, frightened to trust anybody. Especially men. Of course that was before she had met Jon. It was only around him she was able to relax, for the first time in her life being able to feel safe. For anybody trying to hurt her would first have had to get past him and nobody ever had. For Jon seemed to have almost a precognitive ability when it came to protecting her and her father. On the day Jon had become Commander of the Praetorian Guard he had sworn to her, on his life, he would never allow anything or anybody to hurt her, and Sofia had believed him.
“What if Gideon told Jon what had happened?” Sofia asked worriedly.
“Then Sejanus would have died a long time ago,” Albert said firmly. The last time the two of them had been in this office, Albert had observed the way Jon had stared at Sofia, his love for her obvious, even back then. No, if Jon had found out what Sejanus had done, not even Tartarus would have saved Sejanus from his wrath. “It is just a coincidence,” he reassured her.
Sofia nodded her head, her gaze still downcast. It was times like this she most missed Jon’s reassuring presence, but he had been gone for over five years now, ever since she caught Jon with that woman.
Recognising the devastation in Sofia’s face and the desperate way she looked at him, Albert was quick to head-off the question that he knew was coming. “I do not know why Jon did what he did. I’m a knowledge broker, not a relationship counsellor,” he explained.
It had been one of the more unbelievable scraps of information to pass across his desk over the past few years. Albert found this so incredible that he had sought out no less than three independent sources to verify the story. Even then Albert had found it difficult to believe. For the first time his belief in Jon had been rocked to the core, for he was sure he had not mistaken the look in Jon’s eyes when he had gazed with absolute adoration at this woman the last time they had been here together. The same look Albert had once looked at his mate with. The complete amazement that Jon had been so blessed to find his missing half. Yet Albert recognised Jon never did anything without a very good reason, although what that reason might be, he had no idea.
“So what do you plan on doing now?” Albert inquired curiously.
“I am going to go and find Jon and bring him home,” Sofia replied resolutely.
Bring them both home, Albert thought.
*****
As there was no ship scheduled to depart Memphis for Eden Prime for the next several hours Sofia agreed to meet Albert for a late dinner in one of the more exclusive restaurants on the station. Casting her gaze around the dimly lit restaurant it reminded her of another restaurant, on Altair many years before, where Jon had taken her after she had won their bet. Similar to that restaurant, the illumination mostly came from the stars shining outside. Each table had a single solitary candle, barely giving off enough light to illuminate the table. The entire atmosphere was very romantic and very intimate. It just made her realise how much more she missed Jon, his presence and his smile.
Sofia’s thoughts were interrupted when the entrance to the restaurant suddenly opened and a group of men walked in. However, Sofia realised that they were not there for the food or ambience, especially as they were dressed in their black and silver uniforms with pistols clearly visible at their sides. It was obvious that they were looking for somebody, as upon entering their gaze immediately swept through the room, pushing past the maître d’ as if he did not exist.
Having no idea who or what they were looking for, but taking no chances, Sofia quickly leaned forward blowing gently to extinguish the candle on her table and slipped the hood of the cloak that she was wearing over her head to hide her face. Fortunately she was seated far back in the restaurant away from the main entrance, hence the guards or soldiers, whoever they were, were starting from the other end of the room, methodically sweeping past each table. The fact that they stopped at every table where a young woman was seated and checked her face carefully, started to instil a sense of panic in her. She didn’t know how or why, but instinctively she knew they were looking for her. Ever so slowly she leaned back, away from the table, further into the dark shadows of the room.
“Piss off. Go and find your own broad,” one of the elder diners insisted loudly, not taking his eyes off the young woman, probably at least thirty years his junior, seated opposite him. His eyes flashed in irritation, when completely ignoring him, one of the guards jerked the woman out of her seat, to stare closely into her face. “Frank, Joe, s’ck it to ‘em,” the elderly man drawled with a heavy accent.
The guard was surprised on releasing the woman to turn around and bump into the chest of one of two mountain sized men. Dressed in expensive tailored suits, both bulging at the breast pocket, obviously concealing a consignment of guns, they looked like two huge gorillas that had been squashed and squeezed into suits.
“’Dis ‘ere man bothering ya, boss?” One of the walking mountains rumbled ominously, mangling his grammar, picking up the guard by his tunic as if he did not weigh a thing.
“Can’t ya see I’m dizzy with my broad? Do a number on this punk. Give ‘em some chin music, then dangle ‘em out of here, before the other bulls arrive,” the older man insisted.
“Sure ‘fink boss,” the other gorilla agreed, as the first drew back his fist and let loose, cracking the guard firmly across the jaw, sending him crashing backwards, landing on another table, much to the detriment of the entrée that had just been served.
At the large smash of broken crockery, one of the guards still standing near the door, who was obviously in charge, raised his pulse pistol, sending a bolt into the ceiling. All sounds in the restaurant abruptly ceased as all eyes focused on him.
“I will insist on everybody’s cooperation for just a short time,” he announced loudly. “Then we will leave you to your meal in peace. We are looking for a woman.”
However, if he thought that was going to intimidate the diners, he was sadly mistaken, as a number of shouts and catcalls echoed from around the room.
“Yeah, you and the rest of us mate.”
“Go and find your own.”
“The brothel is three-floors down.”
The officer went bright red at the calls, but before he could reply an expensive slice of calzone bounced off his back, to roars of approval from the guests. A plate of spaghetti, which the officer ducked beneath, closely followed this. With the addition of Frank and Joe lumbering through the restaurant with murderous intent, pushing everybody else out the way, the entire restaurant soon degenerated into a general brawl, with food, drinks, tables, and chairs being flung left, right and centre. The guards disappeared under a hail of fists and prone bodies.
Sofia meanwhile decided then was an opportune moment to make her exit. While the main entrance was blocked by the mob in full swing, Sofia eyed a smaller serving entrance off to one side, which the waiters frequently disappeared through. Keeping to the shadows, she quickly made her exit. Pushing through the doors she entered a kitchen with chefs busy preparing meals, with waiters and waitresses darting about. With no idea where to go next, she frantically approached the nearest waitress.
“Please help me,” Sofia cried desperately. “I must escape!”
The waitress looked at her with sympathetic eyes. “I understand completely, honey. I’ve been on more than a few dinner dates like that myself. Head out the back, second door on the left. If anybody comes asking I’ll say that you went to the powder room.” The waitress pointed towards a door near the back of the kitchen.
With a nod of thanks Sofia fled through the kitchen, darting through the door that the waitress had pointed to in a blind panic.
She needed to get off Memphis.
Fortunately the door exited into a small side corridor and glancing either way, as she was unsure which way to go, Sofia noticed that one end of the corridor seemed to branch out into a much larger, busier corridor. Deciding that the best course of action was to mingle with the crowd, to enable her to disappear, she headed in that direction.
Unfortunately it turned out to be the wrong decision, as no sooner had she slipped into the crowd than a hand reached out, firmly grasping her by the arm.
“Stop right there miss,” a voice insisted firmly. “You look like the one we are looking for.”
Looking in the direction of the voice, Sofia’s heart sank as she looked into the face of another one of the uniformed guards. Holding her by one arm and gripping a datapad with the other, Sofia could easily guess what was on the device. “I don’t know what you are talking about. I’m already late for an important appointment,” she huffed, trying to bluff her way past.
“I don’t think so. You look exactly the same as the picture that we’ve been supplied with,” he said, motioning towards the datapad in his hand.
“Give me that!” Sofia snapped angrily, snatching the datapad from his hands. She glanced quickly at the picture on the device, not in the least bit surprised to see a very unflattering photo of herself, staring back at her. “That looks nothing like me,” she scoffed, pointing at the picture. “Do you think I have that sort of fat around my hips?” She screeched shrilly.
The guard made the mistake of taking his eye off her for a fraction of an instant to glance at the picture to double check. Sofia took the opportunity to slam the edge of the device into the man’s throat. Releasing his grip on her, his hands went to his throat and, with a gurgle, he collapsed to the floor, choking.
Suddenly she realised she was in the middle of a busy intersection and everybody had stopped and was staring at her in amazement. Glancing once more at the datapad, she dropped it onto the prostrate body of the guard, tossing her hair back and giving him a hard kick in the groin, which made most of the male audience wince.
“That’s what you get for calling me fat,” she exclaimed in disdain, much to the roar of approval from the female audience.
The guard on the floor just groaned in pain.
After that the crowd soon broke up, the male members of the audience dragging their respective partners away before any of them got ideas of doing likewise in the future.
Sofia meanwhile marched away in the opposite direction, which turned into a dash as soon as she rounded the next corner. However, after a while, and convinced that she was not being followed, she slowed to a stop to catch her breath. Looking around at the deserted corridor she quickly concluded that she was completely, totally and helplessly lost.
Breathing deeply, she looked around for an idea of what direction she should take. However, slowly at first, but with frightening intensity, a cold feeling started to creep over her. Looking around intently, little things started to jump out at her, a crack here, a faded splash of paint there or a broken neon strip light. Sofia’s breathing stilled, as the cold reached her chest, clamping around her heart. For Sofia suddenly knew exactly where she was. She was standing almost exactly on the spot where Jon had so nearly died. She could still see the stain on the floor, which no amount of scrubbing would ever totally remove.
Suddenly finding it difficult to breathe, she fell to her knees, with her head bowed to keep the darkness away. She could still remember the scene like yesterday. She could feel Jon pressing down on her, feel his blood seeping away and the light fading from his eyes. How could she have ever forgotten? How could she have so easily disregarded the promise she had made to him, to never leave him? For as she had kneeled over his broken and dying body, with him urging her to go, she had promised herself she would stay by his side, forever. No matter what the cost, whatever the price, even her own life. Back then she had seen the future of growing old alone, nobody to share her life with and had firmly rejected it. Yet what had she done but barely a few months later? She had turned her back on him, ignored him, driven him from her life and never looked back. She had become exactly what she had feared the most, alone. Nobody to love or to care for and, in return, nobody to care for her.
Kneeling there, on almost the exact spot where Jon had come so close to death, she made a new promise. She promised this time it would be different, as she had learned her lesson. She would find Jon, make things right between them and this time never let him leave, no matter how difficult things were.
Forever.
However, before she could stand, an excruciating pain erupted in her back, it quickly spread though her nerves until it encompassed all of her body. She had never felt pain like it before. Seconds before she fell into blissful unconsciousness, she turned, observing the guard in the black and silver uniform. His pistol pointed firmly in her direction.
After that, nothing.
Chapter Seven
Five Years Previously,
Eternal Light, Betelgeuse System
Jon was once again at the flight controls of the Eternal Light piloting the shuttle to their rendezvous point in the Betelgeuse system. The Betelgeuse system was one of the key strategic systems within the Imperium. A red supergiant star in the constellation of Orion, it was the eighth brightest star as seen from Old Earth and the second brightest star in the constellation of Orion. However its importance was not due to its luminosity, but instead the numerous shipyards that populated the system. Their combined output contributed to at least a third of the ship building capacity of the Empire and hence was home to the 4th Imperial Fleet, which was commanded by Admiral Timothy Alexeyev, the youngest and most ambitious of the fleet admirals. Jon was of the opinion that if any of the admirals were likely to revolt against Sofia’s succession, it would be him. Hence he was the first on their list to visit. Waiting for the shuttle to reach the designated coordinates, Jon thought back to five days earlier, when he first read Sofia’s draft Confederation Charter.
*****
Jon was roused from his deep slumber by the sound of running water and—singing? Jon blinked away the sleep from his eyes, wondering if he had slipped into some strange alternate reality. It was only when he glanced at the rumpled bed, with clothes haphazardly discarded everywhere that he remembered what had transpired the night before. He waited several minutes for the feeling of guilt and remorse to appear, but instead all he felt was a deep-seated sense of contentment.
After a time it dawned on him he could continue to lie in bed alone or join a hot, beautiful and very naked princess in the shower. Quickly deciding, Jon reached underneath the bed, looking for his pants, which had been discarded during their frantic coupling earlier. Instead Jon touched something hard and rectangular. Surprised, Jon picked up the object, bringing it to eye level. It was a datapad, and certainly not one of his. He vaguely remembered Sofia mentioning it during the night, something about her solution. At the time Jon had far more interesting things to focus on, namely a scantily clad, stunningly beautiful princess, with sparking eyes and pouty lips, which just begged to be kissed. Intrigued Jon activated the device and started to read the first line, The Confederation Charter (draft).
Sometime later Jon was so absorbed in the contents of the device, he failed to hear the water stop and the washroom door open. It was only when warm, freshly scrubbed skin rubbing against his, followed by some drops of water from Sofia’s still damp hair falling on him, that he was roused from his contemplation.
Sofia finally noticed the device in his hands and the carefree, playful, look in her eyes was replaced with a guarded uncertainty. “You read it?” She asked hesitantly.
Jon nodded.
“What do you think?”
Jon was quiet for a long time, long enough for Sofia to start having second thoughts about her decision. Finally he looked up from the device and asked softly. “This is what you really want? You would be sacrificing so much.”
“I want for us to have a chance,” Sofia insisted firmly. “If that involves some sacrifice then that is a cost I am willing to bear.”
Jon looked at Sofia doubtfully. “I don’t want you making a hasty decision, something you will come to later regret and you will come to resent me for,” Jon trailed off.
“Jon, I grew up without a mother and father,” Sofia explained earnestly. “My mother was taken from me by illness, but my father was taken from me by his duty. I do not want to grow old like that. Alone, with my responsibilities consuming every free waking hour. I want to be able to sleep in late some mornings, to have dinner with my family and spend some time with our children.”
Jon’s mouth quirked up at the mention of family, as he knew they had not discussed their future together, so caught up in the present, trying to save the galaxy.
Sofia noticed his smile. “What?” she asked.
“I am not going anywhere,” he insisted firmly. “You will always have me at your side, no matter what you decide. Be it as your friend, your lover or your husband. I’ll be with you, in whichever way you will have me.”
With a smile that lit-up her entire face, Sofia ran her finger down his chest. “Was that a proposal?” she asked shyly.
“It was a promise,” he insisted.
“I cannot do this alone,” she added. “While I can write this Charter, I have no idea how to make it a reality. I need your help.”
“The power-base for the Emperor has always been the Imperial Fleet. They are loyal to him personally and now to you. If you want to make this Confederation a reality, then you need to first convince them. Only with the support of the fleet will this come into being.”
“But how do I do that?” she asked, obviously frustrated.
Reaching his arms around her neck, he pulled her closer. Just before he took her mouth in a searing kiss he whispered to her.
“You command them.”
*****
The sound of the door to the cockpit sliding open interrupted Jon’s thoughts as Sofia stepped inside. Jon turned and could only stare at the vision in front of him. Before departing Jon had insisted to Sofia she needed to look the part. “Dress the part, look the part, act the part, and you will already have them half convinced,” he had told her. In Jon’s mind she had done all three—beyond his wildest dreams.
For, standing in front of him, she was dressed in long, flowing robes, similar to those worn by her father, the Emperor. However, unlike his, which were the deepest darkest black, hers were an incandescent pearl white. Perfectly sculptured to her lithe body, they showed off every one of her curves and spectacular figure. The white robes were perfectly offset by a single ringlet of flaming red hair, which trailed down the side of her face. The rest of her hair was done up in what Jon could only consider a masterpiece of sculpture. Jon had never seen anything as beautiful in his life. If Jon had ever imagined what an angel would look like, this would be it.
Lost for words Jon simply fell to one knee, just as he had genuflected to the Emperor, her father, and bowed deeply. “My Lady,” he whispered reverently.
Sofia’s eyes softened, looking down at this kind, honest man who had already sacrificed so much for her and her family. With a soft, “Commander,” she offered him her hand to help him stand. “Have we arrived yet?” She asked anxiously.
“Momentarily. Are you ready?”
“About as ready as I will ever be,” she replied nervously.
“They’ll love you,” Jon reassured her. Just as much as I do.
The flight computer chimed to report that they had reached their coordinates, the shuttle leaving FTL and returning to normal space interrupting their conversation. Several kilometres ahead, Jon could make out the blinking navigation lights of the 4th Imperial Fleet. The massive battleship, Invincible, flagship of the fleet easily visible, dwarfing the other, much smaller ships. Helping Sofia to the co-pilot seat, Jon opened a communication channel with the flagship, requesting docking permission.
“We don’t have you on the docking itinerary, Eternal Light,” replied the young officer, overseeing Invincible’s docking control.
“The Empress, Sofia Aurelius, does not need to ask permission to visit one of her flagships,” Jon replied in a chilling voice. “Give us a priority docking approach vector. Now or your career and possibly your life is going to be drastically curtailed,” Jon barked.
The young officer turned deathly pale, his eyes flicking between the Commander, the crossed swords emblem clearly visible on his uniform, denoting him as belonging to the elite Praetorian Guard and Sofia dressed in her immaculate robes of state. “Please wait,” he begged.
A few minutes later another face appeared on the view-screen. This was no young, easily intimidated officer, but an older man; with the Admiral rank insignia clearly visible—Fleet Admiral Timothy Alexeyev. With cold, calculating eyes he took in the scene with a single glance, arching his fingers together he stated with a shrewd smile. “Commander, Princess, this is indeed a surprise. What can I do for you?”
“Authorise our docking, Admiral. The Empress, Sofia Aurelius, has arrived to inspect one of her flagships.”
“The Empress?” Alexeyev feigned surprise. “I don’t see any Empress. I see a Commander with nobody to command, a loyal lapdog that’s missing his master and a spoilt little girl dressed up for a party that nobody else is going to attend. You have no authority here. I swore an oath to serve your Father, the true Emperor. When he turns up to command me, I will obey. Until then why don’t you fly back home and practice playing Empress and knight-errant in your own time. I’m busy.”
At Alexeyev’s dismissive tone, Jon’s face became more and more angry, until he had to grind his teeth together to stop himself swearing in fury at this disloyal officer.
However, before Jon could reply Sofia raised her hand towards him, stopping him, before turning to face the Admiral once again. “My father, the Emperor, is dead Alexeyev. You might not like it, but I am his only daughter. His responsibilities, his authority now passes to me and I am ordering you to permit us to dock.”
“You,” Alexeyev sneered dismissively. “Ordering me? You are nothing, Princess, a pretty little bauble that gets trotted out for formal occasions to look pretty and impress the politicians. You know nothing about the responsibility of command. You are just a spoilt, demanding little girl, all dressed up, and thinking that because of your father you have some sort of power over everybody else. You are nothing but arrogant and selfish, get out of my sight.”
At hearing these words, Sofia cast her gaze down despondently. The words cutting her deeply, for what the Admiral said was true. She had been spoilt and conceited, demanding attention from all around her and what could she offer in return? She had spent almost her entire life sequestered in the Imperial Star, studying, so what did she know about commanding a fleet and presiding over an Empire? What gave her the right to make such demands?
Yet Sofia remembered as a young girl, her mother stroking her hair, singing lullabies to put her to sleep at night, a mother who had been cruelly taken from her at a young age. Her father, the Emperor, who in the end had sacrificed everything to save her. Elsie and the fellow Praetorians who had sacrificed their lives, to allow her to escape. Jon who had repeatedly risked his own life to save hers. While bleeding to death on the floor, he had urged her to go, to save herself. All those who had sacrificed their lives for her, died believing in her. How could she allow their deaths to be so meaningless?
Sofia knew with absolutely certainty if she did not command the Imperial Fleet that it would fragment. Arrogant, self-seeking officers like Alexeyev, who could not see beyond their own selfish desire for power and wealth. Who cared little about the lives that would be lost in the acquisition of that dominance. The outcome would be civil war, with tens of thousands, possibly millions dead. History would remember her as the last of the Aurelius line, whose failure destroyed everything that her family had spent the last five generations building.
Raising her head, Sofia looked Alexeyev in the eye, her eyes flashing furiously. “You poor excuse for an officer. How dare you accuse me of being arrogant? You who sits there with your immaculate uniform and polished medals, surrounded by this fleet. What have you ever sacrificed for the Empire? My family have sacrificed everything! My mother is dead. My father and the other Praetorians murdered, by another Admiral as arrogant as you, who thought he was better than everybody else. I don’t care what you think; I am my father’s daughter. I now rule the Empire in his stead, you serve the Empire, and therefore you serve me.”
Alexeyev blinked, staring at Sofia, shocked by her tirade, not even the Emperor had ever dared to address him with such contempt. Setting his jaw firmly he replied. “I’m the one commanding this fleet, Princess. Flee back home before I lose my patience with you.”
Eyes narrowing, Sofia replied. “You did not hear what I said Admiral,” she said spitting out his title like a curse. “I rule the Empire. I command the Imperial Navy. I command this fleet. I command this vessel, not you. You and your crew are simply guests. Guests who can easily be evicted.”
As she said this, Sofia started to transmit her own set of personal codes to the almighty warship. For a moment nothing seemed to happen then, as if a switch had been thrown, one-by-one the lights on the ship vanished, the powerful engines flickered and then died. The ship that had previously been maintaining close formation with the other warships, started to drift away, powerless, helpless.
The effect on the bridge was even starker, as the lights suddenly vanished, the flight controls, one-by-one shutting down. The life support systems falling silent. Within the space of a few short moments, that once bustling command deck had fallen silent, the only source of illumination coming from the emergency lights.
“I warned you Alexeyev,” Sofia hissed. “I told you that you serve me and you didn’t listen.” Sofia left the threat unspoken. “We will be docking shortly. I expect you to be waiting for me, ready to bow down before me and accept my authority. No need for docking approval, I’ve already granted it,” she snapped before closing the communication channel leaving a stunned Admiral in her wake.
As if the ship had been waiting for permission from its master, the portside docking bay suddenly lit-up, the flight deck hanger doors opening at their own will.
“Commander, you may proceed to dock,” Sofia ordered calmly. When no response was forthcoming Sofia turned to look at Jon. He was just staring at her, mouth agape.
“What the hell just happened?” He asked in astonishment, looking at the flagship adrift in front of the shuttle.
“Why Commander,” Sofia replied demurely. “You didn’t think my family was ever going to be locked-out from one of its own ships did you? You can proceed with the docking.”
*****
Jon insisted on being the first to disembark from the shuttle, worried that they would be faced with a volley of gunfire instead of the usual welcoming committee, considering their less than usual arrival. However, he was relieved to see that instead of a security team, Alexeyev, with the Captain and his senior officers lined up behind him, awaited their arrival. Once he was sure that there was no risk, Jon offered his arm to Sofia who exited the shuttle, her face calm and composed. However, Jon knew it all to be an act as he could feel her hand trembling.
Once they had reached the bottom of the ramp, Alexeyev took a step forward. The Admiral had lost a good deal of his earlier self-confidence and his face was pale, but he still looked Sofia angrily in the eye, then Jon.
“Princess,” he said in greeting, with little warmth.
“Commander,” Sofia queried, turning to Jon questioningly. “What is the proper form of respect for a Fleet Admiral upon greeting a member of the Imperial family?”
“A bow, while on one knee, my Lady.”
“I thought so,” Sofia said. “Can you please assist the Admiral in demonstrating the proper form of respect please?”
“Certainly my Lady,” Jon replied, releasing her arm. Within the blink of an eye he had his sword in his hand, it pointing unwaveringly, inches from Alexeyev’s throat. “On your knees Admiral,” Jon growled.
Alexeyev cast a quick glance to his side, but the Captain and Senior Officers were all averting their eyes, none supporting the Admiral in his act of defiance. Hesitantly at first, especially with the deathly sharp blade hovering in front of him, Alexeyev carefully lowered himself to one knee, bowing. “My sincere apologies, my lady,” Alexeyev copied Jon’s respectful mode of address, although not sounding apologetic in the slightest.
“Much better,” Sofia murmured, gliding right past the Admiral, not even giving him another glance, and coming to a stop in front of the Captain and his senior staff. “Captain?” Sofia left the question hanging in the air.
With a quick glance at the blade still hovering inches from the Admiral, the Captain quickly fell to one knee, bowing his head respectfully. “Jefferson, ma’am,” he replied, his eyes still downcast. He was astonished to feel Sofia’s hand rest lightly on his shoulder.
“Please stand Captain, I would be delighted if you could spare the time to give me a tour of your magnificent ship?”
Taken aback by the warm tone of voice, the Captain stood, uncertainly. “Of course, ma’am,” he said.
“Please call me Sofia,” she replied with a warm smile, offering the Captain her hand, which he responded to automatically by offering an arm in return.
“My senior officers, ma’am? Sofia?” he added, almost choking on her name.
“Well they are of course welcome to join us, unless they have more pressing business? I do not want to interrupt the routine of your ship, any more than I already have,” she replied sweetly. “Shall we begin?”
With a sharp nod of his head, the Captain dismissed his senior officers, and escorted Sofia towards the exit.
As they neared the door, Sofia paused a moment turning her head back towards Jon, who still remained on the flight deck, hovering over the prostrated form of the Admiral. “Commander, do you want to join us?”
“Please go ahead, my Lady. The Admiral and I have some unfinished business to discuss first. I’ll join you later.”
“Very well,” she replied, gliding from the room, with Jefferson still beside her, leaving the flight deck empty except for the Commander and the Admiral.
Jon waited until the doors had firmly closed and that they were alone, before he turned his cold stare back upon the Admiral, still on his knees. Secretly Jon was impressed with the way in which Sofia had handled the situation. Many times before had he stood at the side of her father, the Emperor, as he had berated an officer. He had shouted at them, sworn at them, even threatened them, but never once had he simply ignored them. Jon felt that it was highly effective and surprised that the Emperor had never thought of it before.
“I expect that you are very angry right now,” Jon mused aloud for the sake of the Admiral. “Probably even furious, imagining all the ways that you could take your revenge for this humiliation.” Jon’s blade flashed up, touching the Admiral just under the chin, forcing him to lift his head and look him in the eye. “So you can give up any and all of those ideas, right now. For the Princess is protected, by me. Any scheme or idea that you come up with, you will need to get past me first, and that won’t happen. But an even better reason to abandon any ideas you might have, right here, right now, is that if I suspect, I even think that you are plotting against her, I’ll kill you. Without giving it a second thought.”
Alexeyev looked Jon in the eye and sneered, “Then why is Harkov still alive? Perhaps you are not as infallible as you thought?”
“Harkov is still alive because the Emperor ordered it. If I had my way, Harkov would have been dead and buried many years ago. Unlike the Emperor I don’t make a habit of leaving live enemies behind me. Anyway, I am busy at the moment, but Harkov has not escaped my attention. I’ll very soon get around to dealing with him. However, I am happy to let him live, for a little while longer. As I know with absolute certainty that he is terrified of ever closing his eyes, as he knows that one day he will open them and I will be there and it will be the last thing that he ever sees. So Admiral you have a decision to make now, do you want to live, or die?”
“The other fleet Admirals will never follow her,” he hissed.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Jon replied. “But perhaps she will surprise them too, the same way as she has surprised you. For there is an inner strength in her we have all underestimated. She is her father’s daughter, the latest in a long line of rulers. Anyway it matters little to me as either they’ll follow her or I’ll replace them with somebody who will. So what’s the decision, Admiral?” Jon demanded.
Alexeyev looked into Jon’s steely eyes, which were hard, cold and unforgiving. He well recognised the truth of his words. He could either choose to live or die this day.
Not unsurprisingly he chose to live.
*****
Several hours later, after Jon had re-joined Sofia and the Captain on the remaining tour of the ship, they were finally ready to depart.
“Thank you for your hospitality, Captain,” Sofia said. “You have a fine ship and crew, you should be proud of them.”
Jon was amused to note the slight flush that appeared on the Captain’s face at Sofia’s high praise. It looked like the Captain was half in awe and half in love with the young woman already. Jon did not mind, as he was secure in Sofia’s affections and as long as the Captain remained only in awe…
“Admiral Alexeyev is not going to be present for our departure?” She asked in surprise.
“He had an upset stomach, he gives his apologies my Lady,” Jon was quick to inject. Actually Jon had no idea where the Admiral was, suggesting to him that he make himself scarce for the rest of the visit. Hopefully he was currently in his own quarters, contemplating his future and own mortality.
“Very well,” Sofia said. “Bill, in that case will you please pass on my instructions to the Admiral?” She addressed the question to the Captain.
“Of course, Sofia,” Jefferson replied, with another small pink spot appearing on his cheeks.
It took a lot of will power on Jon’s behalf not to roll his eyes in disbelief. They had only known each other for a couple of hours and were already on first name terms?
“Sofia,” Jefferson requested embarrassedly. “Could you please return control of my ship?”
“Of course,” she replied, wide-eyed as if the very thought had never crossed her mind. For the ship’s internal systems had returned to normal soon after they had docked, but the external flight controls, including engines, weapons and sensors had stubbornly remained locked out to the crew. “I’ll do that as soon as we depart, except for your weapon systems, of course. They will remain locked out for several more hours after our departure. However, I am sure this will not be a problem, after all you don’t have anything you need to shoot at.”
She concluded the visit with her own parting shot.
*****
Several hours after departing from the Invincible, Jon was still at the flight controls of the Eternal Light. He was exhausted from the events of the day. Having long since unbuttoned the neck of his tight uniform and, with his sword resting beside him on the co-pilot seat, he was reflecting on the events of the day. All-in-all Jon thought it had gone better than expected, although he was still astonished at the sight of Sofia so effortlessly bringing a battleship to its knees. He was reminded of one of his sister’s old fairy tales about a princess who had befriended a dragon. How the massive and mighty dragon had bowed down before the diminutive princess. Jon thought his long dead sister would have appreciated the comparison.
He had questioned Sofia closely about the event soon after their departure and Sofia had confessed her father had given her the master command codes for all Imperial Navy ships. Jon had long since given up wondering how it seemed she could sneak around the Imperial Star with impunity, suddenly rematerializing elsewhere without a trace; no wonder.
With the shuttle on autopilot and still several hours from their next rendezvous with the fleet, Jon leaned back in the pilot seat, fully planning on getting some rest before their next encounter. However, no sooner had he closed his eyes than Sofia’s voice blared out of the ship’s intercom, the device doing nothing to hide her frustration.
“Commander, I need your assistance. Immediately,” Sofia ordered.
Stretching his tired muscles, Jon slowly got to his feet, wondering what the problem was this time. Sofia had certainly found her inner authority and was making full use of it. Jon had lost count of the number of times, since their departure, he had been ordered to check on something, retrieve this or deliver that. What was more, Jon was almost certain Sofia was doing it just to antagonise him for some reason. Probably her way of reminding him of her new found status and power.
Eventually Jon found Sofia standing in the middle of one of the master cabins, a look of complete and utter frustration on her face. “You called m’Lady?” Jon asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Help me out of this thing will you?” She insisted. “I cannot reach the clasp.”
Rolling his eyes, as a Commander’s job was never done, he approached her, once again admiring how the robes clung to her figure. Reaching to the back of her neck, he helped her unfasten the clasp.
With a simple shrug of her shoulders, the robe slid to the floor. Jon could only gape at the endless expanse of back suddenly revealed. He had spent a considerable time wondering what Sofia was wearing underneath the robes, the answer had suddenly become clear. As aside from a pair of lace white panties, she was completely nude.
“Enjoying the view Commander?” Sofia asked, glancing over her shoulder, eyes twinkling, a hint of breathlessness in her voice. “Anyway I thought that the proper form of greeting to a member of the Imperial family, was on your knees?” She suggested, sweetly.
Jon thought that was an excellent idea, as his legs currently felt that they had turned to jelly. He thankfully sank down to one knee, which gave him an even more fantastic view of the endless flesh on display in front of him. Sofia was not the only one that was breathing raggedly.
Once Jon was finally on his knees, Sofia turned to face him. Gently running a finger down his cheek, she inquired. “As the Empress, I believe you need to follow my every order, to the letter, is that not correct?”
At this point Jon was having trouble speaking as his mouth had gone completely dry, so instead he gave a small nod in reply.
“Then I am ordering you to kiss me, Commander,” she breathed, eyes sparking in anticipation.
With eyes now almost black with desire, Jon did not need to be given the order twice. In one swift movement he rushed to his feet. Lifting Sofia into his arms and fusing his mouth to hers, he carried her to the bed, never once letting go.
Chapter Eight
Present Day,
The Sunfire, Outskirts Beta Hydri System
The small fleet of shuttles dropped into ‘normal’ space almost simultaneously, maintaining a tight formation heading towards the second planet of the system.
“We should shortly be approaching the coordinates that you supplied,” Miranda broke the silence. Over the past hour the tension in the cockpit had intensified to a level where you could cut it with a knife. “Still nothing on sensors,” she added.
“She’s out there, I can feel it,” Jon added, staring out of the cockpit window intently.
Paul, the third and final occupant in the cramped cockpit of the shuttle exchanged a worried glance with Miranda. It had not been the first on the journey, for while Jon had always been a man of few words, since departing Terra Nova he had said almost nothing at all, beyond reassuring the two of them the massive warship would still be there, and safe to board.
“Jon,” Miranda said hesitantly. “Is everything alright?”
“Sure, what makes you think otherwise?” Came back the nonchalant reply.
“Well it’s just if you squeeze that flight control any harder you are likely to break it,” she quipped, motioning towards his hand, which was white with strain.
Jon blinked, glancing down at this hand and, with a conscious effort, released his hands from the controls, flexing them to regain the circulation. “Fine,” he confessed. “So maybe I’m just a little edgy.”
“Something you want to share with us?” Paul inquired, giving him a worried look out of the corner of his eye.
Sighing deeply, Jon tried to put his feelings into words. “If you must know, I didn’t think I would ever come back here. I spent six months of my life on that ship, I was close to the crew. I’m not looking forward to going back. Too many memories.”
Biting back the sudden pang of jealousy Miranda felt upon hearing his explanation, she added, a bit more sharply than she intended, “I thought fraternising with the crew was prohibited in both the Imperial and Confederation Navies?”
Jon looked at her, shocked, before laughing. “I wasn’t talking about fraternising with them, it’s just—” Jon sighed. “Many of them were very young and straight out of the academy. For some of the crew this was their first tour of duty, they looked to me for direction and for me to keep them safe.”
Paul patted Jon on the shoulder reassuringly. “They knew the risks when they signed on. I’m sure that you did everything that you could.”
“But it wasn’t enough, was it?”
“We’ve arrived at your coordinates,” Miranda interrupted sharply, swiftly changing topic. “Still nothing on sensors.”
“She’s there, waiting,” Jon replied distantly, once again zoning out. Miranda and Paul exchanged worried glances. Moving closer to the flight controls, Jon started to broadcast the necessary command codes to reactivate the long dormant systems on the ship.
Miranda stared ahead at a solitary star, which she was sure was not there moments ago. Blinking, trying to focus, for it seemed that a shadow had detached itself from the greater depths of space. It only finally dawned on her, when a second star appeared, that they were not stars at all, but navigation lights. Slowly, but with quickening pace more and more appeared, further highlighting the massive superstructure of the ship. Miranda was in awe at the size of it, never before had she been so close to such a massive ship. “By the Maker,” she murmured aloud.
“I told you so,” Jon reassured the other two. “I told you she would be here, waiting for us, just sleeping. Ready to awaken in the time of need,” Jon breathed, speaking out loud to himself. This time Miranda and Paul’s worried expressions were interrupted by the chime of the shuttle’s communication system.
“Jon, Neil here,” the Doctor interrupted them. “I have completed scans of the outer hull and radiation levels seem to be within safe levels, however we need to scan inside to ensure that no residual radiation remains.”
The Doctor’s voice roused Jon, who had been lost in the past. It reminded him of another task that was still required and this one being particularly unpleasant. Tapping the communication controls he broadcast the message to their fleet of shuttles. “All ships are to hold this position at a minimum safe distance. I will take a security team on board to escort the doctor and his medical team while they conduct final scans. We will signal when it is safe to commence docking operations. Neil, Gunny, David—follow us in, we will use the upper flight deck.”
Three shuttles separated from the formation, leaving the remaining ships stationary in space and heading towards the upper flight deck of the Sunfire. There were no issues docking as the massive flight deck dwarfed the small shuttles. Once the shuttles had docked successfully and all systems were powered down, Paul and Jon prepared to depart, to lead their respective teams.
Jon noticed Miranda unbuckling her flight harness in preparation to depart with them. Hurrying over to her he motioned for her to remain in her seat. “Miranda, I want you to remain with the shuttle until I signal that it is safe.”
Miranda gave Jon an outraged look, insisting. “I’m coming with you. I can look after myself just as well as you can,” she insisted, touching the pulse pistol at her side.
Sighing, Jon squatted down until he was level with her. Reaching out with his fingertips he brushed them gently against her cheek.
Miranda’s breath caught in her throat, as she stared into his understanding grey eyes. She could vividly remember the last time that he had touched her in such a fashion. She could still recall his taste on her tongue, his searing heat as he pressed intimately against her. Miranda averted her gaze so Jon would not see her flushed cheeks.
However, Jon did not mention anything or purposefully ignored it, instead he replied softly. “I have never doubted your bravery or your courage. Instead I am trying to spare you from something, trying to keep you away from it for as long as I can. For one hundred and thirty eight brave souls perished on this ship and they are still out there, some in their seats at their consoles, and others fallen where they stood. Please stay here, let me spare you from seeing that.”
Inside Miranda cursed herself, for she had come to realise that she had a weak-spot for this softly spoken, gentle voice Jon occasionally employed. Not trusting herself to speak, instead she just nodded in agreement.
With a gentle smile, Jon pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear and, dropping a soft kiss on her cheek, breathed. “We will be back shortly.”
Departing the shuttle, Jon noticed a small crowd already gathered at the bottom of the ramp. Paul, David, Neil with Gunny at its head. Stopping a few feet from the bottom, to utilise the height advantage he called out, “Ok, listen up people. We are going to split into small sweeper teams. We will spread out and check that the ship is safe. There are one hundred and thirty eight crew on this vessel; we need to find all of them. I shut off the environmental controls prior to closing down the ship, hence the bodies will not have decomposed significantly, frozen by the sub-zero temperatures. However, they will now start to decompose rapidly. I have designated cargo bay two as a temporary morgue; we will move any bodies we find there. The temperature has been lowered and we can store the bodies until they receive a proper burial when we are back. Are there any questions?”
“Is there any risk from the radiation that killed the crew?” One of the marines called out from the back of the group.
“The radiation employed by the weapon was specifically designed to disperse quickly, it had an extremely short half-life. Therefore there should be no risk. However, to be on the safe side the Doctor and his medical team will be on board to confirm it is safe. Any other questions?”
With a general shaking of heads, the large group broke up into smaller groups, each departing for their allocated sections. Jon fell in behind the group tasked with the bridge. He had no wish to go back there, but it was his responsibility and his fault that they were all dead.
Upon reaching the door to the bridge, Jon turned back to address the marines, security officers and medics that made up this detail. “Wait here,” he ordered. “I need to go on ahead, give me a few minutes.” Nobody in the group was willing to meet his gaze, everybody understanding why Jon needed some time alone.
Stepping onto the bridge, Jon was taken aback by the bustle of activity, exactly as he remembered it. Officers moving quickly between consoles, orders and information passing backwards and forwards. Steve occupying the captain’s chair, his back to Jon. Janet, his Executive Officer, seated next to him.
Blinking away the sudden vision, Jon instead faced the silent, desolate bridge. Fortunately the effects of the radiation had been swift, most died before they even knew what had happened. The sub-zero temperatures had preserved the bodies, hence the majority looked simply asleep. Bodies slumped over consoles, others still in their seats. Softly walking around the fallen bodies, Jon approached the front of the bridge. Taking a deep breath he turned to face Captain Ferguson. Fortunately, like the others, the signs of his death were minimal. A small trail of blood ran from his lips, down the side of one cheek. Obviously he had bitten his tongue, or lip, when he had died.
Jon carefully got down on one knee, so he could look the Captain in the face, to an outside observer it almost seemed like Jon was bowing down before the bridge crew. “You should be proud Steve,” Jon whispered quietly. “You and your crew completed your mission. You did what duty demanded and you stopped them before that terrible weapon could ever be used on others. I’m proud of you, all of you,” Jon said with a raised voice, addressing the entire bridge. “Now that you’ve done your job, it’s your turn to rest. We will take you home, back to your loved ones, so that you can finally rest in peace.” Jon took a deep breath before continuing. “However, first there is one last mission to complete. Somebody that I love, somebody that I care about more than life itself, needs our help. She has already lost a mother; I won’t let her lose her father too. For that I need your help, I need this ship, as we can only do this together.”
Jon felt a slight breeze passing across his neck, unsure if it were the environmental systems coming fully back on-line, or the answer he had been looking for. Regaining his feet, he took one final look at the courageous crew of the Sunfire.
He left the bridge and told the recovery team they could start to remove the bodies.
*****
It was a sombre group that gathered in the ship’s briefing room several hours later. The recovery of so many bodies had dampened their enthusiasm for the mission. A stark reminder of what they could all possibly face in the next few days. Jon had organised some food and drink for the officers, as they were too busy to eat since their arrival, but the food and drink lay untouched. Nobody had an appetite anymore.
“Paul, what is the status of the Sunfire?” Jon asked, getting straight down to business.
“Pretty good all things considered,” Paul replied. “We have already run a full diagnostic test on all of the computer and flight control systems and they all came back green. All the internal systems were shielded against an EMP strike.” Paul added, referring to the ElectroMagnetic Pulse caused by the close detonation of the neutron bomb. “Damage to the ship is minimal, mostly localised around the bow, point-defence weapons. Fortunately those can be repaired in space, so there will be no need for a space-dock. The ship’s ammunition batteries are almost full; we have eighty-eight per cent of the ship’s missiles and ninety-seven per cent of the rail gun rounds. All that is required is to bring the ship’s reactor up to full power and then initiate a cold start of the engines. This will take a couple more days, as we need to do it slowly to check for leaks or damage.”
“Thanks Paul,” Jon replied. “Doctor, what about radiation levels?”
“They are all within safe parameters,” Richardson replied. “It seems as though the weapon worked exactly as designed, killing the crew, but dissipating quickly.” The firm set of his jaw and the biting tone of his voice, easily conveyed his thoughts about such a weapon.
“Jason, any intelligence on a suitable target we could commandeer, to sneak onto Tartarus?”
“I think so,” Jason replied. “I have been checking the flight plans filed in all the adjoining sectors and I think I have found a suitable target. A medium sized freighter, called the Phoenix, is scheduled to dock in a few days at a shipyard in the Sluis System for a sensor refit. This is scheduled to take a few days and then there is a flight plan already scheduled to take her back to Tartarus in exactly five days’ time.”
“Paul, will that fit within your schedule?” Jon asked.
“It will.”
“Gunny, assemble your team then. We will target the Phoenix, and once we have the authorisation codes will fly her ourselves to Tartarus. This will then give us two days to locate, secure the Emperor and make our exit, before the Sunfire arrives to punch us a hole off Tartarus.”
“Are there any further questions?” With a shake of heads around the table, Jon concluded the meeting by saying. “In that case Paul, I have transferred the ship’s command codes to yourself. Congratulations on your new commission, Captain Harrington.”
Paul only grimaced, nodding his head in acknowledgement.
“Furthermore, I have also transferred the codes to arm the Mk. VI’s to you. You now have the full combat capability of this ship at your disposal Captain.”
Again Paul would not meet Jon’s eyes, but nodded his head in understanding.
Recognising the morose atmosphere in the room, Jon looked each of his senior officers in the eye before stating, “A good man once told me that sometimes you need to make sacrifices. The previous crew of this ship made the ultimate sacrifice to stop a weapon that if ever used against a populated planet would have killed millions. But I will not allow their sacrifice to be in vain. For today we embark on a new mission, a mission to rescue a good man. A husband to a lost wife, a father to a grieving daughter. A man who dedicated his entire life to a duty. A duty to protect every man, woman and child in the Empire from harm. It’s time that somebody repaid him for that sacrifice. Let’s go bring him home.”
With approving nods from around the table Jon concluded. “I’ll be scheduling a briefing for the entire crew at 0900 ship time tomorrow. If they are risking their lives, they deserve to know why.”
*****
At 0900 hours the following morning, Miranda found herself once again on the flight deck, standing in front of the assembled crew. The flight deck had been chosen as the location for the briefing as it was the only space on the ship that could contain all the crew comfortably. Almost everybody was present, except for a skeleton crew monitoring critical systems, who were following the briefing remotely.
Standing on a raised platform so as to be easily seen, flanking Jon to the left, while Paul was standing to Jon’s right, Miranda stared out at a sea of intent faces. The crew had instinctively formed into lines, at parade rest, their feet a shoulder width apart, back straight, hands clasped behind them. Idly Miranda wondered just how long some of these people had been in the Imperial Navy to take such a position automatically. For while she saw a few familiar faces that were around her age, many were older, similar in age to Jon and Paul. This made sense to her, that Jon and Paul would have known these crew members the longest and hence extended the invitation for them and their families to join them on Terra Nova.
Taking a step forward, Jon started the briefing. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to start off by thanking every one of you for volunteering. I appreciate that you have all done so based on very little information. Unfortunately this was necessary, as you will soon appreciate. So without further delay, our destination is the Tyrell Corporation, on the planet Tartarus in the Sigma-Draconis System.” With a nod to one side, a large holo-projection appeared, hovering Jon’s side, several feet above the attending crew. Motioning towards the projection, he resumed. “As you can see the planet is very heavily defended—”
At this point Miranda stopped listening to Jon, as she had sat through this briefing with the senior staff only a few days before. Instead she turned her attention back to the men and women standing before her, all listening intently to Jon’s words. It occurred to her there were almost equal numbers of men and women. Sexual discrimination was long dead in the Imperial Navy; it was more an indication of Paul and Jon’s personality, that they chose the best person for the job, indiscriminate of sex. It was a very different environment to the one that she had grown up within the Syndicate. Sexual discrimination there had been well and truly rife, not to mention the number of propositions she had to reject, some firmly.
Turning her attention back to the crew, Miranda wondered why the whole scene seemed so familiar. Finally she placed the memory back to several holo-films she had watched as a youngster. Part film, part Imperial Navy propaganda, she had watched open-mouthed as the brave crew lined up, listening to the briefing from the Commanding Officer, usually detailing the suicidal mission they were about to embark upon.
It was not until that moment the realisation dawned on Miranda as to what they were actually about to do. A rescue attempt against an impregnable planet, with a single warship, to rescue possibly the most heavily guarded and protected prisoner in the entire Confederation. All this when even the old Imperial assault plan had stipulated a reinforced task force, backed up by at least a battalion of ground forces. Part of Miranda could understand why those assembled in front of her would follow Jon on this forlorn hope. Many of them owed their lives to this man. But why her? She now possessed her own ship and had valuable skills she could offer. She should have been hightailing it for the nearest exit, yet, like those in front of her, she stood in line, secure in the knowledge she would follow Jon on this mission.
For her, it boiled down to trust.
Jon had taken a chance on her, given her his trust and opportunities she would never in her wildest dreams have thought possible. For as Jon had placed his trust in her, so she would reciprocate, implicitly trusting him. In the firm belief that if anybody was going to be able to pull off this miracle it would be him. Jon, interrupted her thoughts when he reached the point in the briefing where he detailed the purpose behind this endeavour.
“I have mentioned before the purpose of this is a rescue mission, but I have purposefully withheld whom it is that we are rescuing. Each of you will be risking your lives on this endeavour and hence it is only fair you all know the full facts. Therefore the objective of this rescue is to secure the release of the Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, Sofia’s father.”
The silence in the room was all-engulfing, as if nobody could believe what they had just heard. Then for the first time in the briefing, Miranda heard a murmuring of whispers. A hand appeared from near the back of the crowd.
“Go ahead Jonas,” Jon prompted the marine from one of Gunny’s teams.
“With all due respect Commander, I thought that the Emperor was dead. How do we know he is being imprisoned on Tartarus?”
“A fair question,” Jon replied. “All I can say is that in the past few weeks a new and highly placed intelligence source has become available to us. This source confirmed the location of the Emperor, and that he was alive, at least until a few weeks ago.”
“Do we know his exact location?” He asked.
“No, we do not. The covert assault team will need to locate him once we are on Tartarus.”
“Can our intelligence source supply a more specific location?”
“The intelligence source is no longer available to us,” Jon replied vaguely.
Jonas did not seem surprised by this response, nodding his head in thanks and stepping back into line.
As there seemed to be no further questions, Jon concluded the briefing by saying. “What we are about to do is an unprovoked attack on a commercial organisation and its private ships and facilities. By all definitions there is only one word for such action—piracy—and we all know there is only one penalty for such action. Death.” Taking a deep breath he continued. “I have thought long and hard about this, and even were I to claim personal responsibility for these actions, I doubt it would be enough to spare your lives in a civilian court of law. However, in a military tribunal you would all be protected, as under the uniform code of Military Justice you would be following a lawful order, hence you would be shielded from prosecution. Unfortunately, none of us have sworn an oath to the Confederation, and we are not in the Confederation Navy. But we all once swore a different oath, that we would uphold the ideals of the Empire, would protect and defend it from all possible threats, and we all swore an oath to the Emperor. Nobody can deny us that, nobody can dispute that fact and nobody can force us to rescind such an oath. Only the Emperor has such authority. Therefore from this moment on, we are no longer civilians, no longer just employees of Vanguard, we are what we have always been—warriors of the Imperial Navy, sworn to defend and protect the Emperor.
