The Last Praetorian (The Redemption Trilogy)

by Mike Smith

  Chapter Thirteen

  Present Day

  Terra Nova, Zeta Aquilae System

  It was much later that evening, after the Eternal Light had docked and its cargo was safely transferred to Terra Nova, that Jon was secretly reviewing reports in his quarters. Jon was coming around to appreciate Miranda’s suggestion of filing reports electronically, as this allowed him to neatly circumvent the doctor’s explicit orders that he should be recuperating and in no way, or form, be working. Having been unceremoniously booted out of his own office by Miranda he had quickly converted his quarters into a new office; after all, he had plenty of room, as it previously only consisted of a bed, chair and table...

  Poring over the daily reports that had been filed while he was off station, he looked up in complete astonishment as Miranda breezed into his person quarters.

  “By all means, come in! Make yourself at home!” Jon commented derisively. “You know I could have just finished a shower, and be prancing around in here naked!”

  Miranda’s eye’s brightened at the prospect, and she replied flirtatiously. “I can always come back a bit later…”

  Jon just rolled his eyes in disbelief. He had initially been shocked upon awaking in medical, to hear that Paul had abdicated his responsibility in favour of Miranda.

  Although Paul was perfectly in his right to decide who was in charge during Jon’s absence, initially Jon had been surprised at the decision. Jon still remembered Paul’s reservations clearly from their late evening drinking session in Paul’s apartment. However, it would seem that Miranda’s hard work, dedication and passion had even brought around their cynical Operations chief. But the additional responsibility had done wonders to the newest member of the senior staff. Jon still remembered the angry, untrusting young pilot that had awoken in medical, demanding when she could return home. However, the news about her family and the recordings from the Syndicate outpost had cut any lingering ties to the Syndicate. Meanwhile, her rotation through the various departments had expanded her horizons and brought her into close contact with the various department heads that she had quickly managed to win over. Jon still chuckled on remembering the expression on Gunny’s face when challenged to an arm wrestle.

  The change in Miranda had been even more stunning, as her self-confidence began to grow, a wicked sense of humour emerged in the young woman.

  Probably a little over-confident, Jon thought observing the bold young woman who had just strolled into his quarter’s unannounced.

  “You have plans for the evening?” Jon inquired, motioning towards her bold wardrobe choice. Wearing a bright red silk blouse, black pencil skirt, that nicely showed off her endless legs, with her hair tied-back she looked more like a fashion model than the interim CEO of Vanguard.

  “Dinner and drinks with the senior staff tonight,” Miranda replied reclining in the only other chair in the room, a small couch that Jon had only included so that Paul could take a seat, when they did drinks in his quarters.

  “What dinner and drinks with the senior staff? I never had dinner and drinks with the senior staff!”

  “Exactly my point,” Miranda insisted. “Hence why dinner and drinks with the senior staff is long overdue! Everybody has confirmed that they will be there tonight.”

  Eyeing the young woman and her bold ensemble, Jon could well understand how the entire male complement of the senior staff would be jostling to be first in line to dinner. Jon briefly contemplated whether there was time before dinner for a quick memo to all senior staff, that anybody caught ogling the new boss would be first out the airlock in the morning.

  “You are welcome to join us…” Miranda proposed tentatively.

  Jon would have choked at the proposition if he had been fortunate enough to be eating at the time. Unfortunately he had not eaten yet, so had to settle instead on giving her a surprised look and replied. “Unfortunately I have a prior engagement, but please you go ahead…”

  It was Miranda’s turn to get him a quizzical look. “By a prior engagement, you mean that you are eating dinner in your quarters – alone. The same thing you do every evening, except when you and Paul are getting roaring drunk together, or you are unconscious in sickbay after being stabbed…?”

  Damn! Busted.

  Instead Jon just shrugged depreciatingly. “You know the old saying, the loneliness of command.”

  Miranda just stared at Jon in frustration. She had been totally confident as she strode into his quarters that she would be able to entice him to come to the party. Even if she had been advised otherwise by everybody on the station, from Paul downwards.

