by Mike Smith
Turning his thoughts aside from that gaping wound, it occurred to him that he should consider instigating a fleet-wide reconstruction program to replace the navy warships that had been lost over the years. For the Confederation Senate had put an immediate halt to the work on any new warships under construction, wanting to reduce the size, and therefore influence, of the navy. As a result, the fleet was critically short of ships, so much so that the 12th Fleet, which had been led by the Imperial Star, had been disbanded entirely. Hearing footsteps behind him, Jon cast that thought out into the inky darkness, to be revisited again later, during the light of the day.
Accepting the glass of amber liquid with a nod of thanks to Anna, he observed over the rim of his glass her form-fitting dress, which accentuated her willowy figure.
“You like?” she smiled, pirouetting in front of him, causing the turquoise coloured evening dress to ride up to her thighs. “I’m not much of a fan of the Confederation Navy uniform. Too much black and red. It’s morose.” She scrunched her face up to indicate her disdain.
Jon laughed at her expression, tipping his glass in her direction. “It looks good on you. Really. I’ll issue a proclamation tomorrow, banning the fleet uniform for all women. I’m sure that it will do wonders for morale.” His lips upturned in a smile, as Anna jokingly punched him on the chest. Taking a sip of the drink, he abruptly spat out the tart-tasting liquid, only just managing to avoid ruining Anna’s dress. “By the Great Maker, what is this?” he demanded aghast.
“Fruit juice,” came the succinct reply.
“Fruit juice?” Jon roared in disgust. “What are you trying to do, poison me?”
“You’re drinking too heavily, the ships physician has recommended that you reduce your alcohol intake. So you’re limited to one drink per evening.”
“One glass?” he replied outraged. “You’re not trying to poison me. I’ll die of thirst first,” he grumbled, turning back to observe the many varied dishes that had been laid out on the table before them. Observing the lit candles and darkened room, not to mention Anna’s evening dress, he asked, suspiciously, “Is this a special occasion? Should I have changed uniforms?”
“Actually yes,” Anna agreed, her eyes lighting up. “It was exactly six months ago, to the day, when I and the remaining Fleet Admirals swore fealty to you.”
Jon blinked, not realising that so much time had passed since the attack on Eden Prime. Since all the deaths, he had no other option but to wear the dark cloak that was still wrapped around his thin frame, to force the Fleet Admirals to kneel before him, since Sofia—
Recognising the expression on his face Anna quickly interjected. “The Fleet Captains wanted to stage a surprise party, but I thought that it might not be…” She paused looking for a suitable world. “Appropriate.”
Jon just nodded his head in thanks.
“So instead you have—me,” she added, with a slight catch to her voice.
Jon gave his surroundings a cursory glance, before his gaze came to rest on the Admiral standing in front of him, nervously awaiting his reaction. “Thank you,” he responded honestly. “I would probably have eventually realised and spent the time alone, moody and depressed. I appreciate the company. Honestly,” he added, noticing her still uncertain expression.
With a smile, she offered him her arm, which he gladly took, and led him towards the candle-lit table, about to explain all the varied dishes that had been prepared for him. Before she could start, a chime from the communication system, warning them of an incoming call, broke the silence in the room. Anna froze in disbelief, eyes locked on the meal in front of them, the food now likely to remain untouched. “Of all the times,” she cursed in frustration.
Noticing the expression on her face, and her slumped shoulders, realising that she had gone to a lot of effort to arrange this, Jon touched her lightly on the shoulder before reassuring her. “I’ll get rid of whoever it is—“
“What if it’s urgent?” she sighed, as it felt like they had been rushing to avert one crisis after another for the past few months.
“Then it can wait until tomorrow,” he reassured her. “I don’t care if the Confederation is on the brink of all-out war.” The relieved smile that lit up her face was worth whatever price he would have to pay to get rid of the unwanted caller.
Moving to the communications console, Jon tapped the control to accept the incoming call, and the view-screen lit up, showing the unmistakable face of Admiral Sterling. “Admiral,” Jon inquired briskly. “What can I do for you?”
Meanwhile Sterling’s eyes went wide as he took in the view of Jon with a candlelit table and Admiral Romanov—in a dress?—in the background “I hope that I am not interrupting anything?” he asked, with a knowing smirk.
“We were about to sit down and eat Frank. So make this real quick, as my dinner is getting cold.”
“Very well,” Sterling agreed, turning his gaze back to Jon with a noticeably cooler expression. “I want to know why you are interfering with standard fleet protocol?”
“I don’t catch your meaning,” Jon replied, confused.