I will not march to his aid on a ship flying the flag of the Confederation. If we are to fail, then I want to fail in the knowledge what we attempted was true and just. Henceforth this ship will fly under her true colours, what she was always conceived to be. A ship belonging to the greatest military force in human history. An Imperial Navy warship. A ship-of-the-line. To be feared by any and all that cross her path. Hell should tremble before us, for we are coming, and there is nothing in this life or the next that can stop us.”
Jon’s voice seemed to roll like thunder across the flight deck. Miranda could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention, as if the air had become electrically charged. As if the very spirits of hell had been drawn from that place by the challenge in the Commander’s voice. The effect on the crew was even more electric. As their eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire, their backs straightened, their posture hardened.
“Attention on deck!” A voice cried from the crowd. As if the movement had been practiced to perfection, that crew snapped to attention, feet together, their arms at salute.
Miranda felt a shiver run down her spine as she gazed at the crew facing her, and for a brief moment she almost pitied the forces on Tartarus arrayed against them.
*****
It was several hours later, in the late evening when Miranda arrived in the senior officers’ dining room. Paul had invited her to dine with him and Jon, soon after the briefing had concluded and the crew dispersed. Upon entering the small dining room, Miranda observed Paul and Jon deep in conversation. They were already seated but that was not what caused her to stop abruptly.
Paul noticed her entrance, and was about to offer her a seat when he noticed the shock in her eyes. “Miranda, is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.
Miranda could only stare at Paul, or more precisely at what he was wearing. For like Jon, Paul was now dressed in the immaculate white uniform of the Imperial Navy, the rank of Captain clearly visible on his lapel. Breaking the silence, Miranda uttered, “Nobody told me that it was formal dress for dinner this evening.”
Paul looked surprised, before looking down at this uniform in understanding. “I haven’t worn this in years. I think it’s a little tight around the waist.”
“You are going soft, Paul,” Jon quipped.
Miranda could only lick her lips, eyes darting between the two officers, so similar in their white navy uniforms, yet both so different. For while Jon was tall and lean, with a whipcord-like strength, Paul was shorter and stockier, but Miranda could still see his strong muscles beneath his uniform. Miranda was firmly of the opinion most of the female members of the crew would have traded their right arm to be where she was at this precise moment, in the company of the two handsome officers.
“Apologies, I feel slightly underdressed.” Miranda flashed a smile.
“Not from where I am sitting,” Jon replied, giving her a wolfish grin. Admiring her in the knee-length, black dress she had worn for the occasion. “Although I do wonder what you would look like in a uniform? I must confess to having a thing for women in uniform. Maybe I could interest you in a commission?” He laughed.
Miranda just rolled her eyes. Jon was in one of his rare exuberant moods and as far as she could tell these moods usually only occurred prior to him embarking on a life-or-death venture.
“If you would like me to leave, so that you two can resume your flirting in private?” Paul interrupted, trying to hide his amusement.
“Not at all,” Jon replied, laughter in his eyes as he stood, sliding back a chair so Miranda could take a seat. He had to bite back a startled intake of breath as he glanced down at the endless expanse of back on show, as he could see all the way down to her derrière.
He and Miranda had been close for a while back on Terra Nova, going as far as to share an all-encompassing kiss prior to him leaving the station to face Harkov and his fleet. At the time Jon had given little thought to the consequences, as he did not expect to live much longer. However, since then he had been keeping a distance from the gorgeous young woman, not wanting to give her the wrong impression, as his heart had long since belonged to another. But it was times like this when his resolve waivered and he wondered if he should stop living in the past and move on. Not wanting to face such weighty problems at the moment, as he needed to focus on the mission at hand, he returned to his seat.
Paul broke the silence between the couple by inquiring. “So Jon, have you thought about your next steps after you arrive on Tartarus?”
Jon gave the question due consideration, before shaking his head. “We don’t have enough intelligence about the facility, where they could be keeping Marcus, his current health status. I guess that we will have to play it by ear.”
“So no plans to just walk up to the front door and loudly demand his release?” Paul smirked. “Relying on the fear inducing presence of the great Praetorian Commander?”
“Funny.”
“Miranda,” Paul turned to the younger woman, with a sparkle in his eye. “Did you know our beloved Commander here has a certain reputation?”
As a matter of a fact, Miranda did have some inkling of this, as she remembered Paul mentioning it during a discussion in his office, after Jon had been badly injured during the Syndicate assault on Terra Nova. “I seem to remember you mentioning it,” she replied dryly. “How did it go again, something along the lines of being invulnerable, possessing a magic sword, being the best pilot in the galaxy, clairvoyant and telepathic,” Miranda ticked each one off on her fingers as she said them. The only one that she purposefully left off was Paul’s final addition, that according to the crew, at least the female half, Jon was rumoured to be the best lover in the galaxy. As Miranda was almost certain that Paul was making that up, just to embarrass her, and she would not fall for the same ploy twice.
As she listed each one, Jon flushed a brighter shade of pink, so much so that by the time Miranda had finished his face was bright red. “Some of that might be a little exaggerated,” Jon muttered looking down to hide his embarrassment.
“I don’t know,” Paul chuckled. “I remember in the Epsilon Indi system once when a band of pirates, who had established themselves in the system, fled at your very name.”
“It might have been more to do with the Imperial task force I was commanding at the time,” Jon replied sarcastically.
“Anyway, I think you missed off a few Miranda,” Paul prompted.
Miranda shot Paul a warning look, as she knew exactly which rumour Paul was referring to. “How could I forget?” Miranda slapped her forehead theatrically. “You can also breathe in a vacuum. As I remember after the energy shield in your office failed, you walked out as if you were taking an afternoon stroll.”
Jon waved his hands defensively. “Hey don’t look at me. That has nothing to do with me, ask Paul. He was the one who insisted on the modification.”
Miranda looked at Paul inquiringly, who replied with a grin, “The energy field was not the only barrier protecting Jon’s office.”
Miranda frowned. “But I have been in that office, I could touch the shield, there was no other barrier there.”
“Not one that you could see,” Paul replied. “Have you heard of a nano-lattice before?”
Miranda nodded her head. “I have heard of them, but never seen one. Ultra-thin lattices, barely a few atoms thick, incredibly strong, but brittle. They are usually found in casings to increase the tensile strength of the container.”
“Correct,” beamed Paul. “However, in this case there is a nano-lattice embedded inside the energy shield and this is constructed at the exact wavelength of visible light, making it practically invisible to the naked eye. Embedded inside the field, this helps protect the lattice, which as you said is extremely brittle, otherwise simply touching it would tear the lattice.”
“So when the energy shield failed, the lattice stopped the office explosively decompressing?” Miranda guessed.
Jon nodded his head and added. “Got damn cold though, as the lattice was enough to maintain the air-pressure, but did nothing to reflect back the thermal radiation from the room. Temperature must have dropped by almost twenty degrees in a few minutes.”
“So is your entire reputation the same?” Miranda asked sharply. “Just a pack of lies, wrapped in misunderstandings and padded with unsubstantiated rumours?”
“Not all of them,” Paul replied with another smirk, purposefully not elaborating on which of them were true. Glancing at the clock Paul was surprised to note how much time had passed. “Well, I need to leave as I need to check in with the shift commanders before I hit the rack. We still have a lot to do if the Sunfire is to be combat-ready in time to pull you off Tartarus.”
Jon stood, offering Paul his hand, which he took in a firm grasp. “I know you’ll be there, ready and waiting at the agreed time,” Jon replied earnestly.
It was Paul’s turn to nod, looking between the two of them. “You look after yourself on Tartarus. We don’t know anything about this Tyrell Corporation or Sejanus, so watch your backs.”
“And you look after my ship,” Jon replied seriously. “After all she’s practically brand new with only one former owner. Just try and not scratch the paint. You look after her and they will look after you.”
Paul shot Jon a strange look and replied, “You mean that she will look after you.”
“That’s what I said.”
“No you said that they would look after you.”
“Didn’t.”
“Did.”
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“Ok let’s agree to disagree. Anyway, you look after yourself Paul, I promised Carol and the kids they would see you back alive and in one piece.”
Paul nodded and enfolded Jon in a firm embrace. “You look after him, and yourself, okay?” Paul addressed the question to Miranda. Who nodded in response. “You staying longer?” Paul inquired, motioning towards Jon’s half-finished scotch.
“Yeah,” Jon replied. “I am expecting some more visitors later.”
“Miranda?”
“I’m calling it a night, I want to get some rest before tomorrow. First time that I ever step on a planet,” she replied, nervously.
“I’ll walk you back to your quarters,” Paul replied. “’Night Jon.”
Jon made a shooing motion with his hands, until the pair left the small dining room with a wave. Retaking his seat, Jon refilled his scotch glass from the bottle, before reclining in his seat to await his other visitors.
*****
It was many hours later and the scotch glass in front of Jon was now almost empty and his eyelids heavy with sleep, when the doors slid quietly open without any announcement.
Without having to look up, Jon motioned towards the empty seat on the other side of the table. “Take a seat Steve, I have been expecting you.”
As the ghost of Captain Stephen Ferguson, former Commanding Officer of the Sunfire glided into the room, before settling across the table from Jon.
“Pour yourself a drink,” he added tiredly knowing that there would be many more guests before the night was through.
*****
It was late in the night when Miranda passed the private dining room, on her way back from getting some warm milk from the galley. Miranda’s nerves were shot to hell, with the excitement of finally being able to step onto a planet warring with the terror of what the next couple of days could bring.
Surprised to see a light still on in the room, she stopped, considering ringing the announcer, but if Jon was still there and asleep she did not want to wake him. Therefore she carefully activated the door control and it slid open quietly.
As she had thought, Jon was snoring quietly, still seated where he had been last sitting when she had left him a couple of hours before. A half-finished scotch glass on the table.
Taking one of the blankets she had commandeered from a supply closet on the way back, as there seemed to be a cold breeze on the ship, she draped it over Jon’s sleeping body and switched the lights off as she left.
Chapter Nine
Sluis Van Shipyards, Sluis System
A few days later Jon, Miranda, Gunny and his team of Special Forces were nervously assembled outside the docking bay of the Phoenix, waiting for the go ahead from Jason.
Jon had already paid off the Dock Master to ensure that, apart from the crew of the Phoenix, the rest of the docking bay would be deserted at this late hour. However, they were still waiting for Jason to re-route all the security cameras inside the bay. Station security would probably take exception to an armed hijacking of a freighter right under their noses.
“What the hell’s taking so long?” Gunny cursed, trying to hide his massive bulk, ineffectively, against the bay door.
“Jason knows what he is doing,” Jon replied, eyes continually flicking down both lengths of the corridor. While it was very early in the morning on the station and the number of people walking the corridors was extremely light, it was only going to take one person to approach this bay and the entire operation would be blown. There was just no way to hide Gunny and a dozen of his team, all decked out in black tactical armour. As they were not expecting major resistance from the crew, as all were civilians and likely to be armed with personal side arms only, it was decided that speed would be of the essence for this operation. The plan being for Gunny and his team to overpower the crew of the freighter before anybody could raise the alarm.
It was for this reason that all the assault team were armed with stun weapons only, as it was extremely unlikely that the civilian crew would have been involved in the kidnap and imprisonment of the Emperor.
Gunny nervously fiddled with the stun pistol in his hands. The stun pistol was a natural progression from the electroshock or Taser weapons widely introduced by civilian law-enforcement agencies at the beginning of the 21st Century. Those early weapons used an electrical current to disrupt control of muscles, which caused temporary paralysis. They were the first non-lethal weapons to be widely deployed and could be used in situations that would otherwise have been unsuited to a more lethal weapon, such as a firearm.
However, while these weapons were widely deployed, they had a number of limitations, mostly linked to short range. The law enforcement officer had to be within a few meters of the target—not a preferred option when he or she could be armed with a more lethal firearm. Similarly, most of the early models were limited to a maximum of two or three shots, before they needed to be reloaded. Hence you were screwed when faced by four or more antagonists at one time.
Consequently there was a need for a more effective stun weapon, with a longer range, larger clip capacity and the ability to adjust the stun effect from temporary paralysis to rendering the target unconscious for a lengthy period of time. The project was put out to tender and eventually won by a joint bid from Heckler & Koch and Taser International. The resultant weapon was the electro-laser, directed energy weapon. It used a low power laser to form an electrically conductive laser-induced plasma channel (LIPC) to transmit a powerful electric current, immobilising the target. The weapon had a range of up to thirty meters and the current could be adjusted to modify the effect as necessary. The weapon was an outstanding success and within a period of twenty years had replaced almost all other firearms used by civilian law-enforcement agencies.
During this time Heckler, Koch & Taser (HKT), as the combined company became known, superseded and practically replaced all other small arms manufactures on the planet. The LIPC pistol as it became known, was the weapon of choice for almost a century, until it was replaced with the pulse energy pistol. This was because portable energy storage via the use of nano-technology finally reached a level to deploy direct energy fire, multiple times, with an output level sufficient to kill.
“Commander,” Jason’s voice came over their tactical communication-net. “I have disabled all surveillance systems and internal sensors in the docking bay. You now have a thirty minute window before the security system automatically resets.”
“Acknowledged,” Jon replied, relieved. Turning to Gunny he said. “Wait for my signal until I have checked that they do not have any sentries guarding the ship.” At a sharp nod from Gunny, Jon activated the door control and slipped into the docking bay.
Working on the assumption that if there was a sentry, and he observed Jon creeping around, he was certain to raise the alarm, Jon instead strode towards the entrance ramp of the freighter. With a datapad in hand and a stern frown on his face, he looked to all on the station like another self-important bureaucrat. Jon’s assumption turned out to be correct, when still several meters from the freighter one of the crew stepped out from the shadow of the ship, pulse pistol in hand, the barrel pointing directly at him.
“Where the hell, do you think you are going?” He demanded.
“I’m from docking facilities,” Jon replied, not breaking his stride. Offering the datapad stretched out in front of him like a peace offering. “Your Captain is overdue in paying your docking fees. If he does not pay in the next twenty-four hours your ship will be impounded, pending payment of the late fees fine, plus a three hundred per cent release fee.”
“Three hundred per cent?” The crewman exclaimed in disbelief. “And you dare accuse us of being criminals? Here give me that,” he insisted, reaching out for the datapad in Jon’s hand. Taking his eye off Jon for just an instant, he glanced down at the device. “What the hell is this?” He demanded. “This is the menu for the station’s canteen.”
The instant he had taken his eye off Jon, he was already moving, pinning the wrist that held the pulse pistol. With a sharp twist of his hand, the pistol went flying from the crewman’s grasp, spinning away underneath the freighter.
“What the hell?” The crewman cried in pain, watching the pistol spin away from him. He tried to bring up his other hand to protect himself, but lost precious seconds discarding the datapad in his hand.
By then it was too late, as Jon’s fist came spinning towards him, impacting on the side of his jaw with a sharp crack. The crewman dropped unconscious to the floor. Grabbing both his arms, Jon pulled the crewman over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift, before depositing him unceremoniously back in the shadow of the freighter from where he had originally appeared. Glancing around to ensure nobody had observed what had taken place, Jon jogged up the boarding ramp, disappearing into the dark, gaping mouth of the freighter.
*****
Gunny, counted to sixty in his head, twice, before motioning to the rest of his squad to prepare to move out.
“I thought Jon said to wait for his signal?” Miranda hissed at him.
“You don’t know the Commander as well as I do,” Gunny replied. “Jon’s idea of a signal is when he saunters back out here in thirty minute’s time to report he has secured the ship.”
Miranda could only stare at the now closed doors in disbelief.
“Anyway,” Gunny continued. “The Captain gave me firm instructions before we departed that I am not to allow the Commander to go off and pull a John Rambo.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Miranda demanded, confused.
“No idea. The Captain didn’t explain it to me either,” Gunny scratched his chin. “I guess it must be a term from one of those period documentaries that he and Carol always seem to be watching after the kids have gone to sleep.”
Turning back to his squad, he motioned them towards the door with his head. The squad immediately divided into two teams, each taking one side of the door, one hand resting on the shoulder of the squad mate in front of him.
“On three,” Gunny mouthed.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three,” Gunny said. Hitting the door release, the assault team streamed into the now deserted docking bay.
*****
Meanwhile Jon was doggedly making his way towards the ship’s bridge, hoping that either the Captain or the required authorisation codes would be there. Hopefully, with luck, both.
Suddenly a hatch swung open in front of him. The woman stared at him, mouth agape.
“What the—,” she exclaimed, but was abruptly cut-off by Jon’s fist hitting her under the chin. Her head snapped back, bouncing off the bulkhead with a resounding crunch.
Wincing, Jon carefully lowered the unconscious woman to the ground, relieved to find a pulse, as he hated hitting women. Stepping around the prostrate body on the floor, Jon continued onwards, towards what he hoped was the bridge.
Glancing around the next corner, Jon cursed upon noticing two crewmen in a heated discussion. It seemed that this corridor was the main thoroughfare connecting the length of the ship to the bridge at the front. Jon was acutely aware time was working against him, as very soon somebody was going to discover one of the unconscious bodies and raise the alarm. Making a snap decision that there was no time to backtrack; he stuck out his chest and marched forward. Looking to all who might see him as if he owned the ship.
The two crew members spotted him almost immediately, with a similar reaction to the previous crew he had encountered, which was stunned disbelief.
“What the hell are you doing here?” The first demanded angrily, while the second observed him suspiciously.
Deciding to stick with the original cover story, he put on an expression of self-imposed importance, marching towards the crew and demanded. “I am looking for your captain. Your docking fees are days overdue. Unless they are paid immediately I will be forced to impound this ship.”
“Where the hell did Fredrickson go? He was meant to be on watch.” The first hissed angrily. “So help him god if he sneaked off for a smoke.”
Jon had absolutely no idea who Fredrickson was, but took a guess that he was currently lying unconscious outside the ship. However, what concerned Jon more was one of the crew was obviously moving towards an intercom. If possible, Jon urgently had to stop him from calling the bridge. Hence lengthening his stride, he put himself between the crewman and the intercom. Jabbing the crewman in the chest with his finger, he insisted. “Who are you? Where is the captain? I insist that you take me to him immediately, otherwise I will triple the fine.”
With a large barrel chest and massive biceps, it was obvious this man spent a good deal of time in the gym and was less than happy about being poked in the chest by some station lackey. “Why you little shit,” he growled, pulling his hand back, obviously preparing to let loose a massive blow.
The instant he let fly the punch, Jon simply stepped aside, the massive fist slammed into the bulkhead behind him. If Jon thought that must have hurt, this was confirmed by a scream of pain from the assailant. Jon meanwhile calmly stepped back into his field of vision and struck out with a fast sucker punch to the stomach. However, hitting the crewman there felt like hitting a brick wall and the blow had about the same effect—namely none at all.
“You bastard.” The crewman yelled, spreading his arms wide and charging forward.
With so little room to manoeuvre in the corridor, Jon had nowhere else to go and hence was caught in his arms, which instantly closed like a vice, squeezing him hard. The next thing he knew he was being lifted up off the floor and slammed into the wall, the breath escaping rapidly from his lungs, while stars danced in front of him from the impact of his head bouncing off the wall.
However, what concerned Jon more was that over the shoulder of the giant who was intent on squeezing him to death, he saw the other crewman further down the corridor dashing for a large red button. Jon would be willing to bet good credits that it was the ship’s alarm.
With very little time to spare, he did exactly what he taught Sofia many years ago to do, when immobilised by a much larger, stronger opponent. Jon hammered his forehead into the bridge of his assailant’s nose, stunning him. He then used the corridor behind him for leverage, kicking the crewman between the legs. With a muffled cry of pain, the crewman crashed to the deck, hands on his groin, whimpering painfully. However, Jon did not have time to stop and wait, instead sprinted down the corridor after the other fleeing crewman.
Unfortunately he was about three meters, and two seconds too late.
The crewman smashed his fist down on the large, red button, and almost immediately a deafening siren sounded throughout the ship.
“Shit,” cursed Jon, reaching the crewman who was just turning round to check on his colleague. Running full pelt, Jon swung with his fist and caught the crewman under the jaw. With Jon’s full momentum behind the blow, the crewman lifted off the ground, slamming into the bulkhead behind him and slid down the wall and never moved. Jon had no time to check on the two crewmen as he continued sprinting down the corridor, towards the large open hatch ahead. A hatch that Jon hoped would lead to the bridge.
Diving through the portal on the off chance that it could suddenly slam shut; he was relieved to find himself on the cramped bridge of the freighter. Sprawled out on the floor, resting on his chest, he quickly looked around the bridge, but all the panels were powered off, the lights dimmed. The bridge seemed to be deserted.
“Don’t move an inch, otherwise I will blow your head-off.” A voice suddenly growled from behind him.
Twisting his head slightly, Jon could make out a short, balding man, in a jumpsuit, with a pulse pistol firmly in his hand, pointing unwaveringly at him.
“You the Captain?” Jon wheezed, still trying to catch his breath from the earlier fight and subsequent mad dash to the bridge.
“That’s right and who the fuck are you?”
“I’m from docking facilities, come to talk to you about some unpaid docking fees?” Jon inquired, even to him the explanation sounded pitifully weak.
“I’ve paid all the docking fees. In advance.”
“Oh,” Jon replied, deflated. The cover story had helped him this far.
“You stay right where you are. On your knees. Hands behind your head,” the Captain ordered.
Jon could hear the whine, as the pulse pistol was adjusted to full power.
“Last chance, moron,” the Captain insisted. “Tell me who you are and why you are here, otherwise I’ll shoot you here and now.”
Jon desperately looked for a way out of the predicament, but there was nothing within reach and even if he could find something to use, the Captain was too far away. Thinking desperately to try and stall for time Jon stated. “I came with a business offer, I really need to hire a freighter. I can pay.”
“Wrong answer,” the Captain interrupted him, tightening his finger on the trigger.
Jon heard the sound of the pistol discharging and waited for the agonising pain to engulf him but nothing came. Jon hesitantly cast a glance over his shoulder, to see the Captain trembling on the floor, his body still jolting from being hit by the stun weapon. Casting his eyes above the body Jon could clearly see Miranda standing behind him, her weapon still pointing at the man.
“Thanks,” Jon said stumbling to his feet, shooting her a grin. “I owe you. That is the second time now you have saved my life.”
Miranda just rolled her eyes, taking a step forward, staring at the immobilised Captain. “I was not aware that we were keeping score?”
“Sure we are,” Jon flirted back. “I like to keep a running count. To know how much I owe you.”
“So how are you going to pay me back?”
Jon looked at Miranda from head-to-toe, admiring her figure in the tight body-hugging black flight suit she wore, and with a broad grin he replied. “I’ll think of something.”
Miranda just rolled her eyes again, before nudging the unconscious body at her feet. “Is this who we are looking for?”
“I think so,” he replied. Looking around for something to use to restrain the Captain.
A moment later Gunny stuck his head through the hatch, casting his eye professionally around the bridge to ensure that it was secured, with nobody else hiding in the shadows. “The ship is secure, Commander.”
“Thanks Gunny. Oh, and Gunny?” Jon added before the other man could disappear back into the bowls of the ship.
“Yes?”
“Thanks for not waiting for my signal.”
“No problem Commander. The Captain warned me about you pulling a John Rambo,” Gunny announced each word carefully to ensure the correct pronunciation.
Jon only laughed, recognising the name from one of the old 20th Century action films Paul and he watched occasionally. They avoided Sci-Fi films as it reminded them both too much of work.
*****
“You find anything Jason?” Jon inquired several hours later after the Captain and crew had been checked by the medical team and then restrained.
“It’s not here, Commander,” Jason replied resignedly. “I’ve gone over the ship’s main computer twice and any other portable storage devices that we could find. The authorisation codes are not there assuming, of course, they even exist.”
“They exist, I am sure of it,” Jon replied confidently. “An operation like the Tyrell Corporation would not have lasted so long and certainly not maintained the secrecy that it obviously does, without some form of two-factor authorisation. Looks like we are going with Plan B.”
“The Captain?” Jason surmised.
“The Captain,” Jon confirmed. “Come on Gunny, time for some good cop, bad cop routine, with a little added twist.”
*****
To say the freighter Captain was livid would be an understatement. Restrained in a chair in his personal quarters, his face was completely red and the profanity coming out from his mouth would make a seasoned sailor blush. Jon just took a seat opposite and let the Captain run out of curses for him. It took quite some time and by the end even Jon had some respect for the diverse variety the Captain used. However, finally he fell silent, just glaring at the Commander, with his eyes occasionally turning to Gunny who stood immobile beside him.
“We need to borrow your ship for a couple of days Captain,” Jon started off with friendly banter.
“Over my dead body,” the Captain replied, venomously.
“Captain Johansson? Did I pronounce that correctly?” Jon asked, glancing at a datapad Jason had supplied him moments before.
Johansson did not reply, just continued to stare daggers at him.
“Well really, there is not much you can do to stop us taking your ship. Especially considering your current predicament,” Jon motioned towards the restraints, confining him to the chair.
Johansson just cursed again.
“No, my mother is perfectly fine and I am confident in my heritage,” Jon replied mildly, before snapping his fingers. “However, there is one other thing that I need. The two-factor authorisation codes to get me past the orbital defences around Tartarus.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“I’m sure that you do.”
“Just assuming I know what you are talking about, I couldn’t give them to you. I would be a dead man walking. Sejanus would kill me.”
“We’ll kill you if you don’t give them to us,” growled Gunny, his hand ready on the heavy pistol at his side.
“You see,” Jon continued in a reasonable tone of voice. “I don’t think you understand the severity of the predicament you currently find yourself in.”
“Sejanus will kill me if I give you the codes, your thug here will kill me if I don’t. And you say that I do not understand the gravity of the situation?”
Jon nodded his head happily in confirmation. “It is far, far worse.”
Johansson was completely agog. “It’s worse? How?” He muttered hoarsely.
“You see, some eccentric, rich, lunatic—that’s me by the way—” Jon clarified, “Transferred thirteen million credits into your personal account a few minutes ago.”
Johansson looked first at Jon then Gunny with wild eyes. “You’re crazy, you’re both crazy,” he spluttered.
“No, not at all. No need to take my word for it, check it yourself.” Jon tossed the Captain one of his datapads. Looking at them suspiciously but unable to see the harm, he accessed his on-line account from the device. Turning a deathly shade of pale, he could only stare at the balance in complete and abject horror.
“So now you fully understand your predicament, there is another option open to us. I could just release you and your ship to return to Tartarus, where you will have to explain to Sejanus how a crazily rich, eccentric lunatic forced his way onto your ship, gave you thirteen million credits at gunpoint and then let you go without wanting anything in return. Good luck with that story by the way.” Jon laughed.
Johansson once again glanced between the two men, but this time something else appeared in his eyes—greed. “What do you want in return?” He asked, licking his lips.
“The authorisation codes needed for docking control of Tartarus,” Jon replied promptly.
“And what of me and my crew?”
“You will remain on the station here as our guests for the next couple of days, to ensure you have given us the correct codes and to stop you warning Sejanus. At the end of the week you will all be free to go your separate ways.”
“And my reward?”
“That stays between us. I will leave it up to you what you want to tell your crew,” Jon replied choosing his words carefully.
Johansson looked once more at the account balance prominently displayed on the device, before turning to the two men in front of him, paying particular attention to the weapons at their waist, and making his decision.
*****
“We have obtained the necessary clearance codes to allow us past the orbital defences and onto the landing pad that has already been assigned to the Phoenix. We also have a basic layout of the facility, at least the parts accessible to the civilian crew,” Jon reported to Paul via the communications console.
“So I take it you managed to convince the freighter Captain?”
“He sung like a canary, especially when he saw his bank balance.”
“I still don’t like giving such vast sums of money away like that,” Paul frowned.
Jon simply laughed. “I’m sure that Marcus will pay us back if we get him off Tartarus alive,” he said. “And if we don’t, then we cannot take the money into the next life with us.”
“So when you are planning on departing?”
“We are ready to leave now. As Gunny’s team have just finished loading the last of the equipment,” Jon said. “However, the flight plan already filed by Johansson stipulates that we depart tomorrow. We will stick to his flight plan to avoid raising suspicion. A day’s delay will not hurt us. What is the status of the Sunfire?”
“We are at full combat readiness,” Paul replied. “We will be there at the agreed time.” He added earnestly.
“I never doubted it for a second. You take care my friend.”
“You too,” Paul replied. “We will see you in three days.”
Just as Jon closed the communication console, the doors to the Captain’s private quarters chimed, notifying him that his guests had arrived. “Come,” he called.
The doors slid open to reveal Gunny with Miranda in tow. “I love civilian freighters,” Gunny chortled, waving a bottle of Scotch in the air.
Jon smiled, finding a couple of grimy glasses in the Captain’s quarters, which he polished against his uniform, before settling them on a small table.
Gunny poured a generous helping into each glass, before raising his glass in toast. “To a successful operation and the safe return of the boss,” Gunny exclaimed, as the glasses clinked together.
“Is this a good idea?” Miranda asked warily, motioning towards the bottle. “Considering where we are going tomorrow?”
“One glass is safe enough. Anyway it is a good luck tradition and we could do with all the luck that we can get. Are we keeping you from something Gunny?” Jon inquired with a knowing smile, observing Gunny glancing at the chronometer in the cabin.
“Uh, no, nothing,” Gunny replied turning an interesting shade of pink. “Get going Gunny,” Jon ordered. “Otherwise you will miss your call with Lieutenant Castle.”
“How did you know?” Gunny exclaimed in disbelief.
“One of my many skills, Gunny. Now go, get. Before you are too late,” Jon shooed the marine out of his quarters.
“So clairvoyance is one of your skills?” Miranda asked with a grin.
“Hardly,” Jon replied returning the smile. “I just finished talking to Paul and he asked me to authorise the transmission, as technically the Sunfire is maintaining communication silence.”
“So Gunny and Lieutenant Castle? I would never have guessed.”
“I believe it started with the monster in the wardrobe incident,” Jon laughed.
“Monster in the wardrobe?” Miranda asked confused.
“You don’t know the story?” Jon looked surprised. Miranda shook her head. “Well I guess it was a couple of months before you arrived.”
“So what happened?”
Jon shrugged and explained, “Castle has a young daughter, Elizabeth, about six years old. Do you know her?”
Miranda nodded.
“Well Castle’s husband was a navy pilot, he was killed a couple of years back in one of the last fleet engagements before the Imperial Navy was disbanded. She has brought up her daughter on her own ever since.”
“So who is looking after her now?” Miranda quickly asked.
Jon frowned at being interrupted. “She is staying with Carol and the kids, until Castle gets back. Anyway, back to the story,” Jon glared. “Elizabeth would not settle one night, insisting there was a monster in her wardrobe. Castle had just finished a double shift and was at her wit’s end, so in desperation she called security and asked if they could send somebody to reassure her daughter there was no monster in the wardrobe.”
“I assume Gunny was on duty?” Miranda guessed.
Jon nodded and continued the story. “When Gunny arrived and Castle explained the situation to him, he strode into Elizabeth’s bedroom.”
“What’s the problem ma’am?” Gunny inquired.
“There is a monster in the wardrobe,” little Elizabeth cried, hiding under her blanket. “I saw him when I was getting into bed.”
“I understand ma’am, please leave this to me,” Gunny replied, turning to face the wardrobe. “Unauthorised monster,” Gunny announced loudly. “You have the count of three to vacate the wardrobe, otherwise I will use lethal force.”
“One.”
“Two.”
Gunny drew his pulse pistol from its holster, pointing it towards the wardrobe.
“Gunny!” Castle interrupted alarmed.
“Ma’am, please cover your ears,” Gunny instructed the little girl cowering under the blanket who, looking up with wide-eyed fascination, did as the officer instructed.
“Three,” Gunny announced.
“He didn’t,” Miranda interrupted disbelievingly.
“He sure did,” Jon replied with a smug grin. “He put three bolts from his pulse pistol straight though the wardrobe.”
“What did Castle say?”
“I think she was too shocked to say anything, but little Elizabeth hasn’t been afraid of any monsters since and thinks the world of Gunny. Meanwhile Gunny made it clear to Castle that if she ever needs a hand with Elizabeth, he would be happy to help. They’ve been close ever since,” Jon added wistfully.
Surprised at his tone of voice, Miranda looked up into his eyes, recognising the sadness and regret lurking in the corners. “What about you?” She inquired, leaning across the table, so close to his face she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.
“What about me?”
“Are you scared of the monsters that lurk in the wardrobe?”
Jon shook his head in the negative.
“Then what is it that scares you?” Miranda asked, honestly curious.
Jon looked at her softy, his eyes full of emotion. Unable to answer her directly, he reached up with his hand, gently running his fingertips along her soft cheek. Barely above a whisper he replied. “I am scared of losing more people I care deeply about.”
Staring into his soulful eyes, Miranda asked something that a few hours ago she would never in her wildest dreams dared to have asked. “Jon, I don’t want to be alone tonight. We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow, and I don’t want to have any regrets.”
Jon looked at her with wide eyes, stunned at the brazen request, before his eyes clouded over and he broke her gaze regretfully.
Knowing Jon was only seconds away from denying her request, she caught his hand in hers and pleaded. “Not for that, just hold me. Please? Nobody has ever done that for me before.”
Jon looked back at her, preparing to refuse, when he made the mistake of looking into her eyes, and saw in them desperation and the truth of her words. Nobody had ever just held her before. Hence, instead of shaking his head like he planned, he nodded in agreement. “Take off your clothes,” he urged, his eyes like molten steel.
“You—What?” Miranda looked at Jon, unable to believe what he had just said.
“Were you planning on sleeping in your flight suit?” Jon asked reasonably. “I assume that you are wearing something underneath?”
Miranda just gave him an enigmatic smile. “That is for me to know and you to find out,” she said standing up in front of him.
Jon could not tear his eyes from her, as she slowly unzipped the flight suit, letting it fall to the floor next to the desk. Jon was not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he observed her standing in a black, cropped tank top and matching bikini panties. Jon could only stare with undisguised desire at her toned body and endless flesh, his eyes lingering on her bosom.
“Your turn,” she breathed, staring at Jon.
Standing up he unbuttoned his uniform jacket, taking his time to slowly release each button. Once all had been undone he eased the jacket from his shoulders, taking time to fold it over the back of a chair to avoid it creasing. Hearing Miranda’s laboured breathing he knew she was frustrated at his slow speed. Finally he reached his uniform pants, taking extra time to release them. Finally he let them slide to the floor, showing his strongly toned legs.
Miranda’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed upon Jon. Well at least she had answered one question, whether he was a boxer or briefs man, as Jon’s waist was encased in a pair of comfortable grey boxers.
“Have you finished ogling?” Jon asked with a laugh, after he had finished folding his pants, placing them carefully on the back of the chair next to the jacket. Moving to the bed, he slid his body underneath the blanket, holding it open and motioning for Miranda to slide her body next to his.
Not needing to be invited twice, Miranda slid into the bed next to him. She could feel his firm chest pressed into her naked back. His skin seemed scorching hot compared to hers. Shuffling around, Miranda twisted until she was chest-to-chest with him, resting her cheek over his beating heart. Jon’s arms voluntarily came to surround her, pulling her closer. Glancing up to the endless expanse of neck, Miranda could not help herself as she flicked out her tongue, licking his skin. Miranda could feel his body tense, the firm intake of breath his only audible response. However, Jon could not fully mask his body’s reaction to her closeness as she could feel his hardness pressed against her thigh. However, mindful of her promise only to be held, she ignored the feeling and did nothing more to test his resolve.
After some time, she could feel Jon’s rapidly beating heart even out to a steady beat, unsure if he was still awake she asked hesitantly. “Jon?”
“Hmm?” He replied, voice heavy with sleep.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” His chuckle caused pleasant vibrations to run the length of her body.
“I cannot see why not. We cannot get much closer than we already are.”
While Miranda could not see his face, she could picture the smile on it. “What happened with you and Sofia? Paul told me that you left after betraying her.” Miranda could again feel the sudden inhale of breath, but this time it was not the result of her body’s actions. “It’s just I think I know you. I don’t believe you could do such a thing. So why does everybody else think you did?”
For a long time Jon was silent and Miranda worried that Jon had fallen asleep, when suddenly he replied. “Close your eyes, Miranda.”
Miranda cursed, thinking that he had denied her request, when he abruptly continued. “Close your eyes, and listen.” As in a quiet voice, pitched so low it seemed that he was whispering to her only, he added. “You see I did betray her, which is why I have never denied those accusations. But I did not betray her in the way that most people assume. For what I did was far worse. I made her believe I never loved her.”
Chapter Ten
Five Years Previously,
Planet Eden, Eden Prime System
The signing of the Confederation Charter was one of the greatest political acts in over five hundred years, ever since the Rim Worlds swore fealty to Edward Aurelius and the Imperium officially came into existence. Every notable politician insisted on being present and used his or her full allocation of speaking time. After two days of listening to pompous windbags, repeating the same platitudes over and over again, Commander Jonathan Radec was ready to kill somebody.
Fortunately few politicians wanted to waste their precious time speaking to an unassuming and unimportant Commander in the Imperial Fleet. Hence he was mostly ignored and could frequently slip away, unnoticed.
The sole exception was Senator Rione of the Callas Republic, who seemed intent on seeking him out to verbally abuse him for the unprovoked attack on her son, almost six months before. Fortunately on those occasions Sofia intervened and came to his rescue, running interference and allowed him to escape—luckily unscathed.
Instead, Jon used the copious amount of free time at his disposal to keep a close eye on the various Fleet Admirals. For the first time in living memory all eleven were gathered in the same location for the historic signing. In total there should have been twelve, but nobody had thought to invite Admiral Harkov (although Jon secretly suspected a number of senators were quietly toasting him in thanks for removing the hated Emperor).
Jon found it ironic that while most of the politicians snubbed him as unimportant, the Fleet Admirals watched him like a rattlesnake that might strike at any moment. This was probably related to the fact Jon had threatened more than one of them over the past few months, to ensure each of them swore fealty to Sofia. The alternative was to be removed and replaced with somebody more easily manipulated. Hence Jon kept his sword close and the Admirals closer, following the old adage of keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer.
All in all it was a very tense time for the fleet, to which all the politicians were completely oblivious. Jon felt a sigh of relief when it finally came to the signing of the charter. Although he did wonder how many of the politicians had actually read the full manuscript and not just skimmed over the rest of the charter after the part that confirmed all political and military authority would be transferred to them.
Sofia was the first to rise to sign the impressive document. It was of course paper and the signatures were in ink. Electronic documents were far too easy to alter and forge at a later date, but a physical charter like this had weight. With a flourish Sofia inscribed her signature, to great applause from the entire Senate. However, Jon felt a warm glow when he noticed it was his face she first sought out amongst the crowd, as if it was only his approval she cared about. Jon gave her a warm smile that was for her alone and she broke from his gaze, although Jon was pleased to see her cheeks change to a light pink colour before she looked away.
Following Sofia, each of the Fleet Admirals stood to add his or her signature to the document, permanently and irrevocably transferring authority of the Imperial Navy to the Confederation Senate. Internally Jon winced that the real force behind the Empire was being passed to a group of squabbling politicians. Jon was sure Sofia’s great, great, great grandfather Edward Aurelius was turning in his grave.
Last of all to sign were the Confederation Senators, two hundred and eighty in all. It took a long time to work through them all, especially as each insisted on a flourish as he or she signed the charter. By the time everybody had signed, it was getting late into the night and Jon was thankful everything was finished.
However, the silence was interrupted when the voice of the herald called out. “Commander Jonathan Radec, Praetorian Commander, personal representative of the late Emperor, his excellency Marcus Aurelius.”
Jon froze in shock, unable to believe his ears. Meanwhile all eyes in the Senate turned to face him, many in stunned disbelief, having dismissed the young fleet Commander days before. In a daze Jon approached the charter, still glistening from the fresh signatures that adorned it. Jon wordlessly accepted the pen from the herald as he was shown where to sign at the bottom of the document.
As the personal representative of the Emperor, Jon had of course signed documents in his stead before. After all, the Imperium was huge and the Emperor could not be expected to be everywhere at once, but to sign this?
Looking up from the imposing document, staring out at the multitude of faces, Jon had his doubts. He had spent almost five years at the right hand of the Emperor and in that time he had listened to his hopes, as well as his fears, along with his dreams and visions for the future. With the possible exception of Sofia, Jon doubted there was anybody else alive in the Imperium who knew him better. Looking down at this document Jon knew with absolute certainty Marcus would never have wanted this.
To hand over power, the very mandate of heaven, to a bunch of short-sighted, bickering bureaucrats who could not agree on anything or see beyond their own personal greed? How could he possibly trust these politicians to do what was best in the long term for the entire Empire? Jon’s instincts, his very being, screamed at him to tear this document to shreds. To turn on the Fleet Admirals, who had spent the past week schmoozing with the politicians and order them back to their respective ships, to get back to their job of protecting the Empire, its interests and its citizens.
A cough from the herald behind him interrupted his thoughts. Finally Jon’s gaze came to rest on one person, frankly the only person whose opinion he valued. For looking into Sofia’s concerned gaze, Jon wavered. Standing there, on the precipice of history, Jon had an epiphany. Staring deeply into her eyes, Jon realised that he loved Sofia with every inch of his being and if this is what she asked of him, he would do it, gladly.
Jon leaned forward and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the document.
With a round of applause and a lot of backslapping in self-congratulation, Jon sought out the only person he cared for. Finally reaching her side, recognising the weariness in her expression, Jon offered her his arm and motioned towards the exit. Nodding her head in consent, they made their way together, hand-in-hand towards the exit.
“You know,” Sofia mused softly. “For a moment there I thought you weren’t going to sign it.”
Jon was silent for a moment, before replying equally softly. “You know, for a moment there, neither was I.”
*****
In the six weeks the Confederation had been in existence, Jon’s opinion of it had sunk to a new, all-time low. Standing in the shadows of yet another congratulatory party, Jon watched Sofia from a distance. She effortlessly circulated around the room, seemingly in her element, knowing everybody by name, sharing a few words here, a smile there.
Jon had brought up the topic with Sofia, in one of the increasing few evenings they had shared together, before she had to depart for some official engagement or another.
“It’s just natural,” she had replied. Dismissing his concerns with a laugh. “The Confederation is still young and there needs to be a period of adjustment. Everybody needs to socialise, make acquaintances, build political alliances, network, this is how the game is played.”
Jon had kept silent, but in his opinion governing billions of people, ensuring their safety, protection and wellbeing was not a game. But then Sofia had grown up with her father, the Emperor, surrounded by every luxury imaginable. She had never had to go hungry to pay the medical bills when somebody in the family fell ill. She never had to run errands, through the slums of Altair, just to save enough credits for a new shirt. She never had to watch a sister waste away as the family could not afford the widely available but expensive treatment.
So instead Jon continued to watch from the shadows with growing discontent, as the Senate continued to party on, caring little for the average citizen’s woes and misery.
“Pardon me, Commander Radec?” A deep voice interrupted him, as his eyes lingered on Sofia. Turning to face the unwanted intrusion with a cool gaze, he observed a short man, richly attired, with greying hair and an expanding waist-line. He had seen the man around before but struggled to remember his name.
“Senator?”
“Malthus. I hope I am not interrupting?” He asked, following Jon’s gaze to Sofia’s back, as she laughed at something one of the senators she was in conversation with said.
Jon just continued to look past the Senator with a cool, distant gaze. In the past this was enough to discourage them, but in this instance the opposite seemed to occur as the Senator laughed out loud.
“You know, you remind me so much of Marcus when he was younger.”
Caught somewhat off guard, Jon inquired. “You knew the Emperor?”
“Way back when Marcus was younger, soon after the death of his father. I suppose you would call us political enemies, but after so many years trying to out-manoeuvre the other, I guess it made us almost friends. You remind me of him, you know? He used to ignore me, like you, when I was busy interrupting him. Would you care to walk with me for a while? It would be good to reminisce over old times. I think I must be one of the few that miss the old boy.”
Jon hesitated, he turned back to Sofia, who was deep in a conversation with another Senator. As if she could feel his gaze on her back, she turned to face him, her eyes darting to the Senator standing next to him. Understanding the question in her eyes, Jon made a snap decision that he could not rely upon Sofia forever to extricate him from these situations, and therefore subtly shook his head. As Sofia turned back to the conversation, Jon took a step out of the room, Senator Malthus following closely behind him.
“The Princess will be fine,” Malthus reassured him confidently, obviously misunderstanding the earlier silent communication between the two. “She is in her element back there, Marcus would have been proud of her.”
Jon remained silent.
“She is a fine woman, just like her mother was, may the Maker accept her soul. You know I hoped the Emperor might look favourably on the Princess joining with my family. Did he ever mention anything to you about it?” Malthus asked, eyes glittering like diamonds.
Jon was so taken aback by the question he stopped mid-stride, staring at the aging Senator in disbelief.
“Not me of course,” Malthus replied, with a hollow laugh. “I have a son, about your age. We are a powerful family, going back many generations. I thought for a while it might be a good match.”
Jon just continued to scowl at the Senator. The thought of anybody touching Sofia, making her smile like he did, set his blood boiling. “He didn’t mention anything to me about it,” Jon snapped, dismissing the question out of hand.
“I’m not surprised,” Malthus replied, with a steely glint in his eye. “After all, why would he need to when he had you?”
“I’m not following,” Jon replied, confused.
“Oh you are just being modest,” Malthus laughed. “A handsome young fleet officer like yourself. Totally loyal to Marcus, constantly at his side—constantly at her side,” he added suggestively.
“I was head of the Praetorian Guard,” Jon replied dismissively. “It was my job to personally oversee their security, of course I was continually at their side.”
“I remember your predecessor, Gideon. I never remembered him dining with the Imperial family. I never remember him dancing with Marcus’ daughter, kissing her…”
For a moment, Jon had thought that the Senator was referring to their dance on Altair, that he and Sofia had once shared, before realising that he was referring to earlier events, before the Emperor’s death.
However, the Senator still had not finished. “Well I am very happy for you both. I am sure Marcus would be too, if he was still alive today. Glad that all his planning eventually paid off. I wanted to pass my congratulations on to you both.”
With a polite nod of his head, Senator Malthus continued down the corridor. With his back to Jon, the Commander could not see the cold smirk of triumph on the Senator’s face.
Jon meanwhile was so stunned he was rooted to the spot, standing motionless in the middle of the corridor. His first instinct was to disregard everything the Senator had just said as pure fantasy, it was all so ludicrous. He was the Praetorian Commander and it was his duty was to protect the Imperial family, nothing more. The idea there was some far-reaching conspiracy by Marcus, to arrange Sofia’s marriage to him and therefore to coronate him the next Emperor, was just beyond belief.
Yet…
Marcus had constantly questioned him about Sofia and his feelings towards her. Meanwhile Jon had constantly found himself spending more time with her, alone. At the time he had just dismissed it as a father’s concern for his daughter. Suddenly Jon remembered the last conversation he had with Elsie, second-in-command of the Praetorian Guard soon after their departure from the Imperial Star. For she had inquired,
“Will you be returning with the squadron or remaining on Eden Prime with the Princess?”
At the time it had struck Jon as a strange question to ask, yet now he wondered if maybe Elsie had seen something he had missed. Perhaps instead what she had been asking was if he was going to remain with the Praetorian Guards or with Sofia. As what? Guardian? Boyfriend? Consort? Husband?
Jon shook his head anxiously. No, the whole idea was crazy. Not feeling in the mood to return to the party, Jon made his way back to the apartment he shared with Sofia, but was unable to let go of the troubling thought.
*****
Jon sat on the bed in their apartment, watching Sofia brush her hair. She had arrived back only a short while ago, before abruptly informing him she could not stay long, as the Senate was setting up a committee to explore ways to harmonise the tax system across all the planets that now comprised the Confederation.
“Can I ask you a question?” Jon broke the stifling silence in the room.
“Sure, but you will need to be quick,” Sofia replied, giving the chronometer a glance. “I need to be back in the Senate in the next five minutes or I will miss the start.”
Jon nodded despondently, the Senator’s earlier words still troubling him. “Did you and the Emperor, your father, ever talk about me?”
“Of course,” Sofia laughed. “I told him many times you deserved more time off, to go and get a life.”
Jon smiled at her often-used statement, when they were still aboard the Imperial Star. “That’s not quite what I mean,” he said, wondering how to rephrase the question. “Did you and your father ever talk about you and me together?”
