Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy) (50 page)

The cause of all these recent headaches was currently firmly entrenched in his personal office, and it was for that reason that he felt a certain trepidation about this summons, for something wasn’t quite right.

“You wanted to see me, Senator?” Alexeyev politely inquired. Which was a nicer way than saying he had been abruptly summoned.

“Yes, take a seat, Admiral,” Senator Malthus motioned to the only empty seat in the office, on the other side of the imposing desk.

Not his seat, Alexeyev observed, as Malthus firmly resided in that one, seated behind
his
desk, in
his
office. He voiced none of these concerns however, simply taking the seat offered, staring expressionlessly at the other man. Was it his imagination or was there one or two more worry lines on the older man’s face? A few less strands of dark hair? But his eyes remained unchanged, a steely grey that stared back at him unblinkingly, measuring him.

“I have not received any updates from Admiral Romanov in several weeks. I was wondering if you had been in contact with her recently?” Malthus got straight to the point.

“Senator?” Alexeyev replied.

“Don’t
Senator
me,” Malthus snapped back. “I know that you two have been in regular contact, passing messages back and forth for months now. Just answer the question. Have you heard from her?”

“No,” Alexeyev replied simply.

“So then, she failed,” Malthus said leaning back, staring up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“I warned you that she would,” Alexeyev added stiffly. He did not add that in their last communication Anna had told him that she was planning instead on confronting Radec with the truth that it was he who had murdered Captain Harrison, after ordering him to open fire on the Senate. Having spent time with him, she refused to believe Malthus’s version of events. After James Harrison, well, Anna had trusted few people—especially men. The conviction in her voice had troubled him. What if she was correct? The sound of Malthus’ fist smacking his desk made him flinch, and he looked up into his murderous gaze. He had never seen the Senator look so rattled before.

“I am fed up about hearing about how high and mighty Commander Radec is. First Harkov, then Sejanus and now you. He is a man! Nothing more. He is simply flesh and blood, just like you and I, and will die just as easily. He is simply more… tenacious than most,” Malthus conceded.

Alexeyev did not reply, keeping his expression blank, but tenacious wouldn’t be how he described Radec, but then Malthus had never faced him in anger. For Commander Radec was frightening in his intensity. It was the first thing that everybody noticed upon meeting him. It was not the way that he looked at you, so much as he seemed to be looking
inside
you. For the man seemed to be driven in a way that others couldn’t comprehend. As if he, and only he, were aware of some grand plan passed down from the Great Maker himself, and everything, and everyone else was inconsequential because of it—their fate already having been predetermined. The rumours emanating from the fleet were that Radec could communicate with the dead—and Alexeyev could easily believe it, as nothing about the man would surprise him anymore.

“Very well,” Malthus said aloud after a moment’s hesitation. “It is well known that Radec has a weakness for those he cares about. We can use that to our advantage, as we already have his wife. If he is anything like Marcus, and from what I can tell they are exactly alike, he will do whatever we tell him. However, in case she refuses to play her role convincingly enough, it is always worth having a little extra leverage. I have recently found out that both his parents and his wife’s son have been taken to
Terra Nova
. If he thinks they will somehow be beyond my reach there, he is sadly mistaken. Alexeyev, my mercenaries have already failed me once, I won’t accept failure a second time. Order them to
Terra Nova
to take the parents and boy, but remind them I want them alive. They are no use to me dead.”

“I cannot,” Alexeyev shook his head, refusing the order.

“You answer to me now Admiral,” Malthus sharply reminded him. “If you cannot carry out my orders, I will find somebody else who can.”

“You misunderstand me, Senator,” Alexeyev clarified. “Your mercenaries have already been in contact and are refusing any more participation. Not until Radec is dead.”

“Mercenaries, they are so fickle,” Malthus sighed. “All they care about is money. Fine, double the price.”

“It won’t make any difference,” Alexeyev disagreed. “They were most emphatic on that point. They refuse to take sides any longer in this personal feud between you and Radec. They seem to be of the opinion that he is even more…unpredictable… than you. I don’t need to remind you, Senator, of the fate of the last company that defied him?”

“I am very well aware,” Malthus hissed between clenched teeth. For the destruction of United Stellar Services had personally cost him and his family tens of billions of credits. The company headquarters had been insured by its own financial services arm, in hindsight a huge mistake. Especially considering no legal firm would touch the case of criminal property damage against Radec. All promised to get back in touch after reviewing the legal precedence—none had.

