Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy) (31 page)

“I didn’t kill anybody,” Jon protested his innocence. “He killed himself, albeit with the pistol that I gave him…”

The sigh from Jason was clearly audible to the entire room. “I wish it was the case with you that prisoners lived past the end of your interrogations, especially in the case of Captain Harrison, as he might have been able to refute certain rumours that have been circulating about you.”

“What rumours?” Jon demanded angrily, looking around the room, but no one would meet his gaze, all finding the table suddenly fascinating. “What rumours?” he repeated ominously.

“That it was you that planned and ordered the attack on Eden Prime,” Jason explained uncomfortably, shifting nervously in his seat, refusing to look him at him.

“I did
what
?” he shouted, with barely supressed fury.

“Some sections of the
media
,” Jason emphasised the word. “Have been making the point that you seem to have done extremely well for yourself since the attack. Having taken command of the Fleet, declaring yourself the next Emperor. In addition you are now the sole beneficiary of the Aurelius family wealth. Commander, you are now one of the wealthiest people in the Confederation. The Aurelius family have interest in shipyards, manufacturing and logistics, which generate revenue in excess of ninety-eight billion—”

“I don’t give a damn how wealthy I am, or how much money the Aurelius industries generate per year. I would give up the whole lot in a heartbeat, for just one more day—” Jon trailed off, as the realisation suddenly struck him, that those words were not his own. How many times had he sat with Marcus, late into the night, hearing those words come from his lips. That he would give up everything for just another day with his wife. Slumping back down into his seat, dejected, he began to appreciate just how full circle his life had become, but this time he was the one sitting on the other side of the table.

“None of us think that Commander,” Jason replied stiffly, nervously casting his gaze around the table for support. “I just thought that you should know what others are saying.”

“Thank you Lieutenant. I appreciate your candour,” he replied in a tired, resigned voice. “What do you suggest that we do to counteract these
rumours
?”

“I don’t think that there is anything that we can do or say,” Jason replied reluctantly. “Whatever we say some people are always going to believe otherwise. The best I can suggest is that we find whoever did this, and quickly, before these rumours gain any more prominence.”

“Where are we with finding whoever was behind this? Did you receive the communication dump that I downloaded from the
Indomitable
?”

“I reviewed those transmissions,” Jason confirmed reluctantly. He met Jon’s gaze for a moment, silently confirming what was present in those recordings. “There was nothing of any use within the transmission, it simply collaborates Captain Harrison’s story. I am still trying to trace the origin of the message, it was very heavily encrypted and the source of the message was extremely well hidden. I will keep trying.”

“Once you have finished I want you to erase all copies of that message. I have already permanently erased the originals and any logs on the
Indomitable
. I promised Captain Harrison that I would do everything in my power to protect his family. I plan on keeping that vow and want every last copy destroyed.” At a nod of understanding from Jason, he next turned to face Gunny. “What about the informant on Eden Prime, the one that contacted us and warned of the impending attack? Have we found out anything more about him? Where he came from and how he came to know about the attack?”

Gunny spread his hands wide in a ‘don’t look at me’ gesture. “I made some inquiries prior to our departure from Eden Prime. The shuttle and body have vanished. Perhaps it was simply recovered or moved as part of the rescue effort, but I can find no trace or record of it. It’s as if it simply never existed.”

The sound of Jon’s fist violently impacting upon the table reverberated around the room, breaking the silence. “How is it that they always seem to be just one step ahead of us, that every clue or avenue of investigation seems to lead to just another dead end. I cannot believe that they are infallible; everybody makes a mistake sooner or later.”

“Perhaps we are looking at this from the wrong angle,” David proposed thoughtfully. “Means, motive and opportunity.”

“Excuse me?” Jon replied, confused.

“It is how they used to carry out criminal inquiries. Investigators asked themselves who had the means, motive and opportunity to perpetrate the crime. As for the means, we’ve already recognised that whoever was behind this attack had to have money, resources and access to military hardware. So whoever he or she is, they have money, power and contacts. That should help us narrow down the list of suspects. With regards to the opportunity, well, we can eliminate all those in the Senate that were killed, as there is not much opportunity if you are already dead. We should focus our attention on those in the senate that survived. Finally for motive we have the usual—wealth, power and revenge.”

