The Sunfire (8 page)

Paul could only gape, speechless at the scene in front of
him. His gaze shifting repeatedly between Jon’s naked back, Sofia’s green eyes,
sparkling with amusement and the rumpled bed, quickly drawing his own
conclusions.

He flushed an even brighter scarlet, and started backing out
of the room. “Uh, I’ll let them know where you are. I mean, I’ll call off the
alert and tell them what you are doing. I mean, that you are safe.” His final
vision of the occupants of the room as the door slid shut, was a goodbye wave
from Sofia.

With another laugh, she pushed Jon onto his back, straddling
him. “Well, I think we can rely upon Paul to ensure we are not interrupted for
a couple more hours. So how do you think we should pass the time?” She asked
seductively.

Reaching backwards Jon snatched the datapad from the table,
powering on the device. “I thought that you wanted to explain your idea to me?”
He asked with a smirk.

“Later,” Sofia replied starting a trail of kisses down his
chest.

As Sofia reached lower, the datapad fell from Jon’s
twitching fingers, bouncing off the bed, coming to rest underneath it. Fortunately
the device possessed a power saving mode, and after a few hours of inactivity,
shut itself off.

Present Day

Terra Nova, Zeta-Aquilae System

“Commander, if you can hear me, then help me. Please.”

Jon’s eyes flashed open, as his body hurled itself off the
bed with the shock of hearing that voice still ringing in his head.
Unfortunately this thought was quickly followed by the next.
Where was the
ground?
As his hands vainly clawed at thin air, the rest of his body
plummeted to the floor. Fortunately the bed was not set that high off the
ground and the thick carpet cushioned his fall, somewhat. Still, Jon could feel
the air rush from his lungs. All he saw were stars, his head spinning from
hitting the edge of the bed on the way down.

The next thing he felt were strong hands grasping his
shoulder, rolling him onto his back, and then a blinding light in his eyes,
first one then the other. Now completely blinded, first from the impact and
then the bright light, he struggled to get a firm hold on the person who was
restraining him. Finally, managing to catch hold of something he could use for
leverage, he pulled the stunned individual closer, shouting, “Where is he?
Where is Marcus?”

“Commander. Let me go.” The startled voice replied. “I was
just trying to check that you’re not hurt. I was worried the fall might have
given you a concussion.”

Blinking rapidly, Jon tried to see once again. “Where is he?
Where is Marcus? What have you done with him?” He angrily repeated the
question.

“Where is who, Jon?” Another deeper voice sounded from
behind him.

“Marcus, Marcus Aurelius. What have you done with him?”

“He’s dead Jon. He has been dead for over five years now.
Let’s try and get you back onto the bed shall we?” The voice continued
soothingly, seemingly unfazed at his outburst.

Finally with his vision somewhat restored, Jon turned to
face the second voice, instantly recognising the concerned face of Doctor
Richardson. “I thought I heard Marcus. He was calling for help,” Jon explained
in a confused voice.

“It was just a dream,” the Doctor reassured him calmly. “You
have been through a major trauma and your brain was deprived of oxygen for a
short while. It’s not surprising you are confused.” The Doctor cast a practised
eye over the last few minutes of the ECG, which monitored the Commander’s brain
activity. The medical device did indeed show an elevated level of brain
activity indicative of a patient dreaming during rapid-eye-movement sleep.
Although the Doctor had never seen such extreme brain activity, as this was not
his area of speciality, some unusual brain waves were probably to be expected
considering the recent trauma.

After completing a quick, but thorough physical examination,
the Doctor permitted Paul and Miranda to enter the small, private, recovery
room. While the scans showed no indication of any brain damage, the best
indication would be to monitor the patient closely for a time, especially
considering his more recent short-term memory impairment.

“Jon!” Miranda cried out, throwing herself into his arms,
almost knocking the two of them off the narrow bed. In Jon’s case for the
second time.

“Whoa,” Jon exclaimed, taken by surprise by her actions, his
arms hesitantly coming to rest around the young woman.

Suddenly looking up into his surprised face, she asked
suspiciously. “You do know who I am, don’t you?”

Rolling his eyes in amusement, Jon was about to respond that
he had no idea who she was, when he noticed both Paul and the Doctor observing
his response closely. Not wanting to prolong his stay any longer than necessary
he replied truthfully. “Yes I know who you are, Miranda Sun of Zeta-Aquilae,
and you Paul, and yes, I even remember you Doc,” Jon exclaimed with a smile.