“I have just finished debriefing Captain Harding, after he intercepted a civilian freighter. Unsatisfied with the responses from the crew he fired on the unarmed ship, boarded it without any search warrant, took the crew into custody and, on finding evidence of illegal cargo, promptly arrested the crew and then scuttled the damn ship. I’ve got the ship’s owners demanding that I release the crew and arrest Captain Harding on charges of piracy. I’ve got civil liberty groups screaming bloody murder about the navy trampling over civil rights and the judiciary asking if search warrants are now optional. During the debriefing I asked Captain Harding what made him think that he could so blatantly ignore proper fleet protocol. His response? It’s what Emperor Radec would have done. By the Maker, Jon, you must put a stop to this before things get out of hand. I encouraged you to take this role to save the Confederation, not to spread lawlessness and anarchy. If we don’t respect the rules and regulations then we are no better—”
“What was found on the ship, Frank?” Jon interrupted his tirade, as he could only think of one illicit cargo that would generate such a strong reaction from the Captain—and himself.
“Uh, it doesn’t matter what they found, it’s still against the law.”
“Frank. What did Captain Harding find?”
“Two dozen slaves, in transit to the Tritium gas mining settlement on Deneb V,” Admiral Sterling sighed, realising he had already lost this argument.
“Then this is what you are going to do,” Jon stated firmly. “You’re going to give Captain Harding a commendation for his initiative, and then a promotion.” At the Admiral’s outraged expression he added, “and that is an order.” Closing the communication channel, he stared at the now blank screen with a distant look in his eyes. It was only a light touch on his shoulder from Anna, who was wearing a concerned expression, that brought him back to the present. Reminding him when and, more importantly, where he currently was.
“Jon, is everything okay?”
“Yes. Sorry. The conversation with Sterling just took me by surprise, dredged up painful old memories, that’s all.”
Anna hesitated for a moment, her curiosity warring with her desire to respect his privacy, before inquiring, “What is it with you and people trafficking? I know it’s an abhorrent trade, but you almost take it personally.” For the Commander’s reputation for dealing with anybody being involved in the capture or illegal transport of people was legendary. None survived.
“Have you ever wondered why I was promoted to the Praetorian Guard?” he asked softly. “Since every transfer had to be personally approved by the Emperor.”
“Yes, I was curious,” she admitted. “I read your file, but it simply states that you were awarded the Aurelius Star cluster for outstanding bravery, before being transferred to the Praetorians.”
“Outstanding bravery,” he echoed in disdain. “You want to know the real re
ason? I was rewarded for leading my entire squadron to their deaths. They pinned a medal on me for the deaths of eleven other men and women, none of whom deserved to die that day, but that was not the worst of it. For my actions that day had far more reaching consequences.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Their deaths lie on my conscience, as they only died because I refused a direct order from the Fleet Admiral to withdraw my squadron. He was not going to defend the convoy of civilian ships, but simply abandon them to the pirates. I couldn't do that. So we stayed, and fought, and almost the entire squadron died while everybody else ran. That decision infuriated the Emperor. The Fleet Admiral was disgraced, demoted and lucky to escape with his life.”
Anna could feel goosebumps run down her bare shoulders, as if the temperature in the room had dropped by several degrees. And she had a sudden premonition of what Jon was trying to tell her. “Jon, who was in command of that taskforce?”
“Harkov,” Jon breathed. “It was Admiral Harkov that was disgraced. As a result he hated the Emperor and I enough to instigate a coup against the Empire several years later. You see it was my actions, my mistakes, which led to the disintegration of the Empire. That is why we are all here today. That is why I agreed to this charade, as everything is my fault.”
“Jon you cannot seriously believe that. You cannot bear the faults and mistakes of others on your shoulders alone,” Anna exclaimed.
“Somebody has too,” Jon replied, eying the heavily laden table with little appetite but with even less desire to continue this particular conversation. “Now I believe that you promised me dinner, but I think you will need to describe some of these dishes to me first?”
*****
The sun was just starting its descent from the peak of the day when David’s shuttle landed in front of the Radec residence—or what was left of it. Stepping out from the ship he whistled out loud at the scene of devastation in front of him. There was the burnt-out wreckage of the trucks that were strewn across most of the road, and the blackened remains of the trees that ran the length of the property. Beyond that he could just make out the remains of the scorched and broken shell of what was once the home of the Commander’s parents.
David struggled to hold his anger in-check at the destruction he faced. Having met the couple on Terra Nova he, like most of the rest of the crew, had been charmed by their honesty and homey good nature. The thought of so many heavily armed troops arriving in the dead of night to do them harm enraged him. He was determined to find some clue, some insight into who these people were and who had sent them.
As soon as he stepped from the shuttle, he was reassured to be confronted by two imposing marines, both heavily armed and with a no-nonsense attitude, who demanded to know the reason for his arrival. It took several minutes, and the intervention of both their Sergeant and Captain, before the authorisation he carried was finally grudgingly accepted. Supressing a grin, David assumed none of the marines had ever actually seen the Emperor’s signature in person before. He was relieved that they so diligently checked his identity as it boded well for no evidence having been removed or destroyed, for the entire site was still firmly sealed off.
Having made it through the outer perimeter of guards, David cut a hard right, towards what remained of the spruce trees, having made careful notes from the debriefing of both the Commander and Captain Frasier, who had been in charge of security. He found very little, a few twisted and melted fragments remained, perhaps pieces of body armour, weapons or other equipment, but he could not tell exactly. Whatever it was would yield no clues. Therefore, passing the deformed remains of an assault shuttle, which was being ponderously removed by way of a massive crane, he soon arrived at the burnt-out shell of the house.