“So bearing all that in mind. How long is the list of suspects?” Gunny inquired curiously.

Jason and David exchanged glances. “Excluding the Commander?” Jason asked.

Gunny nodded.

“Oh, about three,” Jason replied.

“Thousand,” David added. “Give or take a few hundred.”

“Three thousand?” Gunny echoed, aghast.

“It’s the revenge aspect, unfortunately,” David confessed. “We started off by drawing up a list of names of people that might have a grievance with the Commander, or the Emperor. Unfortunately the list just grew and grew from there.”

“I didn’t realise that you had managed to annoy so many people, and in such a short period of time,” Miranda quipped. “I’m impressed.”

Jon just shot her an irritable glance.

“That's the best that you can do?” Gunny demanded incredulously. “What are we going to do? Start interrogating them one-by-one?”

“One name does stick out, however,” Jason was quick to add.

“Oh thank the Maker,” Gunny said, looking up towards the ceiling. “As otherwise I had a clear picture of how I was going to be spending the rest of my days. Who?”

“Senator Calis.”

“She was not at the Senate?” Jon asked thoughtfully.

“Seems not.”

“Now that is a name from the past,” Paul added. Leaning forward in his chair, looking across the table at Jon intently. “She hates you, you know?”

“Well I did break her son’s nose,” Jon replied, deep in thought.

“You did? What on Old Earth for?” Miranda asked curiously.

Jon flushed a bright pink, looking aside, embarrassed. “He insulted me, and well, I was not in a good mood that day.”

“From what I heard you must have been in a foul mood, as Sofia said you were this close,” Paul gestured with his thumb and forefinger, “To beheading the poor boy.”

“Jon!” Miranda admonished.

“Okay, so maybe I might have been the tiniest bit jealous of him at the time. After all, he was handsome, richly attired, had impeccable manners, came from a powerful family and was probably richer than God. I remember thinking at the time he would probably have made a perfect husband for Sofia. And I knew getting her married was on Marcus’ mind; after all he made a point of asking me about it at every opportunity. Anyway I think it’s worth following up. Miranda, I think that you should go.”

“Me? Why me?”

“She is a woman, you’re a woman. I expect that you have a lot in common,” Gunny grinned. “Bond. Perhaps you can get her to slip up and admit to something she might otherwise prefer not to mention.”

“Like what?” Miranda asked venomously, giving Gunny an angry stare.

“How do I know?” Gunny continued on oblivious, or simply not recognising the hole that he was digging for himself. “Perhaps she is actually a homicidal mass murderer with absolutely no conscience, possessing delusions of grandeur and a strong desire to rule the known Galaxy?”

“And when am I supposed to ask this?”

“Uh,” Gunny stumbled, having little idea of what women discussed when together, mostly making a point of trying to avoid being trapped in such situations and usually making a tactical withdrawal in the case of such scenarios arising. “Over tea?” he leapt upon the idea, having noticed the ladies occasionally congregating in the mess hall, deep in discussion over such beverages. It frequently made him nervous, as they occasionally shot glances in his direction, then followed them up with copious amounts of giggles.

“Well, I will be sure to discuss that over afternoon tea,” Miranda growled sarcastically.

“Great. Then I’ll put on hold the other ten thousand interrogations,” Gunny replied relieved.

“I will go with you,” Jason added. “I can continue trying to trace those messages from anywhere.”

Jon nodded his head in agreement. “Good idea, you can help run interference between Miranda and the Fleet.”

“Fleet?” Miranda asked.

“You didn’t think I was going to send you there by yourself did you? I’ll dispatch a small taskforce to escort you. Enough to keep you safe and give the Senator pause for thought if she plans to start anything. You’ll have more than enough firepower to lay siege to the planet if you so wish.”

“Gee thanks.”

“That doesn’t mean that you have my permission to go around conquering planets. I have enough problems to deal with already, without you starting to carve out your own empire.”

“Got it. No deposing of planetary Senators, at least not until after a full confession during afternoon tea.”