“Well I am glad your oxygen deprivation has not affected
your sense of humour, Commander,” the Doctor replied, taking care to hide the
relief in his voice.

“What happened out there Jon?” Paul asked. “We were all sure
you were dead, since you had been missing for five days, and we were just about
to prepare a lovely send-off for you. I even opened that bottle of Scotch we
had been saving for the right moment.”

“The
Imperial Star
?” Jon ignored the question, asking
one of his own.

“Gone,” Paul confirmed. “Your plan worked, the weapon
vaporised the ship and the rest of the fleet surrendered soon after. We, well
you, did it.”

“All I care about is Harkov, as long as he is gone,” Jon
insisted. So relieved that their plan had succeeded, he did not notice the
shared glance between Paul and Miranda. “In answer to your question the last
thing that I remember was a few moments before the impact with the ‘
Star
.
The collision alarm sounded and I was trying to angle the ‘
Light
towards
one of the flight decks
—
”

“You succeeded,” Paul interrupted.

Nodding his head in thanks to Paul for filling in the gaps,
he continued. “The next thing I knew was that the ship’s computer took control
of the helm, the cockpit sealed itself and the
‘Light
ejected the entire
cockpit module from the rest of the ship,” Jon explained in wonder. Even in its
final death throes, the
‘Light
had once again saved his life. “I never
knew the
‘Light
had such an emergency escape system,” he said in
complete amazement.

“She was a fantastic ship,” Paul agreed, patting Jon on the
back. “We’re all just glad that you are back safe and well, the station was not
the same without you. Anyway we’ll let everybody know the good news and get out
of here to let you rest. You have much catching up to do on recent events,”
Paul commented softly, throwing another concerned glance at Miranda.

This time, receiving the message loud and clear, she removed
herself from Jon’s embrace, giving him a final hug and a quick kiss on the
cheek. “We’re
all
glad that you are back in once piece,” she insisted.
Brushing away a tear, she followed Paul out of the room, leaving him to wonder
what he had missed out on while he had been unconscious.

*****

A few days later Jon was finally able to make good his
escape from the Doctor’s clutches, by employing his usual
modus operandi
of making everybody else’s life unbearable. Jon had always taken the view that
if he was to be stuck in Medical feeling miserable, why shouldn’t everybody
else be equally unhappy? However, the Doctor had absolutely refused to sign off
on him returning to active duty, including his still revoked flight status.
Instead, he was sent back to his quarters with strict instructions to rest. So
closely following the doctor’s orders, he had spent the past couple of hours
catching up on the station’s latest reports and logs.

Finally with a headache threatening to overwhelm him, he
pushed back his chair from his desk, opened a beer (the Doctor had also
strictly forbidden any alcohol), and wandered over to the small window in his
quarters, lost in thought. After awakening in Medical Jon had felt out of
sorts; as if he was standing at a crossroads in his life, unsure which
direction to turn. Ever since Harkov’s betrayal and the death of the Emperor,
Jon had been so consumed with the need for revenge he had little time for
anything else. Only when he had finally conceded defeat, believing that Harkov
had truly vanished, did Jon take up the offer from Paul to head-up Vanguard. He
was not immune to the irony that it was only after abandoning his search that
Harkov had finally come to him—and now what? Harkov was dead, the
Imperial
Star
and the
Eternal Light
were gone. Almost every link to his past
gone
,
except for Sofia.

Sighing to himself, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to
her, although she had never been far from his mind even before he regained
consciousness. Jon remembered clearly hurtling towards the
Imperial
Star
and that his biggest regret was not being able to say goodbye to her. That
their last spoken words had been ones of anger rested heavily on his soul. He
knew he should call her and tell her he was alive and well and Harkov was dead,
but something held him back. The same something that stopped him calling her
prior to the arrival of Harkov
—
fear. The fear that he
would look into her eyes and see happiness there. That she had already moved on
with her life, perhaps found somebody else…

His continued musings were interrupted by the sound of an
argument taking place outside his quarters. Cocking his head to one side,
listening intently, Jon could clearly make out the sound of both Paul and
Gunny’s voices, although the words were too quiet to be heard clearly. He was
curious to know what they were arguing about and even more curious why they
were doing it in the corridor outside his quarters. Striding to the door, which
slid open at his approach, Jon stepped out into the corridor to quite an
astonishing scene. For there, as expected, were Paul and Gunny, almost
nose-to-nose exchanging angry words. Even more astounding was that Miranda had
wedged herself between the two senior officers, obviously struggling to keep
them apart and stop events escalating.

