The Sunfire (3 page)

“I can only assume so,” came back the response. “I
understand that somebody rammed a nuclear warhead into his flagship.”

“Really?” The old man trailed off. For the first time in a
very long time the vigour and fire was present in his gaze once again. “I
wonder who possibly could have done such a thing and, of course, who would have
known the necessary codes to activate such a horrific weapon?
Tut
,
tut
,
so many safeguards in place to stop just that sort of thing occurring.” Once
again the old man cackled, with just a hint of the madness lurking in his mind.

Sejanus ground his teeth together in annoyance. The news
coming out from the Zeta-Aquilae System was fragmented and confused at best.
His spies inside the Confederation Fleet had been able to confirm the
destruction of the
Imperial Star
and the death of Harkov, but little
beyond this. It would seem the Commander or somebody on his staff had used the
weapon, but where it had come from or how it was activated was purely
speculation. Sejanus had hoped their prisoner would offer some insights, but
sadly conceded the secrets locked up in the old man’s head would forever remain
beyond his reach.

“I just thought that you would be interested in the news.”
Sejanus stood in preparation for leaving the old man alone with his secrets.

The old man cocked his head to one side, as if deep in
thought, for a moment. “In gratitude for this news I will agree to share one
secret with you.” He interrupted Sejanus’s departure. “As I would never dream
of taking this secret to the grave with me.”

Sejanus turned to face the frail man, who was leaning
heavily against the table, curious about what secret he was finally prepared to
divulge.

“I made a terrible mistake with you Alex. I recognised in
you power and ambition, and naïvely thought these were the traits needed for a
great leader. Well I was wrong. I have since come to observe that love is far
stronger than hate. Love is not a weakness, but a source of limitless strength,
something you will never be able to comprehend. Hence, while the Praetorian
Commander was your replacement, he is in no way the lesser of you. You will
never be half the man he is, and will always live in his shadow.”

He failed to mention it was only with the certain knowledge
that the Commander still lived, and hence his daughter was safe, that he was
able to maintain a trace of his sanity. Locked away in this comfortable cage
for so long, he had never regretted turning his back on this dark, evil man. He
found it ironic he had been so obsessed with finding somebody to succeed him,
and to care for and love his daughter, that in the end it was she who had made
the right choice, not him. She had opened his eyes to realise that love, duty
and honour could conquer all. He only slept at night knowing Commander Radec
would always be there at her side, watching over her, keeping her safe, loving
her.

“Perhaps,” Sejanus replied, keeping a tight rein on his
temper. “But when I find him and kill him, and this I promise you I will, I’ll
bring your daughter before you, on her knees, and force you to watch as she
submits to me. Finally, and only then, will it be my turn to step out of the
shadow and into the light.”

The old, frail man, merely a shadow of his former self,
watched helplessly as the doors slid shut, locking firmly behind Sejanus.

“
Commander,
” he spoke to the empty room, aloud. “If
you can hear me, then help me.
Please
,” pleaded Marcus Aurelius. The
last Imperial Emperor, a man who had once ruled over almost ten billion
individuals.

Little did he realise that he was already speaking to a
ghost.

Terra Nova, Zeta Aquilae System

The doors to one of the station’s pressurised docking bays
slid open to reveal the commanding presence of Master Sergeant Patrick “Gunny”
Reynolds. At over six feet in height and weighing almost two-hundred pounds,
the man’s presence was intimidating enough, without the addition of the heavy
pistol that was firmly strapped to his thigh. Rumour had it Gunny had once, single-handily
led a marine boarding action against a pirate cutter, only to have the pirates
immediately abandon ship when faced by him.

The pistol, however, was enough to raise a few eyebrows on
the station, as these days the station was completely safe
—
in
contrast to several weeks earlier. Seemingly a lifetime ago for the crew
considering more recent events, when heavily armed Syndicate Enforcers had
swarmed throughout the station, only to be abruptly halted by the combined
efforts of Jon, Miranda, David and Gunny. In addition the station was now
protected by significant space-based weaponry and a still sizable contingent of
Confederation Navy warships, the remnants of the Confederation 12
^th
fleet, the rest having departed only a few days earlier.

The need for the pistol quickly became apparent after Gunny
stepped into the small docking bay, coming to a halt next to Paul Harrington,
the station’s chief of operations. Up until recently Paul had reported to
Commander Jonathan Radec, the owner of the station and Vanguard Shipping, the
company that presently inhabited it. However, with his death several days
earlier and the announcement of Miranda Sun as the interim-CEO of Vanguard,
there was currently a question mark over who was actually in charge of the company
and station.

Gunny looked up in surprise at the dark, twisted shape
resting several meters in front of the pair. “Another one?” He asked,
surprised. “I thought that we had found all of the escape pods by now.” Almost
fifteen meters in height, half that in width, the pod had definitely seen
better days. Scratched and twisted in places, it had deep rents running along
one side where it had obviously collided with something larger. Gunny was
astonished it still seemed to be mostly intact.

