by Mike Smith
Leaving him free to act at will, unencumbered.
With a final salute from each of the Admirals, one by one their image winked out as they left the virtual conference. Finally only two remained, Admiral’s Sterling and Romanov.
Approaching the pair, Jon demanded of them, “I need a flagship.”
The two exchanged glances, before Sterling took a step forward, bowing his head. “Commander, my flagship is at your disposal.”
Jon simply shook his head, dismissing the offer. “I need you and the rest of the 12th Fleet to remain here, orbiting Eden Prime. If anybody does try and take advantage of the current situation, they will make their move here. Eden Prime is still the political heart of the Confederation, and although the Senate no longer exists much of the bureaucracy still remains intact. Anyone wishing to rule the Confederation will need that. Your orders are to remain here and protect the planet from any further attacks.”
Nodding his head in understanding, Sterling cast a quick glance at Romanov, before announcing, “I also wish to submit my resignation, with immediate effect. The fleet needs an Admiral who—”
“—is highly experienced, dependable and trustworthy,” Jon interrupted him. “Denied. You serve at my pleasure, and you will continue to serve me until such time as you displease me. Only at that time will I decide your fate. I don’t need to remind you that you thrust this role upon me, and I have no intention of doing this alone.”
“My Lord,” Romanov interrupted, before Sterling could argue further. “My flagship and escorts stand ready. I would be honoured to put them at your disposal.”
“Admiral, just what are you and your ships doing at Eden Prime? If my memory serves me correctly, the 8th fleet is based in the Sirius System,” Jon asked suspiciously.
Sirius was the brightest star in the night sky when observed from Old Earth. It was almost twice as bright as the next brightest star; hence the name Sirius was derived from Ancient Greek, meaning “glowing” or “scorcher”. What was originally thought to be a single star system, when first surveyed by the Imperial Navy actually turned out to be a binary star system, consisting of a white main sequence star, that was named Sirius A, and a faint white dwarf companion star, called Sirius B. The two orbited a short distance apart; at their closest point barely eight astronomical units apart. But it was not the brightness of the star that attracted the attention of the fleet, but what orbited around Sirius A. For there were no less than five gas giants, in close proximity, orbiting the main sequence star.
All rich in Helium-3.
Helium-3’s existence had been known for over six hundred years, but it was not until the widespread adoption of fusion power in the late twenty-first century that its value became truly apparent. For helium-3 was a key fuel for fusion reactors, when combined with deuterium to produce helium-4. However, helium-3 was extremely rare on planets, existing in less than one part-per-billion. The fuel for the initial fusion reactors was mostly mined on the Moon, where the solar wind had deposited significant amounts of the isotope, but even back then it was recognised the most significant deposits would exist trapped in the atmosphere of the gas giants. The high gravity found on Jupiter unfortunately did not make any of the element found there economically viable to collect. It was not until the discovery of the smaller gas giants around Sirius A that gathering Helium-3 became the preferred method of extraction.
Massive ships were deployed to these gas giants. The ships, many kilometres in length, floated in the upper atmosphere, sucking in the gases through huge vents. Then the gases were filtered to extract the rare isotope, and the waste gases expelled beneath to produce the necessary lift to stop the ships being drawn in by gravity and crushed under the tremendous pressure of the lower, thicker atmosphere. The extracted helium-3, lighter than the surrounding atmosphere, was stored on-board the ships in massive envelopes, which expanded over time, as more of the rare isotope was extracted. It was from this that the Airships, as they were known, obtained their name, as they operated on the same principles as the floating ships of Old Earth.
As an airship reached its maximum capacity, its natural buoyancy from the vast quantities of the lighter-than-air isotope caused the craft to rise up into the thinner upper atmosphere. At this point the isotope was offloaded into massive, faster-than-light tankers that transported it to every corner of the Confederation.
The 8th Fleet was stationed at Sirius to protect the mining operation and the bulk carriers, which were vulnerable to attack and inviting targets, considering their valuable cargo. While each reactor used only a few grams of the isotope, even the largest storage facilities only held, at most, a six month reserve supply due to the constant, insatiable demand for the precious isotope.
The Sirius mining operation supplied almost two-thirds of the entire Confederation, and was therefore heavily guarded. For without the regular shipments, within less than half a year supplies would start to run low and, after that, all the lights would be extinguished.
Admiral Romanov blinked in surprise at Jon’s question, lowering her head in shame. “I thought that you knew,” she explained hesitantly. “I was summoned before the Senate Navy oversight committee, to answer for my misconduct.”
“Your misconduct?” Jon echoed, surprised, as only very rarely was a Fleet Admiral called before the Senate to account for his or her actions.
“Two prisoners on board my ship died during questioning. I was called before the Defence subcommittee to account for this.”
“Died? How?”
“Both committed suicide, soon after questioning. They had admitted to various felonies—piracy, kidnapping, extortion and engaging in human trafficking. Their confessions were inadmissible in court.”
Which, Jon assumed, was her way of saying the confessions were extracted under duress. Probably uttered beneath the large boot of a marine, who was explaining in graphic detail the unorthodox way he was going to use his pulse rifle, much to the detriment of the prisoner. “What happened?” Jon simply inquired.