Sofia frowned, finally noticing the troubled expression on his face. “I don’t know what you mean. He talked about you and me all the time. Told me I needed to stay close to you, so you could protect me. Not to sneak off.” Sofia’s smile faded as she realised the joke had completely passed Jon by. “Look I am late for this committee, I’ll be back in a couple of hours and then we can talk about whatever is bothering you, okay?”
Jon barely acknowledged her promise, so lost was he in the past.
Standing at the threshold of the door, looking back at Jon, concerned, wondering if she should stay and accompany him, as they had little time together these days. However, instead she decided to reassure him. “Jon, my father loved you,” she insisted firmly. “He once told me he would have been proud to have you as a son.” With that she turned, hurrying out the door so as not to be late.
Completely missing the look of absolute despair on Jon’s face.
For with Sofia’s parting words, Jon felt as if a door had suddenly opened in his mind and a million and one pieces fell into place and he knew with absolute certainty what the Senator had said was true. Everything he thought to be true, he now knew was a lie. For the Emperor, a man who spun plans within plans had ensnared both Sofia and him in the cruellest web of all—deceit. For what Jon had thought was the gift of Sofia’s love, freely given, was nothing of the sort. For her father had manipulated her just as much as he, they were two pawns moving across his chessboard in perfect harmony. Jon wondered what his plan had been? To continually throw them together until they fell in love? Maybe instead to use Sofia as the ultimate bargaining chip if he agreed to succeed him, to become the next Emperor. As a gift? A reward? Jon felt sick to the stomach at the same time as he felt his anger, his sense of betrayal growing.
As the door to the apartment finally slid shut, so did Jon’s naivety, as reality came crashing down upon him. He knew that for the rest of his life he would doubt Sofia’s feelings for him. Were they truly her own? Or had her father and his schemes so conditioned her into believing what she thought was true?
Jon loved Sofia utterly. He loved her so much that he realised he would never tell her about her father’s deception. As she had lost her mother while so young, her father and her memories of him were all she had left of her family. Jon would not tarnish that, not for anything.
Not even for his own selfish desires.
As if in a daydream Jon stood, glancing around the apartment that for a short while had been theirs. Committing everything to memory, the bed in which they had first made love and the shower where she had first called out his name in ecstasy. The couch where they had embraced and watched the sunrise. Jon drew it all into him, the sights, the smell, the touch, drawing on all his senses, to sustain him for the long dark road ahead.
Then without a glance back, he left. Forever.
*****
Forever, however, was a long time and in that time, Jon did not get far. As far as the Senate bar, to be exact. For Jon knew Sofia, knew that if he were to just disappear she would look for him, demanding answers. Answers he was not prepared to give. Similarly, he could not simply reject her. Jon doubted he had the strength of will to actually look her in the eye, lie to her and then discard her. And anyway Sofia was too astute and would similarly want to know why.
Staring down into the now-empty whiskey glass, Jon raised it, motioning to the bartender for a refill.
“Leave the bottle,” Jon slurred. As the bartender prepared to move away once the task was complete. The bartender simply shrugged and left the bottle on the dark granite surface and went away.
Jon’s thoughts were already a tangled mess. Was this the sixth, or seventh glass he had consumed? He could no longer remember. The first glass had been to dull the pain, the second for courage to walk away from Sophia and the third? Who the hell knew? Jon was not a heavy drinker and one glass had just blurred into another. That was not the only thing that had started to blur, as with no idea what to do next or where to go, the bottle had seemed increasingly inviting.
A commotion behind him had Jon slamming his glass down loudly against the bar, growling in frustration. What was it with people? Couldn’t they even let others drink themselves into a stupor without interruption?
“Whore!” The loud crack of a fist and a cry of pain behind him had Jon turning in his seat to observe a woman sprawled on the floor, one of the Senate guards, wearing a furious expression, standing over her. Jon had a distinct dislike for men who hit women and stumbled to his feet, having to pause for a moment to stop the scene spinning, before weaving drunkenly in the direction of the pair.
The guard’s eyes widened momentarily in surprise at the sight of the officer, but his lips soon upturned in a sneer when he observed his drunken state. “Stay out of this,” he insisted. “This is none of your business.”
Glancing down at the blonde woman, who was wearing a silken red dress and had a trail of blood from a cut lip, he insisted, “I am making it my business.”
The guard simply shrugged. “Your funeral Jack.” he said, before swinging at Jon. Bleary eyed from the alcohol, Jon barely had time to react to the blow. Fortunately while the drink had clouded his mind, it had done nothing to slow down his body’s instinctive reactions and he ducked under the blow, delivering a heavy blow of his own, in return, to the pit of the guard’s stomach.
The guard went crashing, face down, to the ground. “Shit,” he winced. “I think you broke my nose.”
Jon just stared at him, unconcernedly, observing the blood streaming from his nose. “No, it’s not broken,” he reassured him. Then he hit him in the face again. “But now it is,” he added, turning his back on the now unconscious man and retaking his seat, nursing his bruised knuckles.
A finger being run down the back of his neck caused the whiskey glass to stop inches from his lips. Turning in his seat he observed the blonde woman who had been lying on the floor only moments before, eyeing him curiously. She had pouty lips, stained by the colour of blood, matching the colour of her dress. The woman’s breasts straining the confines of the revealing dress, which barely reached her hips. It made Jon’s fingers itch to slide along her thighs to compare the texture of the dress with that of her skin. He just shook his head distractedly, trying to focus on the woman in front of him.
The woman continued her physical exploration of his body, running a finger along his biceps, down the length of his hand, to come to a stop resting in the palm of one of his hands. Jon could only stare, completely raptured, his gaze fixated on her cleavage.
Deciding she should not be the only one to be allowed such a physical exploration, he ran the palm of his hand down, skimming the curve of one breast, along her waist, over her hips to the edge of the dress, where his fingers lingered, enjoying the difference in texture between the cold silk and the warm flesh.
Eyes darkening in desire, the blonde leaned forward, pushing her breasts into Jon’s chest, making him slide backwards in the seat only at the last moment, to avoid having his face impaled by her nipples.
“I wanted to thank you for what you just did, but—”
The woman tried to explain, but Jon quickly placed his finger over her lips, interrupting her. Rubbing them softly against the cut on her lip, he stared at the blood that had congealed on them. “Doesn’t matter,” he insisted, breathing harshly. Rubbing his fingers further across her blood-red lips, wondering idly why this action did not smear them, before shaking his head and dismissing it as unimportant. At the same time he made small circular rubbing motions with his thumb on her upper thighs, at the very edge of her dress.
Breathing heavily, the blonde goddess whispered into Jon’s ear. “Your place or mine?”
The question startled Jon back into reality. What the hell was he doing? Glancing at the chronometer out of the corner of his eye, he realised Sofia would be finishing the meeting soon then heading back to their apartment. What would she say if he appeared drunk up to his eyeballs, smelling of cheap perfume with lipstick smeared across his lips? However, this was almost immediately followed by another languid thought, curling through his consciousness like smoke, to take up firm residence. It didn’t matter what Sofia thought, for it would be the perfect solution to his problem. For Sofia would be too shocked, too hurt and far too damn angry to even consider why.
“My place is closer,” Jon urged, running his hand further down her dress, caressing her.
*****
Jon remembered little about the journey back to his apartment, too intoxicated by the alcohol and the feel of the woman pressed intimately against him. He vaguely remembered stopping frequently to take her in searing kisses, her constant stroking and teasing only encouraging him further.
Finally they arrived outside his apartment, only a few meters away from the one he had shared with Sofia. However, she was nowhere in sight. Damn. Cursing, Jon twisted the woman in his arms, pinning her against the door to his apartment with his body, his arms framing her face, as he forced his tongue into her mouth.
Finally Jon heard footsteps approaching, stopping a few feet away next to the entrance of the apartment. Jon could imagine Sofia’s curiosity at who the couple were that were so closely entwined at the entrance to his apartment, for Jon still had his back to the corridor.
Therefore once again twisting, so this time he had his back against the apartment door, Jon broke the kiss and looked up into the stunned eyes of Sofia Aurelius. Smiling lazily at her, he started to stroke the woman’s lower back. The woman arched into his touch, rubbing herself against him. Jon forced himself to stare into Sofia’s eyes a heartbeat longer, so she could be absolutely certain it was him and what he was doing. Her expression finally changed from stunned disbelief, through to hurt, to finally absolute anguish. Ultimately too much for him to bear, he let his eyes flutter shut, running soft kisses against the nape of the woman’s neck, hitting the door control behind him with his free hand. Off balance, the pair stumbled through the doorway into the dark apartment.
Leaving Sofia standing alone, inconsolable, in the middle of the corridor.
*****
Paul was woken from his slumber by the chime of the door. Opening his eyes blearily he glanced at the chronometer, not believing the time. Rubbing his eyes repeatedly he glanced at it a second time, but it still stoically reported that the time was three in the morning. The door chimed again, followed a few seconds later by a pounding on the door.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming,” he grumbled, looking around for a pair of pants. Finally managing to find a pair and slip them on, he stumbled towards the door, calling out. “Come in.”
The door slid open to reveal the dishevelled figure of Princess Aurelius, eyes puffy and tears streaming down her red cheeks.
Paul could only gape. “Sofia?” he asked, astonished. However, before he could utter another word she collided with him violently, sobs racking her body. Still half-asleep and with no idea what to do or say, all he could do was to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, as her tears streamed down his bare chest.
Embarrassed, realising he was a little underdressed, he moved to try and reach for a shirt, but with Sofia attached to him like a barnacle, he was rooted to the spot. Admitting defeat, he took a step back until his legs hit the bed and, seating himself on it with Sofia in his lap, he could finally look into her red, tear-stained face.
“Sofia? What is it? What has happened?” He asked, seriously concerned to see the woman so obviously inconsolable, fearing the worst.
“It’s, it’s Jon.” Sofia sniffled.
“Jon? What has happened to Jon?” He asked urgently, taking her by the shoulders so he could look her squarely in the eye.
“He’s, he’s, betrayed me,” Sofia stuttered.
“What? What do you mean?”
“He’s with another woman!” Sofia wailed.
“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” Paul replied. Unable to believe what she was telling him.
“I saw them. I saw them kissing in the corridor.”
Paul could only stare at her. It was just not possible, as he had known Jon for years and he was the most noble, honest person he had ever met. So much so it was maddening.
“Why?” Sofia cried, tears still streaming down her face. “Was I not good enough or not pretty enough for him? Didn’t I pay him enough attention? Maybe he thought now he’s had a princess, he would find somebody new,” Sofia said, brushing away her tears angrily.
“Wha—What?” Paul replied, not believing what he was hearing, but his head too clouded with sleep to keep up.
“Well I’ll show him,” Sofia insisted furiously. “I’ll show him that he is not the only one I can have either.” With that she leaned forward, urgently pressing her open mouth to Paul’s.
“Whoa—,” Paul tried to reply, but the moment his mouth was open, Sofia immediately swept her tongue into it, sweeping along his lips, caressing his tongue with her own.
Taken by surprise, Paul could only moan deeply, as her kisses inflamed his lust. Reclining back on the bed as Sofia straddled him, pressing herself intimately against him.
“We cannot do this,” Paul finally came to his senses. “Jon!”
“Is occupied at the moment,” Sofia insisted, kissing him deeply once again to prevent any further questioning.
*****
Jon woke with a blinding headache and a mouth that felt like a furry animal had died in it. Closing his eyes to shield them from the blinding overhead lights, Jon glanced at the bed next to him and was glad when he found it unoccupied. After stumbling into his apartment late last night, the look of devastation on Sofia’s face had pretty much killed any thought of intimacy. Instead he had stumbled into the bathroom, where he had spent most of the night being violently sick. Whether it was from the whiskey or the look on Sofia’s face, Jon had no idea.
Glancing at the chronometer Jon could see it was barely five in the morning, but with little enthusiasm for any further sleep, he decided to make good use of the time and prepare for an early departure. He had lost the last reason for remaining on Eden Prime. Sofia would be safe here and Jon had another task to complete; to track down Harkov and make him pay the ultimate price for his betrayal. After sending a message to the spaceport requesting a departure slot for the Eternal Light, Jon started to pack up his few personal items.
Jon was almost finished when the chime of the door interrupted him. “Come,” he called without thinking who it could be.
Turning to face the door he was half expecting to face an extremely irate princess, but was relieved to see Paul instead. At least he still had one friend on Eden Prime. It looked like Jon wasn’t the only one who had suffered a bad night, as Paul also looked tired and dishevelled.
“Paul I am glad to see you. I wanted to say goodbye,” Jon explained hurriedly.
“Goodbye?” Paul replied, looking around the room, bleary eyed and confused.
“I’m leaving. I have no further business on Eden Prime and I want to start tracking down Harkov before his trail starts to get cold.”
“Sofia came to see me last night,” Paul interrupted. “She was in tears, devastated. Saying that you had betrayed her. Is what she said true?” He demanded angrily.
Jon averted his eyes, refusing to let him see the answer in them, instead he changed the subject slightly. “I’m glad she had somebody to talk to. I wouldn’t have wanted her to be alone.” Fortunately Jon was looking aside, so he did not see the flash of guilt in his old friend’s eyes.
“So you are going after Harkov alone? Are you crazy?” Paul replied, purposefully changing the topic as he had no wish to discuss Sofia with Jon, after his own shameful actions.
“It wouldn’t make any difference if I took a taskforce with me. In the end it’s just going to be Harkov and me. It’s always been that way between us, personal.”
Paul nodded his head sadly. “Well you take care of yourself okay?”
“Sure, and Paul?”
“Yes?”
“Look after Sofia for me? I know it will not make much difference, but tell her I am sorry and I never wanted it to end this way,” Jon replied earnestly, heading for the door.
“Yeah, sure,” Paul replied despondently, but by then Jon had already left.
*****
Sofia was roused from her restless sleep by the arrival of a message on her communication console. Wondering who would be calling her so early, she slipped out of bed, padding barefoot to the console. Glancing at the message, her eyes widened in shock.
“Bastard!” She hissed angrily. “He is not going to get away that easily.” Grabbing the nearest clothes she had within reach, Sofia quickly dressed and hurried to the spaceport before the Eternal Light could depart.
*****
Jon was just about to board the Eternal Light when a voice rang clearly across the flight deck.
“Leaving so soon Commander? Running away, again?”
Jon briefly closed his eyes, cursing under his breath. It seemed they were going to have this conversation, which he had been hoping to avoid, and in the middle of the flight deck nonetheless. Putting an expression of casual indifference on his face, he turned round to face her.
His breath caught in his throat, for although pale and dishevelled, with bloodshot eyes and dressed in the rumpled dress he saw her wearing last night, Jon thought she still looked beautiful. Not wanting the entire flight deck to overhear this conversation, he took a step forward, closing the gap between them, until they were standing only a few feet apart. “Princess,” he inclined his head slightly in greeting.
“Going somewhere?” She demanded angrily, her eyes looking towards the ship, as it waited patiently behind him.
“Yes,” Jon replied simply. “I don’t think there is any reason for me to remain here, is there?” he inquired, looking intently into her eyes.
Surprised by the intensity of the question, Sofia looked aside, suddenly unsure. “Where are you going?”
“I swore an oath that I would find Harkov and make him pay for everything he has done.”
Sofia looked up in shock, her expression slipping and a hint of worry crossing her face. “Alone?” She asked hesitantly.
“It’s my duty, nobody else’s,” he nodded. Turning once again, he started back to the shuttle.
With his back to her, he could not see her flash of panic. Suddenly a thought occurred to her and she called out. “I think you’re forgetting something Commander. That ship now belongs to me.”
Jon stopped mid-step as her words flowed around him. The Eternal Light was the personal possession of the Aurelius family. With the death of her father, Sofia was correct, the ship did now belong to her. Jon gazed at the shuttle regretfully. Since the death of the Emperor and the murder of his fellow Praetorians, the Eternal Light was all that he had left of his old life, except for Sofia, and he had already lost her. However, he would not beg Sofia for it. He had very little personal pride left after his recent actions, but he would not, could not sink that low. Therefore, he just bowed his head resignedly and nodded reluctantly, turning back once again to face her. It seemed she would indeed have the final say.
Approaching her, he stared hopelessly into her face. The shuttle meant little to him compared to the knowledge he would never see her again, to be able to touch her soft skin or to be able to bask in her love. Staring deeply into her eyes he decided it was not enough and he needed something to sustain him through the long years ahead. Reaching out with a shaking hand, he delicately cradled her cheek in one palm and lowered his face to hers.
Sofia felt his mouth, warm and firm, on hers, which was difficult to resist. The satin caress of his lips and the taste of him overwhelmed her senses.
He kissed her closed mouth and sucked gently on her lips, coaxing them to open. The silky tip of his tongue teased her, seeking admittance, but still she resisted. Sofia sensed instinctively that if she gave into him, she’d be lost. Her eyes fluttered closed as she felt his soft lips brush against hers. Not demandingly, not urgently, but softly. A gentle kiss, a final kiss goodbye. Sofia had to fight the automatic instinct of her body to wrap her arms around him, to never let him go. Then the moment was over and Jon stepped away from her.
Bowing deeply to her this time, a Praetorian offering his lady his final respects, he pivoted towards the exit of the flight deck.
“Jon!” Sofia cried out, tears threatening to fall once again from her eyes. He stopped, but did not turn to face her. “The Eternal Light, I give her to you, as a gift from my father. He would have wanted you to have it, as you served at his side, faithfully, for many years, never asking for anything in return. You have earned that.”
Shocked, he turned back to face her, staring at her intently for the longest time.
For a moment Sofia thought Jon was going to tell her something, but then the moment was past and he only nodded his head in thanks.
Turning for the last time he took a few steps into the shuttle. A moment later the boarding entrance retracted and the powerful engines started up. The shuttle slid gracefully into the air, hovering for a moment a few feet above the ground with the hull glistening white in the weak morning sunlight. Then with a barely detectable roar, the main engines ignited and the shuttle shot forward. Once clear of the flight deck it angled sharply up, soon disappearing into the azure-blue sky.
Sofia spent a long time on the flight deck staring at the spot where the shuttle had vanished, wondering if she would ever see him again.
Somehow she thought not.
Chapter Eleven
Present Day,
Planet Tartarus, Sigma Draconis System
With a sudden jolt the freighter dropped at least twenty meters and with it Miranda felt a sudden sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Fortunately she quickly managed to halt the sudden descent by increasing power to the aft thrusters. Daring to take her eyes off the altitude indicator for a fraction of a second, she confirmed the freighter was still on course for a landing at the Tyrell Corporation. The landing beacon was one hundred and fifty kilometres ahead, and at their present rate of descent, in fifteen minutes they should be on the ground. Again another sharp jerk shook the freighter, making her once again firmly grab the flight control stick, her eyes returning to watch the altitude indicator. While Miranda was confident on being able to land the freighter, she was just a little unsure about how many pieces the craft might be in when she eventually touched down.
However, where was the risk, the danger? After all she was flying with the greatest pilot ever, arguably the best pilot in the Confederation and possibly in the entire spiral arm of this galaxy. As she had already done every few minutes since starting the descent into the atmosphere, Miranda’s eyes glanced across at her co-pilot.
Snoring loudly.
Jon reclining in the co-pilot seat with his eyes firmly shut, his feet propped up on the flight controls. Miranda could not decide if she was more amused or furious. Seriously though, he had to be faking it, as nobody could possibly sleep through this landing.
Soon after passing through the orbiting Titan defence stations, with their authorisation codes supplied by Johansson having worked perfectly, Jon had yawned. Announcing he would take the opportunity to have a nap before their arrival. “I didn’t get much sleep last night as somebody kept hogging the bed covers,” He had stated with a wide smirk.
Miranda had refused to respond to the obvious taunt and glanced away so that Jon could not see her blush. When she had next turned to face him, he already had his feet up and was snoring loudly. The nerve of the man! Whether it was Jon’s way of demonstrating the confidence he had in her piloting skills or his way of getting revenge for her antics the night before, Miranda had no idea. All she knew was considering his reputation as the greatest pilot, ever, he had done very little actual flying.
She knew, however, his reputation was well deserved. Prior to her arrival on Terra Nova the Syndicate, her previous employer, had ordered her to ambush Jon and erase any trace of him or his ship. The two of them had engaged in an epic clash, first on the outskirts of the asteroid belt in the system, before eventually weaving in and out of the asteroids themselves. While Miranda considered herself an expert pilot, flying a deadly Hawk fighter, she had been unable to best Jon, even though he had been flying a much slower, less capable shuttle.
The end result had been Miranda having to eject before her ship collided with an asteroid. Jon had recovered her escape pod, in the process saving her life. Ever since that day, Miranda had repaid the favour by having saved Jon’s life on numerous occasions. But still she found herself staying with him, as she realised she had developed feelings of her own for this quiet, unassuming man, who was possibly the most honourable and bravest person she had ever met.
The break in her concentration was almost fatal for the freighter and crew as they descended through another gas pocket, putting the freighter once again into a steep dive. Miranda desperately pulled back on the flight control, feeding more power into the already overstrained engines.
*****
With a heavy thump the freighter Phoenix came to a shuddering halt on their allocated landing pad. Relieved they were still in one piece, Miranda started to power down the engines.
“I see we’ve arrived,” Jon yawned. Stretching, as his eyes flickered open.
“No thanks to you,” Miranda snapped back. However, the response was spoilt by the wide smile on her face.
She had done it. She had landed the ship on a planet, all by herself.
Miranda never thought she would ever be able to step out onto a planet, as she had been told from childhood that, having been born in space, her body would not be able to handle the stronger gravity. However, that notion had been firmly quashed first by Jon and later by Doctor Richardson, the station’s resident Chief Flight Surgeon. Miranda could already feel the excitement bubbling up from inside of her. To finally step out onto a planet—a different world!
Noticing the beaming smile on the younger woman’s face, Jon could not help but to return the smile. “So how is the heart? Any palpitations yet?” He inquired with a wink. “As it certainly seemed to be beating furiously last night.”
Once again Miranda refused to rise to the obvious taunt. She was not surprised her heart had been beating furiously, considering she had first enjoyed watching Jon strip down to a pair of shorts, then had him slide his firm body against hers, as he tightly drew her against his warmth.
“So what now?” Miranda asked, ignoring the statement.
“We gather our gear and find somewhere to bunk down,” Jon replied promptly. “We have no idea what sort of waiting committee there is for this ship and I for one do not want to find out. Better they find the ship empty and wonder the whereabouts of the crew. I, for one, do not resemble Captain Johansson at all.”
Tossing Miranda her flight bag and grabbing his own on the way out of the cockpit, Jon was not surprised to find Gunny and his Special Forces team ready and waiting. “Is your team ready Gunny?”
“Yes Commander. Ready and waiting to move out.”
“Very well, remember we need to keep our presence here hidden for the time being. Hence let’s keep this low key. We disembark, find somewhere to hide ourselves away and gather some intelligence before we decide upon our next move.”
“Understood Commander,” Gunny agreed, before turning back to his team. “Prepare to move out,” he shouted.
The dozen troops promptly hauled the heavy holdalls over their shoulders. Unshaved and dressed in standard crew jumpsuits, they looked like any other freighter crew. However, a quick glance into their eyes would have dispelled that illusion. They were all combat veterans, many having worked with both Gunny and Jon on previous clandestine operations. The heavy holdalls each carried contained enough weaponry, ammunition and high explosives to start a small war. The minute the hatch was open they double-timed it in single file out of the freighter, across the open flight deck and into the spaceport.
Following behind the troops, Jon, Miranda and Jason exited the freighter, with Jon locking and sealing it behind them. He had changed the entry code, hoping that would buy them some additional time when somebody eventually came enquiring about the crew’s whereabouts.
It was only when they were halfway across the flight deck Jon realised they had already lost one of the crew—Miranda. Looking back, he saw she had stopped halfway, her head angled upward towards the sky. He’d forgotten this was Miranda’s first time on a planet, so he motioned for Jason to continue ahead to catch up with Gunny and his team.
Turning back, Jon quietly approached Miranda from behind. She was gazing at the sunset across the flight deck, with a childlike wonder, eyes wide in astonishment. The sky was a beautiful ribbon of fire. Yellow, gold and red bands all bleeding into one another, a river of colour meandering across the sky. Dropping his flight bag onto the deck, he sidled up behind her, pressing his chest into her back, one arm looping around her waist to pull her snugly against him.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Jon breathed quietly into her ear. Miranda could only nod, filled with emotions she could not understand, with feelings she could not put into words.
Jon remained like that for a few minutes longer, letting Miranda take in the view, while he enjoyed the closeness of just being able to hold her. However, soon Jon started to feel a burning in the back of his throat, caused by the thick volcanic atmosphere. He assumed the spectacular sunset was caused in part by the atmosphere, all the thick volcanic dust particles in the air causing their breathing to become laboured.
“We need to go Miranda,” Jon interrupted her. “It’s not good for us to be outside for more than a few minutes. I promise when this is all over I will take you to Eden Prime and show you the sunset and sunrise there.”
Miranda turned her head to look into his eyes in wonder. “They are even more beautiful?” She asked disbelievingly.
“Probably not,” Jon confessed. “However, at least you get to live long enough to see sunrise the following morning. Now come on,” he tugged at her arm. Picking up both of their flight bags he gave her a gentle push towards the entrance of the spaceport.
*****
Fortunately it seemed the Tyrell Corporation had very few visitors, as there weren’t any immigration or customs posts at the spaceport. Either of which would have been a significant problem, as none of them were carrying identification papers and what they were carrying would have raised a few eyebrows. Wishing to get as far away from the spaceport as possible, they followed the directions supplied by Johansson and, taking a light monorail, descended multiple levels, before finally arriving at their intended destination. A cheap, rundown motel that, according to Johansson, was regularly used by crews on their downtime, when they wanted to get up to activities usually banned on ships, which Jon interpreted as the usual booze, gambling and women. It went without saying that he kept a close eye on Miranda, who had already attracted more than a few leering stares.
“Stay close and don’t go wandering off,” Jon whispered.
“I can look after myself.”
“That might be true, but we want to stay inconspicuous, remember? It’s going to be hard to do that with the locals sporting black eyes or broken arms.”
Miranda sighed, but nodded in agreement and they continued on their way.
Finally, after haggling over the price of the rooms, more to stay in character than any real care about the cost, Jon finally hired out a couple of rooms adjoining one another.
“I would give you your own room,” Jon explained uncomfortably.
“I understand,” Miranda replied resignedly.
“So I’ve put you in the same room as Jason,” Jon concluded with laughter in his eyes.
“What?” She cried.
“Seriously, have you seen the guy?” Jon continued on, pretending to not notice her shocked expression. “He worships the ground that you walk on. I thought that if you had trouble sleeping again tonight…”
“Not. Another. Word.”
Jon laughed, giving her a gentle push into her room. “Dinner is in thirty minutes, don’t be late.”
*****
Stepping into the small apartment, Miranda was slightly deflated when she saw Jason sitting on the opposite bed, concentrating fiercely on the datapad in front of him. She had been half hoping Jon might have been joking. While she knew nothing was going to happen between them, it was a nice thought and her body had been throbbing gently ever since Jon had held her while watching the sunset, suggesting it wouldn’t mind being held again.
Perhaps nibbled.
Having been sitting on the bed for over ten minutes watching Jason work, she finally grew frustrated asking. “What are you doing?”
Jason looked up in surprise, slightly embarrassed he had not even heard her enter, as he had been so engrossed in the encryption cipher that the Tyrell Corporation was using to secure their data-net. “I’m trying to hack into the Tyrell Corporation data-net. However, they are using a particularly strong cipher, hence instead of a brute force attack I’m packet sniffing the network, trying to determine if there is a flaw in the authentication protocol they are using.” He trailed off as Miranda looked at him blankly.
“I’m sorry that I asked,” she muttered quietly. “Perhaps we could talk about something else?” She asked brightly.
“Sure. I need a break anyway,” Jason replied rubbing his sore shoulders. “So what do you and Jon usually talk about when you are alone?”
“Uh,” Miranda said trying to think back on what topics Jon and her usually discussed. Eventually she drew a blank, as most of the times she and Jon were alone led to other things. She remembered the previous night, Jon gently stroking his hand down her waist, her licking his throat, the hitch of his breathing at her touch. “Never mind,” she said hurriedly, jumping to her feet. “I’ve decided to have a shower instead.” With her face bright red, she hurried into the small adjoining washroom.
Jason could only stare, confused, at the now shut door, listening to the sound of running water. Shaking his head in confusion, he went back to trying to crack the encryption cipher.
*****
The following morning Gunny and Jon joined Jason and Miranda in their small apartment to discuss their next steps. With Jason and Miranda sitting on one bed, Jon and Gunny on the other, facing each other, it seemed to Miranda the size of the room had shrunk dramatically.
Miranda caught the gleam in Jon’s eye and she uncomfortably shifted a couple of centimetres further away from Jason.
“So what have you discovered so far Jason?” Jon asked as he started their impromptu planning meeting.
“I spent most of the night hacking into their data-net. The encryption algorithm was particularly fascinating.” Jason sighed aloud. “Moving on, I have penetrated the data-net and managed to download a map of the facility.” Without the aid of their usual holo-projector, Jason was forced to pass the device around, so the other occupants of the room could examine the map.
“What is this large unmarked area here?” Jon asked, pointing to a large portion of the facility that was shaded out, only an outline existed and it lacked the detail of the rest of the map.
“That is the restricted area,” Jason replied. “It’s off limits to all civilians, only accessible to high level corporate executives or those on an authorised entry list. Somewhere in that area we will find Sejanus and the Emperor.”
“You can get us into that area?” Jon assumed.
“No.”
Jon looked up in surprise, as that was not the usual answer he got from their resident computer genius. “Surely that’s a no at the moment, but given enough time?”
“That’s a no, full stop,” Jason interrupted resolutely. “That restricted area runs on a completely isolated network. It seems to be hardwired and I have no way to access it. The authorised personnel list resides on that network and it’s the only way we can get into that area. Unless I can get into it, I cannot access such a list and we’re stuck.”
“Not a problem,” Gunny replied confidently. “We have the men and the firepower, we could just assault that section. Give me thirty minutes and we would have the entire area secured.”
Jason shook his head sharply. “We already discussed that scenario back on Terra Nova. In the time it took to secure that area, the Emperor could be moved to another location to be held hostage or, at worst, simply executed. We need to get into the area undetected and determine the location of the Emperor, secure him and then make our move. But how?” Jason asked despondently.
Rubbing his jaw thoughtfully Jon reasoned out loud, “So we cannot get our names on the authorised personnel list. Hence we would need the guards to let us in.”
“We have no idea of the identities of any of the senior Tyrell executives, nor what they look like, so I cannot see how we can impersonate them,” Jason interrupted.
“Indeed, so we need to think of somebody that we do know the identity of, that we can impersonate to get inside.”
“Like who?” Miranda asked curiously.
“I can think of half a dozen people off the top of my head,” Jon confessed. “But they are all too well known.”
“For example?” Miranda asked frustrated.
“Sofia,” Jon shrugged. “I am sure a visit from the Confederation President would be permitted inside. Marcus, were he not already being held captive there, Admiral Sterling…” Jon trailed off as the thought suddenly hit him. He gazed at Miranda with a broad grin spreading across his face.
“What?” She replied, self-consciously.
“I’ve always been curious to know what you would look like in an Imperial Navy uniform, I guess that I am going to find out. As for me, I think a promotion is long overdue.”
*****
In the end they had been unable to find Miranda a navy uniform, so instead Jon had to settle for one of her dark flight-suits, with some subtle alterations to it, namely the addition of a Captain rank insignia to the collar. Jon had changed his white navy uniform in a similar fashion, promoting himself to an Admiral. Gunny and the rest of his team had shaved and dressed in the uniform of Imperial Navy marines. Armed with pulse rifles across their chest and a pistol at their side, they formed an escort around Jon, Miranda and Jason, making the group an imposing sight. Certainly the guards on duty outside the entrance to the restricted area were taken aback when faced by a dozen heavily armed marines.
As they approached the entrance, the group came to a halt. The guards and the marines eyeing each other warily across the distance between them. After a few moments, an officer separated himself from the guards. Approaching the group, his eyes lingered on the weapons prominently on display.
“Identify yourselves and your purpose,” the officer demanded, the confidence in his voice betrayed by his trembling body.
The group was silent for a moment, until the marines parted, allowing Jon to take a step forward towards the officer. His uniform gleamed, the sword resting at his side even more so.
“Identify myself?” Jon demanded in a nasal tone of voice, red faced in righteous indignation. “Do you not recognise me man? I am Fleet Admiral Harkov, Commander of the Imperial 4th Fleet,” Jon announced for all to hear. “I demand entrance to see Sejanus, for we have important business to discuss.”
*****
Sitting in the cramped quarters with Gunny, Miranda and Jason, Jon had a bolt of inspiration. After all, who was the one person that Sejanus knew, but would not recognise? Harkov himself had confessed during the interrogation that he had only spoken to Sejanus and never met him. Sejanus would not recognise the Admiral. All Jon had to do was try and impersonate the Admiral’s nasal, high-pitched tone of voice. Harkov was now dead, but only Jon and the senior staff knew this for a fact and so the real Harkov could not turn up to dispel the illusion. Even better, Harkov had a valid reason to be there, for Sejanus had demanded the death of Jonathan Radec and, if that is what he wanted, that is what he would get.
After quickly explaining his idea to Jason, Gunny and Miranda, they all thought he had lost his mind. Hence he had to talk quickly to convince them. Pointing out that Harkov was the one person Sejanus knew, but not by sight; it was the perfect disguise.
“What if Sejanus demands proof that you, Radec, is dead?” Jason asked dubiously. “It’s not as if we can give him your head and we don’t have any spare ones lying around,” he added morbidly.
“We have something better,” Jon replied with a smile, flourishing his Valerian sword. “We simply state that the body was destroyed, but we recovered his sword. It’s unique and cannot be copied. Even Sejanus should be able to recognise a Valerian sword when he sees one.”
“You don’t think he is going to be a little suspicious if you just turn up, at his door, by yourself, totally unannounced?” Miranda questioned.
“I’ll have you, my pilot and Jason, my first officer with me,” Jon replied confidently.
“Perhaps we can do one better than that Commander,” Gunny voiced aloud. “For a Fleet Admiral would never travel anywhere without a personal guard of honour.”
Hence a plan was quickly conceived.
*****
The officer quickly glanced down at his datapad, displaying the list of authorised personnel, then back up into the red face of the Admiral, and his group of personal guards, all eyeing him and his few guards with barely disguised contempt. With a bead of sweat start to glisten on his forehead he replied, “Please wait a moment.”
Twenty minutes later Jon was starting to get impatient, wondering if Sejanus had called their bluff, but surely he would at least wonder what the Admiral had to offer? His internal musings were interrupted by the officer scurrying back.
Paling after glancing, once again, at all the weapons on display and this time not even trying to hide the beads of sweat on his forehead, the officer stopped a few feet from Jon and in a respectful tone asked. “My master requests proof that you are who you claim to be and that you have brought what was demanded of you.”
Jon glared at the young officer disdainfully for a long moment. As if coming to a decision, Jon reached to his side and in one smooth motion pulled the unique Valerian sword free of its sheath. Light reflected off the blade as Jon wielded the beautiful, but deadly, weapon.
The officer took a step back in fear, his face turning a further deathly shade of white, his eyes fixated on the blade frozen in mid-air.
Jon glared at the officer, his eyes a flinty steel-grey then, with a flick of his wrist, reversed the sword. Holding it now by the blade, he offered it to the officer, hilt first. Taking a step forward towards Jon, the officer grasped the hilt of the sword, pulling it firmly, but the sword would not budge. Instead Jon took a step forward, still with a firm grip on the blade, until the point of the blade was touching his chest and he was almost face-to-face with the officer. In a deadly tone of voice he stated. “You present this weapon to Sejanus, you tell him it was taken from what remained of the body of Jon Radec.”
The officer nodded nervously and almost tripped over himself trying to step away from Jon, but still Jon held the blade fast in his hand.
“One more thing,” Jon whispered in so quiet a tone of voice the officer had to listen carefully to hear. “I will be wanting the blade back afterwards, so guard it with your life. For your very life will depend upon it being returned to me.”
Nodding furiously while Jon released the blade, the officer shot backwards, tottering a few steps under the weight of the sword, which Jon had been nonchalantly holding with one hand. With a final terrified look over his shoulder, the officer disappeared through the reinforced doors.
Several minutes later the officer returned, minus sword and, with a nod towards the men guarding the door, they stepped aside to allow them through.
“All weapons must remain here,” the officer insisted stiffly. “No weapons are permitted beyond this point.”
Jon gave him another flat stare, before turning to Gunny and gave him a short nod. As the marines filed past the guards at the door, they handed over both rifle and pistol before proceeding onwards into the restricted area. The only delay came when Gunny reached the guards and the line was delayed momentarily as Gunny proceeded to produce a small mountain of weaponry.
“Almost forgot,” Gunny replied with a toothy grin, addressing the young guard who was staring in disbelief at the rapidly growing pile. Reaching down into his boot he withdrew a six-inch, serrated blade. Dropping it into the guards waiting hand, he leaned forward and under his breath warned. “That’s real personal to me boy, as I killed my first man with that and I’ll be wanting it back later, so keep it real safe for me.” Without a glance behind, he stepped through the imposing doors.
“You, with me,” the officer pointed his finger at Jon. “The rest of you that way,” he pointed down a different corridor. “Accommodation has been made available for you.”
“I’m not leaving the Admiral’s side. His protection is my responsibility,” Gunny insisted belligerently, daring anybody to disagree.
“She also comes with me,” Jon pointed to Miranda authoritatively. “I don’t trust your hired guns to keep their hands to themselves and nobody touches what is mine,” he gloated.
The officer looked uncertain for a moment, before nodding in compliance.
The rest of the team followed the guards down the side corridor, while Jon, Miranda and Gunny followed behind the officer.
Miranda looked around curiously, trying to pin down what felt different about this section of the complex. Observing the bright, overhead strip lighting, spotless white walls and thick blue carpet, Miranda finally realised this section did not have the old, run down, dilapidated feel of the rest of the complex. It was obvious that whoever lived here spent serious money on the upkeep and maintenance. Miranda was just about to comment on the change of surroundings when they finally arrived at their destination.
The door was unassuming, except for the two armed guards stationed on either side of it. The guards tensed at their arrival, but seemed to relax after a moment when the officer stepped forward and had a quiet word with them in low tones that Miranda was unable to overhear. Finally with a nod of understanding they stepped aside and the door slid open, permitting their entrance.
Without even glancing at the guards and with his head held high, Jon stepped through the portal, Miranda and Gunny only a step behind. The comparison was startling, as if they had stepped over a threshold into a completely different world.
*****
Jon quickly scrutinised the room, taking everything in with a single glance. From the thick blood-red carpet underfoot, to the rich tapestries hanging from the walls. The room was brightly lit, but unlike the rest of the complex, which had stark neon lights, delicate chandeliers hung from the ceiling to illuminate the room. The whole apartment reminded Jon instantly of the Emperor’s personal apartments on the now destroyed Imperial Star. The similarity was eerily familiar and immediately filled Jon with a strong sense of foreboding. The length of one side of the room was taken up with an imposing desk, similar to the one in Jon’s own office. The surface of the desk was barren except for the sword resting upon it and Jon knew instinctively that it was his own.
However, Jon did not linger on any of these items for long, as his gaze was immediately drawn to the figure seated behind the desk. Their gazes locked in an instant and immediately Jon knew that they were in far, far greater trouble than he had ever expected.
Rising to his feet, Sejanus stepped out from behind his desk, coming face-to-face with Jon as only a few meters separated the two. Of roughly equal height, Jon had no trouble looking the other man in the eye, noting the dark mop of hair, similar to his own. However, Sejanus’ eyes were a dark brown, almost black in their intensity compared to his own grey. Everything about the man was dark, from the short, trimmed beard, to the black uniform that he wore. He seemed to absorb all the light that was around him, like a blackhole.
However, it was not his physical appearance that troubled Jon, but his poise, the way that he held himself. With a straight back, shoulders held high, head at a slight angle easily taking in the scene in front of him, just as Jon was doing. Sejanus projected an air of casual arrogance, of basic superiority, totally self-confident in the fact that everybody was his lesser, nobody his equal. It was an aura that only somebody who had climbed to the very top of the mountain of mankind and been able to cast his gaze down upon the multitudes below could emanate. It was a feeling Jon was intimately familiar with, the aura of invincibility that only a Praetorian could radiate. Jon did not even need to glance down at the man’s waist to know that his sword would be resting there.
Jon did not know how long the two of them continued to stare at each other, with the intensity of a laser beam, each instinctively recognising that the other was a mortal enemy. Two sides of the same coin, light and dark, hot and cold, good and evil.
*****
Having followed Jon into the room, Miranda cast her gaze around in awe at the opulent surroundings. While she had thought this part of the complex well maintained, the apartment was nothing but extravagant. Surprised by the silence emanating from the room and unable to see anything from behind Jon, Miranda took a step to the side and her jaw dropped open in shock. As there, standing facing Jon was almost a mirror image of him, but distorted in some unimaginable, twisted way. With a similar height and build, from a distance the two could be mistaken for brothers. However, closer up, Miranda could spot the subtle differences. With Jon having grey eyes and dressed in the white uniform of the Imperial Navy, the man facing him could be his deeper, darker shadow with his dark eyes and black uniform. Miranda continued to hold her breath, as the two faced off against each other, neither saying a word, content just to continue to stare at each other with an intensity Miranda found unnerving.
The silence in the room was finally broken by Sejanus who, with a knowing smile, offered a hand in greeting. “Admiral Harkov, this is a very unexpected, but a welcome surprise.”
Jon glanced at the hand but made no move to take it, instead deciding to play along with the obvious charade. For Jon could not help but know if he could recognise Sejanus for what he was, it was almost certain he would be recognised in return. “Cut the pleasantries, Sejanus you know why I am here. I brought what you demanded and want what you promised in return.”
“I believe that I insisted on the head of the Praetorian Commander?” Sejanus replied, with a bemused expression.
“Well you are out of luck,” Jon snapped irritably. “He foolishly thought he could take out my flagship with a single shuttle. He is currently smeared across the hull of my ship. What is left of the Commander would just about fill a coffee cup. It’s a miracle that his sword survived the impact.” Jon waved towards the weapon resting on the desk. “Now that I have fulfilled my part of the bargain, I want what is rightfully mine.”
“What is rightfully mine,” Sejanus repeated the phrase with a curious catch to his voice. “Then you and I are alike in this regard, as we both want the same thing. I am not a greedy person, all I want returned to me is what is rightfully mine. Something that was promised to me, but was later stolen away and promised to another. That is all that I want…” Sejanus’ voice trailed off. However, he finally noticed the two officers standing behind Jon. “However, my manners. Please introduce me to your fellow officers before we get down to the business at hand,” he said, his eyes lingering on Miranda.
Jon hissed in frustration, but realising that while Sejanus had the Emperor he held all the cards and, for the time being, he had to play by Sejanus’ rules. However, Jon had never been one to play by the rules, at least not for long.
“Master Sergeant Patrick Reynolds, my personal head of security,” he motioned to Gunny on his right. “Captain Miranda Sun, my pilot and personal aide.” He motioned towards Miranda on his left as he introduced her.
Sejanus only gave Gunny a cursory glance before dismissing him, moving instead towards Miranda with a hungry gaze. It was a credit to Miranda that she did not so much as flinch, even when Sejanus stepped way into her personal space, reaching up with his forefinger to run his fingernail down the side of her cheek. “Such a beauty,” he breathed, continuing to run his finger along the side of her mouth, down her chin. “I hope as the Admiral’s aide that you help him, in many different ways,” he said, continuing to run his finger down the front of her chest, along the surface of her flight suit, lingering on her breasts clearly accentuated by the form-fitting suit.
Miranda did not budge, did not even breathe as she stared into his eyes, which were dark with desire. Leaving her feeling alone, naked and vulnerable. It was only then she truly understood the difference between the two men. For when Jon stared at her with a similar gaze, he promised warmth, shared pleasure and endless passion. However, this man, with his dark empty eyes, promised nothing, only what he wanted to take, giving nothing in return. His gaze left Miranda feeling cold all over.
Finally as his finger wandered even lower, Jon’s hand shot-out in a vice-like grip, catching Sejanus’ wrist and prised his hand away from Miranda. “Why don’t we focus on the business at hand shall we? Instead of getting side tracked by distractions,” Jon uttered, giving Sejanus a penetrating stare.
Sejanus just shrugged nonchalantly, as if Jon’s interruption was a minor inconvenience and he would simply resume where he left off whenever he felt it convenient. “Then we need to discuss the other requirement that I stipulated, for I do not see the Princess.”
Whatever Sejanus was going to say next was interrupted by the chime of the door. Far from being angered by the interruption he seemed excited, as if he had been anticipating it. “Excuse the interruption,” he said insincerely. “However, as I was not anticipating your sudden arrival I have other business to deal with. It will only take a few moments to finish. Stay, I insist.” The last few words were delivered as a command, tolerating no dissent. “Come,” he called out in the direction of the door. All the while focusing on Jon with a searing gaze of his own, demonstrating his command over the entire situation.
As the door slid open Jon had a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. He observed the auburn-haired woman being manhandled into the room by two of the burly guards who had been stationed by the door earlier. In a rough, homespun white cotton dress, Jon guessed she was barely in her mid-twenties, her pale blue eyes wide with terror as she stared at Sejanus. None of this inspired any confidence in Jon that this encounter was going to end well. Sejanus meanwhile gazed upon the young woman with unrestrained delight. The guards forced the young woman to her knees in front of him and then, at a sharp nod, quickly withdrew to the far side of the room, but remained inside.
For a brief moment nothing could be heard in the room except the woman’s terrified gasps, for a moment Jon thought he could actually hear her trembling. The silence was interrupted by Sejanus taking a step forward, then another, until he was standing over the woman. Explaining to the occupants of the room, Sejanus announced in a loud voice. “This woman has been caught stealing from me. I have made it perfectly clear, nobody steals from me, ever.” With those words he reached down and pulled the woman sharply to her feet by one arm. Spinning her around, he slipped one powerful forearm under her throat to restrain her. Her back was pressed firmly into his chest, as she was forced to face Jon, Miranda and Gunny.
Jon tensed as he caught Sejanus glancing at the sword resting on the table. Knowing what was about to come next and powerless to stop it, he nonetheless braced himself, for if Sejanus made any move towards that weapon he would kill him where he stood. His sword had already shed the blood of one innocent person, many years before. At the time Jon had promised himself it would be the one and last.
However, as if changing his mind, Sejanus instead withdrew his own sword from his side, reaching back until the point of the weapon pressed into the base of the young woman’s back. It was obvious she could feel the point of the deadly weapon, as her eyes went wide in paralysing fear, her gaze begging Jon for help.
Jon’s arm snapped up, just in time to stop Miranda. He could feel her take a step forward to intervene in what was obviously about to take place. Similarly Gunny took a step closer to her, reaching a steadying hand on her shoulder. To similarly restrain her, or just to offer her his unvoiced support, Jon did not know. Meanwhile Jon did not look away from the young woman’s terrified eyes as he knew that this entire travesty was being put on for his torment.
That this woman was to die because of him. Sejanus’ way of demonstrating who had the ultimate authority in this place, at this time. The power to determine who lived and who died.
Jon would have tried to stop what happened next, if he thought it would have made any difference, but it wouldn’t have. For Sejanus was staring at Jon to ensure he observed every second of this. Glancing into Sejanus’s eyes Jon saw something he had missed earlier—rapture. For while Sejanus was doing this to make his point, he was also taking pleasure in doing so. Jon could not miss the unmistakable gleam of pleasure in his eyes, the upturned smile of delight as he suddenly thrust the sword forward, angling the blade up past her ribs, through her still-beating heart and out through her chest.
With his gaze still locked onto the woman he could see her expression change to one of stunned disbelief before the light slowly faded from her eyes, until finally they continued to stare at him, vacant and lifeless. A stain of red blood spread rapidly across the front of her plain white cotton dress.
He could hear Miranda retching in the background uncontrollably.
It wasn’t until that moment Jon made a decision. Up until then, his only objective had been to breach the complex, find Marcus and get him out, alive. However, staring into Sejanus’s upturned face and glazed eyes, seeing him elated and relishing the moment, Jon promised himself he would not leave until he saw this man dead.
“Sergeant, please take Captain Sun elsewhere and help her get cleaned up. Stay with her and I’ll join you later, after Sejanus and I have finished our business.” Jon did not look away from Sejanus, but could hear Miranda and Gunny depart. Meanwhile, the two guards dragged the now lifeless body from the office. Jon noted absently the thick, blood-red carpet seemed to absorb the bloodstain with ease. Wondering how many other poor innocent souls had lost their life-blood on this very carpet. Perhaps the very reason that Sejanus had chosen that colour?
“Sorry for the interruption, now where were we?” Sejanus inquired with a smile, shifting topics as if all he had just done was sign another report and not take a woman’s life.