  Jon meanwhile was contemplating an evening socialising with the senior staff with something akin to a panic attack. Going along he had the option of acting like a wallflower the entire evening, avoiding any sort of conversation at all. The alternative was to engage with his senior officers, in small talk!

  “Hi Jon, how are you?” “Good thanks, the knife wound is healing well.”

  “Been seeing anybody recently?” “No, not since I betrayed and then abandoned my last girlfriend. You might have heard of her, no? She is now the Confederation President.”

  “How is business?” “Not bad after going into business for myself. You see my last boss was murdered when I should have been protecting him, and I then got my entire squadron killed, and the boss’ daughter almost raped and killed.”

  Jon went completely pale at the thought, focusing on keeping his stomach firmly under control, since it felt like somebody had just dropped a hot lead ball into it.

  Belatedly recognising Jon’s expression, Miranda realised that the entire idea had been ill conceived, but dammit the senior staff had earned themselves a break, not everybody was a hard, relentless, unfeeling machine like Jon. As soon as she had thought it, Miranda wished she could take the thought back, realising that it was not true. Jon had feelings, probably a lot stronger, deeper ones than most, he just buried them deep inside. Miranda wondered what it would take to get an emotional reaction from the man sitting across from her. A man that Miranda realised she had developed her own strong feelings for.

  “There will be dancing afterwards, you do know how to dance don’t you?” Miranda tried one final time, this time she got a reaction however, just not the reaction that she had been expecting.

  Surprise flared in Jon’s eyes, followed closely by shock, then hurt. “No, I don’t dance,” Jon finally replied turning his head away. “I haven’t danced in a long time,” he whispered softly to himself, lost deeply in the past, both real and imaginary.

  “Then now is a good time as any! I need to practice before the party, as I am a little rusty. Just one dance, please?” Miranda asked taking Jon’s hand in hers, pulling him to his feet. For a moment Miranda thought that Jon was going to pull away, but she had his hand in a firm grip, and knew that Jon was too much a gentleman, too much an officer to push her away. Instead Jon firmly, but gently, enclosed his hand around hers and stepping away from the desk moved in closer and encircled her waist with his other hand.

  Somewhat taken by surprise at the smooth move, Miranda was about to propose that they wait a minute while she put some music on, when much to her surprise Jon started to move. Gliding around the dark quarters, the only light coming from the stars shining through Jon’s viewport. Miranda was mesmerised as Jon seemed to set a pace and rhythm that was playing in his head alone, sometimes slowing to almost a halt, other times the pair almost flew across the room.

  If this were his idea of not being able to dance, I would love to see something he is good at! Miranda thought to herself.

  Taking the opportunity during one of the slow portions, Miranda looked up into Jon’s eyes and was astonished to see the emotion shining through. Love, sadness, regrets…pain. Miranda had never seen such expressions on Jon’s face before, always before his misty grey eyes seemed to obscure whatever he was thinking or feeling, but for a brief moment the mist seemed to clear and it felt like Miranda could look down,
into his very soul, and the pain and sorrow that she saw there took her breath away.

  Finally the song in Jon’s head seemed to slowly wind down, and they slowly danced in ever-smaller circles, until they finally came to a rest, with Miranda pressed intimately against Jon. Still Jon stared into Miranda’s eyes as if preoccupied. Slowly, ever so slowly, Jon lowered his mouth towards Miranda’s waiting lips. Miranda let her eyes flutter shut; awaiting his warm lips when suddenly a loud chime interrupted the moment.

  Startled, Miranda’s gaze flashed open, gazing into the eyes of Jon who was looking at her with surprise, and confusion. Shaking his head, as if to clear his mind, Jon released his hold on her and took a step away. “Come!” he called, his voice sounding rough to Miranda’s ears.