“They managed to get hold of a pistol and turned it upon each other. They shot themselves,” Romanov uttered solemnly.
“Twice,” Sterling added, with a straight face. “I heard that they shot each other twice. Once in the chest, the second time in the forehead. You know, to make sure that they did the job properly.”
Jon nodded his head approvingly. After all, if you were going to shoot yourself, you didn’t want to leave the job only half finished. “Very well,” he acknowledged. “Notify your ships that we will depart within the next few hours. Until then I have some unresolved business that needs my attention. I will be aboard the Indomitable if you need me. It’s time I had a face-to-face meeting with the man who murdered my wife and father-in-law. It won’t take long,” he added bleakly.
Sterling stiffened at this announcement, but did not say anything. Jon, however, had noticed his posture, as he gave the Admiral an inquiring glance. “Anything that you would like to add, Admiral?”
“No, my Emperor,” Sterling replied formally, bowing his head after a momentary hesitation.
Jon held the older man’s gaze for a moment longer, before nodding curtly. “Very well then. I’ll let you get back to your duties.” With that he departed, to make his way towards the flight deck and, ultimately, the Indomitable.
After the doors closed behind him, Romanov took a step closer to Sterling, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. Unable to meet his eyes, she instead just uttered softly, “I am sorry for your pain, Frank. Truly I am.” She paused for a moment, as if unsure what to say next, before continuing on regardless. “James Harrison was—is—a good man.”
Sterling looked up in surprise at her kind words, even more shocked to see the sympathy and compassion in her eyes before she quickly averted them and headed for the exit.
“I wasn’t aware that you knew Captain Harrison?” he called out after her.
Romanov stopped at the threshold of the doors and, without looking back, repli
ed, “We met in a previous life.” With those words still hanging in the air, she stepped over the threshold, vanishing through the open doors.
*****
Jon was seated behind the imposing desk in the former Captain’s cabin on the Indomitable. He had already inspected the sparsely decorated room, which looked as if it had been tidied in the expectation its owner would not be returning. There was nothing out of place in the room, no sign or indication of the horrific actions the Captain had planned.
He glanced once again at the datapads covering the desk. He had already reviewed them carefully on the journey over, but they told him nothing beyond the fact that the Captain was an exceptional officer. His official record included many glowing recommendations, both from previous commanding officers and also those officers who had served under him. The man could have been a role model for the new Confederation Navy, as he was widely liked by all and well respected. If his career had carried on uninterrupted, he would likely have made fleet Admiral in several more years.
There was nothing in the file to indicate why he had ended his stellar career, and most probably his life, with his subsequent actions. The rest of the senior officers and crew had been questioned closely. None could offer any explanation or insight into their Captain’s inexplicable behaviour. Indeed none of the crew had even laid eyes on him for the seventy-two hours prior to the attack. All had consistently reported that he had shut himself in this very room, claiming illness. The Chief Medical Officer had been questioned about this and confirmed the story, but claimed he had not been called upon to treat the Captain. The Doctor stated the Captain had said he had the flu, and that he was going to rest and recuperate while the crew were on shore leave.
Prior to that, the crew had reported nothing unusual about his behaviour. Hence, Jon had already ordered a full dump of the ship’s communication logs for that period. He would send the entire record to Jason back on Terra Nova for review, knowing that if there was anything suspicious in those logs then Jason would find it. Until then, he simply refused to trust the Confederation Navy. After all, if there was one bad apple in the barrel, how many more might have also had time to fester? No. Jon planned to continue this investigation personally, keeping everything close to his chest.
Until he had the chance to question the Captain, he was still very much in the dark about what precipitated his decision. Somehow he doubted the Captain was going to be very forthcoming, as until now he had refused all questions put to him. Jon planned to ensure the Captain would tell him what he needed to know, one way or another.
Just as he was about to summon the Sergeant-at-Arms to fetch the prisoner, Jon’s gaze fell on the only other object to adorn the desk. Reaching forward he touched the control on the base of the object, activating it then leaning back to observe the scene as the holo-picture materialised in front of him. The picture displayed a woman and child in an embrace, a mother and daughter he could only assume, based on their physical similarity and age gap. He guessed the mother to be in her mid-thirties, with shoulder-length blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. The daughter, much younger, maybe six or seven, looked like a miniature version, but her hair was much longer, reaching almost down to her waist. The scene seemed to capture a tender moment, as both mother and daughter were staring at each other, mouths wide open as if in laughter. Jon assumed they were Harrison’s wife and daughter, as he remembered reading in the official records that he was married with a daughter, and the ages seemed to fit.
Jon stared longingly at the image floating in the air, less than a couple of inches from him. One of his deepest, most heartfelt desires had been to have a family of his own. To have a younger version of Sofia, with her mother’s flaming red hair and his deep-grey eyes. He guessed, had that dream ever become a reality, he would have had a similar image on his own desk, to remind him what was most important in his own life.
