The Sunfire

by Mike Smith

  “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 high-tail 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 view-port 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 t
eetered 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.