Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy) (12 page)

BOOK: Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy)
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“Can you confirm the rumours that all the Senate are dead?”

“Commander how did your wife die?”

The last question shouted from the crowd had him halting mid-stride, and the group, as a whole, took a safe step back upon seeing the expression on his face. However, they were rescued just in time by a small detachment of marines, surrounding the Commander and whisking him away from the waiting reporters.

“If you will follow me Commander, I will take you to Master Sergeant Reynolds,” the young Lieutenant, who was obviously in charge of the detail, respectfully announced.

Jon just nodded his head in acknowledgement, following the Lieutenant into the Senate, where they wound their way around the heavy lifting equipment, floodlights and rescue workers that had taken up residence within the building.

Finally they arrived at the Great Hall, where the Senate had been in session when the orbital bombardment had started.

The destruction was everywhere, with heaps of mangled metal and shattered stone throughout. Looking up, Jon could just see a sliver of sky through one of the larger cracks in the ceiling but his attention was instead drawn to the middle of the Great Hall, where Gunny stood near to the base of the speaker’s podium. With his back straight, he was staring into the distance, his gaze fixed.

As Jon approached, the Sergeant executed a flawless salute. As he stood before him, Jon could see the tears glistening in his eyes and he did not need to look down to know what he would find at Gunny’s feet. Instead he looked Gunny in the eye, returning the salute, before ordering softly. “I relieve you of your duty, Sergeant.”

“I stand relieved, Commander,” Gunny replied equally quietly, turning his back to give Jon some privacy, but not moving far away from his position.

Jon reluctantly lowered his eyes to look at the body resting on the floor at his feet. It took him several seconds to make out the features of the body, as the white Imperial Navy uniform Marcus had been wearing was covered with a thick layer of dust. Falling to his knees at the side of his father, Jon delicately brushed the dust away from Marcus’ face. The first thing revealed were his emerald-green eyes, open, staring sightlessly upward. With trembling fingers Jon reached up and gently closed his father’s eyes for the last time. Looking at the rest of his face, Jon was relieved to see there did not seem to be any other major injury. A small cut on his forehead, probably from falling masonry, was about the extent of his visible injuries. What did surprise him was his mouth, which was upturned at the edges, as if Marcus’ final thought was something that had pleased him.

Ever so gently, Jon reached underneath his father, effortlessly lifting the body into his arms. He clutched the man close to his chest, the same way a person might hold a small baby. “Rest now,” he whispered. “I’ll take you home, away from this mausoleum of the dead. Back to the stars, where you can be reunited with your wife and daughter.” With that Jon turned back the way he had come and, with sure steps, made his way towards the exit, leaving behind the rest of the dead. He could sense Gunny falling in step behind him as their guard of honour.

Stepping out into the weak sunshine of the early morning, everybody around them fell silent as they observed the Commander and the man he carried. But the silence only lasted a moment and, with a cry, the pack of reporters surged forward towards the pair, all trying to get an exclusive photograph.

Jon froze on the spot. Like a doe caught in a hunter’s crosshairs, not knowing where to go or what to do.

He was finally rescued by a shout from Gunny, summoning the nearby marines. Once again they formed a cordon around the pair, but this time the reporters would not be deterred. They had caught the scent of an exclusive, and nothing and nobody was going to keep it from them. That was until Gunny’s next order rang out over the crowd. “Marines, present arms!” Suddenly the reporters found themselves much less confident, staring down the barrels of a dozen pulse rifles, being held firmly by a dozen very angry marines, who looked as if they would like nothing better than to be given the order to open fire.

“This is outrageous,” one reporter near the front of the pack exclaimed. “We are well within our legal rights to—”

Whatever he was going to say next was lost as the butt of one of the pulse rifles slammed into his stomach, knocking him to the ground. One of the marines demonstrating his legal rights to get the reporters to show some respect for the dead.