“Space is a large place, Gunny,” Paul replied, “and the
Commander made one almighty mess out there,” he added sadly. Paul had known and
worked with Jon for several years and counted him as one of his closest
friends. He felt his absence keenly.

“It’s safe?” Gunny inquired. In a suicidal mission, Jon had
flown a nuclear warhead into Harkov’s flagship, the
Imperial Star
,
destroying it utterly. Many of the escape pods that had been recovered had
particularly high levels of background radiation.

“For the moment, but we don’t want to linger too long. You
ready?” Paul inquired, motioning towards the weapon at the sergeant’s side.
Some of the occupants of the pods had been extremely hostile upon being
rescued. A mixture of fear, oxygen deprivation and in many cases concussion from
the explosion could make a dangerous combination. Hence they had made it a
standard operating procedure to always have at least one armed member of
security present any time opening one of the pods.

“Sure. Do we know if there is anybody alive in there?” Gunny
asked.

“According to the status readouts, there is probably at
least one person alive on-board, as the pod displays a higher than expected
level of carbon dioxide.”

“Okay, then open the pod bay doors, Paul.” Gunny imitated
with a grin, releasing his pistol and flicking off the safety. Taking a step
forward, toward the darkened pod.

Paul approached the pod and, studying the controls briefly,
activated the emergency release for the doors. Both men tensed as the door slid
partially open before jamming, the malfunction obviously caused by the damage
to the pod after it had ejected from its mothership. With a resigned expression
both officers cautiously approached the pod, with Gunny easing his head slowly
between the gap left by the now partially opened door.

“Looks like the pod is running on emergency power only,”
Gunny grunted. “I can’t see a thing inside, emergency lights only. I’ll go
first,” he stated in a firm tone that brooked no dissent.

Paul just nodded in agreement. After all, Gunny was armed,
and had at least three inches and seventy-five pounds on him. Paul had complete
confidence the sergeant would be able to handle
any situation
that might
arise. Hence waiting for a count of ten in his head, to give Gunny a head
start, he slipped into the pod behind the sergeant.

With the extremely low light, mostly just shadows cast by
the dim emergency lighting, it took several seconds for Paul’s eyesight to
adjust to the gloom. Eventually he could make out Gunny standing above a body
in a white Imperial Navy uniform, collapsed in a foetal position on the floor
of the pod. Quickly glancing around Paul confirmed there were no other
survivors and was disappointed nobody else had been able to make it off the
ship in time. Turning back to Gunny, Paul was surprised to note the sergeant
still had his weapon drawn and pointed unwaveringly at the body on the floor.
It was obvious the man was unconscious and therefore no threat and, as he was
the only occupant of the ship, there was no obvious need for the weapon any longer.

“What’s going on Gunny?” Paul inquired, moving closer to the
pair. It was only when he reached Gunny’s side that he noticed the tight
expression on the other man’s face, and the firm grip he held the pistol with,
his fingers turning white with the strain. The pistol remained unflinchingly
pointed towards the motionless body.

“Gunny
—
” Paul’s voice trailed off when,
in the dim light, he finally could make out the features of the sole occupant
of the pod. His breath caught in his throat. Staring in disbelief at the body.
“No, it’s not possible,” he stated in shock, subconsciously taking a step back.
“We saw him die. We saw his ship explode. It’s not possible. He’s already
dead.”

“He soon will be,” Gunny agreed. His finger tightening
around the trigger of the pistol, now squarely pointed at the unconscious man’s
head.

“No!” Paul loudly interjected, suddenly breaking out of his
stupor, realising what the sergeant was contemplating. “We don’t execute
prisoners.”

“Normally I would agree with you,” Gunny replied in a grim
voice. “But I’ll make an exception in this one case,” he added, continuing to
put more weight on the trigger.

“Holster your weapon. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.
We’re better than he is.”

“You were in the C&C. You heard what he threatened to
do, what he almost succeeded in doing. He doesn’t deserve the chance to live.”

“That's not our decision to make,” Paul replied firmly.
Relived to see some of the tension being released from the trigger of the
pistol.

“Then whose decision is it?” Gunny asked reasonably.

Having no answer to that question, instead Paul ordered,
“Take the prisoner to sickbay and get the Doctor to check him out. And Gunny?”

“Yes?”

“Try not to bounce his head off
every
bulkhead
between here and medical. Once there I want a security team to lock down
medical. Nobody goes in or out without Doctor Richardson’s prior approval.”

“That’s assuming the Doc doesn’t just shoot him on sight?
You do remember he was Marcus’s personal physician for over a decade, and
personally delivered Sofia. He always had a soft spot for Sofia. You remember
what those mercenaries almost succeeded in doing to her upon this man’s
orders?”

Paul winced. He
had
forgotten and could feel a
headache quickly coming on when he began to realise he was possibly the only
person on the station who did not want this man dead
.
Sighing aloud,
Paul just replied, “Just do the best you can Gunny. I’ll try and work out what
to do with him next. Perhaps we should just hand him over to the
Confederation.”