“You were about to hand Marcus Aurelius over to me in return for me fulfilling my part of the bargain and bringing you the Praetorian Commander,” Jon insisted smoothly.
“Not so soon Admiral,” Sejanus wagged a finger at him warningly. “The deal was that you brought me both the Commander and the Princess.”
For the first time Jon let his irritation clearly show. “She is holed up in the Senate on Eden Prime. It’s not as if I can send my troops to retrieve her. Eden is the most heavily defended system in all the Confederation. If you want her, go and get her yourself. I am hardly welcome on Eden Prime.” Jon confessed, although the real reason that he was not welcome was far different.
“Who said anything about the Princess being on Eden Prime,” Sejanus responded with a feral smile. “I think your intelligence is out of date. The Princess left Eden Prime several days ago.”
For the first time since stepping into the room, Jon was at a complete loss for words and hence couldn’t keep the shock from his voice when he replied, “Sofia isn’t on Eden Prime?”
“Not anymore and before you ask I already have a team en route to retrieve her, so I will take your point into consideration.”
Meanwhile Jon’s expression remained frozen, but his thoughts were running overtime. Where the hell was she and what had ever possessed her to leave Eden Prime? For Jon had spent a great deal of time and an obscene amount of money to ensure that while she remained there she was protected. After all, where better to keep her safe than the most protected building, on the most protected planet, orbiting the most protected system in the entire Confederation? In addition to this, Jon had used all his connections and considerable wealth to ensure she was protected both day and night.
All for Sofia to simply walk away, through his rings upon rings of security, and leave. Jon felt like banging his head in frustration. All his time and effort completely wasted. Jon decided if he every managed to get off this planet alive, he was going to hunt her down, drag her back to Terra Nova and tie her firmly to his bed. The thought brought a brief smile to Jon’s lips.
“Something you find amusing?” Sejanus asked curiously.
“I was wondering what you wanted the Princess for?” Jon casually sidestepped the question. “You already have Marcus, what could you possibly want with his daughter too?”
“That’s none of your concern,” Sejanus snapped, for the first time letting his own mask of indifference slip for an instant.
Jon thought quickly, wondering what this sadist would want with Sofia. Somehow Jon doubted he was attracted to her beauty or personality. No, he needed her for something else and the obvious answer suddenly popped into his head and, for the first time during the meeting, Jon smiled in satisfaction. “You cannot break him can you?”
Sejanus’ darkening expression was all the answer that Jon needed.
“You have had him for five years, but in that time you still haven’t been able to break him. That’s why you need the Princess, his daughter, as leverage.”
“That’s not the only reason,” Sejanus insisted leaning forward with an angry stare. “She was promised to me, but was stolen away from me. She’s mine and I always, always, take what is mine.”
Jon took a step back in surprise, unable to believe what he was hearing. Yet looking into the other man’s eyes he saw the truth of his words, or at least some twisted version of it. Suddenly Jon saw the truth, the horrible, disgusting truth. That Sejanus and he had more in common than he could ever have imagined.
Marcus had promised Sofia to this monster!
The thought made Jon’s blood boil and for the first time ever Jon contemplated violence against the man he had come to love almost as a father. To offer beautiful, gentle Sofia, with her disarming smile, kind personality and silvery laugh, to this man, this incarnation of evil?
What was even worse was Sejanus had no idea of how precious Sofia was. Instead only seeing her as a stepping-stone to the greatest prize of them all—to be Emperor. For the short time Sofia and he had been together he had learned all of the combined wealth of the Imperium could not measure up to her love. That her smile and touch made him more powerful than the Emperor himself. Everything she was and could give would be lost on this man, who would simply have taken whatever he desired and left her broken, empty and alone.
Jon swore to himself this was never going to happen. He would find the Emperor and free him. After he was safe Jon would return here, and there would be a reckoning between them. And whatever fate befell him, Sejanus was never going to have Sofia. Instead he was going to die by Jon’s hand.
Chapter Twelve
Planet Tartarus, Sigma Draconis System
A tired and despondent Jon finally made his way back to their assigned quarters after a further several hours of fruitless negotiation with Sejanus. The man had made it abundantly clear that unless Jon could offer him something of equal worth to the Princess, then Marcus would remain firmly in his grasp. Unfortunately, Jon could offer very little in return, as it was obvious wealth mattered little to Sejanus and the few remaining secrets Jon possessed he refused to give up. He could not contemplate what horrors this man would unleash on the Confederation if Jon shared with him what he knew. Jon knew with absolute certainty it was that very same fear allowing Marcus to continue to refuse to divulge whatever secrets he knew.
That, of course, brought up the next problem Jon didn’t want to face, the fact that if Sofia had left Eden Prime, she was in a very vulnerable position. Jon trembled at the thought of Sofia in that man’s grasp. What was even worse was Jon knew Marcus would give Sejanus whatever he demanded if Sofia was brought before him. For Marcus and Jon shared the same weakness. Sofia was all the two of them had left and both of them would sacrifice all they knew to keep her safe. It was that fact that scared Jon most of all as he entered the small quarters that had been assigned to them.
Stepping into the dimly lit room, the first thing that he noticed was a tear-stained Miranda sitting on the bed, arms tightly enfolded around herself, sobbing quietly. At the sound of the door opening Miranda looked up and, recognising Jon, flew at him furiously. Jon managed to quickly catch her in his arms as she frantically pounded on his chest.
“I hate you. I hate you,” she cried. “Why didn’t you do anything? Why didn’t you stop him? Why did you stop me?” She continued hitting him on the chest for a few moments longer before, finally exhausted, she just rested her head against him and cried.
Enfolding her in a tight embrace, lowering his head so he could kiss her silky crown of hair, he said to her, “There was nothing I could have done. If I had let you intervene you would have ended up dead too. Sejanus killed that woman, not you or me. I promise you I will not let her death go unpunished. Trust me on this, okay?”
Miranda just nodded her head in understanding against his chest, trying to draw comfort and strength from his embrace. After a minute she stepped back and, with an embarrassed expression, wiped the tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know that it is not your fault, it’s just—”
Touching underneath her chin, using his fingertip to lift her head up to look him in the eye, he reassured her. “You do not ever need to be embarrassed for having feelings, emotions or compassion. That is what separates us from people like Sejanus.” Glancing around the small room, Jon finally noticed Gunny and Jason seated around a small table. The little light from a small desk lamp cast long shadows over their drawn faces. “I assume that Gunny and Miranda have brought you up to speed on what happened during the meeting?” Jon inquired.
Jason just nodded glumly.
“Then I assume Gunny has also told you Sejanus is a Praetorian?”
“Sejanus is a Praetorian?” Miranda exclaimed looked up in disbelief. “But you told me that there were no more Praetorians, that you were the last.”
“I can only tell you what my own two eyes saw,” Jon insisted. “Sejanus is a Praetorian, or at least was one once. I don’t know how it is possible, as I commanded them all. I knew every one of them by name and they are all now dead. I can’t explain it either, as the previous Praetorian Commander assured me you could never quit the Praetorian Guard. However, he knew this man; he called him by name once.” Jon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly, sitting down on the bed where Miranda had been seated only moments before. “I wish I could talk to Gideon, Marcus or even Sofia. Maybe they could tell us what happened. All I know for a fact is that when I arrived Sejanus had long since gone, but for what reason I have no idea.”
Looking around at their worried expressions, Jon tried to reassure them. “Just because he was a Praetorian doesn’t mean everything is lost. At the end of the day he is a man and is just as fallible as the rest of us, in some ways more so.” Looking at their confused faces he tried to explain. “When you become a Praetorian you are told from the start you are the best, the strongest, the most elite, and no person can ever better you. After a while, hearing it so often, you start to believe it.”
“You become overconfident,” Miranda uttered, finally understanding what Jon was trying to say. “So doesn’t that mean you are overconfident? Not to mention being overbearing and arrogant?” Miranda laughed.
“I was the leader of the Praetorians,” Jon sniffed at the accusation. “Hence it doesn’t apply to me.”
Miranda just fell back on the bed, laughing hysterically.
“Tell them the rest of it Commander, they both have a right to know,” Gunny insisted quietly in a grim voice, interrupting Miranda’s laughter.
Jon stared at Gunny momentarily as something passed between them, a mutual understanding, recognition of shared horrors and the depravity of how low some people could sink. “Sejanus did not just put on that show for our benefit, he enjoyed what he did to that woman.”
“What?” Miranda stared at them incomprehensibly.
Jon raised his head to look into her eyes, before offering her his hand, motioning for her to take a seat on the bed next to him. Thinking for a moment, he started in a quiet voice. “People joined the Imperial Navy for many different reasons. Some people believed in the ideals that the service represented and others joined because they had little choice, some just because it was a job and offered an escape from poverty,” Jon said. “However, others joined it because they liked it. They enjoyed the killing, liked inflicting pain and suffering on others. It was one of the few avenues in life open to them to practice their depravities.”
Miranda looked at the three men in the room, none of whom would meet her eyes. “And you permitted this?” She demanded in a hoarse voice.
“No. Of course not,” Jon was quick to reply. “But…” he trailed off.
“When you see your friends butchered by some enemy, their throats slit, sometimes shot like dogs, well sometimes the boundaries become a little less certain. Sometimes you lose sight of where doing your duty ends and the pleasure of inflicting pain on others, knowing that they would do the same to you if they could, begins.” Gunny tried to explain.
“That’s why they call it war, Miranda,” Jon added grimly. “It’s not pretty or noble and it always brings out the worst in people. However,” he added firmly, “That does not make it right and to answer your question, no, we never condoned it.”
“Then by the Maker, how was this man ever permitted to become a Praetorian?” Miranda demanded.
“I don’t know,” Jon replied exasperatedly. “Gideon, my predecessor, he was an honourable man and he would never have permitted it.” Which in a way was an answer unto itself, Jon acknowledged despondently. For Gideon only had one master, one person that could over-rule his better judgement—the Emperor.
Even worse was the growing fear in Jon’s belly at what Sejanus might have done to Sofia. He would have been constantly around her, possibly alone. To protect her! Jon felt like crying out aloud. What were Gideon and Marcus thinking? Could they not see? They should have been protecting Sofia from monsters like that. Yet all Jon could do was to cling steadfast to his belief in his predecessor. Jon knew Gideon had loved Sofia like a daughter; he would never have allowed any harm to befall her. Gideon had been the eldest, the wisest and the strongest of all of them. Surely he would have recognised Sejanus for what he truly was? Something must have happened to him to finally be cast out of the Praetorian Guard forever.
“I’m sorry,” Miranda said, filling the sudden silence. “I didn’t mean to imply that any of you—” she trailed off, unsure how to finish that sentence.
“Keep your compassion Miranda,” Jon replied softly, in barely a whisper. “Keep it close; wrap it as tightly around you as possible and in the days, months and years ahead, no matter how bad things seem always remember there is an inherent goodness in people. Just look at yourself, stolen as a child, you were raised by the Syndicate, sent to kill on their behalf, yet today, without thinking through the consequences, you were prepared to risk your life for another. A person who you had never met before and knew nothing about.”
Jason cleared his throat after a few minutes as nobody had a response to Jon’s words. “So what else did Sejanus say after,” Jason averted his eyes. “Gunny and Miranda left.”
“Not much,” Jon sighed dejectedly. “Without offering up Sofia, Sejanus demanded something of equal value in return. I doubt we can bribe him with a few million credits as easily as Captain Johansson.”
Gunny shrugged, “So just offer him something that he wants.”
“Like what?” Jon replied exasperatedly. “Maybe a couple more warships, in case he does not have enough already? How about enough weapons to equip an army or even better, how about a couple of dozen nuclear warheads? Or something worse? The man is a psychopath who enjoys the suffering of others. You think I am going to give him anything to help him further those sick desires?”
Gunny just shrugged again. “So offer him more of the carrot and less of the stick.”
“Like what?” Jon demanded.
Gunny’s eyes flickered in Miranda’s direction, but did not voice the option out loud.
Jon could only stare in disbelief at Gunny, somebody he had known for years and somebody he thought he knew. “You cannot be serious,” he said pronouncing each word syllable by syllable. “Do you have you any idea what he would do to her?”
“I said offer her. Nothing about letting him take her.”
“No,” Jon said, his jaw set firmly.
“Isn’t that Miranda’s decision to make, not yours?”
“What is my decision to make?” Miranda interrupted, not following the subtle undertones of the conversation between the two men.
“Gunny is suggesting that we offer you to Sejanus in exchange for the Emperor,” Jon replied, not once taking his eyes off Gunny. “It’s not an option.”
“I’ll do it,” came the softly spoken response.
Jon whirled around to face Miranda in disbelief. “Like hell you will,” he insisted. “We will find another way.”
“There isn’t time,” Miranda replied in a resigned tone. “Paul will be arriving with the Sunfire in a little over twelve hours.”
“You don’t have anything to prove to us Miranda,” Jon replied firmly. “I won’t allow it.”
“Is this because I am not part of your precious Navy or because you worry that you are falling in love with me?” Miranda asked, finally looking up from the floor into Jon’s shocked expression.
“I think it’s time that you checked on the troops Gunny,” Jason intervened hurriedly. “Time for me also to be going, I have to, well I’m not sure what I have to do, but there must be something that needs doing. Come on Gunny.” Jason bustled the large marine quickly through the door. Meanwhile Gunny’s eyes were full of laughter at the dumbfounded expression on Jon’s face.
Jon was woken from his sudden stupor by the door quietly sliding shut. “I cannot believe that you just said that.”
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” Miranda insisted, staring intently at him.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then why will you not even consider it? If I was just another one of your officers?”
“No.”
“Then it’s because I am a woman?”
“No.”
“Then if it’s not because you are in love with me, then why?”
“Because damn it, I don’t want to lose you too,” Jon finally confessed.
“Nothing is going to happen to me, you are not going to lose me.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you promised me. You swore to me back on Terra Nova that you wouldn’t let anything happen to me and I believed you. I agreed to do this because I still believe what you said and whatever happens I know in my heart you won’t let him hurt me.”
Jon could only rub his face tiredly, not wanting to look into her eyes, knowing he would see the truth of her words shining brightly in them. Even worse, not knowing for sure if he was able to keep that promise.
“Jon I trust you. I trust you with my life and I trust you with my heart,” she said softly. Reaching out to touch his face gently, forcing him to finally look up at her.
Looking into her soft brown eyes Jon could see the truth of her words, her belief in him totally overwhelming. Finding he could not disagree with her when faced with such humbling honesty, instead he shifted closer to her on the bed, until their bodies were almost touching and their lips were only inches apart. Jon could feel her warm breath on his lips as she unconsciously licked her full lips. Then ever so slowly he began to dip his head toward hers.
His taste exploded in her mouth, the feel of his soft lips and his smooth tongue sliding against hers. Miranda was immediately transported back to the time on Terra Nova, when Jon had kissed her for the first time. He consumed her utterly, so what could she do but kiss him back in exactly the same way?
When she did, he covered her body with his, gently lowering her until she was lying flat on the bed. He tangled his fingers in her hair and curved his hand into her hip. She gasped at the quickness and intensity of his possession, and he took advantage of the opportunity to taste her still more deeply. He joined his tongue with hers before sucking it into his mouth, then he slanted his head for a more thorough invasion. The hand at her hip reached up and, finding the fastening to her flight suit, slowly unzipped it, his fingers dancing along the bare skin beneath. Unable to stop herself, Miranda drove her own hands under his uniform, gasping at the strength she encountered there. A shudder of heat rocked her, pooled in her belly, staggered her heart rate and blinded her to anything but the feel of Jon as he touched her everywhere.
His hand skipped briefly over her breast then, restless, he smoothed his palm down over her ribs, lingering at her waist, her hip, her thigh, where he finally curled his fingers over the flight suit still covering her legs. Instinctively, she hooked her calf over his, fearful he would be coming to his senses any time now and would try to pull away, just like he did the last time.
But he didn’t pull away.
Instead he rolled onto his back, rolling Miranda with him until she was sprawled over him. With their positions reversed, she tunnelled the fingers of one hand through the silk of his hair and curled the others around his nape. She felt his hands running down the length of her back, from her shoulders down to her bottom and then to her thighs, before they retraced the journey in a more leisurely fashion. Then he roped his arms around her waist and held her fast against him, so he could wreck more havoc on her mouth.
“Don’t leave me tonight.” The words escaped from her, before she even realised she had said them out loud. “I don’t want to be alone.”
Jon reared up, gazing at her intently, his eyes just as dark as Sejanus’ had been when he touched her hours before. However, his eyes did not leave her cold all over, but started a fire blazing hot and wild inside her, like nothing she’d ever felt before.
“You won’t be alone tonight. I promise,” he said.
*****
As Miranda once again stared into the emptiness of Sejanus’ eyes, she remembered the previous night. Drawing on the feelings of safety and comfort Jon instilled in her and surrounding herself with them like a blanket. Jon had already gone when she finally awoke, but she could still feel his warmth from where he had laid next to her during the night. They had slept together entwined, this time with no barrier separating them. The warmth and scent of Jon had surrounded her, strong and reassuring. She had slept peacefully in the knowledge that while she lay within his arms, nothing could possibly hurt her. She knew in the hours and days ahead she would need to draw on every drop of that strength.
Upon arriving back in Sejanus’ office for the second time, Miranda sensed the subtle shift in the mood of the room. It certainty seemed like Sejanus was expecting trouble, as unlike their first meeting, this time a number of guards were stationed in strategic places around the room. Jon, however, had not even broken stride upon entering the room, he simply let his gaze linger on them for an instant before dismissing them out of hand. Taking another look at Jon from the corner of her eye, she envied his confidence, as inside she could feel a tendril of unease beginning to spread over her. Her heart beat a little faster, fearful of what was going to transpire next. The expression on Jon’s face made her catch her breath, as his jaw was tight and his eyes were furious. He looked as if he was barely able to contain his simmering anger.
“I must say that I am surprised Admiral,” Sejanus said in an amused tone, after Jon explained what he was prepared to offer in place of the Princess. “I never took you for the type of person who would share.” He shot Jon a sardonic look.
Jon could already feel his patience starting to fray, as he was growing tired of this charade and itched for the time Sejanus would end it and they could bring this game of his to its inevitable conclusion. Yet, once again, he had to remind himself that for the moment Sejanus held all the cards and he would need to play by his rules. But only for a very short while longer.
“Just answer the damn question,” Jon replied, consciously forcing himself not to roll his eyes in disdain. “Do you agree to the terms or don’t you?”
Sejanus looked thoughtful for a moment, before a sly expression slowly crept across his face. “I’m not sure,” he mused aloud. “I have no way to compare if the gifts are of comparable worth, but perhaps you could advise me? Who was the better lay, the beautiful Captain here or the Princess?”
Jon’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Sejanus intently. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Oh come Commander,” he interrupted, clapping his hands together in childlike delight. “No need to be so modest. Even this far out on the rim we heard the rumours about the mighty Praetorian Commander and the last Imperial Princess. Please do not continue to insult my intelligence with this farce you have been perpetuating. I doubt you can continue to claim you are Harkov when my spies reliably inform me he has been dead for weeks. Not unless you plan to claim to be his recently departed spirit?” Sejanus crowed with obvious delight and self-satisfaction, immeasurably proud of himself for finally revealing Jon’s true identity.
However, the pleased expression on Sejanus’s face slipped slightly when he noticed that far from being surprised, or despondent at the ruse finally being over, Jon was staring at him with an intent expression. At the same time, the sight of Jon seemed to flicker and waver, as if he was consciously casting off a disguise, to reveal his true identity. For Jon seemed to grow in size and stature, his previous demeanour of irritation and frustration replaced with one of cold, laser-like intensity, his eyes darkening to a flinty-grey, the intensity of his stare increasing in order of magnitude. As he took a step closer towards Sejanus, he seemed to grow even more daunting and intimidating with each step.
Sejanus unconsciously took a step back, alarmed by the sudden change in the demeanour of the man. For suddenly, it had felt as if the power and control in the room had abruptly shifted and Sejanus was finally facing what Jon truly was—the Praetorian Commander. Implacable, unyielding, with eyes blazing, being the undisputed leader of that group of legendary warriors Sejanus had been so callously cast out from. Even without the sword, Sejanus was reminded of a younger Gideon, his nemesis who had once taken everything from him.
“I wondered how much longer you would insist on carrying on this charade,” Jon insisted with a cold glare. “I was getting a headache continually forced to act like that overconfident, talkative dolt. I did the galaxy a favour by sending him back to hell, on a one-way ticket. You will share the same fate shortly, unless you take me to the Emperor immediately.” Jon did not need to act self-important like Sejanus did, he simply stated the edict as if the outcome was already predetermined. “Take me to him. Now,” he commanded, his voice cracking like a whip, causing even Sejanus’ hair to stand on end.
With a conscious effort Sejanus reminded himself that in this place, at this time, he was still firmly in control. He still held Marcus captive and he would soon have the Princess. Radec was just a solitary man, even more so without his fabled sword.
“You!” Sejanus practically screamed, pointing his finger accusingly at Jon. “Do not tell me what to do in my office and, what’s more, on my planet. For here you are nothing, being only a loyal subject with no master, commander of a regiment that has long since passed into the history books. You are simply a single, solitary man, who is powerless and helpless, you can do nothing except threaten and bluster.”
“Take care Sejanus,” Jon whispered in a deathly quiet tone of voice, taking a step closer. “For you are starting to sound much like Harkov. He said much the same thing to me, whilst seated on his flagship, surrounded by the full might of an Imperial Taskforce. He also accused me of being powerless and helpless. Right up until the moment I smashed his mighty flagship, with him in it, into a million pieces across my knee, like a child’s toy. You should fear me, what I am capable of doing, as there are no limits, no constraints to my wrath, when angered. I will unleash the forces of hell on you and I will tear this planet apart rock-by-rock until it is nothing but the same floating ball of dust that it once came from. Give me Marcus and I will leave, never to return, but cross me at your peril Sejanus.”
Sejanus seemed to shrink away from him, aghast at the transformation. It appeared as though, instead of Radec standing in front of him, it was a malevolent entity from some sort of nightmare realm. The lights in the room seemed to flicker with his words, a cold breeze blowing over him as if the very gates of hell were slowly being forced open.
“You seem to have failed to pay attention to my first demonstration of power over life and death,” Sejanus finally rallied. Taking a firm grip on his sword his eyes swivelled around to the guards in the room surrounding the Commander, as if to draw strength from them. “So perhaps you need another demonstration? This one a little more, personal.” Sejanus seemed to ooze malice.
“If he takes one more step forward kill him!” Sejanus told the guards, who finally seemed to come to life, drawing their pistols and pointing them directly at the Commander. Meanwhile Sejanus moved swiftly towards Miranda, who had been frozen on the spot, unable to reconcile the man now standing in the middle of the room with the one who held her so gently only hours before.
Just like the young woman the day before, Sejanus reached around Miranda’s neck with a strong forearm, immobilising her, pulling her firmly towards his chest, at the same time twisting her around until she was facing Jon. Miranda paled at the sound of the sword slowly being withdrawn from its sheath.
She could feel the sharp point of the blade jutting into her lower back.
She slowly raised her eyes to hold Jon’s stare, expecting to see worry, fear, even anger. Instead all she recognised was a quiet confidence. With a small, subtle shake of his head, Jon managed to convey a multitude of feelings and impressions to her. That she was not to move, she would be fine and he would not allow any harm to come to her. That it was he was in control of the situation this time.
Miranda released the breath she had been unconsciously holding, finally breathing easily once again. She felt the tendril of doubt, which had been residing in her stomach all morning, finally unfurl and disappear altogether. The entire room seemed to fade away, only leaving her and Jon, with his reassuring presence. She suddenly felt safe and secure. It didn’t matter anymore that she had some madman restraining her, with an incredibly sharp blade dug into her back. Miranda knew she was safe, as Jon was there with her and he would never allow any harm to befall her.
With sudden realisation, Miranda finally understood what it must have been like for Sofia to have this man constantly at her side, keeping her safe and secure. Firm in the knowledge nothing in the world could possibly harm her, because it was first going to have to get past him, and never in a million years was he going to allow that to happen.
Suddenly time seemed to speed up again and the room came back into focus. Miranda could still feel Sejanus’ harsh breathing against the nape of her neck, yet for some reason he seemed to be hesitant and unsure, as if he was waiting for something he wasn’t sure would happen.
Jon viewed the scene in front of him calmly and made no move to intervene, as he had looked into Sejanus’ soul, that vile cesspit, and finally understood him. For he realised Sejanus took pleasure in people’s pain but, more than that, he fed off their emotions, their fear, horror or hate. But Miranda was not projecting any of these as she stood as still as a statue, patient, almost seemingly indifferent.
Sejanus had no idea what to do, as none of his previous victim’s had ever acted in such a manner. Glancing at the Commander, who was still standing there unmoved, as if he were indifferent to the events taking place in front of him, he licked his lips and his gaze fell down to the luscious neck on display in front of him. He grew hard and his breathing became ragged, as he remembered how she had felt when he ran his finger over her body earlier. Finally, returning his sword to its sheath, he leaned forward and, with his eyes locked on Radec, he licked along the length of her neck. He enjoyed the shudder he felt run through her body and the sweet tangy taste of her skin.
“Take her to my personal chambers,” Sejanus ordered the nearest guard, pushing her towards him. “I will be there shortly.” The guard caught Miranda by the arm as she stumbled in his direction. Once again she shot a short, concerned glance at Jon, who once again nodded slowly. Manhandling her, the guard pushed her out of the room, leaving only Sejanus, Jon and the few remaining guards.
Approaching Jon, who was still rooted to the middle of the room, with several pistols pointing unwaveringly at him, Sejanus sneered at him. “You should not be the only one who gets to decide who the better fuck is.” At the stunned expression on Jon’s face, Sejanus carried on, delightedly. “So you didn’t know Marcus offered the Princess to me first? Well I hate to break the news to you, Commander, but you were hardly the first in line. Similarly with the beautiful Captain, I always insist on sampling any rewards beforehand to confirm their worth.”
Meanwhile Jon had gone a deep purple, the blood rushing to his face, when at last he realised his deepest, darkest fears had come to fruition. Fisting his hand in the pocket of his uniform, Jon finally lost control. He could see nothing else but the man he was going to kill in front of him and nothing else mattered. Not Miranda, not Marcus, not the dozens of pistols pointing in his direction.
With a wordless cry, in the blink of an eye, he was within arm’s reach of Sejanus. His right arm shot out, hand fastening firmly around his throat, like a clamp and slowly, but surely, he tightened his vice-like grip.
Sejanus was stunned, as he had never seen a man move so fast. One minute Radec was standing in front of him and the next he had his hand around his throat. Desperately Sejanus reached up, trying to prise the hand away from him, but this was impossible, as Radec’s grip was like steel, the hand an ever-tightening vice. Unable to draw breath, Sejanus slumped to his knees, Jon doing likewise to continue to hold on to him. Both on their knees, faces only centimetres apart, Sejanus started to see stars, his vision slowly fading as he failed to draw oxygen into his lungs, his body starting to shut down.
The guards who had been stationed around the room, stunned by the suddenness and intensity of the attack, finally leapt forward to protect their master. Two tried to prise the Commander’s hand away from Sejanus’ throat, but even their combined strength could not break his grip. Finally, in desperation, one of the guards reversed his pistol and hit Jon around the side of the head with the butt of the weapon.
Jon was stunned by the vicious blow, his grip weakened ever so slightly. The second blow left him reeling, only able to see stars as he fell to the floor.
His hand let go of Sejanus’ throat.
“That was a stupid thing to do Commander,” Sejanus rasped, his throat still sore from the sudden attack. “Like everything else about this foolish crusade of yours, it was doomed to fail.”
Meanwhile Jon could only spit onto the bright red carpet, his mouth full of blood where he had bitten his lip. Lying on the floor, Jon opened the fist that moments before had been resting in his pocket. He observed the empty palm of his hand where shortly before he had held the small tracking device from Jason and smiled to himself.
Praetorians, so predictable. So quick to assume that they had already won, just because they always had done so in the past.
“Take him away and kill him!” Sejanus ordered. “I have more pleasurable things to be doing with my time.” Lifting Jon’s head by his hair, Sejanus looked down at him angrily. “In the last few minutes of your life, you might want to think about all the perverse things I will be doing to your beautiful Captain. Exactly the same as I enjoyed inflicting on the Princess, who you seem to care about so much. Unfortunately you won’t live long enough for me to tell you who I enjoyed taking the most. Goodbye Commander.” With that he released Jon’s head, letting it once again fall to the floor. “Take his sword. I told Harkov I wanted his head on a platter, but it looks like you will get to deliver it today,” Sejanus instructed one of the guards.
Good. I’ll want that back very soon, Jon thought to himself, as he found himself being grabbed by both arms and hauled to his feet. “Sejanus,” Jon called after the retreating figure, before he could step through the door. Sejanus turned to stare at him with narrow eyes. “Don’t go too far, I’ll be coming for you shortly.”
Sejanus just gave him a mocking salute, before once again turning his back and disappearing through the door. The guards dragged Jon after him, Sejanus turning right, the guards dragging him left.
Chapter Thirteen
Planet Tartarus, Sigma Draconis System
“It’s almost time Sarge,” Jonas whispered quietly, for all intents and purposes still focussing firmly on the cards laid out in front of him.
“Take it easy son,” Gunny replied in an equally quiet voice. “There is still time. The Sunfire will not arrive in the system for another thirty minutes yet. Is it still just the one guard?”
Jonas’ eyes flicked up from the cards momentarily, glancing over Gunny’s shoulder at the solitary guard standing with his back to the wall facing the room. “Still only one Sarge, but the last time they rotated I counted two more on the other side of the door.”
“Every half hour right?”
“Has been for the past few guard rotations, so we have another twenty minute window before the next rotation.”
“Then I guess that now is as good a time as any,” Gunny replied, observing the other marines in the room. To any casual observer it would seem the marines were taking a relaxing break. A number of them, Gunny included, had broken open a pack of cards; others were lounging around the room, some reading, a few listening to music. Only Jason, in the corner tapping away intently at his datapad, seemed the slightest bit motivated. However, if an observer looked a little more closely he might have noticed the marine reading had not turned a page in over half an hour and nobody had won at the game of cards in a similar period of time. Everybody in the room knew the time for action was fast approaching and were preparing themselves accordingly.
“You want me to take care of him Sarge?” Jonas inquired disinterestedly.
“I’ll take care of it. You and Jackson get ready to intercept the other two, okay?”
“Sure Sarge.”
“Ready Gunny,” came the reply from the other two marines seated at the table.
“I fold,” Gunny declared in a loud voice that could be heard all over the room, as he reached back and stretched his tired muscles. He had been seated at the table, playing cards, for a few hours now and wanted to fully restore his circulation before making his next move.
“I’m hungry. How about some chow boys?” There were some general affirmative grunts from around the room. Standing up and working out the kinks in his legs, Gunny approached the solitary guard in the room. As soon as Gunny approached the guard, the man tensed and reached for the pistol at his waist.
“What do you want?” The guard asked suspiciously, his hand hovering just over the pistol at his side.
“Easy friend,” Gunny smiled disarmingly. “Me and the boys here were just wondering when it was chow time? Many of us have not eaten since last night.” Gunny waved his arm out wide to encompass the team, who had all turned, eagerly waiting for the answer.
The guard made the mistake of taking his eyes off Gunny, just for a fraction of a second, as they darted around the room to observe the other occupants.
It was all the time needed.
With a sudden burst of speed, which seemed unlikely for a man of his bulk, Gunny had one arm around the guard’s throat before he could utter a single word. At the same time he grabbed the guard’s pistol hand, wrapped it behind the man’s back and jerked it upwards until he could hear a squeak of pain seep past the blockage around the guard’s throat.
Jonas moved quickly to remove the pistol from the guard and dashed over to the other side of the door, on the off chance somebody took that inopportune moment to enter. However, after a minute of no activity, Jackson stood up from the card table and moved to the other side of the door.
At a nod from Gunny the rest of the Marines went back to reading their books or listening to music. “I am going to release my arm from around your throat now,” Gunny explained to the guard in a quiet voice. “When I do, you are going to call your colleagues from outside and tell them to come in here. You are only going to say the following words. ‘Hey guys, I need a toilet break, watch these men for a minute, will you?’ If you say one word different or one word extra, I will kill you. Do you understand?”
The guard only bobbed his head in agreement, as he was not able to draw enough air into his lungs to verbally reply. Slowly releasing the arm from around the guard’s neck, he nodded at him.
“Hey guys, I need a toilet break, watch these men for a minute, will you?” he grated out, loudly. Obviously his throat was still sore. The door slid open a moment later and seeing the usual round of inactivity from the occupants, the two guards stepped into the room. Immediately Jonas and Jackson pounced and quickly overpowered them, distributing the weapons to their colleagues.
“OK listen up people,” Gunny called to the now ready and alert marines. “We have the Sunfire arriving in-system within twenty minutes, so we need to move quickly. Here are the objectives. Firstly, Jason has identified that the nearest armoury is only a little more than three hundred meters from here. Our next objective will be neutralising their main security centre. Finally, we are to secure and hold the hangar bay until the Commander locates and secures the boss. Any questions?” There were none. “Right let’s move out people,” he shouted, motioning for Jonas and Jackson to go ahead as both of them were the most heavily armed, having snatched pulse rifles from the fallen guards. The rest of the group had distributed the three remaining pistols amongst themselves.
Glancing out the doors to make sure the corridor was clear, the two marines slipped out, with the others following closely behind. They followed directions from Jason, who had worked through the night to hack into the facilities’ secured network and download the schematics for the entire complex.
*****
Miranda was roughly pushed through the door and sent sprawling onto the carpet. Fortunately, like Sejanus’s office, this one was also thick and therefore mostly absorbed the impact.
“Well at least this one is not red,” Miranda observed out loud, looking around. The room was decorated in a modern style, with a black carpet, large, white king sized bed, which Miranda instantly looked away from, through to the black leather reclining sofa, coffee table and large audio-visual entertainment system.
“Very chic, but not really my style,” Miranda commented. Moving quickly through the room, she looked for anything she could use as a weapon. Unfortunately the room was sparsely furnished and, after a few minutes of fruitless searching, when the most lethal weapon she managed to find was a desk lamp, she heard the door slide open behind her.
Taking a deep breath, she turned with a resigned expression to face Sejanus. Once again she had to resist shuddering as he looked her over with a heated expression, his dark eyes clouded with lust. “I don’t suppose I could suggest dinner, a couple of glasses of wine and maybe a little dancing first?” Miranda asked hopefully. Trying to use humour to cover the flutters of fear once again starting to take a firm hold in the pit of her stomach.
Sejanus quickly covered the distance between them, catching her wrist in a painfully tight grasp, pulling her towards him. Once he was close enough, his tongue once again caressed the side of her cheek, but this time she could not hide the wave of revulsion that swept through her body.
“No, I didn’t think so,” Miranda replied forcefully to her own question, as her free hand lashed out, clawing at his eyes.
While Miranda wasn’t a skilled fighter like Jon or Gunny, like many of the other crew on Terra Nova she had been through the self-defence classes run by David. These were completely voluntary and offered to all the crew, both ex-navy and civilian on the station. They were also many, many times over-subscribed. Paul and Jon had made it clear to the military men on the station they expected them to participate in the classes and help train the civilians. The military tended to attract a certain type of man; tall, rugged and broad shouldered. Combine that with many years of hard physical labour and you could almost always guarantee a great chest, fantastic abs and strong deltoids. With several of these fine physical specimens of manhood present at each session, mostly dressed in light workout clothes, with close physical contact practically a certainty, it was the closest thing to a dream come true for many of the young, unattached women. It had become a tradition after the session had ended for many of the women to congregate in one of their quarters (Miranda had hosted several of these sessions) where wine was poured freely, shattered nerves calmed and gossip exchanged.
Unfortunately these skills did not stretch as far as to take on a fully trained Praetorian Guard and with a laugh Sejanus snatched her hand out of the air, pulling it away from his face. With both arms now tightly constrained, Miranda was running out of options and desperately tried to knee him in the groin. Unfortunately he was expecting this obvious ploy and easily blocked it with his knee. Pushing her sharply against the wall, Sejanus covered her lips with his own, desperately seeking entrance to her mouth.
Not going to happen! Miranda thought to herself, as she could feel the panic starting to bubble up from her chest and fought to remain in control. For she knew if she gave in to the panic then she would be lost. However, Sejanus abruptly biting her lip distracted her and, without thinking, she opened her mouth to shout in pain, allowing Sejanus to stick his tongue into her mouth. Almost blind with panic Miranda did the first thing that she could think of, she bit down on it.
Hard.
With the taste of coppery blood in her mouth, she heard a cry of pain from Sejanus. He pushed her away and touched his tongue delicately. Miranda only had a moment of self-congratulation before out of nowhere came the back of his hand. The force of the impact snapped her head back, knocking her to the ground. All Miranda could see were stars and she desperately shook her head to restore her vision. However, by then, it was too late, as Sejanus was already on top of her, tearing at her clothes and trying to rip the flight suit off her body.
Miranda screamed.
*****
As he was frogmarched down the corridor, it was obvious Sejanus had given the guards suitable warning about his unarmed combat skills, because while two of the guards manhandled him down the corridor, the remaining guards walked several feet behind, their hands constantly on their pistols waiting for him to make the slightest move.
Finally they arrived at their destination. With a shout of “Lights,” from one of the guards, they painfully dragged him into the middle of the now illuminated room. Jon could only assume it was some sort of unused cargo hold or store room, as the room was fairly large, at least twenty or thirty meters square. Also it looked as if it hadn’t been used for some while, as it was mostly empty. The floor was covered in the yellow dust that seemed to be present almost everywhere else throughout the complex. Jon quickly cast his eye around the room, but could not see anything within reach he could use for a weapon.
Once Jon was in the middle of the room the guards unceremoniously dumped him on the floor, before hurriedly taking several steps back. The four guards now formed a smaller box within the room, with Jon in the centre. They stood a couple of meters away, too far for him to reach them with his hands or feet, but close enough the pistol each guard held in his hand, pointed at Jon, couldn’t miss.
Looking up from the floor, Jon noticed a pair of black boots come to an abrupt halt only a few feet in front of him. Craning his head back, Jon was just able to make out the face of the largest guard, his sword in hand, sneering down at him.
“So this is the great Praetorian Commander the boss warned us about?” He said, walking around Jon’s prostrate body. A sharp kick to the ribs caused Jon to collapse with blood mixed with spittle dripping onto the floor.
“Yeah, well you should see me on one of my better days,” Jon wheezed out, his ribs tender from where the boot had hit him. “Otherwise I would have kicked all of your asses by now.”
The other guards just laughed, as the lead guard once again kicked him in the ribs, but on his other side this time. Unable to support his own weight, Jon went crashing to the floor once again, whilst breathing rapidly and painfully.
“So any last words?” The guard enquired, coming to a stop once again, just in front of Jon’s face.
Struggling once again to his hands and knees, Jon quickly cast his gaze around the room, taking note of the exact position of each of the guards surrounding him. “Yeah,” Jon coughed. “Two words actually.”
“Oh?” The lead guard asked, lifting the sword in his hand, preparing to decapitate him.
“Yeah,” Jon said, eying the position of his sword, fixing it into the mental map he had built of the room and the position of all the guards.
“Lights off!” he called out loudly and the room suddenly plunged into darkness.
Jon’s unexpected action caught the guards unprepared and gave him enough time to act. As he knew exactly where the sword was positioned, it was easy for him to pitch forward in the darkness and grab the blade of his sword in one hand.
His sword had been calling out to him ever since he had been separated from it the day before. It was like a beacon in a storm, always calling out the correct course to him. Catching the blade, reversing its direction, with the point facing back towards the lead guard, Jon used his other hand to push the hilt of the sword forward. Jon didn’t even wait for the scream of pain from the guard to know that he had hit his target. Instead with the position of all four guards fixed in his head, he rolled to the right and with a broad sweep of his sword he felt it bite into flesh, another scream. Next Jon rolled to the left, sweeping his sword backwards in the opposite direction, resulting in another cry of pain. Finally Jon slid backwards, reversing the blade, thrusting it behind him.
Through nothing but air, as the guard had moved.
Unfortunately that last remaining guard followed up this very smart move with an incredibly stupid one. He fired his pulse pistol. Having little idea of where their prisoner was, the likelihood of actually hitting him with a single random shot was infinitesimal. However, the bolt of energy from the pistol briefly illuminated the room, highlighting his own position. Jon was there in an instant, his sword once again rising and falling, and this time he did not miss.
“Lights,” he called out, once again illuminating the room. However, where once had stood four guards, surrounding him, with pistols drawn, ready to end his life, now only he stood, almost in exactly the same position as where he had started. Three of the guards were now still, eyes lying open vacantly, their throats having been cut. The fourth guard, the lead guard who had originally been holding Jon’s sword, was lying on his back, moaning, holding his hands to his stomach and desperately trying to stem the thick flow of blood.
Looking at the scene of death around him impassively, Jon made his way towards the exit. Pausing only briefly, he stabbed his sword downwards, through the heart of the only guard remaining alive. With eyes like dark obsidian and with an unrestrained fury, Jon left the bodies lying there as he exited the room and began his hunt for Sejanus.
Jon had warned Sejanus of the consequences of his actions. For this was only a taste of the destruction that he was about to unleash, on this system, this planet and this man.
*****
The chime of the door interrupted Sejanus from the task currently at hand. Unlike the last interruption, this one was not expected and was most definitely not welcome. “What?” He screamed in frustration, trying to restrain the woman at the same time as unzip her flight suit, actions that had been eluding him for the past few minutes. “I’m busy!”
There was a pause from the other side of the door, as the messenger weighed the pros and cons of continuing to deliver his message, especially considering the mood of his master. However, he had insisted on being immediately informed of this news so, taking a deep breath, he continued. “The Valiant has just arrived in orbit, and they are reporting a successful retrieval of the Princess. They are currently en route to the surface via shuttle.”
Sejanus paused for a moment, as the news seeped into his consciousness.
The Princess.
After all these years, to finally have her here, in his grasp. However, he was now facing a quandary, as he stared down at the stunning brunette currently twisting beneath him and trying to dislodge him. The sudden image of the Princess, likewise pinned underneath him, terror in her eyes, came to mind and Sejanus instantly felt himself getting aroused. He would take her in front of her father, the Emperor, it would be the ultimate indignity. Sejanus could feel himself hardening at just the idea.
“Come,” he shouted to the messenger. “Watch her.” Sejanus instructed him as he strode from the room. “I’ll be back shortly to finish with her.”
Miranda let out great gulping breaths of relief as the door slid shut, leaving her alone. Her cheek throbbed from where Sejanus had struck her and she had a multitude of small cuts and bruises from trying to fight him off. So terrified at what nearly happened and so relieved Sejanus was finally gone, it took her a long while for his last words to register.
The Princess. Sofia. She was here.
She had briefly met the older woman when she had arrived at Terra Nova some weeks earlier. At the time she had not paid much attention to her, as she was so wrapped up in her own grief at the loss of Jon. However, the few words they did exchange were warm ones, of shared regret and loss. Miranda had come to respect the inner strength and quiet dignity of the Princess, while at the same time hating her. For Miranda knew Jon’s heart belonged to her.
However, no matter the ambivalence of her feelings toward the other woman, no way would she ever wish to subject her to that monster. To have him inflict all the perverted acts Sejanus had kept whispering he was going to do to her. She had to help her, but how?
Jon. She had to find him. Struggling to her feet she slowly started to make her way unsteadily towards the door, when it once again slid open. For a terrifying instant Miranda thought Sejanus had changed his mind and returned to finish what he started. However, as she took a step back she realised it was not Sejanus who stood framed in the door, but the messenger who had arrived moments earlier, the one Sejanus had ordered to watch her. As the guard took another step towards her, Miranda recognised the look of hunger in his face, the same look Sejanus had been projecting only minutes earlier.
Can nobody on this planet find their own woman?
With another step backwards, she found her back was now pressed firmly against the wall. Realising there was nowhere else to run, she took another deep breath, in preparation. As the guard came within striking distance of her, Miranda once again lashed out with her free hand, clawing at his eyes.
Fortunately this time she wasn’t facing a Praetorian Guard and the man cried out, stumbling backwards, his hands covering the deep scratches Miranda had inflicted on his face. Taking advantage of his distraction, Miranda tried to kick him in the stomach. Unfortunately, already groggy from the earlier blow, she missed and hit his kneecap instead. With a cry of pain he fell to the floor.
“Way it go for David’s unarmed combat training,” Miranda voiced out loud, relieved. However, she had spoken too soon as the guard stumbled back to his feet cursing and, reaching to his belt, he withdraw a long, wicked-looking knife.
Gulping, Miranda desperately looked around for something to use to defend herself, but once again there was nothing at hand to use.
Jon, now would be a really good time to keep your promise.
*****
Jon meanwhile was having problems of his own. Having left to look for Miranda and Sejanus, he quickly realised he had no idea where the man’s personal quarters were. The complex’s main computer was no help as, having found a terminal, it insisted Jon enter his authorisation code. Unfortunately, Jon did not possess one, and his knowledge of computers was extremely limited—that was Jason’s forte not his.
Hence Jon had to settle for the next best thing and ask for directions. This turned out to be easier said than done, because while the civilian area of the complex was busy, the restricted area for Tyrell Corporate executives was sparsely populated. However, eventually Jon rounded a corner, identical to a dozen others he had already walked round, with no idea if he was even walking in circles, when he spotted a young executive dashing to a meeting, or wherever it was young executives went these days.
Putting a pleasant expression on his face, Jon stepped into the middle of the corridor, blocking the route of the young man. Obviously used to having others step out of his way, instead of him having to do likewise, he looked up with obvious irritation and could only gape.
“Who the hell—,” he exclaimed, but was cut short as Jon hefted him against the nearest wall with an arm slung tightly under his throat, leaving the man’s feet dangling a couple of inches from the floor.
“Sorry for not introducing myself,” Jon apologised with forced pleasantry. “My name is Commander Radec and I am running late for an appointment with Sejanus. Now if you could point me in the right direction, to his personal quarters?”
The young man’s eyes looked left and then right, obviously desperate for some assistance, but regrettably for him in this instance there was nobody around to help. So instead the young man smirked and was about to open his mouth when—
Jon pressed harder against his neck and, leaning forward, whispered, “I am running extremely late and hence do not have time to go on a wild goose chase.” With that Jon drew his sword, resting the edge inches from the man’s throat. The executive went cross-eyed trying to look at the blade, unsure if it was his imagination or the shortness of breath that made him swear the blade seemed to be vibrating slightly, almost in anticipation.
“Second corridor, third door on the right,” the man uttered quickly in a rush, eyes locked on the blade hovering in front of him. “Not that it will do you any good as his quarters have two guards stationed at the door and you’ll never make it past them—” The young man suddenly clamped his mouth shut, obviously realising he had said too much.
“My thanks for the advanced warning,” Jon replied, reversing the sword and hitting the youth on the side of the head with the hilt. The man dropped to the floor, unconscious. Reaching down Jon withdrew an energy pistol from the holster at the man’s waist. Normally Jon had little patience for such weapons, preferring his sword. But realising in this instance he could never have too many weapons, he stuck the pistol into his belt, at the small of his back, before hurrying in the direction the now unconscious executive mentioned.
He prayed to whichever deity might be listening he would not be too late, as he had sworn to Miranda he would not let anybody hurt her and he did not want to make a habit of breaking his promises.
*****
Having dispatched Jonas and Jackson after quickly agreeing to Jonas’ suggestion to switch uniforms with the now unconscious guards, Gunny turned his attention back to the now fully equipped Marines. Gone were the worn jumpsuits and vacant expressions. Now in their place was a group of battle hardened Special Forces, armed to the teeth, all encased in dark grey tactical armour. Most had forgone the usual pulse rifles and armed themselves with heavy, fully automatic assault rifles.
“Okay people, let’s move out. Remember we want to try and maintain the tactical element of surprise for as long as possible, hence let’s move quickly to the hangar bay. If we encounter any resistance, then we try and dispatch them quickly and quietly.”
The Marines proceeded rapidly to the door and, after ensuring the corridor was empty, slipped out into the complex.
“Hey Sarge,” one of the Marines called out, just as Gunny was about to follow. “Look what I found,” he exclaimed, holding up the six-inch serrated blade he had come across while searching the small armoury. It had been taken from Gunny the day before as they passed through security.
Gunny smiled in relief, taking the vicious looking knife and slipping it into his boot. “Thanks for that, I was worried I might have lost it.” With a final nod of thanks Gunny slipped out into the corridor, taking up the rear behind the group as they cautiously made their way towards the hangar bay.