  Jason stepped into his quarters; his eyes instantly taking in the scene, the two of them barely a foot apart, in the middle of Jon’s quarters, both wearing flushed and heated looks. This time it was Jason to wonder what he had interrupted…

  “Sirs?” he inquired carefully, not sure what he had interrupted, or how he should address the pair. But Miranda peeled away, disappearing into the washroom, leaving Jason and Jon alone. Jon’s gaze followed the younger woman into the washroom before the door quietly slid shut, again shaking his head as if trying to awake from a particularly surreal dream. Jon turned his attention back to the Lieutenant.

  “I’m sorry for arriving unannounced,” Jason apologised, once again glancing at the washroom, again wondering just what he had interrupted. “But this is extremely important.”

  Jon was curious at what the intelligence officer wanted to discuss, as Jon could not remember the young man ever being this agitated before. Jon motioned towards the empty seat that Miranda had been occupying moments before. Jon could not exactly remember what had happened after that. He remembered dancing with Sofia? Miranda? He could not be exactly sure, as everything seemed to blur together.

  Jason ignored the offered seat and started to pace the length of the room anxiously, as he explained. “Commander, we have only just managed to break the encryption protecting the Syndicate computer core that the Marines recovered.”

  For a moment Jon was confused at what the young officer was referring to, finally he recollected the original primary purpose of the raid on the Syndicate outpost was to retrieve the computer core for intelligence. Honestly, Jon had completely forgotten about the computer core as this was overshadowed by recent events, namely the rescuing of the captives, the collapse of the Syndicate throughout the inhabited systems and the more recent retaliation by the Syndicate.

  “We’ve uncovered intelligence regarding an imminent attack on the station,” Jason went on to explain.

  “We are already aware of that, Lieutenant,” Jon replied with a sigh. “We already halted that attack, killed the Syndicate shock troops and destroyed their captured ship.” Jon explained, amazed that Intelligence could be so blind to events unfolding around them.

  Jason just blinked once in surprise. “Not that attack Commander, that was just the diversion to distract us. I’m talking about the fleet currently en route here, its objective is you!”

  Jon just blinked in surprise, before motioning once again to the chair. “I think you had better take a seat Lieutenant and explain. From the beginning this time…”

  *****

  Meanwhile Miranda splashed cool water onto her flushed cheeks, staring into her own wide-eyed face, reflected back at her in the mirror. She was asking herself what the hell had just happened, or nearly just happened. Following Paul’s revelations about Jon during their discussions in his office, while Jon had been recuperating in medical, Miranda had set herself the challenge of breaking him free from his self-imposed isolation.

  Hence taking every opportunity presented, Miranda spent time with him, often on the pretence of getting his opinion on a certain decision, continually trying to involve him in the social fabric of the station. However, Jon seemed to rebuff her at every turn, always having an excuse or other pretext at hand to avoid the particular occasion…until this evening. For some reason her request for a dance seemed to completely slip past all the defences he had built… and the dance! Nobody had ever held her like that, looked at her with such complete adoration… or had he?

  Sure Jon seemed to be present, in body at least, but his mind, his spirit, his heart? Miranda feared that they were many years away, in distance or time, she did not know. What she did know was that for a moment, just a brief instant she had managed to make a crack in his thick emotional armour and was able to peer inside and see the real Jonathan Radec and what she had seen left her wanting more, so much more.

  While Jon came across as cold, aloof and uncaring Miranda now knew that this was just his defence mechanism to stop anybody getting too close, too personal. From the brief glimpse that she got of the real person, she could see a warm, understanding, caring man. Somebody who would respect her for who she was, support her and be a partner in every possible meaning of the word.

  Miranda pitied this Princess, who having reached the pinnacle of power in the Confederation, having every advantage, every privilege, but still was unable to retain this man. Therefore confident that she would not make the same mistakes as this other woman. Miranda dried her face and confirming that her hair was still immaculate left the washroom to determine what news the intelligence officer had to bring them. Somehow she doubted that it was good.

  *****

  Jon looked up at the sound of the door sliding open and Miranda re-entered the room, a warm smile meeting his concerned gaze. Miranda gave a slight nod in response to Jon’s unvoiced question inquiring if she was ok. Jon stood at her approach and once again offered her his hand in an unconscious peace offering at brushing her off so coldly upon being interrupted earlier.