Noticing one of their fallen colleagues, the rest of the pack backed off a little, allowing the marines to make a path for Jon and Gunny to approach the waiting shuttle. Even then, calls from the group continued to ring out around their cordon and above the noise from the hovering holo-cameras recording the scene for the viewing public.

Jon and Gunny finally made it to the shuttle, which wasted no time in departing and leaving the hordes of reporters and media behind.

Naturally enough it was the lead item on every single news network for the rest of the day, with news anchors and voice-overs describing the pair and their deeply entwined history. The viewing public mostly ignored this, with many recognising the grief of a son, who was taking his deceased father home for the last time.

For the vast majority of the people of the Confederation, this was their first real glimpse into the life of the man who was soon to become their Lord and Master, the last Emperor of the Imperium.

It was a sobering first impression.

*****

The comforting hand resting on his shoulder interrupted Jon’s thoughts. Looking up from the body of his former master and father, Jon saw Paul looking down at him with a concerned expression.

“You shouldn’t stay here Jon, it’s not healthy. Marcus has gone now. He doesn’t need you to watch over him any longer,” Paul said worriedly. Jon had been sitting by the Emperor’s body for several hours now, ever since they had arrived back on the
Protector
and Marcus had been moved to the morgue.

“I’ve got nowhere else to go, nothing to do,” Jon replied in a distant, lost tone of voice.

“Then come with me, back to our home. I’m returning to
Terra Nova
shortly. You have people there that love you. Miranda has been frantic. It took me almost an hour to calm her down and reassure her that you were fine. I think she was preparing to come here and find you in person.”

Jon frowned at hearing this, as he did not want anybody else who he cared for to be anywhere near here. Whilst Admiral Sterling had reassured him the perpetrators who had instigated the attack had been caught, he was not so sure. He had not told anybody about the warning he had received on the planet or the attack that followed. “How is she?” he asked. He’d been so caught up in recent events he had not even had time to spare her a thought.

“Worried about you,” Paul replied promptly. “We all are. Come back with me and let us take care of you. You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.” Paul was quietly terrified for his old friend. Just like the first time he had come to
Terra Nova
, he seemed to be retreating into himself, closing off from the outside world. It had taken Miranda in the past to break through the shell he had put up around himself. Now Paul was uncertain whether even Miranda would be able to rescue Jon from the sea of despair that he was adrift on.

Jon just shook his head in reply.
Terra Nova
had never been his home and Sofia had helped him realise that. It was just a place where he had hidden away from his life, responsibilities and all the mistakes he had made in the past. He had not been living, just passing time until his death. If nothing else, she had taught him he could not keep on living in the past.

“Then go home, back to your family, your parents. I am sure they must also be worried,” Paul encouraged.

In truth Jon had given some thought to the idea, but had decided against it, as he didn’t think he could cope with the sadness he knew he would see in their eyes. Their compassion and sympathy since, once again, he had lost somebody he cared deeply for, that he had loved. In many ways he thought that would be even worse than going back to
Terra Nova
and hiding away for the rest of eternity.

Paul sighed out loud at the noncommittal response from the younger man. Remembering his promise to the Admiral to try and convince Jon to accept the position of Emperor, he decided to give it one last try. After all, it could hardly make matters any worse. “Then why not accept the Admiral’s proposal? I know you don’t want to, as you think it will somehow blight the memory of Marcus and Sofia, but it doesn’t matter what others think. If they were standing here today, they would tell you the same thing. You have an opportunity here, Jon, to do some good and to help others. They would want you to do this, if for no other reason than to carry on their work.”

Jon rose stiffly to his feet, his muscles rigid from having been seated so long in the cold morgue. Not that he had noticed, as the chill that had swept through him as he looked out across that crater on Eden Prime seemed to have taken up permanent residence inside him. He wondered if he would ever feel warm again. Taking one final look at the body of the man resting on the table beside him, Jon realised that what Paul said was true. He could no longer go on living in the past, but the question still remained; what direction he should now take? This he still had no answer to. As he had been awake for almost forty-eight hours, he decided to sleep on it.