*****
Sofia suddenly came awake, her throat dry, a fierce pounding in her head. She blinked rapidly, the bright lights of the room making it difficult to focus, as she desperately tried to remember what had happened. The last thing Sofia recalled was being on Memphis, escaping from the restaurant via the serving entrance, and then trying to escape from her captors. The very last thing she remembered was a bolt of excruciating pain hitting her in the back, spreading throughout her body and then there was nothing.
Relieved to find she could move unaided, she rolled to one side, delicately running her fingers underneath her blouse, along her lower back where she remembered being struck. She felt only smooth, undamaged skin and realised she must have been hit with some sort of stun weapon. She made a mental note to avoid being shot in the future.
A cold, humourless laugh, which made her blood run cold, interrupted her self-examination. Glancing in the direction of the sound, whilst trying to blink away the tears from the bright lights, she eventually managed to focus on the owner of the laugh. Sofia instantly recognised the face, and had half-expected it, especially after Albert’s revelation on Memphis that Sejanus was still alive. A flash of fear crossed her face, as she came face-to-face with her worst nightmare and relived once again the night that had permanently and irrevocably scarred her forever.
*****
The young Princess came awake with a start, wondering what had awoken her. It was pitch black in her personal sleeping chambers on the Imperial Star, one of the multitudes of rooms that made up the personal apartments of the Imperial Emperor, Marcus Aurelius.
Casting her gaze around the room, she could not see anything out of place. Her clothes for the following day, neatly pressed and folded, rested on the back of her dresser. Some papers were spread across her writing desk, left over from her studies the night before. Even farther away she could see the stars shining through the large window on the far side of the room. The light from the stars was the only thing providing the small amount of illumination in the room.
Shrugging, as nothing appeared to be out of order, she rolled over in preparation for going back to sleep and came face-to-face with his dark eyes. A small part of her mind wondered how his eyes could be even darker than the pitch-black room. It was almost as if they were not eyes, but simply two holes in his head that were swallowing the darkness from the rest of the room. With her eyes slowly adjusting to the little light, she could make out his other features, the mop of dark hair, a square, angular face and dark, short, pointed beard.
“Sejanus!” Sofia exclaimed in fright, sitting up in bed, suddenly aware the thin silk camisole was her only item of nightwear. She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest, unsure of whether she did to block his piercing stare or to ward off the sudden cold. “Sejanus you scared me,” she said. “What are you doing in my quarters so late?”
Sejanus did not respond, just continued to stare at her with a dark, heated gaze. His stare started to make Sofia feel uncomfortable, not that she was ever comfortable around this man. Of all her father’s Praetorian Guard, it was this one who scared her the most. He seemed to be around her constantly, always following her with his eyes with a demanding, hungry expression. Now here, alone, in her personal bedchamber, late at night, that fear was growing exponentially into full-blown terror.
Reaching out with a calloused hand, he combed his fingers through her hair. “So pretty,” he whispered breathlessly. Then blinking his eyes, as if coming to his senses he added. “I am inspecting what has been promised to me.”
“Promised to you? I don’t understand. I don’t know what you are talking about. Leave me please. You are starting to frighten me.”
However, instead of retreating, Sejanus tightened his fingers around a ringlet of her hair and tugged sharply. The sudden flare of pain caused Sofia to tilt her head sharply back and Sejanus took the opportunity to run two of his fingers down the length of her neck. His eyes widened, his breathing became louder, deeper and more ragged.
Having grown up in her father’s court, surrounded by officers and politicians, protected by her father’s elite Praetorian Guard, Sofia had never faced or even contemplated what was happening to her. Terrified out of her mind she could not move, could not utter a word and only stared in complete panic into Sejanus’s eyes. As his fingers wandered lower, to the strap of the camisole and then underneath, Sofia finally came to her senses. Opening her mouth in preparation to scream, she found it suddenly covered by one of his rough calloused hands.
“Quiet,” he whispered, his tongue reaching out to lick the edge of her ear. “You are so beautiful I cannot help myself, I just need a taste and a sample of what has been promised to me.” With this he bit the edge of her ear, while his free hand disappeared underneath her thin camisole. Sofia cried out in a mixture of pain and fear, but the hand roughly covering her mouth silenced it. Sofia could feel his cold, slimy hand inching across her breast until it reached her nipple. It was already hard, from the cold or terror, Sofia did not know which. Sejanus just rubbed against her cheek and roughly pinched it between his thumb and forefinger.
Sofia whimpered in pain.
Quickly, the hand was then withdrawn and Sofia almost cried out in relief, thinking the worst was now over. However, Sejanus still held her tightly, his hand still pressing over her mouth, his other hand this time going lower, above her camisole, pausing only for an instant to caress the nipple that he had so painfully pinched moments before. As his hand started to wander even lower, Sofia finally realised his intent and began to struggle frantically, but still Sejanus held her tightly.
Eventually his hand reached the edge of her camisole and pushing it up and out of the way, lingering at the waistband of her underwear. He caressed it for a few moments, before pushing it aside and pushing a finger underneath, against her bare flesh.
With a roar of rage, like a crazed bull, Gideon charged into the room. The two men collided like the impact of two continents. However, Sejanus was caught off guard, as his mind was only on Sofia. Hence, as he didn’t have time to brace himself, he was thrown across the room by the strength of the older man.
Vaulting over Sofia’s bed with effortless ease, Gideon did not take his eye off Sejanus when he ordered Sofia in a firm voice, full of anger. “Princess, get behind me.”
Sofia was stunned by the sudden turn of events. Firstly by Sejanus’s sudden appearance and his callous actions then Gideon’s timely intervention. As a result of this, she could only stare at them uncomprehendingly.
“Sofia, move girl. Now!” Gideon ordered sharply, taking a step towards Sejanus, his face red with fury and hands trembling from the barely restrained desire to tear Sejanus apart, limb-by-limb.
Finally coming to her senses, Sofia scrambled from underneath the bed covers, until she was kneeling on the bed, behind Gideon.
Meanwhile Sejanus had recovered from the sudden shock of the attack and quickly scrambled to his feet, facing his attacker. “Gideon,” he exclaimed in surprise and with a little trepidation. The Praetorian Commander should have retired to his own bed many hours before, so what was he doing here? “This is nothing to do with you as this is between Marcus, Sofia and I—she has been promised to me.”
Gideon only spat on the floor. “That is what I think of you and that promise. You take this girl over my dead body.”
Sejanus’ hand went to the sword at his waist, but hesitated for a moment, for Gideon’s expression had changed to one of delight. Sejanus knew Gideon’s skill with the blade was unmatched and he had never been beaten. If he were to draw his blade and attack him, Gideon would be within his rights to defend himself and kill him. Sejanus slowly withdrew his hand from the hilt of his sword.
“Get out!” Gideon spat at him. “Get out and if I ever find you back in this room again I’ll kill you.”
“You have been promised to me, Princess. I always take what is mine and I’ll wait as long as necessary, don’t ever forget that.” Sejanus uttered in a strained tone of voice, terrifying the Princess with his gaze.
Then without another word he left.
Once he had gone, Sofia started trembling violently at the memory of what had just taken place and what had so nearly happened. Hearing her sob, Gideon turned around to face her, his heart going out to the young woman.
Taking a seat on the bed next to her, but being careful not to touch her he reassured her. “He’s gone Princess. I promise that he will never hurt you and you will never see him again.”
“He kept saying that I was promised to him, what did he mean? Who promised me to him and why?” She trembled, teeth chattering together uncontrollably and for some reason she felt cold all over.
“It’s nothing at all, just a misunderstanding, a mistake,” Gideon answered hesitantly. “It will be corrected,” he insisted. Looking at the young Princess worriedly, he could tell she was going into shock. Reaching behind her he pulled the blanket from her bed, wrapping it tightly around her. Only then did he gently and carefully pull her into his arms.
“There, there,” he said gently. Comfortingly but not too tightly, as he wanted to make it clear to Sofia she could break his embrace at any time. “I promise you that while I am here nobody will ever hurt you.”
“And what happens when you are no longer here?” Sofia asked in a terrified voice.
Gideon paused for a moment, before replying. “Then there will be someone else, somebody younger than me and much faster. Someone who will be able to protect you even better than I am able to.”
And he was right.
*****
Delighted by the recognition in her expression and the flash of fear that quickly crossed her face, Sejanus inquired, “Surprised to see me, Princess?”
Sofia took a deep breath, taking all her terror and fear and burying it deep within her. Jon had taught her long ago that while fear could be useful, it sharpened the senses and improved reactions, but it could also consume you, dulling your actions instead of sharpening them. Hence pushing back her fear, she looked Sejanus in the eye and replied, “Not so much surprised as, well, disappointed.” She let the last word roll off her tongue.
“Disappointed?” Sejanus replied, confused.
“Yes, disappointed,” Sofia insisted. “Disappointed Gideon or my father did not cut off your fucking head!” She hissed.
For a brief moment Sejanus was astonished at her response. Remembering the timid young woman before, who was paralysed by fear. However, that memory bared little resemblance to the woman now shooting daggers at him, eyes flashing with anger.
Radec! This was his doing, Sejanus knew with absolute certainty. Taking his reward, his prize and twisting her against him. He ground his teeth together in frustration and, with his face flushed with anger, he took Sofia’s arm in a painful grip saying, “I promised you we would be reunited. I always take what is mine, no matter how long it takes. There is no Gideon or Radec to save you this time,” he cursed.
“I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you. When Jon hears about what you have done, he will come looking for me,” Sofia replied with absolute certainty.
Sejanus was confused for a moment before his expression cleared and he said with a knowing smirk. “I would not be so sure, Radec has already been and gone.”
“Gone where?” Sofia asked confused.
“The same place as your last guardian, Gideon. Radec is dead.”
Sofia went very still and was deeply shaken for a moment, before shaking her head. “No, I don’t believe you,” she insisted. “Jon wouldn’t dare die a second time and definitely not without telling me first.”
Sejanus only laughed. “Well you had better believe it. I’ll bring you his head, as a wedding present.”
“A wedding present?” Sofia replied scornfully. “You are crazy and delusional as I am not marrying—anybody else.”
“Oh you will,” Sejanus insisted with a grin. “You will beg me to after I show you what your other wedding present is.” With that he pulled Sofia to her feet, keeping a strong grip on her arm and propelled her out of the room.
As his escort guard fell into formation around them, Sejanus could barely hold back his triumph. For after almost a decade his ambitions were finally going to come to fruition, with the Princess, the last piece of the puzzle, finally slotting into place.
*****
Jon rounded the corridor and would have come face-to-face with Sejanus and his guards, were it not for him hearing them just a moment before. Quickly stepping back into the corridor he had just come from, Jon watched as, in a flash, they passed him by. However, it was not Sejanus or his guards who drew his attention, causing his breath to catch in his throat and his heart to miss a beat. It was the woman being pushed along in front of him.
Sofia.
Jon had not seen her in years, but it did not matter. Sofia consumed his every waking moment, his dreams were full of her scent, her touch and her smile. She was branded across his very soul. For a while he was overwhelmed by the need to rush after her and rescue her from the hands of that sick psychopath. Jon could feel his hands trembling with the strong desire to take her away from this place, to wrap her into his arms and protect her, forever. The fire flowing through his blood was like a living thing and Jon could feel the blade at his side become equally as heated, perhaps also feeling its master’s all-consuming fury.
Instead, Jon was forced to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths to compose himself and, after a while, he felt in control enough to be able to open his eyes and try to think things through rationally once again.
Sejanus had Sofia and more than likely he was going to take her to the Emperor, her father. Jon had dealt with people like Sejanus before. Shallow people that liked to gloat and flaunt their power over others. Hence Sofia was probably safe for the moment and, more importantly, soon to be reunited with her father. Therefore where Jon found one, he would probably find the other. As an added bonus, Sejanus would be with them and Jon had plans for him. He would pay for what he had done to Sofia and he would die by Jon’s hand.
However, Miranda was still out there somewhere. Probably still in Sejanus’s personal quarters and therefore in much trouble. Jon could clearly remember his promise to Miranda, that he would not let anything happen to her, no matter what.
Jon felt torn between his duty and his promise.
Between his love for Sofia and his vow to Miranda. Jon was racked by indecision should he go first to Sofia or Miranda. Left or Right?
Damn.
*****
The two guards stationed outside the main security centre tensed as they heard talking coming from further down the corridor. However, they both relaxed when they saw two of their own, who were easily recognisable by their corporate security uniforms, turning the corner. There was obviously no danger, as they both had their rifles slung casually over their shoulders and were joking and jostling with each other. One laughed at something the other said and gave him a light push in response.
As the two neared the entrance to the security room, one of them raised his hand in greeting to the two guards, before turning back to their conversation. As they were almost directly in front of the entrance, the other laughed out loud again at some private joke and gave his colleague another friendly shove. However, with the reduced width of the corridor caused by the two guards stationed at the entrance, the man stumbled slightly into one of the security guards. The guard unconsciously raised an arm to catch his colleague and that was the last thing he ever did.
The Marine caught his arm and, using his momentum, swung in closer. Before the guard could blink there was the brief flash of a knife, as the razor sharp edge cut across his throat. He was dead before he could utter a single word.
His colleague fared little better, because before he had a chance to realise what was happening, the other man darted in close and thrust an equally sharp knife into his chest. He was dead a few moments later.
Both men tensed for a minute, unsure if anybody had observed or heard what had just transpired. However, after a while, both relaxed when it became apparent their actions had gone unnoticed.
“You ready?” Jonas whispered to Jackson.
Jackson reached into his belt and withdrew the two spherical devices they had procured from the small armoury earlier, before giving Jonas a nod.
“Okay. On a count of three,” Jonas said.
“One,” Jonas said, reaching down and lifting up the palm of one of the dead guards.
“Two,” he said, laying the palm against the scanner positioned next to the door.
“Three,” he mouthed to Jackson as the door quietly slid open.
Jackson smoothly pulled the pins from the two grenades before rolling them through the now open door. Simultaneously Jonas hit the close button, reversing the direction of the door. Hurrying down the corridor both Marines were several meters away from the control room when it erupted into a flaming ball of smoke and debris. The two Marines could feel the force of the compression wave as it rushed down the corridor, overtaking their fleeing forms.
“Scratch one control room,” Jonas muttered.
*****
As Jon approached Sejanus’ personal quarters he could tell right away he was at the correct place as, forewarned by the young executive, it was the only door in this section with two guards stationed in front of it. He approached the entrance with long, easy strides that quickly ate up the distance, while at the same time making it appear he had every right to be there.
Jon did not recognise either of the guards stationed at the door. Obviously the ones he had met earlier, apart from the ones he had already killed, were now elsewhere. With surprised expressions on their faces, one was just about to open his mouth in exclamation, when Jon held up his hand to forestall him.
“Commander Radec to see Sejanus,” he blurted out, before they could demand his identity.
Not seeing any other guards escorting him, and doubtful he would just be walking around this section of the complex without permission, the first guard enquired, “Do you have an appointment?”
Jon gave them both a broad smile, flashing his teeth. “I most certainly do.”
“Well unfortunately he is not here at the moment, he got called off for important business,” the other guard replied, giving a knowing smirk at the other.
Meanwhile Jon could hear muffled noises from inside the room, as if a scuffle was taking place (he could well imagine what was actually taking place). Therefore giving both men a hard look he replied. “That’s no problem, I’ll show myself in then.”
He shot both guards before they had a chance to blink and was only slightly disappointed the energy pistol seemed to be set to stun only.
Marching forward he grabbed the wrist of the guard closest to the access panel and placed the palm of his hand firmly against it, causing the door to slide smoothly open. Releasing the sword at his waist, Jon stepped silently inside the room.
*****
“You bitch!” The bleeding guard cursed loudly, once again sending Miranda crashing to the floor, as the back of his hand struck her forcefully across the cheek. For the second time within the space of half an hour Miranda saw stars. Shaking her head, trying to clear her vision, she wondered what it was about men who slapped women around with the back of their hand.
Is there some school they all attend where they are trained to do just that? Miranda thought groggily.
Somehow she bet Jon and Paul had flunked that class, as she could not imagine either of them ever raising a hand to a woman. Come to think of it, the back of Jon’s hand was particularly soft as he ran it delicately down her body, causing her to tremble in pleasure. Shaking her head again to try to focus, she stared hatefully up at her attacker and was just trying to summon the energy to spit at him when a very strange expression came over his face.
Shock, surprise and disbelief. He looked down in horror at the blade that had suddenly erupted from the centre of his chest.
“Why don’t you see how you like it?” Jon hissed furiously from behind. “When somebody sticks something that doesn’t belong in them in you for a change.” The guard slowly toppled over, motionless. Pushing him off the blade, Jon hurriedly stepped closer to Miranda, hoping that he was not too late. Leaning forward he gently touched her red cheek with the back of his hand, relived when Miranda leaned into his delicate caress.
“You definitely flunked that class,” Miranda sighed aloud softly.
“Sorry?”
“Never mind, just a stray thought that crossed my mind for a moment back there.”
“Okay.”
“Jon?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for coming.”
“No problem,” he replied, offering her his hand to help her to stand and placing another under her arm when she stumbled.
Meanwhile a memory was stirring deep in Miranda’s consciousness, something she needed to tell Jon. Something important—The Princess.
“Jon,” Miranda gasped suddenly. “The Princess, Sofia. She is here in this complex. I heard Sejanus and that guard talking.”
Jon did not say anything in response for a moment, but Miranda could feel his body stiffen, as he helped support her weight and they stepped through the door. “I know,” he replied eventually. “I saw Sejanus with her. I guess he was taking her to see her father.”
Shocked that Jon knew, Miranda stumbled to a halt, looking up at him in surprise. “You knew?” She gasped. “And yet you still came here, to get me?”
Jon gave her a slight tug, indicating to continue walking. “I gave you my word I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he replied.
Miranda could not understand the sudden sense of warmth that spread through her body at his soft declaration.
*****
Heading down the corridor in the direction of the apartments assigned to them, in the hope of meeting Gunny and his team, Jon and Miranda were almost knocked over by the burly Marines, who were hurrying in the opposite direction. Fortunately, the Marines recognised the Commander in his white navy uniform, which stood out so starkly from the black of the Tyrell Corporation, that they didn’t open fire.
As the two groups converged, Gunny pushed to the front, eyes flickering quickly in Miranda’s direction before turning back to Jon questioningly.
Jon slowly shook his head, answering the unvoiced question. He was relieved to see the relief in the old Marine Sergeant’s eyes. While he was as tough as they came, Jon knew he had a soft spot for Miranda ever since she challenged him to an arm wrestling match on the flight deck soon after arriving on the station.
“We were just heading to secure the hangar bay Commander,” Gunny reported briefly. “Paul and the Sunfire should be arriving in the system at any minute, assuming they will be here.”
“They will be here,” Jon reassured him. “Take Miranda with you and prep a ship for our departure. I’ll go and rescue the family and meet you there.”
Gunny took one look at the injured Miranda and flinched. He did not react well with injured women. Fortunately Jason pushed to the front and took Miranda, saying in a quiet voice, “I’ll take care of her.”
Passing Jon a datapad, Jason explained, “I managed to download a plan of the complex onto this device, hopefully this will help you find Marcus. Did you manage to plant the tracking device on Sejanus?”
“Easily,” Jon replied with a smirk. “He was so busy gloating in satisfaction at beating me he never even noticed me slipping it into his pocket.”
“Very well. Then I have also calibrated this device to pick up the signal emitted by the tracker,” Jason concluded, continuing to support Miranda. Jason then whispered something softly to her that made her smile and place her head against his chest, wrapped firmly in his embrace.
Jon was secretly pleased, but did not let it show. It looked as if there was hope for the boy after all and he did not spend all his life with his head glued to his computer. “I’ll meet you in the hangar bay,” Jon exclaimed in farewell, referring to the datapad in his hand. He set off, following the moving dot on the display, which he knew to be Sejanus’ location.
As the Commander turned a corner, disappearing out of sight, Gunny mouthed to Jason, “Family?” Jason only shrugged his shoulders, not understanding the comment either.
At this movement, Miranda looked up and exclaimed, “Where is Jon?”
“He’s gone to get Marcus, he will meet us there,” Jason explained reassuringly.
“By himself?” Miranda exclaimed in disbelief.
“I wouldn’t worry about the Commander,” Gunny replied softly. “The last time that I saw that expression on his face was after he massacred a ship of slavers, when he found out they had raped a little girl. The only reason for sending somebody with him would be to try and restrain him–some hope of that. Let’s move it people. You heard the Commander, we have a ship to secure.”
*****
The explosion shook the complex so violently that were it not for Sejanus’ tight hold on Sofia’s arm, she would have gone sprawling on the floor. The entire group froze, but after a while it became apparent there weren’t going to be any further detonations, so Sejanus turned to the guards, snapping, “Find out what the hell that was.”
The guards turned to glance at Sofia doubtfully.
“I can handle one brash girl and an old man. Now find out what is going on and report back to me immediately.”
With a quick salute, the guards hurried off down a side corridor, in the direction of the sound of the explosion.
“Problems?” Sofia smiled, immediately picking up on the sudden tension in the group.
“Nothing for you to worry about,” Sejanus hissed back at her. Grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking on it sharply. “Now move. After all I promised you your first wedding present and we do not want to keep the old man waiting.”
Old man? Miranda wondered, unsure whom Sejanus was referring to. However, she was soon to find out as they came to another door.
Sejanus looked around surprised, as if he was expecting somebody else to be present, then shrugging his shoulders, pressed his hand against the doorplate. The door slid open and Sejanus pushed Sofia into the well-furnished apartment. Stumbling on the thick carpet, she fell to the floor on her hands and knees.
Looking up slowly, she noticed a pair of legs dangling in front of her. Following them with her eyes, she observed they were encased in pair of comfortable slacks, the owner perched on the edge of a wide sofa. Her eyes followed the body up along a broad torso, to an angular but pale face, before coming to rest on a pair of emerald green eyes, wide-open in astonishment.
His eyes are exactly the same shade of green as mine, Sofia thought in astonishment, before blinking, finally bringing into focus the face of the person whose eyes she was staring into.
“Father?” She asked timidly, as if afraid that if she voiced the thought out loud, the mirage would waver before her, then disappear and be gone forever.
“Sofia?” Her father replied stunned. “But what are you doing here?” However, whatever else he was going to say next was forgotten, as his daughter threw herself into his arms.
Suddenly it seemed to Sofia as if no time had passed at all and her father was holding her safely in his arms, just as he used to do when she was a child. She could not believe it and hugged him tighter, as if to reassure herself he was real, because for so long she had assumed him to be dead. She could still clearly remember the moment on the Eternal Light Harkov had so solemnly informed her of his death. At that moment her world had come crashing down around her, as ever since her mother died her father had been her bedrock, the cornerstone of her very existence. If Jon had not been there at her side, to catch her, both physically and figuratively… The thought of Jon brought further tears to her eyes. All she wanted to do was hold her father tightly and tell him all her fears and worries, just like she used to do as a child.
With a strong jerk of her hair Sejanus pulled her away from him. “Family reunions, aren’t they so touching?” Sejanus said sarcastically. “Kneel,” he ordered when once again Sofia moved towards her father. Angrily, he pulled her away again and when it became obvious she was not going to remain still, he unsheathed his sword, putting it inches in front of her neck. “Kneel!” He ordered again, pushing her to her knees a few feet away from her father. “That’s much better,” he chortled. “A dutiful daughter kneeling before her father.”
“Sofia,” her father said, finally finding his voice. “But what are you doing here? You should be safely on Eden Prime protected by the Commander. Where is he?” Marcus asked, confused.
“He left me!” Sofia cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He didn’t want me, all he wanted was an Imperial Princess, not me. Not Sofia. He found what he was looking for in the arms of another woman.”
Marcus could only stare at his daughter in shock, in disbelief, unable to believe what he was hearing. Surprise and shock all competing for his attention. Marcus wondered how he could have been so wrong. Not once, but twice. His eyes turned to Sejanus. After Sejanus he had been so careful, he couldn’t believe he had misjudged the Commander so badly.
He had been so sure.
The look of love on the Commander’s face as his eyes had lingered on Sophia, astonished life had been gracious enough to offer him such a priceless gift. For Marcus had immediately recognised that expression. It was the same way he had looked at his wife, during the short time they were together. Wondering what he did right in an earlier life to be so blessed in this one. Marcus was speechless, and several times he tried to open his mouth to say something, but the words would just not come out.
In the end it was Sejanus who recovered first and with an equally astonished look on his face, started to laugh. “Oh this is perfect, the great Praetorian Commander. The defender of the weak, poor, downtrodden and helpless. Abandoning his charge, his sworn duty to defend and protect and for what? Another woman. So much for your replacement Marcus. Anyhow as much as I would like to reminisce further, time waits for no-man and I have a destiny to fulfil. So this is what is going to happen next. As promised, Sofia is going to marry me immediately.”
“Never!” Marcus interrupted, his voice barely concealing the anger in it.
Sejanus however just whipped his sword around and held it hovering just a few inches from Marcus’ throat. “Take care with your words, old man,” he warned. “Otherwise you might not live to see your daughter much longer.”
“I’ll do it,” Sofia said in a quiet whisper. “Anything, but please, just don’t hurt him.”
“Observe your obedient daughter Marcus. You should take note of what she says. Now for the next step, once married you are to make a public announcement, endorsing our marriage and at the same time stating you will step down due to ill health and that all your power will transfer to me.”
Marcus just sneered. “Never! You have already tortured me before and I would not yield. Nothing you can do to me would make me submit.”
“I was hoping that you would say that,” Sejanus replied with sheer delight. “I promise you I will enjoy this far more than you,” he said. Turning once more to Sofia, he walked around her, running his hand through her hair and across her cheek until he stood directly behind her. “I’ve been dreaming about this for years, ever since Gideon interrupted our last little session. Once I am finished and, as I said to your precious Commander, I am not a selfish man, I’m happy to share her. In fact, I have promised your daughter to many of my employees and I will enjoy watching each of them taking their turn, as you watch them. I wonder how many it will take before you break, as I am so curious to find out.”
With that he brutally pulled off the blouse Sofia wore, leaving her naked from the waist up. Marcus shot out of his seat, as if electrocuted, moving towards his daughter.
“Sit!” Sejanus screamed, spittle flying everywhere. “Sit or I will slit her throat while you watch.” Marcus froze mid-stride, staring in complete disbelief at the scene in front of him.
“I’ll do whatever you say,” Marcus confessed, lowing his head in defeat. “Anything that you ask for I will gladly give to you, just please don’t hurt her.”
Sejanus only leaned his head back and roared with laughter. “Oh Marcus, how long I have yearned to hear those words. However, this is my prize and my reward. I will take my dear wife-to-be anyway I want her and right now I want her begging on her hands and knees before me with you watching. For I want you to finally understand how powerless you really are and I want you to feel it. Just how I felt when Gideon cast me out, taking everything from me that I was promised. Everything I deserved.”
Sofia finally looked up into her father’s frightened eyes and asked the question she needed to know, but had always been too frightened to ask. “What is he talking about father? What prize? What reward?” The question seemed to hang in the air, taking on a life of its own, sucking the air from all around it, until everything seemed to be consumed in the room.
Even Sejanus froze with shock. Finally looking Marcus in the eye in disbelief, he said, “You never told her?” He further uttered in delight, “She doesn’t know, does she?”
Marcus just averted his eyes, unable to look his beloved daughter in the eye, unable to let her see the truth of his deceit.
“Tell her,” Sejanus insisted. “I want her to know the truth before I take her and I want her to realise the full extent of your deception as it will make her pain so much sweeter. Tell her Marcus, from the lips of her own father, how you offered her to me. Tell her!” He screamed.
Marcus finally turned back to his daughter, the shame and self-loathing clearly visible in his expression. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, so quietly Sofia strained to hear the words. “I thought what I was doing was the best for you and I worried about your future. I wanted somebody to look after you and to protect you, after I was gone.”
“What did you do father?” Sofia pleaded, the fear and horror slowly creeping into her voice, as she guessed what he was going to say, but praying it was not so.
“I promised you to Sejanus, to become his wife, as he was to be my chosen successor.”
Sofia just dropped her head in despair. Unable to believe the words coming from her father, but in her heart knowing them to be true. “He tried to rape me,” she uttered. “He would have succeeded had Gideon not saved me and instead you offered me to him? To this monster,” Sofia screamed.
If Marcus could have been more surprised, it did not seem possible, for he fell back as if punched, his face a deathly shade of white, trembling. “I didn’t know,” he said, shaking. “Gideon never said anything. He just told me Sejanus was not suitable and he would be removed from the Praetorian Guard. I didn’t know…” he trailed off in despair.
“And what of this replacement that he,” Sofia practically spat the word, “refers to. You mean Jon don’t you? He was meant to be the replacement for Sejanus, for me.” Sofia’s eyes suddenly widened in understanding. All those years thinking Jon had betrayed her when instead this hadn’t been the case!
“Please don’t tell me that you made the same offer to him? Please by the Maker say it’s not so.” Sofia, still on her knees, begged her father. “That you offered me to him as some sort of consolation prize, a reward for becoming your successor. Please father, tell me you didn’t do this?”
For Sejanus was sick and twisted, having spent the past decade consumed by the promise of the future her father offered him, but not Jon. Jon, he would have viewed such an offer far differently, if she was offered to him as a reward, part of some sort of twisted prize from her father upon agreeing to become his chosen successor. No, Jon would have been horrified by such an offer and he would never have agreed to it. Never!
Suddenly Sofia’s mind flashed back to the scene in her apartment years before when Jon asked her if her father had ever asked about them being together. She remembered her off-the-cuff remark about her father having loved him as a son. He had known, or at least suspected. She realised she had not imagined the flash of despair in his eyes at her response, at the time thinking it a strange reaction, but now she finally knew. After all those years, the answer to the question of why Jon had betrayed her was because he never really had. Instead her father had betrayed him, betrayed them both, in the worst possible way.
Sofia just cried for the past that had been taken from her and the future, for the family that was so cruelly denied to her. Mostly she cried for Jon. Alone with a secret he could never share with her. For it would destroy all she had left of her father, her memory of him.
“You are nobody’s prize Sofia,” a voice rang out clearly across the room.
“Not a gift to be handed out. Not to him,” the owner of the voice spoke towards Sejanus, “and most certainly not to me. You are your own person, a beautiful, warm, loving, caring person and you deserve better than that.”
Sofia, Marcus and Sejanus all turned to stare, open-mouthed at the sound of the voice coming from the direction of the door to the apartment. So involved were the three of them, that none had heard the door quietly open moments before.
“Jon!” Sofia gasped, her heart leaping into her throat, not able to believe what her eyes were seeing.
At the sound of her voice, Jon turned to face her, his eyes softening. It had been so long since he had last seen her or heard her voice that he could feel himself being physically drawn towards her. Taking a step forward he cast his gaze carefully over her, inspecting every inch of her, as if needing reassurance that she was safe and unharmed.
Sofia could feel his gaze roaming over her, being almost a living thing. Stopping at each scratch, each discoloration, pausing, as if to reassure himself she was unhurt. She knew she should have been embarrassed at the state of her undress, but all she could feel was the heat of his gaze. Bathing in its warmth, it felt like the first time she had been warm in many, many years. For she knew now Jon was here everything would be fine. Sofia was amazed at how her feelings had turned from absolute despair to complete euphoria in such a short period of time. It had always been like that with him, as she always felt completely safe when he was around. Secure in the knowledge there was nothing he couldn’t handle and he would never, ever let anybody hurt her.
Once he appeared to have completed his inspection and satisfied himself that she was unharmed, he turned his gaze back to Sejanus. Any warmth or softness swiftly vanished from his eyes, leaving nothing but a cold grey darkness, the same colour as a winter’s storm, unforgiving, relentless and just as deadly.
“I warned you Sejanus,” he whispered in a quiet tone of voice, which seemed to carry easily across the room. “I warned you of the grave consequences of your actions. I gave you a chance and a choice, which was more than you offered the girl whose life you so delighted in taking. I gave you the chance to walk away, but you didn’t take it.”
From a great distance away a rumbling noise could be heard, as if a freight train was approaching. The noise grew constantly louder and the shaking got steadily worse.
However, Jon ignored everything else, never once taking his gaze off Sejanus. “I told you what would happen,” he said in an increasingly loud voice, to be heard above the deafening noise. “I told you that I would crack open the gates of hell, and unleash their forces upon you. I would take apart this complex and, if necessary, I would pull this planet apart, rock-by-rock.”
By this time the roaring had reached a crescendo, the building shaking so hard, reaching such an intensity the others were thrown to the floor, unable to remain on their feet. As if the hand of the Maker had reached down and picked up the building and was shaking it furiously, much like an irate child would shake a toy.
“But most of all,” Jon continued in a deadly tone of voice and by some miraculous ability, he was able to remain standing. “I told you that by following through with this course of action you would forfeit your life.” With those final words he reached for the sword at his side, releasing it from its sheath.
As if stilled by this very action, the sound suddenly ceased and the shaking stopped, leaving three frightened individuals on the floor staring up at the Commander. Obviously the shaking had damaged the building’s power supply as the main lights had long since extinguished, leaving only minimal illumination from the emergency lights, which cast long shadows in the gloom. With his white uniform and sword glistening with a pale blue light, Jon looked like an avenging angel sent from the heavens to distribute divine justice.
The sudden silence in the room was abruptly broken by a terrified voice announcing over the building’s emergency broadcast system. “Enemy ship detected in orbit, we’re under attack!”
The Sunfire had arrived, right on schedule.
Chapter Fourteen
The Sunfire, outskirts of the Sigma Draconis System
Captain Paul Harrington slowly made his way towards the bridge of the mighty warship, taking his time to talk to any of the crew he met on the way, answering questions, giving reassurances as and when necessary. He knew they had plenty of time, as they were not scheduled to depart for at least another half-an-hour.
Good Captains lead. Great Captains inspire.
Paul wondered momentarily where he had once read those words, dismissing the thought after a few moments as he needed to stay focused.
Upon hearing a whispered conversation down the corridor, Paul stopped suddenly and looked in that direction, only to find another empty corridor. It had been like that ever since he had stepped aboard this ship. Whispered conversations that seemed to drift through the air, but with nobody in sight. Cold breezes, blowing at random intervals, as if a chilled wind had suddenly picked up. Paul was not a superstitious man, he had seen too much in life. He had learned to trust what he could see and touch, but it was times like this he cursed David and Jon for broaching the subject in the first place. If he was completely honest, he would admit this ship frightened him a little, as it seemed to have a life of its own. A presence. Shaking such thoughts from his head he stepped into the lift that took him to the bridge.
Stepping out onto the bridge he acknowledged the salute of the crew, who had quickly reverted back to formal Imperial Navy etiquette. Every station was manned, every system checked and double-checked. The ship was as ready as she would ever be. Taking his seat in the Captain’s chair, Paul wondered if this was how it had been the last time the ship had gone into combat. Remembering the terrifying outcome of that engagement Paul considered for a moment if the ship was cursed. Yet during the short time he had been aboard he had come to appreciate the ship. The power that seemed to surge throughout it gave him a sense of confidence that together they would get through this in one piece.
“Systems check, people.” He called out to the crew. One-by-one, each of the bridge crew acknowledged all systems were green and, for the first time in many years, the ship was at full combat readiness. “Very well,” he acknowledged. “Start the countdown.”
Tapping the control in his armrest to activate the ship’s internal broadcast system he announced. “This is the Captain, we have started the countdown to jump to Tartarus. All crew should now report to assigned stations and prepare for extreme unpleasantness,” he announced with upturned lips. He would never admit it, but he had missed this. While overseeing Vanguard and the day-to-day operations on-board Terra Nova he had missed the rush of commanding such a ship, and a fine ship she was. Paul could not remember in all his years of service commanding such a beautiful one. “It’s time to go and bring them home,” Paul said, softly stroking the armrest of his chair. “To bring everybody home,” he added remembered the purpose of the mission. “Helm,” he called out. “Are the FTL engines powered up and ready?”
“Standing by.”
“Tactical?”
“All weapons armed and ready, Captain.”
As Paul watched the countdown reach zero he softly ordered, “Then let’s go.” The ship’s powerful faster-than-light engines came to life jumping the ship into the heart of the Sigma Draconis system, and to Tartarus.
*****
A few kilometres off the starboard side of the massive Titan defence station, Leviathan, a wormhole appeared. Initially so microscopic in size that it was invisible to the naked eye, but rapidly grew in size until, from the very heart of it, the Sunfire appeared, travelling at high velocity directly towards the station.
Like many systems throughout the Confederation, Sigma Draconis had been seeded with gravimetric distortion sensors. These incredibly sensitive satellites could detect the tiniest variation in the surrounding gravity field, any fluctuation of which could indicate the forming of an incoming wormhole and possibly a hostile ship. Their purpose was to give the defenders ample warning of any approaching ships. The sensors worked perfectly well, immediately informing the technicians monitoring them of an incoming wormhole. However, such wormholes were meant to form far out, in deep space, a vast distance away from Tartarus, as jumping close to the planet was inherently dangerous. The massive gravity field of the planet was dangerous to any forming wormholes and the ships that they transported.
Hence by the time that the sensors had detected the forming wormhole and technicians had time to investigate, it was far too late.
The Sunfire was already within range of the station.
*****
“Helm, position?” Paul called out, watching his own console as data started to flood his screen on the re-entry of the ship to normal space.
“Right on target, Captain,” came the prompt response.
“Ops?”
“All electronic warfare systems are now fully active. We are jamming all enemy communications and targeting systems.” Which meant they would not be able to call for reinforcements. Which was not to say that very soon everybody would know the Sunfire was there, but it would help spread confusion and panic between the three orbiting defence stations.
“Tactical?”
“Weapons are all ready, awaiting your command.”
“Very well, helm distance to the first station?”
“Five thousand meters and closing rapidly Captain.” Which in astronomical terms put them practically in each other’s laps.
“Very well, hard to port,” Paul ordered. “Let’s show them our starboard side.” Like most warships dating back to the first sailing vessels, the concentration of their firepower ran along the length of the ship. Only by turning side-on to the target could they deliver the bulk of their firepower.
“Hard to port, aye-aye Captain.”
“Tactical?”
“Captain?”
“The order is given. Fire.”
The tactical Officer did not need to be told twice.
*****
There had been significant discussion on Terra Nova between the senior staff about how the Sunfire should engage the stations. None of the crew felt particularly comfortable about participating in an unannounced, surprise attack. Hence there had been considerable discussion about offering them the opportunity to surrender or, at the very least, to remain neutral and allow the Sunfire to proceed untouched. However, after hours of fruitless discussion it was finally acknowledged those were not viable options. The crew only had one advantage and that was surprise. In every other category the balance of power was firmly with the defenders. Hence the plan finally agreed upon was simplistic in its planning and overwhelmingly destructive in its execution.
Consequently there would be no advanced warning. No announcement. No prior contact. The plan was simply to jump into the system as close to the first station as possible and disable it quickly, before moving onto the next two. The plan simply relied upon the element of surprise and the fact nobody would be crazy enough to actually attack them. It would give them no time to prepare, no time to regroup.
Hence, at almost point-blank range to the station, with the defenders caught completely unaware, the initial barrage was ferocious. The entire starboard length of the Sunfire momentarily vanished in blinding white light, as almost simultaneously every weapon on that side of the ship opened fire in one almighty barrage. Particle beams, missiles, rail guns, pulse cannons, everything was let loose within the space of a few milliseconds. The intervening space between the Sunfire and the Titan defence station was torn apart at the molecular level. It was as if the ship had physically reached out and taken a bite out of the station.
Armour, missile batteries, guns, sensors, equipment, bulkheads, corridors and compartments were vaporised in the ensuring storm of weapons’ fire. The storm did not abate, but instead the fearsome maelstrom simply grew in intensity and continued to tear apart everything in its path.
“Primary targets are all now destroyed, Captain,” the tactical Officer called out. “Now targeting secondary gun emplacements.”
“This looks like the entrance to a flight deck,” Paul observed, highlighting a particular section of the station that was just coming into view. “It’s possible these stations have their own complement of fighters and bombers. Take it out.”
A pair of heavy rail-guns on the prow of the ship orientated to lock onto the new target and, pausing for a moment, as if to take a breath, suddenly renewed their fire. The massive shells of super-dense alloy, possessing no explosive charge but travelling at almost two thousand meters per second, in a vacuum where there was no friction to slow them down, tore into the side of the station. They shredded the entrance to the docking bay and immediately neutralised the energy barrier maintaining the atmosphere on the flight deck. It was a miracle none of the rounds actually landed on the deck, as it was currently laden with volatile ships, ammunition and fuel stores.
While none of the rail-guns hit the flight deck, the same could not be said for the barrage of missiles that were only seconds behind. The flight deck was immediately vaporised as the missiles detonated and exploded ships, fuel and ammunition. The explosion was so massive that it tore a further chunk out of the station, exploding out of the docking bay like an erupting volcano.
Meanwhile, aboard the Sunfire, the ship started to shudder as the station’s few remaining weapon systems finally started to power up and open fire on the warship that had just practically annihilated the massive space station.
“We are starting to take fire,” The Officer from operations called out. “Looks like small to medium calibre rail-gun and pulse cannon fire. Looks like we missed a couple of their gun emplacements on the first pass.”
“Find them and pass a targeting solution to tactical,” Paul ordered briskly, before turning back to the helm Officer. “Rotate the ship along the length of our axis,” he ordered. “Let’s make it harder for them to target us.”
Slowly, like a corkscrew, the Sunfire started to rotate along its length and one-by-one the starboard gun batteries fell silent, their ammunition magazines mostly spent anyway. However, just as the starboard guns stopped firing, the port weapons now orientated towards the station resumed the hellfire all over again. This time targeting the station’s few remaining guns that had not already been destroyed.
“All secondary targets destroyed Captain,” the weapons Officer reported.
“Good job,” Paul replied, before turning back to the operations Officer. “Are you detecting any further emissions?”
“No Captain, she looks dead in space. I am not detecting any targeting scanners, or communications from the station.”
“Very well,” Paul replied. “Helm, lay in a course for the next station, flank speed. One down, two more to go.” He called out, as the ship’s bow swung around to face the next station that was just becoming visible rising above the horizon.
The Sunfire moved to intercept, leaving nothing but a lifeless empty shell of a station behind.
*****
“Helm,” Paul inquired. “How long until we intercept the next station?”
“If we continue on this heading, at this velocity, a little under twenty minutes Captain.”
“Very well then, let’s put the time to good use. Tactical, load the orbital bombardment rounds. I think that it’s time we wake up everybody down there.”
Part of the treasure trove of intelligence from the old Imperial Navy scans of Tartarus identified several above ground facilities surrounding the main corporate complex. While lacking detailed intelligence on these structures, the navy analysts had tentatively identified several of them as ground-based weapons emplacements. While none of them posed a direct threat to the Sunfire, they would be extremely problematic when Jon and his team had to extract themselves from the planet via shuttle. Hence it had been decided during the planning stage that the Sunfire would neutralise these structures upon arrival. As these emplacements were fixed they were ideal targets for the highly specialised space-to-ground ammunition aboard the Sunfire. Similar to the larger rail-gun rounds these were made of a dense alloy to protect them during re-entry, but were specially shaped to allow them to fly better through a planet’s atmosphere. Travelling at many times the speed of sound, by the time they reached the planet’s surface they would be lethal to any fixed targets.
“Orbital bombardments rounds loaded and ready, Captain,” the tactical Officer confirmed.
“Pass me the targeting data for my review.”
“Done.”
Paul brought up the targeting data on his console and quickly reviewed it. The bombardment rounds were accurate to within a dozen meters, highly accurate considering that the ship was currently in a high level orbit, approximately four thousand kilometres away. Paul quickly approved the targeting plan, ensuring there was nothing targeted within one hundred meters of the main complex. As an added bonus he prioritised the targets furthest away first, the barrage should result in a shockwave that would certainly shake up everybody on the planet. Hopefully it would buy Jon and his team some additional time, with all the residents in a state of near-panic.
“Approved. Fire at will,” Paul ordered.
On the starboard side of the Sunfire, the armour plating and hull started to slowly retract, as if it were a flower slowly opening its petals for the first time. However, this was no thing of beauty, as once the section of hull was fully retracted the massive orbital bombardment guns slid out into their fully deployed firing position, before angling themselves to target the Tyrell Corporation complex just becoming visible on the far horizon of the planet. Once the ship’s firing computer had confirmed the trajectory, the massive guns commenced their firing sequence, launching their deadly payload towards the planet below, first one, then another until in total the ship had released all thirty shells. After they had ceased firing, the massive guns began to retract back inside the ship and the hull closed around them.
Meanwhile the bombardment rounds started to fall into the planet’s thick atmosphere, quickly heating up to more than one-thousand, six-hundred degrees Celsius. From a distance they looked like a group of shooting stars, but these did not bring luck, only death and destruction, which was quickly realised when several minutes later they impacted on their intended targets. With the huge amount of kinetic energy they had accumulated falling through the thick atmosphere, they hit with the force of several hundred tonnes of TNT. Within the blink of an eye these external structures were obliterated, one-by-one.
Once the dust had settled, only one structure still remained standing, the bombardment round having fallen short by several yards. As this structure held the facilities fusion reactor it was indeed fortunate that this round had missed—as otherwise everybody’s day would have been ruined.
*****
Satisfied with the results of the orbital bombardment, Paul turned back to the helm and was just about to inquire as to the remaining distance to the second station when the operations Officer called out.
“Missiles. I am detecting multiple missile launches from the Titan station directly ahead.”
Paul shrugged. It was not as if they could expect to enjoy the element of surprise a second time. By now Paul realised everybody in the vicinity of the planet, if not the entire system, must realise they were there.
“Do we have a lock on that missile battery?” Paul inquired.
“Yes Captain.”
“Tactical, are we within range for the particle cannons?”
“Sixty more seconds Captain, but the forward missile battery is now within range.”
Paul shook his head. “No point wasting them. That monstrosity ahead has twice the number of point defence guns we have. No way would any of our missiles get through, so we will save them for when we can make them count. Operations anything you can do about those missiles?”
“We are jamming their targeting scanners,” the Officer replied.
Already Paul could see a number of the missiles starting to veer off course, but not all of them. “What is the status of our point defence guns?”
“Locked and loaded.”
“Very well, if that is the case, then pass automatic fire control of the guns to the ship’s computer. Weapons free,” Paul insisted, not particularly worried about the approaching missiles, as the ship was more than capable of defending itself against them. The bigger threat was going to come from the station’s heavy guns, as they had no defence against those.
“Firing now,” the Tactical Officer called, as the smaller point defence guns spun up to speed, targeting the incoming missiles. These guns were fully under the control of the ship’s computer, because with the combined velocity of the approaching missiles and the Sunfire no human controller could ever hope to complete the necessary targeting calculations in time. However the ship’s computer took milliseconds to calculate approach velocity, pitch and yaw and, with a sudden start, first one, then another, then all the guns on the ship’s prow opened fire. Within the space of a couple of seconds the approaching missiles were torn apart.
“Missiles neutralised Captain.”
“Very well, are we now within range of the particle cannons?”
“Yes Captain, just about.”
“Then target that missile battery and eliminate it before it has a chance to reload. We don’t have unlimited ammunition for those guns and we will need to make every last shot count before this is over.”
One of the two particle beam cannons located on the front of the ship turned to face the Titan station still several kilometres away. It was a massive directed-energy beam weapon that used a highly concentrated beam of subatomic particles with negligible mass. It accelerated these charged photons to near-light speed, targeting the distant missile battery. As they travelled at such speed it took only a fraction of a second for the beam to cover the distance. The weapon delivered the particles onto the surface of the missile battery, conveying tremendous kinetic energy in the process, inducing near instantaneous and catastrophic overheating.
The missile battery, already in the process of automatically reloading, had a number of highly volatile missiles aboard and these immediately detonated. The explosion caused a cartwheeling effect of subsequent explosions, igniting the store of missiles still waiting to be loaded. The explosion was clearly visible from the Sunfire, still several kilometres away.
“Scratch one missile battery,” Paul commented out loud. However, in the next instant the ship pitched hard to port as the lights and consoles flickered momentarily. “Damage report!” Paul demanded.
“We’ve lost one of the particle cannons on the bow. Looks like we took a lucky hit from one of the station’s heavy rail guns just coming into range,” the Operations Officer groaned.
“I’m not sure if I would call it lucky,” Paul responded with a frown. Heading towards the second station, with the bow of the ship pointed directly at it, the Sunfire was at her most vulnerable. That was the reason for the particle cannons to be situated on the bow. It was the ship’s most powerful weapon and capable of firing in all directions, except for aft, but that area was covered by the ship’s rear guns and missile batteries. With one of their particle cannons destroyed, they had lost almost fifty per cent of their forward offensive capability and they were still a significant distance from the second station. “Use the remaining particle cannon to target and destroy those guns,” Paul ordered.
“There sure are a lot of them for one cannon,” the Tactical Officer replied dubiously.
“Then the sooner you start, the sooner you will get them all,” Paul snapped back.