  Gladly taking the offered hand Miranda was about to inquire to the reason for the Lieutenant’s earlier interruption, when Jon explained.

  “It looks like I will be joining you and the senior staff this evening after all.” On seeing the raised eyebrow from Miranda, Jon expanded. “It would seem that somebody wants me dead...”

  “In that case they should take a ticket and get in line. What is it about you that everybody who ever meets you wants you dead?”

  “Not a clue,” Jon replied with a shake of his head. “Just my winning personality I guess.”

  Still hand-in-hand the young couple exited Jon’s quarters in the direction of the senior staff briefing room, with the young intelligence officer in tow, eyeing their joined hands speculatively.

  *****

  “And you are sure that it’s Jon personally they are after?” Paul interjected after Lieutenant Edgar quickly recounted the story once again for the benefit of the now present senior staff.

  It had been quite an evening of shocks for the senior staff, as having arrived, expecting canapés and drinks with the new interim CEO, they had been stunned at the sight of the new boss entering on the arm of their previous boss, only to have dinner and drinks cancelled, to be informed that there was an emergency situation, yes another one, as they had a fleet of incoming hostile ships with the sole objective of taking Jon dead or alive. The consensus among the group was that dead was probably the preferred option.

  “Perhaps you should start again, from the beginning, uh, again,” Jon stated scratching his chin, wondering if that phrase actually made any sense.

  Sighing out aloud, Jason finally took a seat, as the constant pacing up and down was starting to make him feel dizzy, taking a deep breath he started to explain, again. “My team and I have spent the past several weeks working on the encryption mechanism that was protecting the computer core, retrieved by Gunny and his Marines from the Syndicate outpost.” Jason tipped his head towards Gunny in deference to their heroic actions in not just retrieving the core, but also helping to free dozens of captives, otherwise likely to be sold into a lifetime of servitude.

  “The computer core was heavily damaged during the retrieval…”
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  “Not our fault,” Gunny protested mildly. “The laser cutters were taking too long, so we fell back to the tried and trusted method of blowing the doors, we did have Syndicate reinforcements breathing down our back, and our ride was departing…”

  “I’m sure Gunny and his Marines did the best job they could under very trying circumstances,” Jon suggested mildly, encouraging Jason to continue.

  “Next time could I suggest a screwdriver…?” Jason grumbled, but carried on anyway. “Along with the physical damage to the core, it would seem that syndicate personnel were busy trying to erase the contents of the core remotely. Frankly it’s miraculous that my team managed to retrieve anything.”

  “We all gratefully appreciate the absolutely stellar effort on behalf of you and your team,” Miranda interjected before Jon could respond. “However, perhaps we could actually get to the crux of the matter? I’ve been led to understand that imminent doom will be arriving shortly, and would hate to die in breathless anticipation of not actually knowing why… ”

  Jon had to cover the smirk spreading across his face with his hand, he could not have put it better himself. It was obvious that Miranda had been spending way too much time with him and his sarcasm had started to rub-off on her.

  “Anyway,” Jason continued giving Miranda an angry glare. “As requested, getting to the point, most of the data core was too badly damaged or just plain erased to recover much, however we did manage to retrieve something from the communication sub-routine. It would seem whoever coded it introduced a bug in the encryption/decryption algorithm and the pointer for the decrypted voice stream was not being correctly destroyed and hence missed by the memory resident garbage collector.” The sea of confused faces peering back along the length of the table, suggested to Jason that the majority of the room did not understand a word of that.

  “It wasn’t deleted properly and we recovered some of the voice communications from the buffer,” Jason summarised. General nods from around the table at least acknowledged understanding of the summary. “Fortunately we managed to strike lucky with regard to one of the messages, we don’t have any visual, just the audio stream and it’s fragmented. The stream does not have any markers denoting origin, destination or timing and it’s difficult to put into context but the content of the message is clear. They clearly refer to the Commander, several times, in particularly unflattering terms…”