With a nod in Paul’s direction, a small show of appreciation for his concern, Jon reluctantly made his way back to the dark, empty quarters that had been assigned to him.

Somehow he knew sleep would be a long time coming.

*****

The room was dark, unlit, with the only light penetrating the room via the large viewport to Jon’s side. The stars shone brightly down on him, making his uniform and sword glisten with an ethereal light. He was resting on one knee, his sword present as always at his side, his head bowed. The room and scene were familiar ones to him. A small part of his subconscious mind knew he must be dreaming, as this room and ship had been destroyed long before by his very own hand. The
Imperial Star
, flagship of the old Imperial Navy, and his home for many years, had been vaporised when he had collided his shuttle, along with a nuclear warhead, into it.

How many times had he kneeled at this very spot, in front of his master? He drew comfort from the familiar surroundings, which were far removed from the death and destruction, pain and misery that was like a constant dark cloak around him these days.

A movement ahead of him, in the dark shadow of the room, drew his gaze. While he could not see anything, as his eyes could not penetrate the veil of darkness, it did not matter. For the feeling, the aura emanating from the darkness, was instantly recognisable. “My Emperor,” Jon breathed, bowing his head in respect.

“Commander,” the voice echoed through the darkness. “My Praetorian, my
last
Praetorian.” The voice continued on softly, after a momentary pause. “My son.”

Jon continued to bow his head, as he could feel the tears leaving a trail of fire down his cheeks. Never before had he heard this man refer to him with such emotion. “I’m sorry, my Lord,” he choked out loud. “I promised to protect you and your daughter, but in the end I failed you both.”

“You never let me down son. I cannot remember a day that went by when I was not proud of you. Proud of you as an officer, as a man and as my son. You never failed me or my daughter. Everyone has to die at some point and my time had come. But you bequeathed me a gift for which I will be forever grateful—the gift of time. Time to spend the last few months of my life with my daughter, to get to know her all over again. To see the courageous, smart and beautiful woman that she has become, so much like her mother. My time grows short and there is another that still wishes to speak with you, but I wanted to pass on this advice first.

“Do not fear your destiny, do not try and run or hide from it, but embrace it. It is who you are and, more importantly, it is who you will become. Even when everything around you seems hopeless and all is lost, hold your course and have courage. For you will find help from the most unlikely quarters, and the reward you will receive at the end is all that you have ever wanted, and more. Lastly, remember that I always loved you, as if you were my own son.”

With that the presence seemed to waver and finally disappeared forever.

Jon watched the tears from his cheeks fall to the floor, one-by-one. He knew that never again would he see this man, but he would always remember him, until the end of his days. “Goodbye, father,” he whispered, his voice echoing around the empty room, but only for a moment.

For Jon felt another presence, instantly recognisable, heralded by a feeling he knew intimately, as it was one that had long since taken up residence in his heart, since the first day he had laid eyes upon her. As if a door had suddenly opened, Sofia stepped out of the shadows, into the starlight that seemed to surround them both. She looked like an angel that had descended from the heavens. He was already moving, before he even consciously realised it, towards her, into her waiting arms. He held her so tightly he was worried he might hurt her, but she was here, in his arms once again, safe, warm and alive!

All that he had ever wanted.

“I’m so sorry. I should never have left you,” he cried. He couldn’t stop touching her face, cheeks and hair, to constantly reassure himself that she was real.

“Then we would both be—”

Whatever she was going to say next was drowned out by Jon’s finger pressed firmly against her lips. “No, don't say it. I don’t want to think of that. I just want to hold you forever.” His lips quickly descended, pressing passionately against hers, firmly, insistently and with more than a hint of desperation. Sofia just laughed, the silvery sound resonating deep within him, banishing the cold. For the first time in many days he felt warm. Warmed by her touch, her smile and her love.

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