*****
“Direct hit,” the Weapons Officer called, seated in the command centre of the orbiting defence station. “Looks like we took out one of their particle cannons.”
Commander Hackett winced as once again the station shook violently, this time unable to avoid spilling his tea onto his uniform trousers. “Blast it, man,” he called out in pain, quickly trying to dab the hot tea away with a tissue before it stained his pants. “Then hurry up and take out the other one!”
The first indication there was a problem was when the gravimetric sensors reported a wormhole forming. After that everything seemed to go to hell. Almost immediately they had lost all external communications and their targeting scanners effectiveness had been reduced by over fifty per cent, for the enemy warship seemed to be broadcasting an extremely powerful electromagnetic jamming signal that was interfering with everything. Hackett had no idea of the status of the other two stations but based on the explosions clearly visible twenty minutes earlier, he assumed at least one of them had already been destroyed, or at least very badly damaged.
Hackett had been momentarily stunned, wondering what could possibly have caused such immense damage. A Titan defence station was supposed to be all but impregnable, and easily capable of holding off a small fleet. Three of them combined should have been sufficient to destroy a Confederation Navy taskforce. Yet, his station had already lost its primary missile battery. Even seated in the very heart of the station the Commander had flinched at the fury of that explosion. Aside from one lucky shot that had destroyed the enemy ship’s particle cannon, so far they had inflicted little damage on the enemy warship. And the enemy ship’s remaining particle cannon was picking off their heavy guns, one-by-one.
“By the Maker,” Hackett shouted angrily, “It’s only one ship, man. What are you playing at? Why can’t you hit it?” And it was true, except for their early success an inordinate percentage of their shots were continually missing the target.
“We cannot help it,” the Weapons Officer replied helplessly. “That ship seems to have some sort of active camouflage system that is confusing our targeting scanners. The scanners are insisting there are multiple contacts. It’s as if there are a dozen ghost ships out there! The targeting computer doesn’t know what to aim at.”
Hackett could only slam his fist down in frustration. Suddenly a thought occurred to him.
*****
Meanwhile the Sunfire was also faring badly. While they fortunately had not lost the second particle cannon, the Tactical Officers comment regarding multiple targets unfortunately was very true. More and more guns on the station were opening fire, as the ship got ever closer. They had already lost multiple point defence guns on the bow, in addition to the armour taking a battering. It was only going to be a matter of time before another unlucky strike did critical damage to the bow of the ship.
“Breaching pods!” The Operations Officer called out. “The station has just launched breaching pods.”
“The Commander of that station is certainty confident, perhaps a little overconfident,” Paul mused aloud. “Destroy—” he started to order before stopping, brow furrowed in thought.
“Wait, are any of those breaching pods targeting the bridge or engineering?”
The operations Officer checked his scanners before replying, “No Captain, most of them are heading towards amidships.”
“I wonder…” Paul trailed off, before coming to a decision. “Hold fire.”
“What! Why?” Both the Operations and Tactical Officers called back, in stunned disbelief.
“Let the breaching pods through and prepare to shut down the ship’s main computer.”
At this announcement both Officers looked at the Captain in amazement. The main computer controlled everything on the ship, from the lights and environmental controls, through to the weapons and engines. Neither of them had ever heard of a ship’s main computer being shut down in flight, let alone in combat. This was usually only done when the ship was docked and undergoing maintenance.
“Do it,” Paul insisted urgently. “We need to buy ourselves some time.” Paul tapped into the ship’s internal communication system. “David, get yourself and your men ready, we are about to have uninvited guests. Prepare to repel boarders.”
“Acknowledge Captain. We will be standing by,” David replied, before closing the communications channel.
“Breaching pods have now docked with the Sunfire and are starting to cut through the outer hull,” the operations Officer reported, unable to believe what they were allowing to happen. For the breaching pods were equipped with powerful plasma torches, which could cut through even the thickly armoured hull of a warship, and disembark the numerous troops that were on-board.
“Get ready to shut down the main computer,” Paul ordered, holding his hand up high in readiness. Counting to sixty in his head, Paul let his hand drop. “Now.”
Closing his eyes in prayer the Operations Officer entered the necessary codes to shut down the main computer. For a moment nothing seemed to happen, then one-by-one the various consoles on the bridge started to go dark, followed moments later by the lights. The ship suddenly felt very quiet as the life-support systems also fell still. “Main computer shutdown complete,” he whispered.
Paul cocked his head to one-side as if he was listening intently for something. After a few moments he announced with a smile to the astonished bridge-crew. “The station has stopped firing.”
*****
Lance Corporal Warren snapped his pulse rifle up as he stepped onto the enemy vessel, quickly scanning left, and then right but he couldn’t see anybody else. Growling in frustration he activated his communications gear to find out if any more of his squad had made it alive. He snapped the channel closed when all he could hear was static, as the damn ship was still jamming all communications.
Warren promised himself that if he ever made it back to the station alive, he was going to shoot Hackett. Who had come up with the dumb idea of just sticking one marine in each breaching pod, then firing them off towards a fully functioning enemy warship? It was suicide.
Hearing whispered voices behind him, he snapped around, bringing his rifle to bear on—an empty corridor. “Just great. Now I am hearing things too. Could this day get any worse?” he asked rhetorically. It seemed fate was listening to him, as at that moment all the lights on the ship suddenly went out. “Fantastic,” he sighed despairingly, switching on the small flashlight attached to the barrel of his pulse rifle.
More voices behind him caused him to quickly spin around once again, raising his weapon, to an empty and now dark corridor. “Okay, this is starting to really creep me out,” he muttered, deciding to see where the corridor led.
The corridor seemed to go on forever, he was surrounded by the dark, with nothing but his ragged breathing and the occasional whispered voice to keep him company. By the time Warren came to the first door he was so desperate to get out of the corridor he just palmed it open, and slipped inside.
“Damn it’s cold in here,” he cursed, his breath clearly visible in front of him, illuminated by the little light from the torch on his rifle. However, if he had hoped that by stepping out of the corridor the voices would disappear he was sadly mistaken. Instead they seemed to grow in volume and intensity. Warren was not sure if it was his imagination but they now seemed to have an angry hiss to them. Snapping his rifle left, and then right, he still could not see anything, but the voices kept coming closer. Close to panic, he took a step forward, tripped over something and went sprawling to the floor. Fortunately the safety was still engaged on his rifle, otherwise he would probably have blown his own head off.
Having dropped the rifle, damaging the torch, he groped around the floor trying to find both. Instead his hand touched something else, which was cold and clammy. Jerking his hand away, he finally found the rifle and, hitting the light, had it flickering back to life. Pointing the light down towards his feet, Warren had to bite back a cry of terror at seeing a naked arm, reaching out as if to grasp him. Stumbling back, Warren pointed the torch back along the arm, until it reached the pale, white torso of a naked cadaver. The body was partially zipped up in a body bag, and Warren would swear on his life it looked as if the corpse had been trying to climb out of the bag.
He shone the light around the room, his hands trembling badly. The room was full of bodies. Dozens of them, hundreds of them. The crew were all dead! He stumbled back the way he had come and out into the corridor, mindless with terror. Once he was out of the room, he slammed the door shut, leaning back against it, trying to catch his breath. Cold sweat dripped down his face and his heart was hammering, as if it were trying to escape the confines of his chest.
The next thing he felt was a slight tremor in the door he was leaning against. For a horrifying instant he thought it was somebody banging on the other side of the door—from the inside. However, after a brief fright he realised the sound was not coming from the door, but all around him. Eventually the noise changed pitch to a heavy clanking sound that was slowly growing in volume. Whatever it was, it was coming this way. Snapping up his rifle in the direction of the approaching sound, he tried to make out whatever was causing the noise. However, it was futile, as the light on his rifle barely covered more than a meter or so in front of him. The gloom inside the ship was impenetrable.
As the clanking grew louder, Warren could finally make out a dark shape lumbering down the corridor. It was huge, like some darkly armoured beetle with multiple appendages, and must have been over eight feet tall. The ship had been overrun by some sort of insectoid alien species! No wonder it had not communicated with the station, only attacked. The occupants of the ship were not human! As if the alien had spotted him it lumbered to a halt, it’s glowing red eyes feasting on him hungrily.
“If you would be so good as to lower your weapon, old boy. Face the wall, place your hands on top of your head and spread your legs.”
Why was the alien insectoid speaking in a curt British accent?
Finally everything suddenly became clear, and he realised that it was no alien, but a person in some sort of powered armoured suit. So, instead of following the instructions, he lowered his pulse rifle, aimed at the chest plate and fired. A green bolt of energy shot out, hitting the armour squarely on the chest plate. The bolt fizzled slightly before disappearing. Warren could only gape in disbelief.
“Okay, now it’s my turn. Where is that damn button again, Gunny said it was—oh, here it is,” the curt British voice said.
The next thing Warren knew he was facing down the barrel of the largest rifle he had ever seen. It was not so much a gun as a cannon. Realising what was about to happen he dived to the floor as, with a deafening roar, a blast of heavy shells flew just over his head. The sound was so deafening he dropped his rifle and covered his ears with his hands. Then he was effortlessly picked up off the ground by one arm, the same way a parent might pick up an unruly child.
“You,” the voice continued on, “Are under arrest for trespassing on a ship without permission. You do not have to say anything, but anything that you do say—” The voice droned on conversationally as it carried him away. Warren struggled but to no avail, as the suit had him in a vice-like grip.
*****
“The enemy ship seems to be disabled, and is now adrift.” The Officer reported to Commander Hacket.
“Well, that was easy,” he congratulated his crew. “What do you know, those mercenaries were actually good for something.”
“Shall we cease fire?” The weapons Officer inquired.
“Of course. Of course,” Hackett replied. “After all we do not want to cause any further damage to the ship we have just captured. I am sure Mr Sejanus will be giving us all a nice bonus for this,” he added, wondering how he would spend the money. “Have you been able to contact any of the boarding parties?”
“No Commander, the interference is still affecting communications.”
“Oh well, never mind. Open the docking bay and launch a few shuttles to help secure that ship. We don’t know how many people are on-board after all. It’s possible the mercenaries I dispatched might need some help to subdue the crew.”
“Yes Commander.”
*****
“The station’s guns have stopped,” the Tactical Officer exclaimed, surprised.
“Of course,” Paul replied with far more confidence than he actually felt. “After all, they are not going to shoot at a ship they think they have just captured.”
“So what are we going to do now? We cannot wait here forever.”
“Helm, are we still drifting towards the station?”
“Affirmative Captain, we are still on the heading and travelling at the velocity we were before we shut down the computer. Based on the last navigation data, I estimate we have another three minutes before we pass the station at its closest point.”
“Very well,” Paul said, jumping to his feet and moving towards the tactical station. “This is what we are going to do. Load one of the Mk VI’s into the forward missile battery. As we pass by, at the nearest, point we will launch it.”
“At that range the explosion will do as much damage to us as to the station—possibly more, as we are not as heavily armoured.”
“I didn’t say we will launch it at the station, we will take a page out of Jon’s book. We will launch it into the station,” Paul whirled around pointing at the external hangar bay door to the station, which was slowly creeping open.
“You cannot be serious,” the Tactical Officer said, shocked. “That hangar bay must be barely twenty meters across, no way are we going to hit it first time.”
“I have complete confidence in you,” Paul replied cheerfully, patting the young Officer on the shoulder. “Oh, by the way, you will need to take the shot manually, as we cannot afford to risk alerting the station by bringing the main computer back on-line. However, look on the bright side,” Paul beamed. “If you miss, none of us are going to live long enough to blame you.”
The Tactical Officer went completely white and gave Paul a sickly smile before angrily snatching a datapad from another Officer and quickly entering heading and velocity readings, to calculate the angle of the shot.
Meanwhile Paul resumed his seat, continuing to watch the station creep ever closer.
*****
“Captain, McNeill here. We have just rounded up the last of the stragglers on the ship. What do you want done with them?”
“Good job David. Stick them in an escape pod and when we start our next manoeuvre launch them.”
“Very well Captain. McNeill out.”
“Helm how much longer?” Paul inquired.
“Thirty more seconds until we reach the closest point.”
“Tactical?”
“I’m working on it, sir.” Came back the waspish response.
“Very well, you know—no pressure,” Paul joked.
“Ten seconds,” Helm called out. “Nine, eight, seven, six—”
“Okay, I’ve got it, firing solution manually locked in. The Mk VI is now armed,” the Tactical Officer suddenly said in a rush.
“I have complete faith in you, honestly,” Paul laughed. “Okay, on my command bring the main computer back on-line, full thrust, hard to port. Is everybody ready?”
The bridge crew all acknowledged as the helm Officer continued the countdown. “Four, three, two, one.”
“Mark,” Paul insisted loudly, as the consoles on the bridge flickered back to life at the same time as the lights came on. Paul could feel himself being pushed back into his seat as the internal dampeners struggled to compensate for the sudden violent manoeuvre.
“Missile away!” Shouted the Tactical Officer over the scream of stressed bulkheads, as the large warship powered itself away from the station.
“Shit. It’s going to miss,” the Tactical Officer cursed helplessly.
Paul quickly glanced back at the view screen, watching the missile fly straight and true, but just a little high. It was indeed going to miss the docking bay, overshooting by a couple of meters. Paul just closed his eyes cursing. Remembering his family back on Terra Nova, wishing he had one last chance to say goodbye to them—
With a shout of glee from the bridge crew, Paul snapped his eyes open, once again gluing them to the view-screen, wondering what had excited the crew, as the missile was still going to miss. Then he saw it. Something was departing from the station, a shuttle. Paul watched open-mouthed with astonishment as the missile and the shuttle collided. The missile, failing to detonate, scraped the underside of the shuttle, knocking it off course. However, Newton’s third law of motion, ‘for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction’, came into play. For while the shuttle was knocked off course, the missile was knocked back on course, disappearing from view into the docking bay. Slapping the ship-wide intercom Paul ordered the crew, “Brace for impact.”
*****
Hackett could only stare in astonishment as, with lips glued to his teacup, he tracked the missile on the view-screen with his eyes. Only moments before the enemy ship had been dark, adrift in space, dead. Then, as if with a dying breath, the sole missile had ignited from the bow of the ship. In the darkness of space the missile was soon lost, but the glow from the rocket engine was clearly visible, like a flare, as it arced away from the ship, into the dark night.
For a brief moment Hackett thought it was going to miss, as the rocket seemed to head off in a perpendicular direction to the station. However, as if reaching the zenith of its flight, the rocket suddenly angled back down, diving straight at the station.
A small part of Hackett’s mind idly wondered why was there only one rocket. After all, how could that threaten his mighty defence station? But as the rocket accelerated closer, a primordial part of his subconscious started to scream at him to do something. To do anything, before it was too late. However, by then it was already too late.
The teacup fell from his numb hands, spilling liquid across his pants, from where it dripped onto the floor. However, Hackett failed to notice. His gaze was totally consumed by the missile as it came closer and closer. Finally disappearing from the view screen altogether.
From inside the station came a sound Hackett had never heard before, partway between a sigh and a groan, the sounds of stressed metal and bulkheads.
Hackett’s very last thought was to wonder if the missile had detonated or not. When suddenly everything around him disappeared into a ball of white light.
Chapter Fifteen
Planet Tartarus, Sigma Draconis System
Of the three of them lying on the floor, it was Sejanus who was the first to recover once the building stopped shaking. Realising he had to move swiftly, as he only had moments to live, he rolled across the floor. Grasping Sofia by her arm and pulled her to her feet in front of him. Keeping a firm hold on her by looping his arm around her throat, he backed away from Radec, who still had his sword in hand. Sejanus drew his own sword with his remaining free hand.
“Not so fast Commander, unless you want your precious Princess with her throat slit open,” he sneered, waving the point of his sword threateningly at her.
Jon just eyed the scene in front of him steadily, making no move forward, but similarly offering no avenue for escape.
“Your sword, drop it,” Sejanus barked.
Pausing for an instant, considering the situation, Jon slowly placed his sword on the ground at his feet, before once again standing to his full height.
“Now kick it away from you.”
Jon gave the sword a gentle kick with his toe, sending it spinning away. It came to rest underneath the sofa Marcus had fallen back onto.
“So, who is in charge now Commander?” Sejanus laughed, tightening his hold on Sofia. Leaning forward he nuzzled the side of her neck at the junction with her shoulder, all the while keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the Commander. “I am puzzled though, why are you with the delectable Captain Sun instead of the Princess? You never answered my question of who was the better in bed?”
Sofia looked at Jon in shock and wondered if she had misinterpreted Jon and Miranda’s relationship. For when she had last spoken to Miranda weeks before, the younger woman had assured her their relationship had never been like that. Had something changed recently?
However, instead of appearing angered or embarrassed by Sejanus’ words, Jon simply looked unimpressed. “My thoughts and feelings for Miranda, or Sofia for that matter, are none of your business. Now that you have her, what are you going to do with her?”
“I want to see you dead and buried, with the Princess here crying out my name. And him,” Sejanus pointed to Marcus, who was observing the proceedings with a dazed and worried expression, “To pronounce me the next Emperor of the Imperium.”
“Okay,” Jon replied, rolling his eyes. “Time for you to take a reality check and come back from whatever twisted fantasy land you are currently inhabiting. I’m planning on remaining very much alive and Marcus is not going to be declaring anybody the next Emperor and, as for Sofia,” Jon smirked. “Well, I can speak from personal experience it was not you she was crying out for.”
Sofia meanwhile just closed her eyes in embarrassment, wishing the earth would open up and swallow her. She could not believe the two men were having this conversation, in front of her and her father.
Sejanus just went red in the face with fury at Jon’s nonchalant words, and hissed, “Get out of my way. I am leaving now, with the Princess.”
Jon just crossed his arms with a bemused expression, but did not step out of the way. “And where are you planning on going? My marines now control this facility. The warship currently in orbit above us belongs to me. So I ask again where are you planning on going?” He asked, taking another step closer to the pair.
Sejanus meanwhile was trembling in fury as all of his plans and dreams turned to ashes. Destroyed first by Gideon and now by his replacement, who stood here in front of him. “I’ll kill her, you watch. I’ll never let you have her.”
“No you won’t,” Jon replied venomously, taking yet another step closer. A curiously intent expression was on his face.
“Commander,” Marcus suddenly intervened, as he realised Sejanus was deadly serious and now had nothing to lose. “Let them go.”
However, Jon ignored him. Taking yet another step closer, until he was little more than a few steps away from the pair, he watched carefully, as if waiting for something.
As Sofia stared into Jon’s confident eyes, wondering what he was doing, she realised Jon was not looking at Sejanus—but at her. Suddenly she knew Jon had no intention of rescuing her. Instead he was distracting Sejanus, forcing him to concentrate on Jon, so he was ignoring her. As realisation came into her eyes, Jon nodded subtly at her.
“You’re a failure Sejanus,” Jon swore at him; continuing to distract and enrage him. “Gideon saw it, Marcus saw it and even I can see it. That’s why you were stripped of being a Praetorian. The Praetorian Guard does not accept failures.”
Sofia could feel the rage building up in Sejanus, the bunching of his muscles and the way he tightened the grip on his sword. He was totally focused on Jon, to the exclusion of all else and, for just an instant, he relaxed his hold on her.
Sofia’s mind instantly shot back to years before, when she stood in the middle of a garden behind a house Jon had once purchased for his family. Her back was pressed firmly against Jon’s chest, his arm tight around her throat, a knife hovering inches from it. At the time Sofia had only been aware of his warm breath on her neck and the tightening in the pit of her stomach from his closeness. However, she let none of that distract her as she stamped down hard on his foot and, at the same time, drove an elbow into his stomach. She could feel the air rush out of him and for a moment felt some sympathy for him. Meanwhile she raised her forearm to block any attempt to slash her throat with the knife, pivoting around with all the grace of a Prima ballerina, ducking under his arm, twisting out of his grasp.
Right into Jon’s waiting arms as he caught her.
Using the momentum of her movement, he turned with her. Sofia now firmly in his hold, he placed his body between her and Sejanus. As he swore he would do so many years before, protecting her, with his own life if necessary.
With a quick glance to ensure she was unhurt, he firmly kept her behind him, turning back to face Sejanus, who had an astonished expression on his face.
“She is no longer the frightened little girl you attacked so long ago,” Jon replied, noticing his look.
“What have you done to her?”
“Me? I haven’t done anything,” Jon replied. “She has always had this courage within her, it was just buried deeply under layers of her father’s overprotective tutors and your terrorising attack. I just helped her find it. She has taken every step forward herself, she doesn’t need anybody to hold her hand any more. How like Harkov you are, always too quick to dismiss and underestimate those around you. Take care Sejanus, for one day they will surprise you.”
Sejanus just growled in frustration, raising his sword high. “Then it’s time that I surprise you. Time I do away with my replacement, so as to step out of your shadow, into the light, and reclaim what is rightfully mine.”
“She will never be yours,” Jon replied, taking a step forward to put more space between him and Sofia, heedless of the deadly sword now hovering just in front of him.
“Commander,” Marcus called out. “I think you dropped this? Here, catch.”
Surprised, as Jon had completely forgotten Marcus was still there, so intent was he on getting Sofia away from Sejanus. Turning in surprise, he saw the object being tossed to him and effortlessly caught it. The little light from the room reflected off the blade of the Valerian sword he now held tightly in his grasp. With a small nod of his head in thanks, Jon turned back to face Sejanus. Taking another step forward to place himself between Sejanus, Sofia and Marcus. Carrying out his duty. A loyal Praetorian placing himself between his charges and any threat they faced.
Sejanus meanwhile had lost a lot of his former self-confidence, as instead of facing an unarmed man, he now faced Jon, the Praetorian Commander, sword in hand, with a merciless expression on his face.
“Sofia,” Jon snapped. “Take your father and head towards the hangar bay. Gunny and Miranda are already there waiting for you. Here take this.” Reaching behind him he withdrew the pulse pistol he had placed in the small of his back earlier.
“What about you?” She asked worriedly as she took the pistol. Her eyes alternating between him and Sejanus.
“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine and I will be along shortly. First I need to finish what Gideon started. I owe him that much.”
The mention of Gideon’s name brought her up short. Remembering his final words to her as he held her protectively in her bedchambers after Sejanus had finally departed.
“Then there will be someone else. Someone younger than me, faster than me. Somebody who will protect you even better than I.”
Staring at the scene in front of her, with Gideon’s words ringing through her head, Sofia finally came to understand them. She had been waiting years for Jon to tell her he loved her, but the words were not necessary. His actions spoke far louder than words and she finally realised what Gideon had been trying to tell her, “Somebody who will love you even more than I.”
Turning to face her father, whilst tightening her grip on the pistol Jon had given her she said, “Father, let’s go.” However, there was one final thing she needed to do first. Turning to stare momentarily at Sejanus, she then moved towards Jon’s side. Kissing him softly on the cheek. “We will wait for you. You and I have a lot to discuss.”
Then they were gone.
Jon meanwhile could feel Sofia’s soft kiss lingering on his cheek and smiled to himself. She had not told him to leave, or even be careful. Instead she had demonstrated her confidence in him and a promise for the future. A future that suddenly seemed a lot brighter.
However, first he had an unfulfilled promise to keep. Raising his sword Jon took a confident step towards Sejanus, for the last time.
*****
Gunny and the remaining Marines had made good time in progressing towards the hangar bay. This was mostly due to having come across only a few guards—with only one exception. Having rounded one corridor they came face-to-face with a small group of mercenaries. However, that battle had been short and bloody and a very much a one sided affair. As while the guards had frozen in shock momentarily, the marines had not even hesitated.
Three of the mercenaries were dead before they even had a chance to draw their weapons. Killed by snapped necks, or vicious knife wounds. The only exception had been the lead guard, who had recovered quicker than most and reached for his pistol. However, his weapon had instead gone spinning down the corridor. For Gunny had taken a tight hold of both pistol and guard, repeatedly slamming them both against the wall until the guard had finally dropped the pistol in agony. Gunny had then used both hands to take a firm grip around his victim’s throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. The guard had desperately tried to pull the hands away but was not strong enough to break Gunny’s cast iron grip. The guard had finally stopped struggling and gone slack a few moments later. Gunny dropped the lifeless body to the floor and the marines continued on their journey towards the hangar bay.
Finally arriving at the bay, Gunny motioned for the marines to proceed ahead of him as the massive doors slid open. The corridor in this part of the complex was far wider, obviously to allow bulky cargos to be transported from the ships directly into the complex.
Following the marines into the hangar, Gunny could make out the dim shape of several different ships. The bay was huge. Easily several hundred meters in length, possibly the same in width, with dim overhead strip lights interspersed at what seemed like odd distances. Biting back a curse, Gunny motioned the marines forward as they quickly fanned out in pairs between the ships. Rifles at shoulder height, their weapons tracked in every direction as they spread out into the hangar.
Gunny’s own pistol snapped up, as he saw motion from the corner of his eye. An engineer froze in his tracks—terrified at the sight facing him. Seeing that the man was unarmed Gunny lowered his weapon slightly, before demanding with a growl. “Do you have any business here?”
The engineer opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it upon seeing Gunny’s expression. With the tactical armour covering his bulk and the pistol firmly held in his grip, Gunny made for a frightening sight.
“If not, then I would suggest you find somewhere else to be. Quickly,” he snapped. The engineer scurried past him, disappearing through the open bay doors. Gunny had little concern about the man telling others what he had seen and heard. For he knew fairly soon the entire complex would find out.
Turning his back on the bay, and the sound of sporadic gunfire, Gunny stepped back out of the hangar bay into the corridor to consider the tactical situation. There was only the single large corridor approaching the bay, a natural choke point. In addition there were alcoves between the door and the corridor. Obviously these were used to temporarily store cargo without blocking the corridor. It was perfect cover, which gave good overlapping fields of fire back down the corridor.
Gunny was about to recall a couple of marines to secure the entrance when he looked up. Noticing two figures hurrying down the corridor, both covered in tactical armour and sporting rifles, Gunny was just bringing his pistol to bear when he recognised the two marines.
“Sit rep,” Gunny demanded as the two marines finally drew abreast.
“Scratch one security control room Sarge,” Jonas replied. “However—”
Whatever else he was going to say was drowned out by a deafening sound and the violent shaking of the building. The marines immediately reached out to the nearest wall to anchor themselves against the violent swaying of the building. The lights quickly went out, to be replaced with the dim emergency lighting. The sound and shaking stopped a few minutes later, dissipating as quickly as it started, leaving nothing but dust motes swirling in the air, floating gently in the dim light of the corridor, kicked up by the building’s violent movement.
“I guess Captain Harrington and the Sunfire have arrived Sarge,” Jonas quipped.
“Typical fleet,” Gunny growled. “Leave us down here to do all the dirty work, while they sit up there nice and comfy and blow the shit out of everything.”
The two other marines just smiled at the typical ground-pounders view of ‘fleeters’ as they were known to the marines.
“Well at least we know our ride has just arrived. Can you two secure this corridor by yourselves until the Commander arrives with the boss?”
“Sure thing Sarge,” Jonas replied, glancing at the layout with the eye of a professional soldier. “With this cover we could hold off an entire brigade.”
“Very well then. Just make sure you don’t shoot the Commander or the boss by accident. I’ll go check in on Jason and Miranda. I need to interrupt their little tête-à-tête and remind them they should be procuring us a shuttle,” Gunny groused.
The two marines laughed. As Gunny disappeared back into the hangar they moved into the alcoves on either side of the corridor. They laid out their spare magazine clips on the floor next to them and then started to prepare their weapons. With their backs to the wall, they occasionally glanced back down the corridor to ensure no uninvited guests were planning on gate-crashing their party.
*****
“So I notice that you and the Commander seemed to be fairly close back there?” Marcus Aurelius enquired, last in the line of great Imperial Emperors, ruler of over ten billion people. “Seemed to be a quick turnaround from Oh Father, he left me, he betrayed me.” Marcus tried to imitate his daughter’s despairing tone.
“Five years in captivity. You’ve only been free for a little over ten minutes and that is your first question?” Sofia growled in disbelief.
“I’m your father. I want to make sure somebody has been looking after my little girl. So any grandchildren yet?” He added gleefully, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Father, I cannot believe—”
Sofia was so distracted by her father’s question, while intent on following the directions on the datapad Jon had pressed into her hands just as she was leaving, she had not been paying attention to her surroundings. Hence, as she turned a corner it was difficult to know who was more shocked as she collided into the chest of a young man hurrying in the opposite direction.
Sofia only had time to register a flash of surprise in the young man’s eyes and a large red bruise already forming on his forehead when she instinctively smashed him around the head with the datapad she was holding in her hand.
The young executive reared back in fright, unable to believe his misfortune, as this was the second time today he had turned a corner and been attacked. At least this assailant did not seem to have a sword, as the last one had. In addition this one seemed far prettier than the last, who scared the hell out of him with his dark grey eyes and angry looks.
Then the executive noticed the pistol in her other hand.
As the young man leaped back, Sofia raised the pistol Jon had given her. Not really aiming, as the man was barely a meter away, she closed her eyes, pulling the trigger.
Sofia hated guns ever since the incident almost five years ago when she had shot and killed an assassin who was just about to shoot Jon… She had nightmares about the incident for months thereafter, although she was unsure if it was her shooting the assassin or Jon almost dying in her arms that frightened her most.
The pistol flared in her hand, and Sofia could feel the heat from the discharge of the weapon. She could picture the green bolt of energy impacting the young man on the chest and hear his scream of pain. Then nothing but silence. Opening her eyes, she stared reluctantly at the body on the floor, picturing the black smoking hole where his chest had once been. But his chest was unmarked and the man seemed unharmed but was unconscious. Sofia felt relieved when she realised Jon must have left the pistol on its stun setting.
“You shot him.” Came the incredulous cry from behind her. “After hitting him in the face with a datapad.”
Sofia could not decide if her father was more shocked or horrified. Sofia just shrugged. “He’s only stunned.”
“Shot? Stunned? You are an Imperial Princess, by the great Maker. You have a reputation to maintain. You cannot go around hitting and shooting people. What would the Senate think?”
Sofia could think of a good number of Senators she would very much enjoy hitting and shooting, but did not say anything out loud.
“Anyway who taught you to do such things?”
Sofia just shrugged. “Jon did. I spent some time with him and his family and he suggested some self-defence training would help me.”
“Self-defence training?” This time her father did sound aghast. “That’s his job not yours. Anyway back up a minute. You spent some time with his family? I didn’t know that the Commander had any family—he never talked to me about them.” Her father sounded quite put out by his exclusion.
“He’s got a mother and father on Altair. He’s the eldest of two, but his younger sister died from a genetic disorder when she was very young. I get on well with his parents, they are good people.” Sofia glanced at her father, as he had gone very silent then rolled her eyes at the wide grin slowly crossing his face.
“I’ll look forward to meeting them at the wedding. Unless I have missed it?” He asked excitedly.
“No you have not missed the wedding,” Sofia sighed aloud, before clamping her mouth firmly shut. Realising that encouraging her father was just going to make things worse.
“So come on girl, fill me in. I have been waiting over five years. How is my Empire? I assume that you are still in charge. I hope that the fleet didn’t give you too many problems. I assumed the Commander would help you keep the Admirals in line.”
Sofia sighed for a second time. She had been hoping to put off this conversation, at least until they had left Tartarus. “Yes, I am still in charge,” she replied, telling one version of the truth. “Everything is running fairly smoothly, except for the odd incident.”
Like Jon blowing up your flagship with a nuclear warhead he stole.
“Jon dealt with the Fleet Admirals, they pretty much do as they are told these days.”
“And I hope that Jon has been treating you well?”
Sofia sighed despondently, unsure how to answer that question. For Jon had treated her with nothing but love and respect. She in return had taken him for granted and ignored him when he needed her the most. Finally, had come to believe he had betrayed her when instead it was her own father, her family that had betrayed him. Eventually she had driven him into the arms of another woman, before finally driving him out of her life totally. He had left without a word of complaint, although he must have been inconsolable, missing her desperately. Yet never once did he tell her the real reason he left, protecting her to the last. And she? She had thrown herself into her career, burying herself so deeply in her work she rarely had the energy left over to even spare him a thought. Not until the day she received a call from Paul telling her of the grave danger that he was in. It wasn’t until that day she realised she had taken him for granted. She had always assumed he would always be around, if not at her side. It was only the thought of losing him forever that finally spurred her into action.
Sofia let out a sob of pain.
For so long she had been angry with him. She was the injured party, the spurned lover. Yet she had it all back-to-front. Jon was the one who had been betrayed. He was the one who had every right to be angry, yet what had he done? He had treated her with kindness, compassion and respect even after she had pushed him away. Yet now she knew it must have torn him apart. No wonder she pushed him into the arms of another women, first that blond temptress on Eden Prime and now Miranda.
“Oh, father,” she said stopping in the corridor, crying. “I have made such a mess of things. I thought I was doing the right thing. That I was so clever, but I wasn’t. I didn’t know a thing and now I don’t know how I can fix things. Jon must hate me so.”
Her father was quiet for a moment, not sure how to reply. He had been apart from his daughter for so long. In some ways he hardly recognised her. He remembered his fragile little girl who insisted on always sleeping with the lights on as she was afraid of the dark. Yet he could instantly recognise the pain, sorrow and loss in her expression. As every time he looked in a mirror he saw exactly those emotions reflected back at him.
“I have found there are very few things that cannot be fixed when they are broken,” he said thoughtfully. “If you have made a mess of things, then I will help you fix them. Know that whatever has happened or whatever will happen I will always be here for you, and love you. That bond can never be broken,” he said taking her into his arms. “And as for the Commander,” he continued on. “I seriously doubt he hates you and maybe things are not as broken as you imagine.” He had noticed the way in which the Commander looked at his daughter had not changed much over the past five years.
Sofia did not know how it was so, but just being surrounded by her father’s reassuring presence seemed to make her worries disappear. But suddenly she felt him tense in her arms.
Eyes wide, an expression of shock appeared on his face, which rapidly changed to a grimace of pain. He opened his mouth to try and say something, but no sound came out. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and suddenly Sofia found him slumped in her embrace.
“Father?” She cried in sudden fear, gently lowering him to the floor. It was only then that she noticed the guard standing several meters away, his pulse pistol pointed directly at them, finger already on the firing stud, ready to fire again.
“Get down,” a voice that she did not recognise shouted, from further down the corridor.
Quickly glancing back, Sofia could make out the outline of a figure in grey tactical armour with a large rifle pointing in their direction. Not knowing what else to do, who was friend or foe, she covered her father, who was now lying on the floor, with her own body. Closing her eyes tightly in preparation for another fatal shot.
However, the volley of gunfire seemed to go high. Sofia felt the heavy shells passing just above her head. Hearing a cry of pain, she looked up just in time to see the guard thrown back down the corridor, his chest disappearing in a cloud of blood.
“Ma’am are you hurt?” A voice enquired from just behind her.
Sofia turned around to look into the face of the sandy-haired young man who had earlier called to her, telling her to take cover. Her eyes took note of the tactical armour and heavy rifle, now slung over his shoulder. “No, I’m fine. Who are you?” She asked breathlessly.
“My name is Jonas, ma’am. I’m here with Chief Reynolds and the Commander to rescue your father.”
“You know who I am?” She asked blankly, not recognising the man.
“Yes ma’am. I was on Terra Nova a few weeks ago when you last visited. It was lucky that I recognised you.”
“My father,” Sofia suddenly remembered. “I think he has been shot.” She looked down at the grey pallor that had quickly spread across his face.
“I’ll carry him ma’am. We have a medic in our team who can attend to him. Where is the Commander?”
“He said that he would be coming shortly,” she replied distractedly, still worrying about her father.
Jonas cursed, lifting the Emperor over his shoulder. Taking Sofia by the other arm he hurried back down the corridor towards the hangar bay.
Stepping through the door, the two of them came face-to-face with Gunny, whose expression rapidly went through the full gamut of expressions from shock, surprise and disbelief to finally settle on a wiry grin. “Princess,” he stepped forward bowing his head slightly. “I should probably say that it is a surprise seeing you here, but to be honest it’s been a strange couple of weeks. Right now I would not be at all surprised if Admiral Sterling himself stepped through that door.”
“I left him on Eden Prime,” Sofia replied distractedly. “My Father. I think he’s been shot. We need to help him.”
Jonas delicately lowered the older man to the floor, pushing away his jacket, seeing the angry burn mark from the energy pistol on the side of his chest.
“Medic!” Gunny and Jonas simultaneously bellowed.
*****
I should have just shot the bastard!
Jon thought as he ducked a vicious slash from Sejanus’ sword. Jon did not think Sofia particularly cared how Sejanus died, as long as he was dead. Marcus probably cared even less. It was just Jon’s own stupid, stubborn pride that demanded he beat him in a fair fight. Considering how badly this duel was going it was possibly going to be the last mistake he ever made.
While Jon believed there wasn’t a man, or woman for that matter, alive who could best him with a sword, that had been many years ago… In the past five years Jon could count on the fingers of one hand how many times he had wielded this weapon. The last time was only a few months before when a group of Syndicate enforcers had invaded Terra Nova and he had fought off one of their squads. However, it was obvious Sejanus practiced regularly. In addition he was extremely fit from frequently working out. The most exercise Jon had in the past few months, was hobbling out of the medical bay after sustaining yet another life threatening injury. To say he was out of shape would be an understatement.
Instinctively Jon blocked the follow up thrust that would have disembowelled him, and gave Sejanus a boot in the chest for his troubles. Sejanus stumbled back for a second and then attacked again, quickly, with a riposte Jon was lucky to deflect.
“You are out of shape, Commander,” Sejanus laughed. “Marcus would have been better off with me as his successor. I am by far the better swordsman.”
Jon just grunted, catching Sejanus’ blade against his, as Sejanus continued to increase pressure, pushing his blade closer and closer to Jon’s face. Jon could feel a bead of sweat running down his forehead as the blade moved ever closer…
With a sharp twist of his wrist he deflected Sejanus’ sword, sending the blade careening into a table, taking a good slice out of it. Using the distraction, Jon slipped behind Sejanus, hammering an elbow into the side of the man’s ribs at the same time. But Sejanus quickly recovered his sword, the blow to his ribs seemed only to enrage him further rather than slowing him down.
“You should take care Commander. I was the only Praetorian who ever came close to beating Gideon with the blade, and Gideon is no longer alive,” Sejanus gloated, swinging his sword in wide arcs that caused Jon to dart backwards, just out of reach.
“I’m sure that Gideon would have enjoyed nothing better than to be here, to disembowel you in person. However, in his absence I will be happy to oblige,” Jon insisted.
“You are but a pale imitation of him, Commander. I am surprised Gideon ever handed over leadership of the Praetorians to you.”
“Who ever said Gideon handed anything to me?” Jon replied. “I took the mantle of leadership from his cold dead body.”
For the first time during the duel, a hint of doubt crept across Sejanus’ expression. “That’s not possible,” he muttered. “Nobody ever defeated Gideon with a blade.”
“Nobody had ever defeated him, before me,” Jon corrected him. Seeing a gap in his defences, he struck out with a vicious thrust a panicked Sejanus desperately managed to parry at the very last moment.
“You’re lying,” Sejanus shouted. “Nobody could ever beat Gideon, he was too strong.” With a cry that was part anger and part fear he leapt towards Jon with a brutal overhead chop. Jon managed to bring his own sword up just in time, but still the jarring force of the blow drove him to his knees. Sejanus continued to push down with all his might and Jon could feel his own muscles begin to tremble and falter, as he observed the sharp edge of the sword close to his face.
“I defeated him just as I will you,” Jon replied. “Only the strongest Praetorian leads. Gideon was a great leader, but I was better. I was not faster than him, nor was I as strong as him, but I had something that he lacked.”
“What?” Sejanus demanded.
Closing his eyes, Jon reached down inside of himself, to that little piece of his soul where he harboured his feelings for Sofia. For as long as he could remember, whenever the situation seemed impossible or hopeless, he had drawn on her strength.
He could still remember the very first time, in a situation similar to this one, when he was exhausted and on his knees. All of the Praetorians were staring at him impassively as he had fought Gideon with every inch of his being, using every trick he possessed, every last reserve he had, until he had nothing left.
Yet it had not been enough.
Gideon was faster than him, stronger than him. Every blow he had struck, Gideon had anticipated and countered it. It was useless. He could not defeat him.
The knowledge he was about to die did not frighten him. He had stared at death too many times before, lost too much, too many friends to really care. Sometimes he even thought that he welcomed it. No more fighting, no more struggling, and no more pain. Yet, for the first time ever Jon also felt something else—regret.
Using the last reserves of his strength Jon raised his head, looking past Gideon, past the surrounding Praetorians, past even the Emperor himself, to the young woman with flaming red hair and deep emerald-green eyes, kneeling beside her father. The woman who was currently staring at him with a look of dread.
The first time Jon had ever seen the Princess he could not trust his eyes, as he did not believe anyone so beautiful could possibly exist. Since then he had spent a little time in her company and had become enamoured by her clever wit, charming personality and a smile that could brighten a whole room. Occasionally she had touched him, although Jon knew she shouldn’t, and it had felt like molten fire, wrapped in silk. Jon had never been touched like that before, by someone with such soft, delicate skin.
Looking at her now, Jon came to realise that given time he could possibly even come to love her. To fill that gap in his heart that had been present ever since fate had cruelly taken his sister from him. However, time was something Jon knew had run out as he sensed Gideon behind him. Jon could feel Gideon’s mighty blade being lifted up ready to cleave Jon’s head from his body.
No! He would not let it end like this. Not when he was so close to finding something he had spent all of his life searching for.
Grasping the sword at his side Jon brought it up blocking the sweeping blow that would have decapitated him. Jon looked up into Gideon’s stunned expression and just for an instant Jon thought he had seen something else lurking in the man’s eyes. Had that been pride in them?
Coming back to reality Jon staggered to his feet, and came face-to-face with an astounded Sejanus.
“This ends now,” Jon insisted surely. “It’s time for Sofia to be free from the shadow you have cast over her. For her to no longer look into the dark, and wonder if you are hiding there.” With a heavy overhead blow that staggered Sejanus, Jon took a step forward. With a cry that came from the very heart of him, Jon swung the blade with an almighty roar, the blade glowing brighter and brighter until it seemed almost incandescent.
Sejanus desperately lifted his own blade to ward off the blow. With a bright flash, and a shower of sparks, Jon’s sword cut cleanly through the other. Sejanus glanced down, dumfounded, to look at his own broken sword and Jon’s sticking out of his chest. With nerveless fingers he dropped what remained of his sword, falling to his knees. “But how?” He whispered.
Jon knelt down so that he could look Sejanus in the eyes. He felt at least Sejanus deserved to know why he was dying. “Gideon told me the secret, although at the time he did not realise it,” Jon explained. “For Gideon told me I must fight with my head, not my heart. But I could never beat him that way, as Gideon was always one step ahead of me. I could never beat him by outthinking him. So I stopped trying. Instead of listening to my head I listened to my heart. A person fighting with their head can do remarkable things,” Jon explained softly. “But a person fighting with their heart?” Jon looked down at Sejanus’s broken sword, a Valerian sword which was famed throughout the galaxy for being unbreakable. “A person fighting with their heart can achieve the miraculous. Goodbye Sejanus.”
With a kick of his boot Jon pushed Sejanus’s dead body from his blade. With a final glance around the apartment that had imprisoned Marcus for so long, Jon turned his back on the room.
It was time to go home.
*****
“Heads up. We have uninvited guests,” Jackson whispered quietly to Jonas.
“How many?” He replied having just retaken his position after delivering the Emperor to their medic.
“Looks like a dozen or so, a reinforcing squad.”
Jonas spared a quick glance around the corner, confirming what Jackson told him. “Okay let’s wait for them to get a little closer.”
“You know, this reminds me of that time on Ophiuchi.”
“How so?”
“You know. Just you, me, and a couple of dozen of them,” Jackson replied pointing a thumb over his shoulder.
“I seem to remember on Ophiuchi we were the ones trying to capture the hangar bay, not the other way around,” Jonas frowned.
“Fair point. I only said it reminded me of it, not that it was exactly the same. Ready?”
“Ready,” Jonas agreed.
Almost simultaneously the two marines swung around, bringing their weapons to bear on the guards who were now only a few meters away.
Less experienced soldiers would probably have panicked and opened fire soon after the guards first appeared. However, that would have been disastrous, as the guards could have quickly fallen back, taken cover and then returned fire. With only a few meters separating them, and no cover for the guards offered by the long corridor, both marines opened fire. Aiming low, their weapons on full automatic. The initial volley was devastating. While protected by tactical armour, this did little to stop the heavy shells fired by assault rifles, as the armour was designed to protect against energy weapons. In any case the armour did not cover their legs. The first wave of guards did not even get a chance to raise their weapons and fell to the automatic gunfire. The second wave fared little better, stumbling over the bodies of the dead or dying front rank. The bullets penetrated armour, flesh and bones indiscriminately. Half of the guards were already down, dead or dying before the remaining even had a chance to react. It was only then they recognised the full horror of the choice facing them. Either to continue to advance the few meters ahead, straight into the guns, or to fall back, to retreat down a straight corridor, tens of meters in length.
With blank expressions, the two marines effortlessly replaced empty clips with the ones at their side—the break in gunfire almost imperceptible. The remaining guards wavered for an instant, then broke, running back down the corridor. However, even then, the marines cut them down with short bursts of accurate gunfire as any survivors would simply reinforce the next wave of attackers.
Further down the corridor, lost in the dim light and smoke came further screams of fear and pain. As the smoke parted Jon appeared with sword in hand. Covered in blood, he proceeded down the corridor towards the marines, slashing and thrusting at the retreating guards. He was relentless, unforgiving and no guards made it to the other end of the corridor alive. All of them were dead, slain either by the marines’ guns or Jon’s sword.
The corridor had become a killing ground.
“Commander,” Jonas called out in greeting. Lowering his rifle upon recognising the Commander’s now bloodstained white uniform.
“Jonas, Jackson,” Jon greeted the two marines who seemed little affected by the death and destruction he had just walked through. “Have the Emperor and Sofia arrived?”
“Yes Commander,” Jonas replied. “They arrived several minutes ago. It appears the Emperor had been wounded by a shot from a pulse pistol. The medic is with him now.”
While Jon seemed perturbed by the news, he simply nodded his head in understanding and stepped through the door into the hangar bay ordering, “Continue to hold this position.”
*****
Stepping into the dimly lit hangar, Jon approached Gunny. “Report Sergeant.”
“We’ve secured the hangar Commander. Miranda is already securing and prepping us a suitable ship. The Princess and her father arrived several minutes ago.” Lowering his voice so as not to be overheard he added in a quiet voice. “The Emperor is in a bad way, we need to evacuate him to the Sunfire immediately.”
“Very well,” Jon acknowledged. “I’ll assist Miranda in preparing a shuttle. Hold the entrance to the bay here until I signal you. Then fall back to the ship and we will get the hell off this rock.” Gunny acknowledged the order, stepping through the door to check on Jackson and Jonas. Meanwhile Jon observed Marcus on the floor, off to one side, being stabilised by the medic. Sofia was on her knees hovering over her father with a worried expression. Crossing the room towards the pair, Sofia noticed his approach and rose to meet him. Enfolding her in a tight embrace he kissed her reassuringly on the crown of her head. “Stay here with your father,” Jon ordered. “I’ll go and help Miranda procure a shuttle, then we can all leave.”
Sofia nodded her understanding, once again taking her place at her father’s side, taking his cold hand in hers and whispering reassuring words to him.
Jon went to look for Miranda, to try and find out what was taking so long.
*****
“Ma’am.” Came the voice of one of the marines hurrying in her direction.
Miranda had spent the past few minutes trying to decide on a cramped assault shuttle that looked older than her, or a decrepit freighter that would take them all easily but looked like it would fall apart long before they made orbit. “What?” She asked in irritation, surely there was one serviceable ship on this god-forsaken planet?
“It’s the Commander, ma’am.”
“What’s wrong with him?” She asked. Jon had hurriedly approached her a few minutes earlier, urging her to make up her mind. He was going to look in the back of the hangar where the ships in long-term storage had been parked.
“There is something wrong with him. He is over at one of the far shuttles, ignoring our calls and he keeps talking to it…” The marine added nervously after a short pause.
“He’s doing what?” Miranda whirled around in disbelief, wondering if Jon had finally suffered some sort of mental breakdown.
“I think you should come quickly ma’am. As when I left him he had started to… fondle it.” The marine uttered with obvious distaste.
*****
Jon was motionless, standing in front of one of the ships as she hurried to his side. He was running one of his hands across the flight control surfaces, in wonder. Miranda was just about to demand what he was doing when she looked up at the ship. Her jaw fell open in shock. “It’s not possible,” she uttered in disbelief. “I saw that ship crash into the Imperial Star, they are both gone.”
“It’s not the Eternal Light,” Jon replied almost reverently.