He was stretching towards the switch to deactivate the holo-photo when something stopped him. He could picture the scene in his head. Captain Harrison sitting exactly where he sat now, looking at the same image and thinking the same thoughts as him.
What was most important in his life? Family.
With a noticeable tremor in his hand, Jon left the picture floating in the air, instead activating the communication console to summon the Sergeant-at-arms. The marine entered the room less than a minute later. Either he had run the whole way or, more likely, had been loitering at the door, awaiting his summons. “Bring Captain Harrison here, Sergeant,” he ordered. Quickly adding, before the marine could depart, “And leave me your sidearm.”
The marine was obviously surprised at the unusual request, not knowing the Commander as well as some, but still he did not hesitate. He removed the pistol from his waist, checking that the safety catch was engaged before offering it to Jon.
Waiting until the Sergeant had departed and the doors firmly closed behind him, Jon checked the pistol, confirming it was fully loaded with sixteen rounds in the clip. He pulled back the slider, allowing the spring in the clip to smoothly push the first round into the chamber. After a momentary hesitation, he pulled back the slider again, this time moving a new round into the barrel, ejecting the old onto the desk. Jon repeated this action a further fifteen times, until he confirmed the clip was now empty, with only the one round still in the chamber. Opening a drawer at the side of the desk, Jon swept the unused bullets inside. Double-checking that the safety catch was still on, he laid the pistol on the table to wait.
He was only going to need the one bullet.
Jon looked at the image of the mother and child hanging motionless in the air in front of him. Ten minutes later, the Sergeant returned with the prisoner. Jon instantly recognised Captain James Harrison, ex-commanding officer of the Indomitable, from the official records photo. The Captain’s face was pale and his eyes had a haunted look, which only exacerbated the dark rings under them. Jon observed Harrison glance at the holo-picture on the desk. Satisfied that his initial assumption had been correct, he slowly reached across, deactivating the image. Without the bright illumination from the device, the shadows seemed to leap out from the corners of the room, as Jon had purposefully kept the illumination low.
He observed that the Captain’s hands were firmly restrained behind his back. “Sergeant, remove the Captain’s handcuffs, and then you may leave.” It was obvious that the Sergeant was about to protest, but Jon forestalled this by raising one hand. “That’s an order, Sergeant.”
The marine’s protest died on his lips and, instead, he simply nodded his understanding. Once he had finished removing the handcuffs, he stepped from the room.
Jon had no doubt that the marine was standing guard outside, ready to dart back inside at the first hint of trouble. “Take a seat. Captain,” he indicated towards the empty seat on the other side of the desk. As the Captain sat stiffly opposite, Jon carefully considered his next actions. Jon looked into the haunted expression on the man’s face. It was the expression of a man who had already lost everything and long since resigned himself to his fate. It was an expression Jon was intimately familiar with.
Jon came to recognise that, in many ways, their fates were already inexplicitly bound. Because of this man’s actions, he had lost everything. The result of this man’s actions was that in turn his own life and career were now forfeit.
Two officers. Two lives—both destroyed.
Jon was surprised to find that, instead of the expected anger toward the man, he felt some empathy for the Captain. As he gazed into the man’s eyes, Jon was surprised to observe a hint of surprise, as it was obvious the Captain recognised him. “I take it that you know who I am?” Jon asked.
“Yes Commander, I was on the bridge of the Protector with Admiral Sterling when we arrived in the Sigma Draconis system, after receiving your distress signal, but—”
“You thought that I was on the surface of Eden Prime? You thought that I was dead?” Jon interjected. Harrison nodded his head. “I was on the surface wh
en you started your bombardment,” Jon said. “But I was not at the Senate. Hence I survived the attack. My family was not so lucky and my wife and father-in-law didn’t survive,” he stated impassively.
Captain Harrison dropped his head, uttering, “I am sorry for your loss.”
In that brief moment Jon recognised the shared pain in them. “Would you care to explain your actions, Captain? To justify them and state, for the record, what precipitated this attack, which resulted in the death of thousands, including my own family?” He could not hide the full extent of his anger and pain, his voice rising in pitch and volume.
“My actions were my own. None of my crew were involved and, in fact, they all acted honourably to try and stop me. This should not reflect badly on them. I take full and complete responsibility for my actions.”
“I don’t give a damn whose responsibility it was,” Jon shouted, slamming his fist onto the surface of the desk, causing the datapads to go cascading onto the floor. “I want to know why! I want to be able to understand why my wife and father-in-law are no longer alive, why they had to die because of your actions. I don’t want excuses or justifications; I just want to know the truth. Why did you do it? You are a decorated officer, with an exceptional career. You were on the fast track to make Admiral. Why throw it all away?”
However, Harrison refused to answer, just remaining silent, staring at the desk, his eyes unfocused.
Jon pushed away from the desk in frustration, turning his back on the Captain, staring out of the viewport trying to get his temper back under control, as he knew that this line of questioning was not going to get anywhere. Suppressing the deep-seated need to wrap his hands around the Captain’s throat and to squeeze until no life remained. He completely forgot about the pistol, which was still resting on the table, but in his heart he knew the broken man still seated behind him was no threat to him.
