The Sunfire

by Mike Smith

  “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.