The damage here was less severe, mostly caused by the fire from the high explosive, rocket propelled grenade that had hit the ground floor of the building. While David found a few footprints in the ash, he had no way of telling if these were from the assailants or the marines that had come later to secure the area. It was obvious the attackers had moved on quickly after discovering the occupants had already fled. Disheartening but not really surprising, as he had not expected to find anything near the property. The firefight, heat and heavy explosives used had destroyed any evidence. Therefore, mindful of the rapidly fading light, David departed what remained of the house, easily finding the path into the trees that had been so clearly described.
Even under the shade of the trees, David had to stop frequently to rehydrate himself, wiping the sweat from his face, neck and arms. He found himself having a newfound respect for the Commander for growing up on this planet, which had such a harsh climate. Ignoring the humidity, he continued to hurry onwards, wishing to find the site of the final battle where the marines had ambushed the last of the assailants. For it was here he was certain he would find clues, if any existed.
Finally arriving at the site, he found only a little light remained. With the bright Altair star just hanging above the horizon, casting its pale light through the trees, just enough penetrated the canopy for him to see at ground level. He quickly found the remains of the campfire and, using this as a marker, started a spiral search pattern outwards to ensure he covered all the ground but missed nothing.
Twenty fruitless minutes later he was ready to concede defeat. The marines that secured the area had already removed the bodies, and what little remained was generic discarded equipment, most of which could be purchased from any general camping store on any planet in the Confederation. Occasionally he stumbled across a discarded weapon, a pulse pistol or an assault rifle, but a quick inspection of both revealed that all identifying marks had been removed, just like everything else that had been recovered from the site.
Standing in the middle of the clearing, he raised his gaze up towards the canopy of the trees and could see broken patches of sky, the odd cloud starting to glow golden in the fading sunlight. David guessed he only had a few more minutes of light before the shadows totally engulfed the scene. After that, any more searching would be futile, simply stumbling around in the dark, and he would need to head back as the temperature would start to drop rapidly.
With only one final place left to search, David looked around, orientating himself, before heading off in one direction, perpendicular to the camp. After a few hundred yards, he found what he was looking for by the simple means of stumbling over the body in the fading light. He was not surprised that the marines had missed it, as it was a long way from the camp and partly covered by the scrub.
The body was slumped facedown; the dark patches on the ground a clear indication that the person had died from massive blood loss. A casually discarded knife, also covered in blood rested a few feet from the body, an obvious sign of what had caused the fatal wound. Carefully rolling the body over, he watched in horror as the face moved. It seemed to writher, one eye morphing open to stare at him sightlessly. David stumbled back from the body, the stench overpowering. It took him some minutes to regain his composure and to realise that the face and neck were covered in tens of thousands of ants. It was these that had moved, not the face. Covering his mouth and nose with one arm to try and hold back the foul smell, David once again approached the body.
In the last few minutes of light, he quickly searched the body with his free hand. A loud clatter in the still of the forest signalled that something had fallen to the ground from a breast pocket of the body. The collision activated the device, for a screen glowed a dull green. Picking up the datapad, David started flicking through screens at random. As he did so his expression changed into a broad grin, for it seemed that the journey had not been wasted after all.
“I’ve got you now, you bastards,” he crowed in delight. With that sentence the light finally vanished, burying the forest in darkness. It was only then that it occurred to him he had no idea how to get back to the path that led him here.
“Oh bugger,” he muttered, realising that he was now well and truly lost.
“So what made you decide to join the Imperial Navy?” Anna inquired, after dinner had been cleared away and both she and Jon were nursing cups of coffee. Much to the dismay of Jon, who had been idly wondering where Anna might have hidden the Scotch.
“My sister. It was she who encouraged me to join the navy. Me? I wanted to work in the spaceport with my father,” Jon replied.
“Your father was also a pilot?”
“No,” Jon laughed. “My father was a shuttle mechanic. I had plans to follow in his footsteps.”
“Seriously?” she laughed. “I just cannot see you as a mechanic.”
“It’s the best job in the universe,” he insisted, with a straight face. “Anyway, what about you. Why did you decide to join the navy?”
“I never had any interest in joining the fleet. It was never my dream, but another’s. I was madly in love with him at the time and would have agreed to follow him anywhere. It was his idea that we enrol together and, naïvely, I quickly agreed.”
“What happened to him?”
“Oh, he soon grew bored of me and found another. She was an Admiral’s daughter, so obviously he traded up. For the longest time I was angry, furious, the woman scorned. Everything was about revenge for that humiliation. I decided that I wanted to be better than him, more superior, to prove to him how wrong he was to leave me, and so I did my utmost to excel at everything. But over the years I found that it was unrewarding. He was never going to change, and I came to realise that the rank, the privilege, it meant nothing to me. Instead I just became more and more isolated, ever more alone.”