“Of course it is,” Miranda insisted. “It’s identical.” Ever since Miranda had first seen Jon’s personal shuttle she had been in love with it. It was the most beautiful ship she had ever seen. Glowing white with its sharp pointed bow, a smoothly elongated body, which flared out into a pair of tapered wings designed for atmospheric flight before ending in a pair of elevated aft tails. Miranda had almost been heartbroken at the thought of having to destroy it, when she had been sent to kill Jon. Fortunately it was one of the few missions she had failed to complete.
“It’s her twin sister, the Endless Light; the Emperor’s personal shuttle.”
“Perfect. We’ll take it,” Miranda said delightedly, as it was just large enough to fit everybody aboard, although it would be a tight squeeze.
Jon shook his head and replied, “Not so fast. There is only one person who has the authentication codes for that ship and he’s not conscious to give them to us, not to say the least the ship is genetically coded to him. Even if we could get on board, the ship’s computer would not acknowledge anybody but him.”
“Well you said the Emperor gave you permission to fly the Eternal Light, maybe he did likewise for this ship?”
Jon was about to reject the suggestion out of hand, when he stopped, deep in thought. He had been Marcus’s chosen successor, even if he had never wanted the role. It was obvious from what he had overheard Marcus had planned on bequeathing everything to him, even his own daughter. Maybe, just maybe…
Jon reached out towards the controls for the entrance, stumbling back when the doors slid smoothly open.
He had not even touched the controls!
“See, I told you so,” Miranda said confidently.
“I didn’t do anything, somebody opened the ship from the inside. Stay here,” he insisted, taking a hesitant step into the ship, loosening the sword at his side, his eyes darting in all directions. The air seemed musty, stale, as if it had not been disturbed in many years. A thin film of dust seemed to cover everything. Jon quickly made his way through the passenger cabin, taking a few moments to confirm the small bedroom and adjoining washroom were empty before making his way towards the cockpit.
“There is nobody else aboard, Commander Radec,” the voice seemed to come from all directions. Simultaneously. Surrounding him.
Jon stopped in his tracks, eyes darting everywhere. “If there is nobody else on board, then where are you?” He queried in reply. However, the voice seemed almost recognisable. It reminded him in some way of Sofia’s, but was deeper, huskier with warm overtones. Suddenly Jon had a sneaking suspicion and began to understand why Marcus did not allow anybody else on board his personal shuttle.
“According to the ship’s internal sensors currently you are the only person aboard. I am the voice interface for the ship, the Endless Light.”
“And you are based on Marcus’s dead wife, Sofia’s mother?”
“My voice and personality imprint was based on that individual. Yes.”
Marcus had a talking ship. With a voice and personality of his long dead wife. Seriously. Jon had no idea how it was possible to top that.
“What is the status of the ship?” He inquired, very much aware they needed to leave immediately.
“All systems are currently functioning within normal operating parameters. The only system currently non-functional is the active stealth system.”
“Stealth system?” Jon inquired hesitantly, afraid to ask.
“This is an experimental system, designed to absorb all electromagnetic and visible wavelength radiation emitted during flight. It was installed at the Aurelius’ shipyards in—”
Jon let the computer drone on, ignoring it. No wonder the shuttle had been able to escape the Imperial Star without anybody detecting it. The ship had a cloaking device. Jon re-evaluated his earlier opinion. Marcus had a talking ship with a cloaking device. That was way cooler and Jon was extremely jealous. It was obvious Marcus kept all the best toys for himself.
“Commander my sensors are detecting external energy weapon’s fire outside the hanger,” the computer interrupted his musings.
“Very well I think it’s time for us to leave. Can you initiate the pre-flight check?”
“Affirmative.”
Jon left the ship to complete the pre-flight checks by itself, which altogether seemed a very strange concept. Jon wondered if this day could get even more strange. Hurrying to the entrance he called out to Miranda, “The shuttle is ready to depart. I’ll finish the pre-flight checklist with the ship. Let Gunny and Jason know and order them to fall back to the shuttle. As soon as the pre-flight check is complete and you are all aboard it will be time for us to go.”
Miranda just gave him a funny look for the way he phrased the announcement, but nodded her head in understanding and disappeared off to inform the crew.
*****
“I’m dry!” Jonas called out to Jackson, empting his final clip into the massing guards. Unfortunately the element of surprise was never going to work twice, not with dead bodies strewn along the corridor like a necropolis. Hence the second squad of guards sent to the hangar did not charge headlong down the corridor, but held back at the junction and proceeded to exchange weapons fire with the two marines.
In this scenario the two marines were significantly disadvantaged, as they only had a limited number of clips for their assault rifles, unlike their enemy who practically had an unlimited supply with their near inexhaustible energy rifles. Additionally the usual advantage of the assault rifles high rate of fire was offset by the distance to the enemy.
“That’s my last one,” Jackson yelled to be heard over the weapons fire, tossing Jonas his last clip.
“Now this reminds me of Ophiuchi,” Jonas said to nobody in particular, shifting the firing selector on the rifle to single shot, as they needed to conserve their rapidly dwindling ammunition. “Trapped on a god forsaken planet, in the middle of nowhere. Almost no ammunition left. Wondering where the hell is the Commander, Jackson?” He called out, noticing the firing had stopped from the other side of the corridor. Swearing, he glanced around, noticing the motionless body of his friend on the other side of the corridor.
Shouldering his rifle he dashed across the open corridor, ducking low to avoid the occasional bolt of pulse rifle fire in their direction. Coming to a stop at Jackson’s side, he carefully rolled him over and swore. His friend’s eyes were wide open but lifeless. A quick glance to his side confirmed the worst, as Jonas could see the burn marks where multiple shots had impacted Jackson on his side, in the gaps between his tactical armour. “Shit,” Jonas cursed softly, lowering the lifeless body back to the floor.
Jonas ducked as another bolt of energy hit close by, barely missing him. Unfortunately he was not so fortunate on the next bolt, which hit him cleanly on the torso, spinning him around, so he came to lie on top his friend.
*****
“Hold your fire,” the officer called a few moments later, when he observed that the gunfire from the opposite end of the corridor had ceased completely. Glancing around, he observed the carnage all around him. The first squad to arrive had been completely massacred. Of his own squad fully half of them were down, either dead or badly wounded. The accurate weapons fire from the enemy had picked off his squad members one at a time. “Sergeant, report,” he demanded.
“Looks like we finally got them all sir,” he replied. “But we should proceed with caution in case it is a trap.”
“Very well take a few men and advance. I’ll remain here with the wounded. Signal when it is safe.”
The sergeant just looked at the officer incredulously, before finally nodding his head reluctantly. Signalling to a few of his men, they started to advance cautiously, weapons at the ready. However, when they reached the far end of the corridor, encountering no resistance and finding the two fallen soldiers he motioned back towards the officer that it was safe to approach.
“Looks like we got them all sir,” the sergeant reported.
The officer advanced and stared dumfounded at the two dead soldiers. The first squad had consisted of a dozen men; in addition he had lost almost half of his squad. “Two men?” He demanded in disbelief. “Two men caused all this?” He motioned around them. A groan from one of the bodies of the enemy soldiers caused him to take a step back in sudden fear. However, when it became obvious that he was no threat, he used his foot to roll him onto his back. With another whisper from the dying man on the floor the officer leaned closer to try and make out what he was saying. “What did you say?” He demanded leaning forward to try and make out the softly spoken words.
“I said fuck you!” Jonas whispered with his dying breath. His eyes stared up sightlessly towards the ceiling.
The officer leaned back on the balls of his feet, rocking thoughtfully to himself. He was just about to comment when he noticed that the dead man’s hands seemed to be tightly fisted around something. Curious to find out what he was holding the officer prised open the hand and two spherical objects dropped to the floor at the officer’s feet. The officer only had time to note the two pins that still remained in the dead man’s hands. Trying to scream a warning, but it was too late.
With a bright flash of light and a thunderous explosion that carried all the way back down the corridor, the last grenades Jonas had been carrying exploded.
*****
The thick blast door separating the hangar bay from the rest of the complex was enough to save the life of Gunny, Miranda and the remaining Marines that were grouped around the entrance. Even then the massive explosion was enough to cause the door to buckle inwards by several centimetres. The force of the explosion caused several of them to dive away from the door as the concussion wave expanded.
“Jonas. Jackson,” Gunny shouted, sprinting towards the door, but it was no use as the door was now fused shut. “Help me,” Gunny called to several of the other Marines grouped around the entrance, as he put his shoulder against the door and started to push.
“Gunny, stop. It’s no use,” Miranda cried darting towards the large Marine Sergeant. “Nobody could have survived that explosion.”
“No,” Gunny replied angrily. “You don’t know that. We need to at least try.”
“Gunny, Patrick. They are gone. Leave it. They sacrificed themselves so we could make it to the shuttle. We need to leave. Now. Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain.”
“No!” Gunny shouted in anger, spinning around as he felt her touch on his back, raising his fists in anger. “I promised them I would not leave them behind.”
However, Miranda made no effort to move away from him, or the fist drawn back, ready to strike. She did nothing to defend herself and just stared at him with understanding and sympathy in her eyes. “I know you did, but they are gone. Let it be. We need to all go. Jon has a shuttle prepped and we must leave while we still can.”
Gunny stared at her for a moment longer, wavering, before he lowered his fist in shame. He knew that it was just the urge to strike out, to lash out in anger, at the helplessness of the situation, but still he was ashamed of his actions. Nodding defeatedly, he motioned for the other marines to fall back to the shuttle. One of them carried Marcus over his shoulder, the other helped Sofia. With a final last, sad look at the buckled door Gunny hurried after them, towards the waiting shuttle and rescue.
Chapter Sixteen
Planet Tartarus, Sigma Draconis System
“Is everybody on-board and firmly strapped in?” Jon asked as Miranda re-entered the cockpit.
Miranda did not respond for a moment, before finally nodding her head sadly and replying, “Everybody is on board.”
“Okay, the pre-flight check list is almost complete. We are ready to get the hell off this rock,” Jon replied, wondering at her subdued behaviour but deciding now was not the time to inquire about it.
“Commander Radec,” the voice of the ship interrupted his thoughts. “Pre-flight has been aborted, as my sensors report that there is insufficient take-off distance for a safe departure. Analysing—”
Jon looked up in surprise, wondering what the ship was talking about, when he finally noticed the obvious. The external hangar bay door was firmly closed.
“Shit,” he cursed.
“The ship talks?” Miranda asked intrigued, but hardly surprised. Like Gunny, she considered after the events of the last few weeks nothing would truly surprise her any more.
“Yeah, I’ll introduce you two later. First I need to go and open the external hangar bay door, I had completely forgotten about it. Stay here and finish the pre-flight, I’ll be back soon.”
However, before Jon could even get out of his seat, the shuttles thrusters fired. Seeming to be under its own control, the ship hovered and turned round so it was now pointing directly at the external hangar door. “What the hell?” He exclaimed, but was interrupted by the ship.
“Analysis complete,” the ship reported, deploying and activating the ships ventral rail guns. The next instant Jon watched opened-mouthed as the guns opened fire, the dense rail guns rounds tearing through the bay doors. The weapon systems on the shuttle were designed to pierce heavily armoured ships up to several hundred meters away. The bay doors, barely two hundred meters distant were instantly shredded as if they were made of paper.
“Pre-flight checklist is now complete. The ship is ready for departure, Commander. Do you wish me to continue to engage the automatic pilot?”
Jon’s mouth had been open in disbelief and he snapped it shut. He idly wondered if the ship’s actions had been precipitated by some of the personality stamped into it from Sofia’s long dead mother. If so, Jon felt a pang at never being able to meet such a woman, as she was surely a force to be reckoned with. “No that’s okay, I’ll pilot the ship manually, thanks.” Jon replied, dazed.
“Very well Commander,” the ship replied after a significant pause.
Jon wondered if it was possible for a ship to sulk. Seeing no reason to stay a moment longer, Jon once again engaged the ship’s thrusters, but this time bringing them quickly to full power as they slipped easily though the remains of the bay doors.
The shuttle climbed quickly into the dusty yellow sky.
*****
Rapidly ascending, Jon could feel himself being pressed firmly into his seat as the shuttle climbed quickly away from the planet’s surface, the ship’s internal stabilisers unable to completely offset the massive force of gravity pressing down on them. Now they were finally free of the hangar bay, Jon’s eyes scanned the horizon, then cast one eye over the ship’s external sensors.
“Miranda?” He asked.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to need your help. Keep an eye on our altitude indicator and sensors for me?”
“Sure,” she replied, confused. As the shuttle was still climbing at a steep angle, she wondered why Jon was worried about their altitude. Then suddenly, as if the shuttle had been shot out of the sky, its climb seemed to come to a halt. Then with a sudden hole in her stomach, the surface of the planet came back rapidly into view as the shuttle began to nose dive back towards the surface at a frightening speed. “Jon,” she cried. “Altitude!”
It seemed it was only at the very last minute Jon managed to bring the nose of the shuttle up and they shot across the surface of the planet, at times seeming to only be skimming a few meters above the ground.
“I thought that we were heading for the Sunfire?” Miranda asked, confused.
“We are, eventually,” Jon replied. “However we have a slightly more immediate problem.” With that he pointed to the horizon slightly off to starboard.
Squinting, Miranda could just make out several dark dots hanging above the horizon. “What are they?” She asked.
“Fighters, and seeing that we didn’t bring any with us, I think it’s a safe bet they belong to the Tyrell Corporation.”
“What are they doing here?”
“No idea, but I have no plans on hanging around to find out,” Jon replied. Adjusting the course of the shuttle and now heading away from them.
“Commander,” the ship’s computer interrupted the pair. “Now that we are clear of the hangar, I have begun broadcasting an emergency distress signal. I am requesting any Imperial Navy ships in the vicinity to assist us.”
Jon did not have the time or the energy to get into a political debate with the ship, in that the distress signal was about five years too late, as the Imperial Fleet had long since been disbanded. Instead, he focused on the ships scanner, which indicated the fighters had now changed course and were in pursuit. Jon did not give them very good odds out in the open. “I need you to find me a mountain range, valley, or canyon. Anything that I can hide the ship in, and do it fast,” Jon instructed Miranda.
*****
“Captain.” The Communications Officer on the bridge of the Sunfire called out. “I’m receiving a distress signal.”
“Only one?” Paul replied sardonically. “Have you checked the scanners recently? This system is littered with ships in distress.”
Indeed the system was starting to rapidly fill up with debris, because so far they had fought past two Titan defence stations and at least half a dozen enemy warships. While they had managed to overcome all, the Sunfire had taken a terrible beating, with one particle cannon, the aft missile battery, not to mention a dozen rail guns destroyed, and many other weapons either critically short or now empty of ammunition.
“But Captain, this ship is broadcasting an Imperial distress signal. According to the ship’s database, the ships registry belongs to the Endless Light. Sir, it’s the Emperor’s personal shuttle!”
Paul could only stare at the Officer in disbelief: no way could it be a coincidence. Jon had actually gone and pulled it off. He had rescued Marcus, and furthermore had escaped in his personal shuttle. “Can you get a lock on that ship’s location?”
“Only an approximate position as the planet’s ionosphere is extremely active with numerous electrical storms, which may be due to the planets active volcanoes. It is causing terrible interference to our communication systems.”
“Very well. Helm, lay-in a course to their last known position, we’ll try and pick them up on sensors when we are in orbit above their position. Try and get a message through the interference and let them know we are on our way,” Paul replied to the Communications Officer.
“Captain,” The Operations Officer interrupted. “Looks like we are not the only one to pick up that signal. Sensors are detecting a destroyer class vessel already underway on an intercept vector. They have already launched fighters.”
“Damn,” Paul said smacking his fist against the armrest in frustration. “Is there any way we can reach their position before the destroyer?” Jon would have to deal with the fighters on his own.
“Negative Captain. That destroyer is already in a low orbit. If we were to accelerate to such a velocity as to catch it, we would not be able to brake rapidly enough to make orbit.”
Paul just stared at the view-screen in frustration, knowing that they could only obey the laws of physics. The faster they accelerated the harder they would have to brake, and the internal dampeners on the ship could only offset so much gravitational forces. It reached a point that while the ship might survive such massive deceleration it would not matter, as none of the crew would be alive by the time that the ship completed the manoeuvre. Paul stared at the massive planet ahead of them; there was no way to break the laws of physics. However, staring at the planet it did occur to him that while they could not break the laws of physics, there was no reason why they could not follow a completely a different set of rules.
“Lay in a course,” Paul ordered the helm Officer. “Flank speed. Take us in.”
“Sir?” The Helm Officer queried the command. “We will not be able to make stable orbit.”
“I have no intention for us to make a stable orbit. Take the ship into the thermosphere and the friction of the thin atmosphere will help us bleed off velocity and brake in time.”
“You want us to do what?” The Helm Officer asked aghast. “Sir, the Sunfire is a starship, she is not rated for atmospheric re-entry. She’ll be torn to pieces.”
“The Sunfire is an Imperial Navy warship, Lieutenant. A ship-of-the-line,” Paul snapped back frostily. “She is made of stronger stuff than you realise. The bow armour will shield us, mostly, from the thermal temperatures caused by entering the upper atmosphere. I gave you an order. Now take the ship into the thermosphere.”
The Helm Officer nodded and turned back to his console. Paul could feel the bow thrusters firing as the ship rapidly reduced velocity, and the planet on the view-screen suddenly seemed to grow in size as the ship started to descend into the planet’s upper atmosphere.
Tapping the control on his chair to activate the ship’s internal communications, he broadcast a warning to the rest of the crew. “Brace yourself for—” Paul never before thought that he was going to utter the following word on a starship, “Turbulence.”
*****
Miranda closed her eyes as another ridge of the canyon seemed to suddenly appear in front of the shuttle. However, with Jon’s deft touch of the controls, the shuttle rose a few meters, skimming across the top of the ridge before diving back down into the valley.
Considering the geological nature of the planet, Miranda doubted a river had formed this valley. She guessed it far more likely they were flying along the edge of a tectonic plate, where the crust was being pushed under another plate, being absorbed back into the planet’s mantle.
As always, Jon’s decision to dive the shuttle into the canyon was equal parts genius and insanity—although at which point it crossed the line from one to the other, Miranda was unsure. For the shuttle, designed for atmospheric flight, with its large flight control surfaces was far more stable at lower speeds within the canyon than the fighters in pursuit. Miranda did not even need to glance at the rear scanners to know they were directly behind them. The fighters must be flying barely above their stall speed, the little air passing over their much small flight control surfaces making them incredibly unstable. A fact she could attest to as two of them had already slammed into the side of the canyon, some kilometres behind. However, two more were still close behind, while the remaining fighters were buzzing above the canyon, just waiting for the shuttle to reappear.
One side of the canyon suddenly disappeared into a pile of rocks and dust so close that Miranda felt that she could reach out and touch them. She could feel the rail-gun rounds from one of the fighters passing just above the shuttle to impact into the side of the canyon wall.
With a swift jerk on the controls, Jon pushed the Endless Light deeper into the ravine, away from the stream of gunfire. The cliffs around them seemed to get even higher, and even closer.
“Agh,” Miranda could not help it. The screech slipping out of her mouth.
Jon only laughed, rotating the shuttle by ninety degrees to squeeze through a particularly narrow section of the canyon.
“By the great Maker, Jon,” Miranda growled, keeping her eyes firmly shut. “If I turn around and find you smiling, if we make it out of here alive I am going to find a pistol and shoot you. Dead.” She did not need to open her eyes or look at Jon to picture the expression on his face. His eyes gleaming in excitement, face glistening, a smirk resting on his lips. The only time he ever seemed to show any excitement was when somebody was trying to kill him. He had tried to explain it to her once, when they had been back on Terra Nova but Miranda could never understand it. In these situations she was trying to hold back her terror, not enjoying herself. Meanwhile the shuttle rocked sharply as another massive explosion detonated behind them. “They are using missiles now? In here?” She asked incredulously.
“Nope,” Jon replied. “Looks like one of the fighters behind us didn’t make that last turn. Losing situational awareness, focusing too much on the target and not the surroundings,” Jon made a tut, tut noise with his tongue. “Amateurs.” Jon had a strong opinion about other pilots, having once been the Commander of the Praetorian Guards, the Emperor’s personal elite fighter squadron.
Meanwhile Miranda was thinking Jon was finally living up to his overblown reputation as being the greatest pilot in this galaxy or the next. As with barely centimetres to spare on either side of the ship the Endless Light seemed to glide through the canyon like a great condor in flight.
“So any plans on what to do when we reach the end of this canyon?” She asked conversationally.
“Not particularly,” Jon replied. “Why?”
“Well according to the scanners we have about eight kilometres more to go before it ends in a sheer cliff face, one kilometre in height. So you might want to come up with a plan, quickly.”
“Commander,” the ship interrupted them. “I have received a response to my earlier distress signal.”
At the time Jon had forgotten completely about it, as he knew that there was no Imperial Fleet to respond. “Oh?” he replied. “Perhaps some out of office message? The organisation that you have tried to contact no longer exists?” He quipped.
After a few moments the ship replied. “The message simply states, on our way.”
“The Imperial Navy is on its way?” Miranda replied with a frown.
Jon rolled his eyes. “It’s Paul on the Sunfire. Obviously they received our message.”
“So what now? We have less than five kilometres of this valley before it dead-ends.”
“Now,” Jon grinned. “We head for the Sunfire. Make sure that you are strapped in tight, this ride is going to get bumpy.”
“How could it possibly get even more bumpy?” Miranda demanded.
“I am about to bring the main engines on line.”
Miranda went still for a moment, before replying in a very quiet voice. “You are going to engage the sub-light engines within the atmosphere; which I should remind you is completely prohibited—in a canyon? Are you crazy?” She screamed.
Jon frowned. “Good point. I forgot there are failsafes stopping us activating the ion engines within the confines of the atmosphere. Ship, disable all the failsafe devices surrounding the ion engines.”
“Confirmed.”
“Good. Then deploy the dorsal rail-guns and await my command to fire.”
“Jon…” Miranda replied in a warning tone.
“Trust me,” he smiled.
Miranda just gritted her teeth in frustration. She hated it when he said that. It usually meant really bad things were about to happen. Suddenly Miranda’s eyes went as wide as saucers when the canyon seemed to come to an end, opening up into a vast valley with seemingly endless, sheer cliffs directly ahead of them.
Laughing Jon engaged the powerful twin ion engines on the shuttle, pushing both engines straight to full power. Both pilots were immediately pressed firmly into their seats, as the massive engines caused the shuttle to leap forward like a stallion bolting from its stall. The ship quickly accelerated from a relatively slow speed of three hundred kilometres per hour, to almost one thousand in the space of a few seconds. Ignoring how many flight regulations they were breaking, Jon pulled back sharply on the flight control, sending the shuttle into a vertical climb only meters from the sharp, jutting cliff face.
Miranda winced as once again the shuttle shook from a tremendous explosion behind, this time she did not need to look back to know it was the final fighter slamming into the escarpment. She could not imagine what it must have been like for the fighter behind to be so close when the ion engines ignited. The pilot was probably blinded, certainly for long enough to fail to notice the canyon had come to an abrupt end.
Climbing vertically now at over one thousand kilometres per hour, and still accelerating, the shuttle shot out of the valley as if it had been fired from the barrel of a starting gun. Miranda watched mesmerised, time seeming to slow as the shuttle climbed directly between two fighters that had been providing cover above the valley, waiting for the shuttle to appear. Miranda had an instant to observe the stunned expressions on the pilot’s face as the shuttle climbed vertically between them.
“Fire!” Jon ordered, and the shuttle started to vibrate, the dorsal rail-guns opening fire as the shuttle climbed past the two fighters. Both fighters paused an instant too long, shocked by the sudden manoeuvre, and in that time the shuttle’s guns cut both fighters to pieces, leaving nothing but flaming debris to fall back to the surface.
“Miranda have you got the Sunfire on your sensors? I need a vector to the ship.”
“No. Wait, yes, I’ve got her. She’s directly ahead, no up, uh you know what I mean.”
Jon just laughed. “I know what you mean.”
But Miranda was staring at the scanners intently as something was not quite right about the ship. It was too small; the profile was all wrong. “Jon,” She said urgently. “That’s not the Sunfire, and it’s just locked its weapons onto us.”
Jon looked around frantically, but there was nowhere to go and nowhere to hide. They were still in a steep vertical climb, having just passed twenty kilometres in height. Still in the atmosphere, climbing steeply. Go where? The enemy ship was directly overhead in orbit and they had a clear shot. “And we were so close,” he sighed quietly, taking Miranda’s hand in his. At least everybody he cared about was on the shuttle and this time there would be no lasting regrets. Staring up into the dark blue sky, which was rapidly darkening as they passed through the stratosphere, Jon could imagine the guns on the enemy warship turning to target them, the missiles that would soon leap from their launch tubes.
Suddenly, something from the corner of his eye caught his attention. A flaming ball of fire, leaving a trail of smoke hundreds of kilometres in length. At first Jon assumed that it was a meteorite entering the atmosphere. However, as it came closer it rapidly grew in size and Jon judged that it must be almost a kilometre in length. Surely too large to be a meteorite?
It was only when it altered course to intercept the shuttle that Jon finally recognised what it was. The ship was living up to her name, as it was completely encased in a flaming ball of fire. The Sunfire had arrived. “It’s the Sunfire,” Jon breathed in astonishment.
“It can’t be,” Miranda replied in awe, finally seeing what Jon had just seen. “They cannot take the ship into the atmosphere. It wouldn’t survive re-entry.”
“Looks like somebody forgot to tell them that,” Jon quipped, as finally the ball of smoke and flame came to rest on a parallel course but slightly above the shuttle. Putting the body of the mighty warship between the shuttle and the destroyer which was still in orbit above.
“Told you that we would be here on time,” Paul’s voice sounded throughout the cockpit of the shuttle as he opened a communication channel.
“I never doubted you for a second,” Jon laughed in reply. “Captain, permission to come aboard?”
“Granted. But I suggest that you use the upper flight deck, as according to the ships internal sensors the lower flight deck is currently registering two hundred degrees centigrade and the computer reports it is currently on fire.”
“Aye, aye Captain, upper flight deck it is,” Jon confirmed, swinging the shuttle around the ball of flame, to approach it from above the stern.
“Jon,” Miranda cautioned warningly. “You cannot seriously tell me we are going to land on that? It’s on fire.”
“Yea of little faith,” he disagreed, angling the ship towards the wall of fire directly ahead, increasing power to the engines to catch up with the large warship. “The hull of the shuttle will protect us from the flames. Probably,” he added with a laugh as the shuttle slipped into the wall of flames.
Passing directly through into the hangar bay.
“Told you so,” he concluded, powering down the shuttle’s engines as they came to a rest on the flight deck. Jon could see out the corner of his eye the massive hangar bay doors starting to close. Doors which were isolating them from the blazing inferno taking place only a few hundred meters away.
“Make sure the shuttle is powered down and secured,” he ordered her. “I’ll be on the bridge with Paul. I doubt our getaway will be that easy.”
“Why not?” Miranda asked curiously.
“Never has been in the past,” were Jon’s final words as he hurried out the cockpit.
*****
“What’s our status?” Jon called out as soon as he stepped foot onto the bridge. The initial indications did not look promising, as nobody even acknowledged his arrival, lost against a backdrop of noise of alarms and sirens sounding throughout the bridge. The ship tilted at a sharp angle and again Jon had to catch hold of something, or otherwise lose his footing. Twice that had happened on his way to the bridge.
“Glad that you could join us,” Paul snapped, obviously under significant strain. “So did we get him?”
Jon did not even need to ask who him was. “Yes we got him, he’s in medical with the Doc now. We also picked ourselves up an Imperial Princess in the process.”
“Sofia was also there?” Paul raised his eyebrows in surprise. “What was she doing there? No never mind, forget I asked.”
“More importantly, you are not looking after my ship,” Jon said disapprovingly. “I thought I told you not to scratch the paint. Last I checked from the outside, there was no paint left, as you had burnt it all off.”
“Feel free to leave. Were it not for us you would be—damn.” The ship was rocked by another explosion, interrupting whatever Paul was going to say.
“What’s the situation?” Jon asked again, his eyes switching between the view-screen and the various status readouts.
“We’ve got a destroyer in low orbit above us, that is trying to pound the shit out of us. The only thing that is saving us is this ball of fire and smoke surrounding us. The thermal radiation we are emitting is destroying any missiles before they can impact us. Additionally the smoke and flames are throwing off their targeting scanners. Unfortunately none of that is going to last long after we break atmosphere.”
Almost as if having spoken too soon, the Helm Officer called out. “Captain we have just exited the exosphere and are currently climbing into a low orbit.”
A massive explosion nearby shook the ship to its very foundations.
“Well there goes our shield,” Paul shook his head. “Any ideas?” This last question was directed at Jon.
“Yeah, we need to go faster,” Jon urged.
“Helm!” Jon and Paul shouted simultaneously.
“We cannot go faster, sirs,” the Officer replied. “We are still fighting the gravitational pull of the planet and have not made a stable orbit yet. The ships engines are already in danger of overheating and melting.”
“Damn,” Jon replied. “Weapons?”
It was Paul’s turn to shake his head this time. “We lost our aft missile battery a couple of engagements back. I don’t dare to try any of the rail-guns at the moment, as they are all overheating from having passed through the atmosphere.”
“You know,” Jon said in a reproving tone of voice. “I’m fairly sure that the plan called for you to take out all their fleet assets before you came and rescued us?”
“It was on my to-do list,” Paul snapped back angrily. “Right after saving your asses from that destroyer which was just about to start taking pot shots at you.”
Jon laughed, hitting Paul on the back in appreciation. “Thanks for that by the way. I owe you a beer.”
“That’s assuming that we live long enough for you to buy me one.” Paul winced as another explosion went off, closer than the last. “So any bright ideas, oh tactical genius?”
“I don’t know. What weapons do we have remaining that I have to work with?”
“We have one remaining bow particle cannon and the bow missile battery. I wouldn’t trust any of the rail-guns until they have had a chance to cool further.”
“Ops,” Jon called out. “What is the location of the enemy destroyer?”
“Twenty kilometres astern and gaining Commander. We will soon be in range of their guns,” he added helpfully.
“Hmm,” Jon thought aloud. “Enemy warship to the rear. Only weapons that we have available are front facing. Not good. What is that?” Jon exclaimed, as a massive, dark object suddenly became visible on the view screen, directly ahead.
“Titan defence station,” Paul replied distractedly, checking on the latest damage report from the last near miss.
“I thought that you were meant to have destroyed all those as well? Seriously what have you been doing all this time? Sightseeing?”
“It’s already been disabled alright?” Paul replied irritably. “It would have taken too much effort to completely destroy it and I didn’t want to waste the ammunition.”
“Hmm,” Jon replied thoughtfully. “Helm. Set a course for that station. Flank speed.”
At a quick glance at Paul, who nodded after a moment’s hesitation, the Helm Officer quickly went about carrying out the order. “What are you planning?” He asked hesitantly.
“Have you ever played eightball?” Jon inquired.
“Never heard of it. What is it?”
“A game that was popular on Old Earth many years ago. We had an ancient version of the game in one of the recreation rooms on my first posting. The idea was to knock small balls around a table with a wooden stick to try and push the balls into holes around the table.”
“Seriously?” Paul replied, looking at Jon in astonishment.
“Seriously.”
“Sounds like a complete waste of time to me,” Paul groused. “And what has that got to do with our current predicament?”
“Because we are going to aim to put the black eight ball in the back pocket,” Jon replied with a gleam in his eye. “Tactical,” he called out, tapping on the view-screen at the point where one of the massive kilometre long docking arms was attached to the hub of the Titan station. “I want a thirty second focused beam from the remaining particle cannon targeted at this section of the station.”
“But Jon, the station has already been disabled, it’s no threat to us. You are just wasting energy. We need to come around and disable the destroyer before its guns get within range.”
“I have no intention of trying to disable the station, we just need to bring the eight ball into play. Tactical have you a weapons lock?”
“Yes Commander.”
“Then fire.”
The only remaining operational particle cannon swivelled on its mount to target the docking arm many kilometres ahead. The massive barrel started to glow brightly and then in the blink of an eye the weapon discharged the blindingly bright, highly concentrated beam of photons. Travelling at nearly the speed of light the beam began to glow brighter and brighter, as it impacted at the junction of the docking arm. The heavy armour of the station started to melt under the extreme temperatures imparted by the high-energy photons. Soon the beam cut through the external armour, slicing through the heavy load-bearing supports underneath like a hot knife through butter. It didn’t even take the full thirty seconds before the beam had completely eviscerated the junction. Sliced cleanly through, the docking arm was floating freely like an amputated appendage.
“We’re through Commander,” the Tactical Officer called. “The docking arm is no longer attached to the station.”
“Good job,” Jon congratulated the crew. “Now that we’ve put the eight ball in play, let’s give it a whack to get it moving. Do we have any Mk. VI’s remaining?
“Two.”
“Then load one into the bow missile battery and prepare to fire.” Jon hurried over towards the tactical console and marked an area of space a few hundred meters beyond the station. “Let’s target there. It should be close enough to impart just enough momentum to get the ball rolling, but not enough to vaporise it.”
“Ready Commander.”
“Then go ahead and fire.”
For the second time within as many hours, the lone missile arced off the bow of the ship. Quickly gaining distance, the missile orientated itself, before charging towards the station. However, this time the target was no small docking bay, but a kilometre long docking arm. The missile flew straight and true, passing a few hundred meters overhead of the structure. Once the correct distance away, the missile vaporised into an expanding ball of light, heat and energy. Within the space of a few milliseconds the shockwave hit the docking arm. Photons, electrons and neutrons, all passing their momentum onto the docking arm. For an instant it seemed as if it had not worked, then ever so slowly, millimetre by millimetre, centimetre by centimetre the massive arm started to move, in the direction of the Sunfire.
“It’s moving Commander,” the Operations Officer called out in stunned surprise. “It’s moving in our direction, slowly but picking up velocity.”
“Ok time to reel them in,” Jon muttered. “Helm. Reduce velocity, let’s reel the destroyer in closer, after all we don’t want to ruin our surprise.”
“Won’t they figure out what we are doing?” Paul asked not believing the plan seemed to be working.
“No,” Jon replied. “We have just blinded them with that nuclear detonation, anyway they will think we were just aiming at the station. How close is the enemy warship?” he asked.
“Less than two kilometres now. Their guns are just coming into range.”
“Very well, we don’t want them any closer than that. Helm, down on the y-axis plane, but slowly. We don’t what to ruin our little surprise for them. Just make it look like we are manoeuvring for a better position. The enemy ship will go above us, as they must be aware that we’ve lost our aft missile battery. They can pound us from above and we have no way to retaliate, or that’s what they think.”
Meanwhile the large patch of darkness continued to creep ever closer to the Sunfire, like a miniature blackhole it seemed to swallow all light. Very slowly, so as if to appear to be simple manoeuvres, the Sunfire started a shallow dive. The kilometre long docking arm, travelling in the opposite direction, passed a few hundred meters above the ship.
“Time to impact?” Jon inquired
“Thirty seconds.” Came back the prompt response.
The destroyer must have eventually realised the extreme danger the ship was in, as its engines suddenly went to full power, trying desperately to manoeuvre out of the way. However the destroyer displaced almost one-hundred thousand tonnes. It wasn’t a fighter that could turn on a dime. In last minute desperation the crew of the Sunfire could see the bright flashes as the destroyer used its pulse cannons, missiles and rail guns to try and destroy the obstruction. However, the docking arm was over one kilometre of heavily armoured alloy, the strongest and densest material that science had yet invented. It was like shooting a BB gun at an elephant. It had absolutely no effect.
The docking arm slammed into the destroyer, just short of amidships, tearing a three hundred meter long gash along the hull of the ship. The ship seemed to shudder for a moment, and paused, as if taking a gasping breath upon receiving such a horrifying wound. Then slowly one-by-one the lights extinguished, the engines dimmed before going still, the ship was adrift, powerless. Helpless.
“I think it’s time that we went home,” Jon said to the quiet bridge. “What’s the nearest FTL jump point?”
“Three hundred kilometres dead ahead Commander, twenty minutes until we are at a safe distance to jump.”
“Very well. I had better go and check on the Emperor.” However he was interrupted by another massive jolt striking the ship, causing it to tip dangerously to starboard before it slowly righted itself. “What the hell was that?” Jon demanded with clenched teeth.
“Multiple contacts astern,” the Operations Officer called. “Looks like a squadron of Tyrell ships. They must have just arrived in-system. I am counting one light cruiser, one destroyer and four frigate class ships. Approaching rapidly.”
Jon and Paul exchanged a worried glance. “How long until they are within weapons range?” Paul asked.
“They are already in range of their missiles. They will be within range of their guns in less than five minutes.”
“Can we outrun them?”
“Negative Captain. We’ve taken too much damage to the engines.”
“Jon, any ideas?”
Jon cast his gaze around the bridge, one that in some ways was so familiar to him, and in others completely alien. “Yes. It’s time for us to leave,” Jon said softly, meeting the gaze of the crew who believed in him and trusted him to get them home. Just like the original crew of the Sunfire that he had failed so utterly. Reaching over the back of Paul’s chair Jon pressed the control to activate the ship’s internal communications system. “This is Commander Radec,” he began without preamble. Taking a deep breath he announced. “All crew are to proceed to assigned shuttles. We are abandoning ship. I repeat all crew to abandon ship.” Looking up into the astonished expressions of the bridge crew Jon said. “That includes you. Go. That’s an order.”
With a quick glance at Paul, who nodded his head, the bridge crew left in a hurry, heading towards the flight deck and the waiting shuttles.
“That includes you Paul,” Jon said firmly.
“I’m staying.”
“Like hell you are. I promised Carol and the kids I was going to make sure you got back to the station. Alive. If I go back there without you, she would kill me anyway.”
“I think you’re forgetting who you are talking to Jon. You made me Captain of the Sunfire, not you. Didn’t you know the Captain always goes down with the ship?”
Jon just scratched his chin. He had forgotten that old tradition. “Good point,” he said. “I had forgotten about that. You’re fired!”
“What?” Paul gaped at him in disbelief.
“I’m the Chief Executive of Vanguard and you work for me. So I’m firing you. You are no longer Captain.”
“You can’t do that.”
“Can.”
“Can’t. Look Jon,” Paul replied exasperatedly. “I’ve already broken the news of your death to Sofia once this lifetime and frankly that is once to many in my book. I’m not leaving without you.”
Both men ducked as another missile impacted the side of the ship. The chorus of alarms and sirens, now included a hull breach warning.
“One of us needs to cover the departing shuttles. There is no point in us both dying.”
“Agreed.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“Draw straws?”
Suddenly another alarm could be overheard above the din of all the rest, a twinkling bell, mixed with an incessant beeping.
Jon angled his head thoughtfully for a moment. “That’s a new one for me.”
“Me too,” Paul agreed hunting around the bridge for the console emitting the strange alarm. “Got it,” Paul called out. “It’s the alarm for the gravimetric sensors on the ship. There are multiple wormholes forming, fifty kilometres dead ahead,” Paul explained with a sudden stab of fear.
“Directly in the path of the departing shuttles,” Jon reciprocated with a horrified expression.
Chapter Seventeen
Confederation Navy 12th Fleet, Eta Cassiopeia System
“I don’t understand Admiral,” Captain Harrison exclaimed in frustration.
“Oh? Please enlighten me Captain. What is it that you fail to comprehend?” The Admiral replied with a knowing smile.
“What are we going here?”
“Training manoeuvres,” came the immediate reply.
“But Admiral, we haven’t done any training or manoeuvres.”
“I’m sorry to disagree, but we are indeed training. Manoeuvres will come later.”
“What training?” The Captain almost exploded in frustration. “We have been sitting around here for the past six hours.”
“We are training in the art of doing nothing. This is an important strategy that is often used in combat to confuse the enemy.”
“It is?” Captain Harrison asked dubiously.
“Absolutely,” Sterling replied with a broad smile.
“Admiral, Captain, I am sorry to interrupt but we are picking up a distress signal,” the Communications Officer reported.
“How many?” Sterling turned his penetrating gaze on the young officer.
“Uh what?” The officer replied, confused. That was not the usual response upon being informed that a ship was in distress. “Just the one Admiral.”
“Oh,” the Admiral almost seemed disappointed.
“But there is something very unusual about it,” the officer was quick to add.
“Unusual how?” Sterling inquired, intrigued.
“It’s broadcasting an Imperial Fleet distress signal, but Admiral how is that possible? The Imperial fleet has been disbanded for over half a decade.”
“Indeed,” Sterling replied sitting up straighter. “This requires immediate investigation. Signal the rest of the fleet and notify them we are going to be getting underway immediately.”
“All of them?” Captain Harrison inquired aghast. “For one distress signal?”
“Indeed, the entire fleet.” Sterling confirmed with a nod. “Last thing I want to do is get separated. You youngsters would just end up getting lost and I would have to waste my time looking for you all. Indeed we all go. At the same time signal the fleet to go to an alert status.”
“Uh what?” The Captain replied, terribly confused. He felt like he was falling behind on current events. “Why? It’s only a distress call.”
“Always be prepared Captain, remember that. Always be prepared. It could be—pirates? Yes. Pirates. A pirate attack would be a good reason for a distress signal.”
“Of course Admiral,” Harrison replied, looking at Sterling as if he had completely lost his mind.
“Chop, chop. Let’s get underway. Otherwise the pirates might get away. Lay in a course for Tartarus in the Sigma Draconis System and bring the FTL drives on line.”
Captain Harrison narrowed his eyes. He had the distinct feeling he was being played. As he could not remember anybody telling Admiral Sterling the distress signal was coming from that system.
So how did he know?
*****
The chime from the communications console next to his bed woke Sterling from a very pleasant dream. Hence in a very un-Admiral like voice, he slapped his hand on the console and in a rough voice replied, “This had better be urgent otherwise I will have you shot. Twice.”
“Hello Frank. Long time no speak. How are you keeping?”
Admiral Sterling shot straight up in bed, nobody had called him by his first name since he was at the academy, and that voice—but it was impossible.
“I thought that you were dead.”
“That was the idea Frank. I wanted to enjoy my retirement, in peace and quiet.”
Meanwhile Sterling was rapidly trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes and get his brain into gear. “So after all this time, why call now?”
The voice, and it was only a voice. Sterling had checked. Sighed. “I need a favour Frank.”
“You. A favour. I don’t think so. The number of times that you almost got me killed.”
The voice sighed again, but deeper this time, before replying, “I was hoping you would not be difficult about this, but very well. I’m calling in my markers.”
“Your what?” Sterling demanded, aghast.
“You owe me Frank, and you know it.”
Sterling bit his teeth together in frustration, before letting out a breath. “What do you need?”
“Your fleet.”
“You cannot be serious,” Sterling laughed.
The voice on the channel went silent.
“You are. You must be joking, I cannot just waltz off with the 12th fleet. Any deployment orders must come directly from the Senate. What’s this about anyway?”
“Sofia Aurelius is in trouble. She was just kidnapped from Memphis. I have identified the ship that took her. It belongs to the Tyrell Corporation. They are taking her to Tartarus in the Sigma Draconis System. I cannot help her, not there, but you can. Radec is already on his way, but he needs your help.”
Sterling was astonished. As far as he was aware Sofia was safely back in the Senate and Radec was dead. But if what this man said was true, and what he already knew of this man, he did not doubt him for a second. Sofia was like a daughter to him. If she was in trouble then he had to help. “There is nothing that I can do,” Sterling sighed deflated. “I need Senate authorisation to deploy for combat operations.”
The voice on the line was quiet for a moment before it suggested, “But what about training manoeuvres.”
Admiral Sterling, Commander of the 12th fleet went silent, deep in thought.
*****
“We are coming out of FTL now Admiral,” Captain Harrison reported.
“Very well,” Sterling replied. “Secure from FTL and signal the fleet to await orders. What are the external sensors showing?”
“Fuck me,” the Tactical Officer breathed aloud in disbelief.
“Lieutenant. I will not accept such profanity on my bridge!” Sterling roared. “Now could you possibly be a little more specific?” He added after a moment’s hesitation.
“Where to start Admiral?” The Tactical Officer complained. “I am detecting multiple ships in orbit. Many of them seem to be disabled or at least heavily damaged. Sensors are picking up one Titan defence station, heavily damaged and looks disabled. The second Titan station is—gone.”
“Let’s keep focused on what is still here,” Sterling replied testily.
“I am detecting multiple weapons fire, fifty kilometres dead ahead. Sensors are detecting a light cruiser, a destroyer and four frigates in close formation. They are all broadcasting Tyrell Corporation ship registries. They seem to be shooting at—Admiral the ship that they are chasing is broadcasting an Imperial Navy recognition code. It’s authenticated. Identification the Sunfire.”
Sterling scratched his cheek, wondering where he had heard that name before. “Try and hail the ship,” he ordered.
The view screen came to life showing two stunned officers in Imperial Navy uniforms staring at the view screen in disbelief.
“Admiral Sterling?” The younger man exclaimed, shocked.
“Commander Radec, what a surprise to see you here,” Sterling replied, obviously not surprised in the least. “And is that Captain Harrington I recognise standing beside you? Well, this is certainly an old Navy reunion.”
“Admiral our ship has taken heavy damage,” Jon interrupted whatever else Sterling was going to say. “We are in the process of abandoning ship via shuttlecraft. We need your help to protect the shuttles. The Imperial Princess is on board one with her father.”
Sterling just whistled aloud in amazement. “All you need is Admiral Harkov to turn up and we would have the old family back together.” Blinking away his surprise, Sterling turned to Captain Harrison. “Launch fighters. Order them to intercept and escort those shuttles back to the fleet.”
“Yes Admiral,” the Captain hurried over towards the Operations Officer to ensure his orders were carried out.
Turning back to the view-screen Sterling replied, “Done. What about yourselves?”
“You are too far away to assist us, Admiral. The warships are almost in range of their guns. Now that you are here we will also abandon ship.”
“Very well. I’ll contact the Tyrell fleet and try and get them to back off, but I’m not holding my breath. You seemed to have kicked over a hornet’s nest over there.” At the nod of acknowledgement from Jon, the view-screen shutoff.
“Get me whoever is in command of that flotilla,” Sterling ordered his Communications Officer.
The view-screen once again came alive, but this time the man was dressed in the black and silver uniform of the Tyrell Corporation.
“This is Admiral Sterling of the Confederation 12th fleet, I am ordering you to withdraw. Now,” Sterling instructed.
“This is internal company business, nothing to do with the Confederation Navy. Stay clear,” The officer replied angrily before the view-screen once again cut off, leaving an angry, red-faced Admiral.
“Damn the arrogance of the man. Captain!” Sterling yelled.
Recognising the expression on the face of his Commanding Officer Harrison quickly added. “Admiral, by Senate decree we are not permitted to get involved in corporate actions, not unless we are fired upon first.”
Sterling just stared at Harrison furiously for a few moments before turning back to the helm officer. “Very well. Plot an intercept course between the Imperial warship and the pursuing flotilla. Put us between the two.”
Harrison just gaped at the Admiral. “You cannot do that sir.”
Tapping the five silver stars on his lapel, Sterling replied. “These say I can do almost anything I like, and if the Tyrell ships continue shooting then they are shooting at us and I can do whatever the hell I like. Sound general quarters, flank speed ahead.” As Sterling turned his back to Harrison he added quietly. “Now the fleet can get some real training.”
*****
Jon and Paul just looked at each other in shock when the view screen cut off, leaving them, once again, alone on the bridge of the Sunfire.
“Looks like there is no need to draw lots,” Paul broke the silence on the bridge.
“I wonder how Sterling knew we were here?” Jon replied in amazement. However, another huge explosion shaking the ship reminded the two officers of their precarious situation.
“So I assume you have changed your mind about staying?” Paul added with a wry smile. “I would have thought you were looking forward to seeing Sofia again. It’s been about three years since you last saw her.”
“Two,” came the automatic reply. “Not that I am keeping count or anything,” Jon added quickly. “And yes I have changed my mind about staying. I have already filled this lifetime’s quota of suicidal dives into enemy warships, thank you very much. Time to go.”
However as they reached the threshold of the bridge, Jon came to an abrupt halt. Turning to Paul he insisted. “You go on ahead.”
“Jon…”
“I’m coming, I promise. I just need a minute alone. Please.”
Paul looked intently at Jon but upon seeing the guilt lurking in his eyes, nodded abruptly. “But only one minute otherwise I will come back and get you.”
Jon nodded his head in thanks, as Paul disappeared through the door towards the flight deck. Taking a deep breath, closing his eyes, Jon turned around to face the empty bridge once again.