Jon just rolled his eyes, before nodding. “What else have we got? I don’t want us to focus solely on the Senator.”

“Commander, do the marines still have your parent’s home on Altair secured?” David asked.

“Last time I checked they did,” Jon confirmed. “I left orders that they were to secure the site and nobody was permitted to enter.”

“Then I will go there and inspect the site. By all accounts that operation was an abject failure and, with the marines surrounding the site, they will not be able to remove any evidence. I’ll see if I can find any clues there.”

“Good idea.”

“What about the Confederation Navy?” Paul suggested. “Naval Intelligence? Surely they can help. We simply do not have the resources to do this alone.”

“You’re forgetting that somebody high up in the navy activated that special operations team and sent them after me. In addition, I find it hard to believe that this entire plot was hatched right under the noses of Naval Intelligence and they were caught completely unawares. No, I don’t trust either of them. Right now the only people that I trust implicitly are seated around this table. We do this ourselves.”

With a general nodding of heads in agreement Paul added. “Jon, what about you?”

“I need to get back to the Fleet. I cannot stay on
Terra Nova
for
long.”

“You are sure that it is entirely safe?” Paul asked sceptically. “Considering you have just made it blatantly clear that you do not trust them.”

“No, not particularly, but I need to remain visible, a figurehead if you will, to keep this façade intact. I also need to keep the navy on a tight leash, as the last thing I need is for them to start plotting against me too.”

“But I assume that you can at least stay for dinner?”

“You can count on it. I wouldn’t put it past somebody to already have poisoned my food back on the
Relentless
,” groused Jon. “I’ll probably be eating emergency fleet rations for the rest of my life.”

*****

It was several hours later, after the senior staff meeting had broken up, and Jon was relaying his orders to the last of the Fleet Admirals.

“You’re the only person I can trust Admiral. Remember to watch Romanov, Flintoff and Alexeyev closely,” Jon relayed his orders to the Admiral via the communications system in his office.

A chime from the door momentarily broke his concentration. However he ignored it, focusing back on the view-screen and the pale-faced Admiral. Having spent the past ten minutes regaling the man with a completely fictitious plot to dispose of him and the Confederation Navy. “Report any suspicions that you have to me, and only me,” he concluded the meeting. With a firm nod of understanding, and a flawless salute from the Admiral of the 6
^th
Confederation Fleet, Jon cut the communication channel, leaning back and stretching his tired muscles.

He had spent the past two hours individually briefing each of the Fleet Admirals. He had spun a similar web of lies and deceit to all, relaying his concerns that the other Admirals might be plotting against them, and that he was putting all his trust and confidence in him or her. Playing each of them off against the others. The only exception had been Fleet Admiral Alexeyev, with whom, when he had got to the part about him being the only one that he trusted, the words had stuck in his throat. Jon was convinced that Alexeyev was plotting treason one way or another, and stating the opposite just made him sound like a hypocrite. Instead he had abandoned his pre-prepared speech and simply made it clear to the Admiral that he thought he was a traitorous bastard, and that if he ever found any proof that Alexeyev was committing treason he would have him executed in a heartbeat. He found it ironic that the only person he truly distrusted was the only one he had been completely truthful with. He wondered in passing if this was what Marcus referred to as
politics.

Once again the door chime interrupted his thoughts, as he had completely forgotten someone was waiting to enter. “Come,” he called out loudly. Observing Paul step into his quarters, Jon motioned towards the empty seat opposite him. “Just in time,” he called out happily. “Pour yourself a drink, I’ll have another glass too.”

Paul eyed the almost empty bottle of Scotch warily, before shaking his head in a negative. “I’ll pass thanks,” he said. “You should also cut down. You are drinking far more heavily than usual. It’s not healthy for you.”

Ignoring his friend’s advice, Jon emptied the rest of the bottle into the glass and raised it in Paul’s direction in a mocking salute. “I doubt that I’m going to live long enough to have to worry about my liver. So I plan on enjoying what little time I have left,” he replied fatalistically. “So why are you gracing me with your presence, if not to join me for a drink?”