“Excuse me,” Jon interrupted angrily. “Would somebody like
to explain why two of my most senior and trusted officers look like they are
about to start a brawl in the corridor? I hardly think that this is an example
you should be setting for the rest of the crew.” Turning towards the small
group of onlookers who had gathered to observe the spectacle, he gave them a
hard stare and the group quickly dispersed. Turning his gaze back towards the
three senior staff, he was at least relieved to see the argument seemed to have
stopped in its tracks. “Well? I am still waiting for an explanation,” Jon
ordered angrily.

“Tell him. Jon has a right to know,” Gunny insisted
vehemently.

“I’ll deal with this. Jon is still recovering from his
latest trauma and he doesn’t need to be involved with this at the moment,” Paul
refuted angrily.

Both of the senior officer’s eyes swivelled towards Miranda,
obviously giving her the deciding vote. “Well thanks,
boys
,” Miranda
replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Leave it to me to make the final
decision. You,” Miranda turned to point at Jon. “Inside and sit down. I am not
going to tell you this while you are standing up. The Doctor has already picked
you up from the floor once this week and you are not going to be any help to
anyone in Medical with concussion.”

Eyes narrowing, Jon gave Miranda a disapproving stare. “You
cannot go ordering me around on my own station,” he spluttered.

“Fine. I won't tell you,” Miranda insisted, crossing her arms
resolutely.

“
Women!
” Jon cried, spinning on his heel, stalking
back into his quarters and slumping down on his sofa. “Okay, fine, I am now
sitting down,” he sulked.

Following Jon into his quarters, Miranda stood a couple of
meters in front of him, both Paul and Gunny hovering nervously behind her.
“Okay, now where to start?” she said aloud, before glancing at the computer,
still displaying the latest reports that Jon had left powered on. “Okay, so you
are familiar with recent events, good. So I assume that you know we have been
picking up the odd escape pod from the Imperial Fleet?”

Jon nodded.

“What is
not
noted in the latest reports are some
details about the last pod we discovered on the same day we found you.” Miranda
did not want to dwell on such coincidences, which recently had started to
become the norm. She most definitely did not want to dwell on how she had
managed to find him in the middle of that debris field.

“So what was special about this pod?” Jon inquired, curious
why his three most trusted friends would be arguing over it.

“Not what,
who,
” Miranda replied nervously. “Okay,
there is no way to break this to you easily, so I will just come out and say
it. Harkov was in that pod.”

For a brief instant what Miranda said just did not register
—
Harkov was dead. Looking at the three grim faces in front of
him, he knew she was not making it up. All the colour drained from his face and
for once he was glad he had followed Miranda’s instructions to sit down,
doubting his legs would have supported him.

“He’s alive?”

Three worried heads nodded in answer to his question.

“He’s
still
alive?” Jon clarified his earlier
question. Surprised that nobody had already put a bullet in him or, to save the
ammunition, just thrown him out the nearest airlock.

Paul cleared his throat, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. “I
ordered him to be taken to Medical and placed under armed guard, until we
decide what to do with him. I don’t need to remind you of our duty regarding
the ethical treatment of prisoners do I?”

Jon’s eyes flashed angrily, but he did not respond to the
implied rebuke. As far as Jon was concerned Harkov had discarded any rights he
might have had by murdering Marcus, massacring the remaining Praetorian Guard
and, even more recently, firing on ships flying under a flag of truce. “Where
is he now?” Jon demanded.

“In the brig, still under armed guard,” Gunny replied
promptly. “My men have orders to shoot-to-kill if he so much as looks at them
strangely.” The statement would probably have been humorous, if Gunny had not
delivered it in a completely serious tone of voice.

Nodding in understanding, Jon replied, “Very well. I want to
meet with him. Alone,” he insisted, upon seeing the shocked faces in front of
him. “Gunny, please have your men escort him to my office.”

Miranda was going to make some quip about it currently being
her office, but one look at the expression on Jon’s face and she wisely
remained silent.

“Dismissed,” Jon ordered.