However it was now no longer empty. It was just like the last time that he had stepped onto the bridge, on that fateful mission in the Beta Hydri system, before everything went to hell. The original crew of the Sunfire were there, motionless, standing at attention, just staring at him. However Jon felt no anger or malice in their gaze, only calm acceptance of their fate. Falling to one knee, bowing his head Jon took the opportunity to do what he had long regretted that he could not.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, knowing that they would be able to hear him. “I’m sorry for letting you down and for failing you. I promised you I would get you all home, but I abandoned you when you needed me the most. I should have been here for you but I promise you that while I live, you will also live on and I will never forget you. I’ll remember the sacrifice that you made. That I promise. Goodbye my friends.” However when he looked up once again the bridge was empty, deserted. Jon hoped that the crew had finally found the peace that they deserved.
Turning his back he hurried through the door after Paul. Jon had lived in the past long enough. It was time to embrace the future.
*****
“Took you long enough,” Paul complained as Jon entered the cockpit of the Endless Light. “By the way do you know that your ship talks?”
“Yeah, the problem is shutting it up,” Jon replied, noticing the engines had already been powered up and the ship was ready to depart. With a raised eyebrow at Paul, he replied.
“Don’t look at me. The ship did it all by itself. I just suggested it.”
Shaking his head in disbelief Jon rotated the shuttle until it was orientated towards the exit of the hangar bay. Pushing the engines to full thrust they shot out of the bay, quickly diving to stay close to the hull of the warship, as Jon knew they were now in weapons range of the Tyrell ships’ guns. This was quickly reinforced by the warning from the ship’s tactical display that they were being targeted.
“Might have left it a bit late,” Paul voiced his concern out loud.
“We’ll put the Sunfire between us and the Tyrell fleet. That should buy us a little time,” Jon replied. However, it immediately became apparent the enemy ships were finally within weapons range as a series of explosions briefly illuminated one side of the ship as the enemy heavy guns opened fire. “Change of plan,” Jon replied when it quickly became apparent the Sunfire was not going to last long under such a concentrated barrage. “We’re going to run for it.” With that the small shuttle shot out from underneath the shadow of the huge warship and headed at maximum speed towards the approaching Confederation warships.
“We’re not going to make it,” Paul insisted. “The enemy ships are ignoring the Sunfire and are targeting us.”
And it was true, as the weapons fire on the Sunfire started to dramatically fall off before halting completely. Instead the enemy guns turned on the fleeing shuttle. Meanwhile the enemy flotilla passed overhead of the Imperial warship that continued to drift, engines idle.
*****
Meanwhile on the empty bridge of the Sunfire nothing stirred. Suddenly one-by-one consoles, that had long since powered down from inactivity, came to life. As more consoles lit up, navigation commands abruptly started to appear. Speed, heading, pitch and yaw. As if a slumbering giant had suddenly started to awake, signals from the bridge started to flow once more and the mighty engines, which had lain dormant, flared to life. At full power the Sunfire started to suddenly accelerate, propelled forward by the massive force of her engines. Following the commands from the bridge, the ship abruptly pitched up higher and higher, right into the bow of the Tyrell cruiser that was passing overhead.
The force of the collision was so massive it knocked the cruiser a full three hundred meters to starboard, straight into the port side of a frigate that was in close escort formation. Chaos ensured as the tight flotilla of ships were rammed into one another by the titanic collision. Finally the destroyer, which had been bringing up the rear of the formation, slammed into the stern of the cruiser. The impact sent an energy surge through the power conduits of the cruiser, collapsing the magnetic shielding around the fusion reactor. The resulting explosion was cataclysmic and tore the flotilla apart.
Paul watched in equal parts of awe and horror at the devastation taking place behind them, finally having to close his eyelids at the searing brightness of the resultant explosions. When everything was silent there was no trace of the flotilla of ships or the Sunfire.
Patting Jon on the back, he quipped, “Now we are equal, after I saved your life on Tartarus. Good thinking setting the autopilot.”
Jon had no reply, as he knew he had done no such thing.
Chapter Eighteen
The Protector, Flagship Confederation 12th Fleet, on route to Eden Prime
The Endless Light came in for a graceful landing on the flight deck of the Protector, flagship of the Confederation 12th fleet. Jon could clearly make out the shuttles of the rest of the crew lined up along the deck. It was only after he completed a quick internal count and confirmed they were all present that he let out the deep breath he had been unconsciously holding.
Resting his head against the back of the pilot’s seat of the Endless Light, he let his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing himself to relax for the first time in what, days, weeks, months, years?
“So are you just going to sit here or go out there? I think you have a couple of people waiting to see you,” Paul laughed.
Jon snapped his eyes open and took in the scene outside the shuttle. If anything Paul was underestimating the crowd, as it seemed everybody on the ship had turned out for their arrival. He could just make out the odd white uniform of the crew mixed in amongst a sea of black Confederation Navy uniforms. There were hundreds of people waiting outside. However, in the sea of black and white Jon only had eyes for one person. Standing out like a beacon with her red hair, blouse and jeans, was somebody Jon had seriously doubted back there he would ever see again.
“Go talk to her,” Paul said softly. “It’s been a conversation that is long overdue don’t you think? I think you might surprise each other.”
“What about you?” Jon replied, unable to take his eyes off Sofia, who was an oasis of calm in a sea of people.
“Oh I’ll be along shortly. Right after I have reassured myself I am actually still alive. It’ll take a little while longer I think. Then I want to talk to Carol and the kids, to let them know I am fine.”
Jon nodded his head in understanding, resting a hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Thank you Paul. We would have never made it without you. I owe you my life. We all owe you are our lives.”
Paul just nodded his head in understanding, not able to reply with words. Instead he just sat there, softly listening to the sound of the cockpit doors sliding shut. He could feel the shuttle rocked slightly by the cheers of the crew from outside when Jon appeared, followed him with his eyes, as the sea of people parted before him, until he was standing in front of Sofia and took her in his arms.
Sighing to himself, he stood slowly. Hoping Jon remembered his promise, when one day he found out the truth about what happened between him and Sofia. Paul had a call to make, then he needed a drink.
*****
As Jon stepped out of the shuttle, facing a sea of faces, everybody fell still for an instant, as if the room was taking a collective breath. Then the cheering started. Slowly at first, but it grew and grew, until it finally reached such a crescendo that it seemed like the entire flight deck was vibrating from the intensity of the noise.
As Jon made his way down the ramp he ignored it, only having eyes for one person. Exchanging the odd word here, the occasional handshake there, he made his way determinedly through the crowd. Until finally he arrived. The crowd parted before him and suddenly she was there, in front of him. Jon took a deep breath, before taking a step forward. Closer. He had seen her on Tartarus, but was so caught up in events he had not had the time to appreciate her beauty. The way her soft curls framed her face, the sparkle in her emerald green eyes and the way her lips upturned in a soft smile. Even more than that, Jon could still feel the pull towards her. The same that he felt on the planet, but magnified a thousand-fold. This time Jon did not resist it, as he took another step forward, then another. So close he could reach out and finally touch her. And because he could, he did. Running his fingertips along the side of her cheek, marvelling at how soft her skin was. Even softer than how he remembered it. Was it his imagination or did she lean ever so slightly into his touch?
“Your father?” Jon finally managed to get out, his throat suddenly dry. “How is he?”
“He’s going to be fine. The Doctor has already given him a clean bill of health. He’s recovering in his quarters at the moment. He wanted to be here to thank you, but the Doctor insisted that he rest. So he sent me instead, to thank you, in person.”
Jon meanwhile was having trouble paying attention to her words, mesmerised by her soft skin, wondering if her lips were still just as soft. Unable to help himself he slowly leaned closer. “You’re welcome,” he breathed. Noticing how her eyes darkened in desire, as his warm breath caressed her. How she instinctively seemed to lean forward, her lips coming closer to his. In the final moments just before their lips touched Jon decided he did not care about the past. Did not care if Sofia had found somebody else, somebody better than him, younger than him. For here, now, she was his alone, and Jon knew with absolute certainty nobody would ever love her more than he.
“Sofia,” Jon breathed softly. Their mouths coming together, slowly at first. Sofia’s mouth softened against his, her arms moved to fit around his neck, her hands moving up and down the nape of his neck. Jon’s arms moved to pull her close; her body soft, pliant and very feminine against his. He felt the softness of her lips and the silky caress of her sweet-smelling hair against his skin.
After so many years, it felt like coming home.
Jon’s lips, mouth and tongue moved against hers. He knew her taste, her scent, remembering it vividly. Sofia explored too, melting into his arms until they seemed to be one person. They fit together seamlessly, their skin warm. They felt one another through that kiss. With rising intensity, both felt the warm aching hollowness of longing and want. The kiss was timeless; it seemed to go on forever yet it took no time at all. There was a world of possibilities in that kiss. Jon’s arms tightened, pulling her against him so fiercely the breath was almost crushed out of her.
However, the cheering continued all around them and brought them both back to reality, reminding them where they were.
“I’ve missed you,” Sofia uttered. “I don’t care about the past any more. I finally realised what is most important to me. Family, and you’re part of that family, Jon. I don’t want to be alone any more.”
Jon smiled softly at her gentle words, tracing the edge of her lips with his thumb. “And I promise that you won’t be alone any more. But,” casting his eyes around at their audience he added. “This is not the time or the place. Also there is something else that I have to do first.”
Sofia recognised the pain in Jon’s eyes and could guess at the cause. “My father,” she sighed.
Jon nodded his head in agreement. “Sofia I have to talk to him first. Please understand that I want nothing more than to be with you, but I cannot do that with his actions hanging over our heads. He is still my Lord, Master and Emperor. Nothing can ever change that. Not until he releases me from my duty, not while he and I both still live.”
“Then talk to him,” Sofia insisted firmly. “I am fed up with all the lies that have kept us apart for so long. I don’t even care why any more. I just want to have the future together that has been denied to us for so long.”
Jon just nodded his head in agreement. “Let me talk to him, then I will come and find you. I promise.”
“Don’t leave it too long,” Sofia replied. “Otherwise I might not wait.” She left the threat hanging in the air for a moment before adding with a heated gaze. “Then I’ll have to come looking for you.”
Jon laughed, kissing her once again on the cheek, a promise of things to come. Then bowing slightly he slipped back into the crowd.
Sofia sighed deeply, wondering how much longer events would conspire to keep them apart. However, this time Sofia promised herself she would not give up. She would fight for Jon if necessary. Even if the price was her recently returned father.
*****
From the shadows of one of the shuttles, one person observed the reunion without any joy. Miranda angrily wiped away the tears from her eyes. She had long known in her heart Jon belonged to another, but that did not mean she had to approve of it.
Thinking back to the last night Jon had kissed her, had held her in his arms. She had felt safe, comfortable, protected, but even then she knew he loved another. When she had noticed Jon’s eyes finally close in sleep and felt his heart beating next to hers, she had closed her eyes, just for a minute, and pretended to be that other woman. To be loved by him and to be able to return that love unreservedly. Well nobody was going to blame her for that one moment of weakness.
“Are you going to be alright?” An understanding voice enquired from behind her.
Miranda turned her head in surprise, not thinking anybody had noticed her. Then she recognised Paul’s reassuring presence. When he enfolded her in an embrace, Miranda leaned back against him and the two of them watched the couple embrace—and kiss.
“You know that it was never about you, right?” Paul inquired quietly.
“I know that I could never compete against her for his heart,” Miranda replied. “How was I ever meant to compete against a Princess?”
Paul’s gentle chuckle surprised her. “What’s so funny?” She demanded crossly.
“This has nothing to do with Sofia being a Princess. I often think Jon would have much preferred she wasn’t.” At Miranda’s surprised glance he added. “Too much baggage. His duty and her duty. Responsibility. Honour. Huh. I think somewhere amongst all of that they almost lost sight of what was important. Each other. So what are you going to do now?” Paul asked after a moment’s silence.
“Go home,” Miranda replied. Quickly sensing Paul’s sudden unease, in the way he tensed behind her, she added. “I mean back to Terra Nova.” Miranda could sense his relief when he gently kissed her on the crown of her head. The way a brother might do for a younger sister in pain.
“Good plan,” he murmured, watching the couple separate and go their different ways. “I think I will join you.”
*****
Anyone who did not understand human behaviour would have been surprised by Jon’s next actions. Far from marching straight to Marcus’ apartment and demanding an audience, he instead went to the temporary guest quarters assigned to him.
Stripping off his bloody and worn uniform, Jon stepped under the shower. Staying under the hot spray far longer than was necessary, wishing he could wash away the mistakes of the past as easily he did the blood that had been clinging to him.
After the shower he changed into a fresh white Imperial Navy uniform somebody had left out for him. Taking the time to check his appearance, to clean the blood off his sword and to stop and gather his thoughts.
For he had no illusions about how difficult the upcoming meeting was going to be. Jon knew that by now somebody would have brought the Emperor up-to-speed on recent events. He winced, imagining the incandescent rage of his master. But then again he had faced the Emperor’s wrath many times before. Usually Jon took the brunt of his Master’s anger in order to protect Sofia, and he would do the same again this time. For thanks to his actions Sofia now had a father, and Jon had no intention of driving a wedge between the two of them.
Drawing his blade, Jon inspected it as carefully as if he were facing a parade ground inspection. Gripping the hilt of the sword tightly, so tight his hands turned white, Jon took as firm a grip on his emotions. For unlike Sofia who had only recently discovered the truth of her father’s deceit, he had known it for many years. Over time his anger had grown and grown. It was now like a torrential wave that threatened to sweep him away. Therefore, sitting in the dark, empty apartment, Jon struggled to get his emotions firmly under control. Only when he was absolutely certain he had mastered them did he stand up and make his way towards the Emperor.
*****
Jon did not even wait for a response when he announced his arrival; he simply stepped over the threshold into the Emperor’s quarters. This meeting was many years coming and Jon had no intention of postponing it any further.
The lights were off and the only illumination in the room came from the stars shining brightly through the large viewport. Glancing around carefully, Jon was not surprised to see the Emperor standing at his usual place, next to the window, staring out intently, his back to him. Taking a couple of steps into the centre of the room, Jon fell to one knee, one hand grasping the hilt of his sword tightly. With his gaze fixed firmly on the floor, Jon broke the silence in the room. “My Emperor,” he proclaimed, announcing his presence. Everything was still for a moment, and Jon had a momentarily feeling of déjà vu, a similar scene, but a different ship, many, many years before.
“Commander,” The Emperor’s voice had not changed significantly over the years, was still the rich baritone Jon remembered so clearly. “My Praetorian, my Last Praetorian.”
Jon eyes filled with tears, sharing the pain in his master’s voice. “They died well, my Lord,” he explained, desperately wanting Marcus to know the truth, to understand why. “They died doing their duty. They sacrificed themselves to save your daughter and me. Without them none of us would be here today. They were the best, the strongest and the bravest. You would have been proud of them.” Looking up Jon could see the Emperor standing still, but his head was also bowed.
“I am proud of them, my Praetorian. They gave their lives protecting something that is worth more to me than life itself. They died doing their duty and no lord can ever ask more of his vassals. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten.”
Both men fell silent for a moment in mutually shared grief.
“However it is not their duty I call into question,” the Emperor continued on sharply.
Jon took a deep breath, knowing what was about to come. He had been preparing for this argument for years, but even now his excuses sounded weak to him, pitiful.
“Did you not swear the same oath? Did you not swear you would protect my daughter and I above all else? Did you not promise to always stand at our side? To protect us, even if it cost you your very life.”
“I did, my Lord,” Jon replied truthfully.
“Then why do I find that you, my best, my most loyal of subjects, has abandoned his oath? Has so easily discarded your duty, your most sacred of responsibilities,” the Emperors voice grew in volume, and anger. “I spent five years on that accursed planet, incarcerated, tortured, fighting to keep my sanity. Yet the only thing that kept me sane was the knowledge my daughter was safe. That you, my greatest warrior, would always be by her side. Defending her and protecting her. Keeping her safe. For I knew whatever they did to me, they could not truly hurt me, as what was most precious to me was safe.”
“My Lord—” Jon tried to explain.
“I have not finished,” the Emperor roared, interrupting him. “Then can you imagine my surprise, my shock, when my daughter, that which is most important to me, is cast down at my feet. In the grasp of my mortal enemy, the very person who imprisoned me, who tortured me. Imagine my disbelief, at hearing from my very own daughter how you deserted her. How you abandoned your duty for the arms of another woman.”
“I never abandoned her,” Jon refuted, his voice also increasing in pitch. “I went looking for Harkov. I spent years crisscrossing the Imperium, following up every sighting, every rumour. I avenged you, my Lord. I repaid him for his treason, his ultimate betrayal. He finally paid for it with his life.”
“But that was not your duty!” Marcus yelled, his finger pointed accusingly at him. “Your duty was clear and my orders were explicit. You were to stay with my daughter, to protect her and nothing more. You failed me, but worse than that you failed in your duty. You betrayed everything my Praetorians stood for. You did not honour their sacrifice but instead disgraced it. They died protecting you and my daughter so you could carry on their duty. So you could protect her in their absence, and what did you do? You betrayed their trust.”
Jon meanwhile was trembling, still on his knees. Shaking like a leaf. White-faced as each one of the Emperor’s barbs lashed out at him, flaying him. What was even worse was that Jon believed him. For Jon had tormented himself with each one of his accusations a hundred times before. Yet at the same time, Jon could feel his own anger chipping away at the self-control inside him. The pain he had buried deep inside, so long ago, slowly started to bubble to the surface.
He had betrayed his fellow Praetorians? What about Marcus? Marcus had betrayed them in a far, far worse way.
As if in slow motion, Jon slowly drew the sword at his waist. After all these years it had finally come down to this. By following through with this action Jon knew he and Sofia would never be together, but there was no other way. Marcus would not accept any other price for his actions. Therefore looking up at Marcus, with the sword firmly in his hand, Jon prepared himself for what he was going to do next. Knowing that there was no return, no turning back…
He reversed the sword, offering the hilt of the blade to his master. “If I have failed you, then I accept whatever punishment you determine is due.”
Marcus looked at the sword. Surprised, he reached forward and grasping the hilt to draw the blade into his hands. Inspecting the faultless blade, he turned back to Jon, still kneeling at his feet, head bowed, accepting whatever punishment Marcus deemed suitable.
Even death.
“Why?” Marcus demanded angrily. “I need to know why before I can decide your fate. Why did you hurt my daughter so? Why did you betray her in the arms of another woman? Why did you abandon her? Look me in the eyes, my Praetorian, for I will have the truth from you.” Marcus insisted, lowering the blade of the sword underneath Jon’s jaw and using the flat side to force his head up and look him in the eyes.
Jon looked up into the angry green eyes of a man he had come to think of as a father. The same colour eyes he dreamed about every night. The breath caught in his throat. How to explain his actions, when he did not even understand them himself? How to explain all the hurt and pain? How could he describe leaving Sofia had in many ways killed him. That for the past five years he had not really been alive, but just passing time. How to explain?
“I love her,” Jon replied earnestly. “I love your daughter more than life itself. She is the first thing I think of when I wake and my last thought before I fall asleep. She is my world, my very existence.” For a moment Jon thought he heard a startled gasp, but when he looked closer it was only into the Emperor’s astonished gaze.
Looking down upon this man, Marcus wondered what power he had over him to completely disarm him so. For he had ordered Kings and Queens, Senators, Warlords and Admirals with ease. Yet this man, unarmed and totally defenceless in front of him seemed to constantly surprise him. For looking into his eyes he could clearly see the truth of his words and his own expression reflected back at him whenever he thought of his departed wife. “Why?” He asked, no longer angry, only confused. “If you love her so, how could you have done those things? To betray her in such a manner and then to abandon her?”
“I have never, ever betrayed your daughter,” Jon vowed earnestly. “I would take that sword and plunge it through my own heart before I could do such a thing. I swear it on my life,” Jon insisted. Catching the blade from under his chin, grasping it firmly until he could feel blood seeping from the palm of his hand. He pushed the sword lower, resting it over his chest, next to his heart. “If you doubt the truth of my words then take my life.”
For the second time in the space of a few minutes Marcus was dumbfounded, for again he saw the truth in Jon’s eyes. Yet what his daughter had told him, she had seen with her own eyes. Marcus struggled to reconcile the two stories, to not look aside for confirmation.
“My daughter saw you, she saw it with her own eyes. She told me. She would not lie in this regard.” Marcus had seen the desolation in his daughter’s face when she had told him, he knew she told the truth, but he could also see the truth in Jon’s eyes. What was going on here? How could they both be correct? He was determined to find out the truth once and for all.
“Your daughter saw exactly what I wanted her to see. She would never have turned her back on me, never. Not if she had even the slightest hint I still loved her. For your daughter is the most loyal, honest and trusting person I have ever known. Therefore I showed her the one thing I knew would erase any doubt, which would ensure she hated and despised me forever. I made her think that I betrayed her with another woman.”
“But you didn’t?” Marcus pressed.
“Never.”
“But why? Why all the deceit and all of the lies?” Marcus asked, confused.
“Because of you.” Jon finally looked up into the face of his Emperor and allowed some of the pain and anger inside to leak into his expression.
The Emperor took a few steps back in shock at the seething anger that he felt directed at him.
“Because you poisoned what we had, with all your plans and lies,” Jon laughed, but there was no humour in his voice, only hurt and pain. “All your schemes to force us together, and in the end they did the complete opposite. As while I loved Sofia more than life itself, I would not, could not, destroy her memory of you. It was all she had left to remind herself of you. Therefore I could never know her true feelings in this matter. Were they her own? Her love freely given or was it just your lies and deceit that had so ensnared her for so long she had come to believe it as the truth? The not knowing would have destroyed us. It would have poisoned our love and torn us apart. We could never be together with those lies hanging over us… and I couldn’t stay.”
“Why not?” Marcus interrupted, already having an inkling of the answer. “It was your duty to stay and protect her.”
Finally lowering his head in shame, Jon whispered quietly, “I did everything in my power to protect her and make her safe, but I couldn’t stay.”
“Why not?”
“Because I could not bear the pain of one day looking into her eyes and seeing the love she once had for me directed at another. To watch somebody else touch her in the way I dreamed, yet not being able to. To listen to somebody else whispering the words of love into her ear I longed to speak. To look upon her distended belly, round with somebody else’s child, knowing it could never be mine.”
Tears were now running down his cheeks, the pain in his words beyond anything any mortal should bear. “I couldn’t do that. I was just not strong enough. I would have killed anybody who even tried to touch her. What sort of life would that have been for her? To be constantly alone because the one person who loved her could never have her. So I protected her as best as I could and left. I fled to the most distant place in the Imperium from her I could find. Then I spent the rest of my years, every waking moment imagining her lying in the arms of another, while every minute I closed my eyes I held her in my arms.”
Taking a deep shuddering breath, Jon once again looked up and in a firm voice concluded. “Compared to that pain your threats are meaningless to me. There is nothing you could do to me or say to me that could possibly come close. Take my life for betraying you and your daughter. It would be a blessing, to put me out of this agony.”
“Please,” Jon begged him. “I couldn’t do it before, not with my sworn oath to you. I swore I would protect you and your daughter with my life, for as long as I live. But I cannot do this anymore, I cannot continue living like this. Release me from my oath so I can escape this torment, that I can end this purgatory.”
Marcus’s heart went out to the young man, who had sacrificed so much for his family, only for Marcus’ own plans, his only real wish in life, for his daughter to be safe and happy, to have caused so much anguish. Therefore it was only reluctantly he shook his head, taking a step backwards. “I am sorry Commander but it’s beyond my power to grant you that wish.”
Jon just lowered his head and sobbed helplessly.
“For you did not give that oath to me, but another. Therefore it’s up to her to decide your fate,” Marcus said, finally looking aside.
Confused at what he was talking about Jon looked up once again. Then it came to him. He had sworn that oath, on his very life, almost a decade ago—to Sofia. Jon stared in complete shock as she stepped out of the shadows of the room. Like him she had tears streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes were red and puffy but Jon didn’t think he had ever seen her look more beautiful. “Sofia?” He asked hesitantly, looking between father and daughter. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Since you arrived,” Sofia cried. “Jon, why didn’t you say anything to me? Why this—” She waved her hands around, unable to find a word to describe the mess they had made of their lives.
“Charade?” Jon finished for her.
Sofia just nodded.
“I had no way to tell you,” Jon explained in despair. “If I had tried to explain, you would have insisted on knowing why we could never be together. You are so tenacious,” Jon laughed. “It’s one of the things I love about you, but eventually you would have realised the truth.” Looking up at her standing in front of him, next to her father he explained. “I could never let you find out the truth. After your mother, your father was all that you had left. I couldn’t take that away from you. I’m so sorry,” he cried.
“Anyway,” Marcus interrupted. “I think my job here is almost done. Honestly you two, how did you ever manage without me?” He laughed. “Oh, I almost forgot,” he added, passing the sword to Sofia. “I think this belongs to you. As I seem to remember Jon swore an oath on his life to you that he would keep you safe. I just got whatever was left of his time. Anyway I’ll leave it up to you to decide his fate now.” Looking thoughtfully between the two of them he added. “Perhaps it’s now time for you two to exchange a different set of vows.” With that cryptic remark he departed into another room, leaving them alone, together.
Looking down at the blade in her hand, standing over the broken man she had spent years agonising over, wondering if he returned her feelings, and now she finally knew the truth. Sofia was at a loss what to say next.
“There has never been anybody else,” she whispered to him, unable to meet his gaze, instead running it along the length of his blade. “I never wanted anybody else, only you. I will admit I went on some dates, mostly to spite you, but they never went anywhere. I compared every person I ever met to you, and found them all lacking. I never wanted anybody else.”
Jon opened his mouth to say something, but Sofia quickly stepped forward, placing a finger on his lips to silence him.
“No, please let me finish; you have said enough, now it’s my turn. I didn’t know what my father had done until Sejanus forced him to admit it on Tartarus. I couldn’t believe he would ever do such a thing. That is something he and I will need to work out in the years to come, but as for you. I am sure of my feelings about you,” she said firmly.
“But how can you be so sure?” Jon replied. “Your father spent years pushing us together, twisting the truth, poisoning it. How can you be sure that what you feel is really true?”
Taking a step closer, Sofia ran her fingers down his cheek. Brushing away the tears, she smiled a pure, innocent smile. “Because I never told my father the truth.”
Jon frowned, not understanding. “I don’t understand, what truth?”
Leaning forward until their lips were almost touching she explained. “The truth that I fell in love with you the very first time that we met. Long before my father even knew about you. In which case he could hardly twist my feelings, as there was nothing to alter as I was already in love with you.” She whispered softly. Finally their lips touched, unlike the earlier kiss this one did not have the desperation of years of separation and unrestrained need. The kiss was soft, gentle, of two souls that had finally found one another, reaffirming each other and coming together.
Jon kissed her as if he drew sustenance from her, as if she were essential to his very survival. There was a fierceness and demand in his kiss that went beyond passion, beyond hunger, beyond need. The love flowing between them was mutual and Jon wondered how he could ever have doubted Sofia’s feelings for him.
As one, the two of them looked at the door her father had disappeared through.
“Where are your quarters?” Jon demanded urgently.
“Deck three, corridor five. Yours?”
“Forget mine. Yours are closer,” Jon insisted, dragging her by the hand towards the door.
*****
Fortunately they just about made it to Sofia’s quarters, even if they did get distracted by each other a couple of times along the way. As soon as they were through the door Jon’s hands were on her shoulders. He stroked down her arms and goose bumps swept across her skin. Then he gripped her hips and pulled her against him, into the hard ridge of his arousal. A rush of desire made her gasp.
One of his hands slid into her hair, brushing it away from her neck, and she felt his mouth on the bare skin of her nape as his other hand moved up her body to cover her breast. She moaned and arched into him before she could stop herself. His hand tightened almost painfully on her breast as he thrust hard against her, and she moaned again. Then she heard his voice.
“I have missed you so much.”
Her heart was hammering in her chest, and it took her a minute to process what he’d said. “I know. Me too.”
He turned her to face him, pressing her back against the door. She’d never been so aware of a man’s physical strength and she felt so feminine in comparison.
“You know I dreamed of this. Us. Together like this every night. For five long years.” The look in his eyes made her shiver. He moved closer, until she could feel the heat coming off his body. He slid a hand down between them, and before she knew what he was doing he’d undone the button of her jeans. Then he tugged down her zipper.
He leaned down close to her ear. “I know you want this as much as I do.”
He pressed his palm against her stomach, and every muscle there tightened. When his hand dipped lower, stroking over her bare skin, her head fell forward onto his shoulder.
“Jon,” she said helplessly, but whether she wanted him to stop or keep going she wasn’t sure.
Then his hand moved again, slipping beneath her underwear to touch her bare flesh, and she felt her whole body flush when he found out exactly how much she missed him.
He sucked in a ragged breath. “I don’t just want you in my bed, but I want you in my life. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.”
“Jon,” she said again, moving in spite of herself, her body twisting against those searching, insistent fingers as they stroked over her most sensitive flesh. Her heart was beating frantically, her breath coming in short, fast, gasps.
“Mine. Forever,” he said demandingly, his thumb settling over her throbbing centre as he slid two fingers inside her.
She cried out, the sound muffled against his shoulder. His thumb was moving now in quick tight circles and the rising torrent seemed to lift her off her feet. She locked her arms around his neck and raised her head, her body arching and twisting against his hand. When she cried out again the sound was swallowed up as he kissed her, hard and fierce and with such longing, as her body spiralled tighter and tighter, higher and higher.
He tore his mouth from hers. “You’re mine. Say it.”
“Yes,” she gasped, and then her head fell forward as her climax hit her, and she bit down on Jon’s shoulder to keep from screaming as the explosion shattered her into a thousand pieces of light.
From far, far away she heard Jon murmuring her name. His lips were in her hair and his arms were tight around her as she came slowly back to reality.
He was shaking too, and something about that moved her. She tugged at him and he turned to her, and she slid her arms around his neck and kissed him. He groaned against her mouth as he pulled her close.
“Bedroom,” he said, breaking the kiss. Breathing hard, as if he’d just been running. “Bedroom, or I take you here, on the floor, now.”
She kept her eyes on his as she stepped back, wriggling out of her jeans, kicking them away, along with her shoes.
His eyes darkened as he reached for her. “Here it is then,” he said, but she laughed and ran for the bedroom.
They made it somehow, stumbling across the living room and into her bedroom, falling onto her bed and into a kiss that made her dizzy. She fumbled with Jon’s uniform as he fumbled with the rest of her clothes, getting his pants off while he slid her panties down her legs. Their shirts came off, and suddenly the fumbling stopped as Jon rolled her onto her back and then rose up on his knees, looking down at her.
For a second they were both still.
His grey eyes were so serious. Something in his expression sent a wave of fear through her, because she was afraid the same thing was in her eyes. Need. Desire. Love.
She reached for him, impatient to satisfy her growing need for him, but he stopped her.
“No,” he said, pinning her wrists above her head, on the pillow. “I’ve fantasised about you ever since I first saw you dressed in those clothes. You have no idea how hard it was for me at the time not to throw you onto the nearest bed and make love to you all day and all night.”
She arched an eyebrow at him in surprise. “Only those clothes?” She said, with a smile. “In that case all the rest of my efforts were wasted. All those strapless, and indecent dresses I wore to try and catch your eye.”
Jon groaned and broke away from her lips, then dragged his open mouth along her jaw and neck, tasting the hollow at the base of her throat before skimming his lips over her collarbone. “No, not wasted,” he said between kisses. “I also fantasied about you in those, but that was me making love to the Imperial Princess, jewel of the Empire. The other clothes had me fantasizing about making love to Sofia.”
Panic rose in her throat. “But they are the same person,” she said, struggling against his grip. “I’m no different.”
“I know,” he said, his voice suddenly harsh. “I get it. I know she is a part of you but it wasn’t the Princess I fell in love with. Your money, wealth, or power, I never cared for any of that. All I ever wanted was you.”
Her body arched towards him, suddenly and instinctively. Something inside her, something utterly primeval, responded to his words and the look on his face, as if she’d been waiting for this her entire life. The feeling should have terrified her, as it went against everything she thought she knew about herself. But somehow coming from Jon, from this man who was so dear to her, she instinctively knew it was the truth.
She met his eyes in the starlight streaming through the viewport, and she knew he could feel the change in her, the softness that made her whole body yearn for him. “What do you want me to do?” she whispered.
He smiled. Then he leaned in and kissed her, slowly, leisurely, and thoroughly.
“Tip your head back,” he whispered when he finally pulled away.
She’d never felt so safe and so vulnerable at the same time. The helplessness of having her hands pinned down, of exposing her throat. Jon caressed her neck with his lips, and then his teeth, and then his tongue, and the sensations made her shudder and writhe against him.
Jon knew he’d never recover from this. Every second he was with Sofia, he could feel the invisible marks she was leaving on him. “Leave your hands where they are,” he said, letting her wrists go and moving down her body to her breasts, stroking with his tongue, nipping with his teeth, teasing with his fingers.
He’d never felt this way before with another woman. With Sofia, the most basic part of him forced its way to the surface. Nothing was more important than the need to claim her, to make her his, forever. His body knew she belonged to him.
The sweet peaks of her nipples drove him crazy. He bit down harder than he meant to and looked up, afraid he’d hurt her. But her gasp of surprise held pleasure, too, and her hands were still on the pillow above her heard, where he’d put them.
The sight did something to him. It made him feel powerful, like a knight of Old Earth, in his sister’s storybooks. With a groan he lowered his mouth, dipping his tongue into the dimple of her naval, feeling a rush of satisfaction when she shuddered against him.
He went lower. “Spread your legs,” he said in a voice so raw he barely recognised it.
She complied, and he moved between her thighs, kissing her all over as he moved closer to the place he really wanted to be. When he heard Sofia moan he smiled against her skin.
He urged her legs wider apart. When he bent his head close he felt her trembling, and he gripped her hips hard, holding her in place.
He was drunk in seconds, ravenous for her. He showed her no mercy, delving into her body with tongue and fingers until she was twisting against him, calling his name, helplessly.
He’d never felt so attuned to a woman. He knew exactly where to touch her, when to go hard and fast and when to pull back, taking her close but not letting her go over until she was frantic with want, writhing so desperately it was hard to hold her down. Only then did he take her over the edge, his own heart pounding when she cried out his name, greedy for her pleasure as he drank in every spasm, every quiver, every tremor as she came slowly down from the crest.
Even then he went on kissing her softly, moving back up her body until he could look down into her eyes. Her skin was flushed, her face glowing.
She took a deep breath. “I’m going to make you pay for that.”
He brushed the hair away from her face. Before this moment, he wouldn’t have believed anything could make her look more beautiful. “I certainly hope so. Should I be afraid?”
She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him onto his back, throwing a leg across him to straddle his hips. “Very afraid.” She stretched out along his body, kissing her way down his torso. Every muscle in his body was tense with anticipation.
She took him in her mouth, and his hips jerked in response.
It was too much. He slid a hand into her hair, the other grasping the bed sheets tightly, and tried to control himself, but there wasn’t a hope in hell he could handle this. Not when he’d waited so long for her. He barely lasted a minute before he rolled away, taking her by the shoulders and pulled her up to him.
“You have to stop. I’m close, and I want to be inside you the first time.”
“I thought that you were trained to resist all forms of torture,” she said softly, her mouth close to his ear.
“I don’t remember that particular form during interrogation training. It was lucky you were not teaching that class, otherwise I would have failed miserably. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
She moved over him and pressed a kiss to his chest.
He pulled her up for a kiss, so that their eyes were level. They looked at each other for a long moment. Finally she rose up over him, her knees on either side of his hips.
She looked like a goddess, her skin drenched in starlight. Then, so slowly he thought it might kill him, she took every inch of his hard length inside her.
He was afraid he would explode right then and there. He was harder than stone, every muscle in his body rigid as he stared up at her. She was hot and tight and so perfect for him. He would have told her so except his mouth had suddenly gone dry, and he couldn’t say anything but her name. Even that came out as a ragged whisper. His hands settled on her hips, trying to urge her to move, but she just smiled.
“If I can’t torture you one way, I’ll torture you another.” She lifted up slowly, and came down again even more slowly.
Grabbing her by the shoulders he flipped them over, pinning her against the mattress as he thrust into her.
Sofia gasped, wrapping her legs around him as her body surged to meet his.
His rhythm was hard and fast. He was out of control, desperate for her even though he was deep inside her. When the explosion came he clenched his jaw to keep from roaring, dropping his head onto her shoulder as he poured himself into her.
He shuddered with the aftershocks. When the storm finally passed he realized he was holding Sofia so tightly she probably couldn’t breathe.
He relaxed his hold as he looked down at her. His heart was still pounding.
“That was amazing,” she whispered, staring up at him with luminous eyes.
He rested his forehead against hers, “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice shaking a little.
He rolled onto his back, keeping his arm around her so he could bring her with him, stroking her hair as she rested her head against his chest.
Sofia made a small, contented sound, and his body twitched in response.
It was hard to believe, considering it had been less than a minute since he’d pulled out of her, but he was ready to make love to her all over again.
But she was draped against him, languorous and sleepy, her breathing already starting to slow. So he willed his body to calm down as he cradled her against him, content he finally had her just where he had always dreamed.
In his arms, in his bed and in his life.
*****
Sofia woke suddenly. It was still dark in the bedroom, and she was woken by the empty void in the bed next to her. For a brief instant she thought she had been dreaming and as always, when her dreams came to an end she found herself awake, alone and empty.
However, sudden movement in the bed next to her interrupted her reverie, and she rolled over to observe Jon slipping back under the covers next to her. She was suddenly filled with a sense of wellbeing, as she felt him behind her, holding her securely against his chest, one arm around her waist. A wave of lust passed over her at the feel of his strong body pressed so close.
“Jon?” she whispered.
“Yes,” he answered, nuzzling the back of her neck.
Her body flushed with pleasure. “What time is it? Where have you been?”
“It’s a little before dawn, we are currently in orbit above Eden Prime. I’m sorry for waking you; I just wanted to check on your father, his safety is still my responsibility. As for you…” His hand moved up her torso to cover her breast.
She arched back instinctively, her bare bottom coming into contact with his hard length. “How long have you been like this?”
He played with her nipple, tweaking it between his thumb and forefinger. She squirmed against him as moisture flooded her centre. “Just an hour or so,” he murmured into her ear.
“Jon. You’ve been awake this whole time?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep, I felt like I’ve slept enough over the past five years. You’re lucky I didn’t ravish you in your sleep.”
She arched back against him again. “You could have woken me up. How about my father? Is he still also asleep?”
He groaned. “Yes. He is asleep. Looks like him and the Doc had their own celebration. I found an empty bottle of very expensive scotch in his apartment. He will be fine when he awakes, but will probably have a hell of a hangover.” His hand slid down to her hip and he pulled her tight against him.
“So why are we back at Eden Prime so soon? I was looking forward to a couple more days more to enjoy my vacation. I was a little vague about when I was planning on getting back to work.” The way Jon suddenly stilled behind her indicated she was probably not going to like the answer to that question.
“News of your father’s rescue has already leaked to the media. They are talking about nothing else across the data-nets. Already the Senators from the Rim Worlds have gone on record to say they will never again swear an oath of fealty to him. They are threatening to withdraw from the Confederation. The Senate has been called into emergency session.”
“I must go, this is all my fault,” Sofia cried trying to disentangle herself from Jon.
However, he would not let her go and simply tightened his hold on her. Jon’s hand trailed down her torso to come to rest between her thighs, where he started small, circular strokes that made her gasp. “We still have time, as it’s a few more hours before the assembly is due to start. Anyway your father has announced he will speak before the Senate.”
“Jon I must go with him, I need to be at his side. This is entirely my fault. It was my decision to abdicate, my decision to pass power to the Senate, my decision to run away from my responsibilities.” Sofia could feel Jon’s hands stop, his breathing still as he contemplated her words. She knew that part of him must be tearing up inside, the desire to protect her, to lock her away conflicting with his desire to respect her wishes, to give her the freedom she insisted upon. She held her own breath, wondering what she would do or say if he refused her this request.
“Very well,” he conceded, releasing the breath he had been holding, his body relaxing. “Then I will also be in attendance, as I swore I would protect you both, with my life if necessary.”
She was assaulted by a sudden, tidal wave of affection for him—and another wave of lust, this one so powerful she moaned. “I need you inside me. Right now.”
“I’m on it.” His voice was low and rough and the sound vibrated through her.
She felt him nudge at her entrance. She moaned again, arching her lower back, and a second later he pushed inside.
He stretched her, filling her in a way she’d never experienced before. He rolled her onto her stomach and then pulled her up onto her hands and knees, thrusting deep. The sensation was so intense she cried out. When he reached around to stroke the aching, throbbing juncture of her thighs, it felt like only seconds before she came apart.
He came too, gripping her hard as he slammed into her one last time, his whole body tensing and then pulsing inside her. Their arms gave way at the same time and they collapsed together onto the bed. She drew a deep, shuddering breath.
“Wow,” she said, her voice muffled by the pillow.
She loved his weight on top of her, pressing her into the mattress. She loved the ragged sound of his breathing, and the way he pressed kisses against her neck, shoulders and back.
Another wave of affection overwhelmed her and she twisted around to face him, sliding her hands into his hair and pulling him down for a kiss.
He kissed her back as if he meant it, and as Sofia gloried in the feel of his lips against hers she realised suddenly that she meant it, too.
“Together,” Sofia breathed aloud.
“Together,” Jon echoed.
Epilogue
The Senate, Eden Prime, Eden System
Jon looked around the massive hall of the Confederation Senate with something akin to disbelief. He had been in this very room more times than he could count during the years. He had been present for speeches, proclamations and inaugurations. It was in this very room he had been present for the founding of the Confederation. Yet he could not once remember it ever being this unruly. The session had not even started yet and it already looked like a riot was underway on the Senate floor.
Part of this was the way in which the Senate had been partitioned for historical reasons. In the very centre of the great hall was the Imperial throne, to reflect that all power radiated out from the Emperor. This seat was currently vacant, as Jon had insisted that Marcus and Sofia arrive only at the last minute, just as the session was scheduled to get underway.
Surrounding the Imperial throne were the Senators of the Core Worlds. To show their original support for Edward Aurelius they were seated at the feet of the Emperor, his very first vassals. Surrounding them, making up by far the bulk of the rest of the great hall, were the Senators of the Rim Worlds. Those worlds that were forced to swear fealty to the Emperor or face complete annihilation.
All in all it seemed to Jon like a castle under siege, surrounded on all sides by people baying for blood. The only thing keeping the bloodthirsty hordes back was the small circle of the Senators from the Core Worlds. They looked small in number and were far outnumbered by the Senators from the Rim Worlds who seemed to be pressing in on all sides.
“Well this is certainly a sight I never thought that I would live to see,” Paul quipped at his side, as the two of them looked out across the masses. “A general brawl in the Confederation Senate. We don’t need to worry about the rest of the Confederation. These idiots are going to kill each other before the civil war even starts.”
Jon had read the same intelligence reports as Paul had and shared the same opinion. Officially the Confederation Navy was meant to be independent and to enforce the peace. However, in reality the navy consisted of detachments from the various Core and Rim Worlds. Already the navy was starting to fracture with individual worlds demanding the withdrawal of their forces back to their homes for defence purposes. Even worse was that old grievances were already coming to the fore, with the Confederation Navy already stretched too thinly to keep the peace. The Rim Worlds were already closing their borders in preparation for a pre-emptive strike by the combined fleets of the Core Worlds. Meanwhile the Core Worlds were already preparing their fleets for a strike by the combined forces of the Rim Worlds.
Jon was fairly certain the result was going to be a near simultaneous pre-emptive strike on each other. The outcome was going to reverberate through every planet in the Confederation, like a great line of dominos, each being drawn into the conflict by another. Exactly the same way the last Great War had started, over five hundred years before. The result of that had been the deaths of millions, the collapse of interstellar trade and the human race on the brink of complete disintegration. Jon had little reason to believe this war was going to end any differently.
“Do you think it was worth it?” Paul interrupted his thoughts.
“Sorry,” Jon replied. “Do I think what was worth it?”
“Rescuing Marcus. At the time we gave little thought to the consequences, perhaps we should have. It might have been easier if he had remained dead.”
Considering the question carefully Jon replied. “Does it make me a terrible person if I reply that I don’t care? Sofia grew up without a mother. It was within my power to return her father to her. I never gave a second thought about the cost.” Jon remembered the delight in Sofia’s eyes when she had embraced her father that morning, after they had finally made it out of bed. A young woman who by some miracle had her father returned to her. In return the smile she had given him, the look of childlike, innocent delight. That was worth more than any price.
“No, not a terrible person,” Paul said. “A person blinded by love perhaps, but not a bad one. Well anyway, the session is going to get underway soon and I need to see to the security arrangements.”
Jon observed the session was indeed soon to begin, as he noticed a detachment of fully armed marines pushing through the crowd. Jon knew somewhere within that group would be Sofia and her father.
“Then everything is ready?” Jon asked grimly.
“It is. I have a squad of marines on standby to escort Marcus and Sofia out of the Senate at the first sign of trouble. We have an assault shuttle on standby to evacuate them. The Protector and the 12th Fleet is already on alert and they will provide fighter escort to the shuttle if required.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Jon said, but without much conviction. Both he and Paul had been in riots before and this was what it was going to turn into. There was already a charge in the air, a feeling of restless anticipation. Like a few moments of still before a storm was about to break. “I need to take my place next to Sofia and Marcus.”
“Good luck,” Paul replied. “I think we are going to need it,” he added under his breath.
As Jon pushed his way through the angry crowd, making his way towards the centre of the Senate he was able to observe more than one poorly concealed weapon. Jon had been amazed to discover a number of the Senators were carrying personal weapons and when challenged had claimed diplomatic status and refused to be searched on the grounds of privacy and diplomatic immunity.
Jon was incredulous there was no Senate law on members bearing arms, as under the rule of the Emperor anybody entering the Senate chambers would have been thoroughly searched, even the diplomats. Anybody caught bearing arms would have been executed.
However, under the Confederation such rules and legal niceties were expected to be observed. Jon just ground his teeth together in frustration. Only reassured by the armed marines that had been placed around the perimeter of the hall and the snipers he had personally deployed covering the rest of the great hall. In total there were more than enough weapons present within the Senate to equip a small army and hence Jon was fully expecting a scene of carnage in the very near future.
Stepping up onto the podium to take his usual place beside the great throne, Jon observed the squad of marines disperse around the raised platform, allowing Marcus and Sofia to take their assigned places.
With a simple nod of acknowledgement in his direction, Sofia first approached the speaking platform, as one of her duties as Confederation President was to start the proceedings. Looking out among the multitudes of people who were shouting, arguing and bickering, she announced in a clear voice, that rose above the background noise.
“Senators, friends, and citizens. I have stood in this place and addressed you all many times before. I have spoken to you as a Senator, I have spoken to you as a President and I have spoken to you as a friend. However, for the first time I am speaking to you as none of these. For today I speak to you as a daughter, who has had her father returned to her. I lost my mother when I was young, and for a time I thought I had also lost my father. That I was truly alone in this world. You might remember my father. Perhaps you remember him as a tyrant, a dictator, nothing more than a bully who enforced his will upon you. However, I remember a different man. One who held me in his arms while I cried after my mother passed away. I remember a man who used to leave the lights on in my bedroom, as I was afraid of the dark. I remember him as a man who no matter what the crisis, no matter how important the engagement, no matter how large the audience, always took the time to read to me. You might consider him as a person who cared for nothing but his own power. However, just a few days ago I heard this man offer everything, all his power, wealth and his very life just to spare my own. So today I stand before you as a humble daughter, grateful to have my father back.
I only have one request, as I have already sacrificed so much for you, family, future, happiness, and my love. I have never asked for anything from you in return before, but I ask it today. I ask that you listen to what my father has to say before you pass judgement. For it is easy to cast the first stone of hate, but far harder to accept the hand of reconciliation.
Therefore I yield the floor not to the Imperial Emperor, but to a great man, Marcus Aurelius. My father.”
As her speech had progressed the room had become still. The arguing stopped, the shouting fell away, the bickering ended, and every eye in the room turned to face Sofia. Every ear in the room strained to hear her words. When she had finally finished, all eyes focused towards the raised dais. As the hundreds of Senators watched open mouthed, Marcus Aurelius stood, a thoughtful expression on his face. Instead of approaching the podium he crossed to his daughter and enfolded her in a tight embrace.
The couple stood like that for many minutes, tears of joy and relief on their cheeks. In front of a crowd of hundreds, broadcast to tens of millions, but to them it mattered not as finally they were reunited, once again.
The couple were about to break apart, one to retake her seat, the other to take the podium and to make a speech that would decide the fate of hundreds of worlds and of tens of billions of people. However, it was a speech that was never to be, as before they could separate the echo of a single gunshot resounded throughout the Senate.
Jon was already moving, before the echo of the shot had even faded, but he already knew that he was too late, as together father and daughter both fell to the floor.
Motionless.
End of Book Two.
The Redemption Trilogy concludes with Book Three “Pax Imperia” available in the fall 2013.
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