“You mean to the President?” Gunny’s eyes brightened at the
prospect. Sofia had been elected Confederation President several months
earlier, and everybody on the station knew she had harboured strong feelings
toward their recently-deceased Commander. A man who gave his life to stop the
actions of the very man lying at their feet. “I fully endorse that decision.
After all, I would have just shot him. Sofia will likely do far worse. She has
more of her father’s steel in her than she realises.”

With that Gunny reached down and effortlessly, but none too
gently, threw the man over his shoulder. The dull thud of the body colliding
with the bay doors on the way out reverberated throughout the small pod.

Rubbing his eyes wearily, Paul realised that he had a long
day ahead of him, trying to decide what to do with Admiral Harkov. The
individual personally responsible for the death of Emperor Marcus Aurelius, the
downfall of the Imperium and, indirectly, the death of Commander Jonathan
Radec, owner of Vanguard Shipping and Paul’s closest friend.

*****

With a massive roar of the powerful twin ion engines, the
heavy fighter shot away from the station. Its destination? Well the pilot had
not yet thought that far ahead. Miranda Sun had grown up within the Syndicate,
a powerful shadowy organisation spanning multiple star-systems, unscrupulous in
what goods they dealt in, concentrating on whatever had the highest profit
margin. Be it contraband, weapons or even people. The organisation had come to
an abrupt end, however, only several weeks earlier, in no small part to
Miranda’s own actions. Her eyes had been opened to the organisation’s true
nature due to Jonathan Radec, starting with the death of her own parents at the
hands of the Syndicate.

Now in her late twenties, with a slim, willowy body, long,
dark, flowing hair and exotic features, her face was definitely oriental
—
high cheekbones, full lips and straight nose. Combined with her
almond-shaped brown eyes, Miranda had garnered a lot of attention since her
abrupt arrival on
Terra Nova
almost six months earlier. However, during
that time, she had made such an impression on the crew she had recently been
promoted to interim-CEO during the Commander’s recovery. Following his recent
death it seemed this temporary arrangement was likely to become permanent, as
the only other candidate, Paul Harrington, had made it perfectly clear he had
no desire for the job.

It was in no small part due to the recent death of Jon that
Miranda found herself fleeing the station at high speed. During her short stay
she had found herself developing strong feelings for the young, enigmatic
Commander. Since his death it had seemed every room on the station, every
corridor held painful memories of their short, but poignant, time together.
Hence, desperate for some solitude, she had taken her ship for a brief flight.
However, even then she could not entirely escape, for this beautiful ship
—
a now long since decommissioned Imperial heavy attack fighter,
a
Wraith
—had been a parting gift from the Commander. In memory of Jon
she had named the ship
The
Last Praetorian
. A fitting tribute,
she felt, to the person who had bestowed this expensive gift upon her. Even now
she could picture the last few moments of the Commander’s life, as his personal
shuttle, the
Eternal Light,
barrelled into the massive star carrier.
Both disappearing in a blinding flash of light only moments later.

Turning her thoughts away from such painful memories, she
once again focused on piloting her ship. Prior to this Miranda had never
actually
owned
anything of her own, hence found herself cherishing the
ship even more. With a deft touch of the flight controls, the ship danced
around a particularly large piece of space debris. This corner of the system
was now littered with detritus from the recent battle. The Confederation Navy
had issued a cover story about a fatal ship accident to account for the large
amount of debris and higher than ordinary background radiation from the nuclear
explosion. Only a few people in the Confederation, the crew of the
Terra
Nova
included, knew what events had actually transpired here.

A battle that had probably determined the very future of the
young Confederation.

Turning her attention back to the area of space around her
fighter, she set the ship darting to the right, then the left, evading
particularly large pieces. It seemed that the debris field was particularly
dense in this area of space. It mattered little, as it was only when she
glanced down at the navigation computer that she realised just how far away
from
Terra Nova
she had travelled. Lost in her thoughts, she had flown
far farther than she had originally intended. Taking one last look outside the
cockpit windows, she prepared to swing the large fighter around and reverse
course back to
Terra Nova
. As CEO she now had responsibilities and could
not afford to just disappear for significant periods of time.

As her fingers were about to dance across the fight controls
to alter course, she saw a flash of light from the periphery of her vision.
Assuming that it was just some starlight reflecting off another piece of space debris,
she ignored it and had once again reached for the flight controls when she saw
it again. It was too regular a flash to be just a mere reflection of light.
Something was broadcasting that signal. Miranda finally did alter the course of
her ship, not towards
Terra Nova
but in the opposite direction, towards
the beacon of light, curious about what the source could be.

The closer she approached the source of the light, the
thicker the debris became, causing her to have to focus more on her piloting
abilities. She eventually realised she must be flying through what remained of
the
Imperial Star
, the flagship of the old Imperial Navy, destroyed by
Jon with the warhead secreted on his personal shuttle. Only that massive
warship could have produced debris of this size and density. Finally arriving
at the source of the light Miranda was disappointed to see it was just a
navigation beacon from the
Imperial Star
, which had miraculously
survived the explosion. Probably still running on some internal emergency power
supply.