“Very well then, I will see to this personally. In my absence Captain Benson will remain aboard the
Invincible
, on the bridge. At least that way I will have one officer I can rely upon in command. You disappoint me Alexeyev. Of all the Fleet Admiral’s I thought that I could rely upon you the most, as you were the first to see through Radec. To recognise his terrible thirst for wealth and power, for everybody covets what others have rightfully earned. He has clearly demonstrated, time and time again, what awful lengths he would go to achieve both. He must be stopped.”

“I don’t see Commander Radec taking a fleet to a civilian station to abduct an elderly couple and a child, Senator,” Alexeyev responded indignantly at the obvious rebuke, at the same time cursing his own quick to anger tongue.

“You’re just a soldier, Admiral, you do not see the bigger picture. It is not your place to question the orders that you are given. As I said, it will be comforting to have at least one person that I can rely upon in command. You are dismissed,” Malthus waved his hand in the direction of the door.

On his way back to the bridge, a bridge and ship that now belonged to him in name only, Alexeyev realised that it would not be much longer before he was replaced entirely. With his every move likely watched carefully, especially following his earlier outburst, what could he do? Ever since joining the Navy almost thirty years earlier he had acquitted himself with honour and integrity, quickly rising through the ranks, finally making Fleet Admiral a few years before—the highest accolade in the fleet. Where was his honour now? Standing helplessly aside while knowing that a station would soon be attacked, most of the civilians murdered so as to leave no witnesses, all to abduct a husband, wife and child. For what purpose, but to blackmail and threaten another couple. While he had no particular love of Jonathan Radec or Sofia Aurelius, he couldn’t imagine either of them ever contemplating such vile actions. So where did that leave him and his precious integrity, but trapped on the wrong side of a war that he wanted no part of?

He detoured from his usual route to the bridge to pass by his personal quarters. While his movement and communications were likely to be closely monitored, it was unlikely that they would read every dispatch he sent. The next regular batch for Fleet Admiral Sterling was due in the next few days, and there would be an important addition slipped into it, marked for his personal attention. He could only hope that the warning reached him in time.

*****

Jon stormed past the Marines on duty outside his personal quarters, ignoring their hastily snapped salutes as the door slid shut behind him. He wasted no time shedding his cloak and the damp uniform beneath.

“Damn them, damn them all to hell,” he cursed out aloud to the darkened room. His eyes landing on his desk, where the crumpled remains of the datapad that he had abandoned barely a day earlier remained. It seemed incredible how much had changed in the space of such a short period of time—Sofia alive, but Jason’s life now hanging in the balance. Prior to their departure he had ordered Major Thompson to leave a company of Marines to guard Jason if he recovered, or, if not, to return—Jon tore his thoughts away from that line of thinking. He had buried too many friends over the years. The last thing he wanted was another death. He had far too many ghosts already.

He could still feel them, swirling around him even now, their whispers, cries, now with a hint of urgency, as if they could feel his own personal impatience to soon have Malthus in his grasp. He would make him pay, not just for all their deaths but the loss of Sofia, for if not for him they would still be a family back on Eden Prime.

Stalking to the communication console, Jon reached out a hand to summon all the Fleet Admirals, for soon they would all depart for Betelgeuse and the 8
^th
Fleet. Yet something kept nagging at him, something he had said down on Callas Prime. That thousands, possibly tens of thousands more would die before he could finally have his revenge. And that is exactly what would happen if he summoned the fleet. For Alexeyev wouldn’t just hand over Malthus, but would fight to protect him. A fight he would lose, but at what cost? As thousands more would die in the ensuring battle. Confederation soldiers sworn to follow orders—but whose? How many of them would have to die, following those orders? The civil war he had tried so desperately to avoid would begin, but this time it would be he that fired the first shot.

No. He drew his hand back away from the console. This had nothing to do with them. This was personal. In the end it would still come down to just Malthus and him, nobody else would need to die. Tapping another control he instead opened up a channel to the
Endless Light
, still on the flight deck. Ordering the ship to prepare for an immediate departure.

But before he departed, he had one final message to send—to throw down the proverbial gauntlet at Malthus. Unlike a simple slap in the face, this would be a public challenge he had no other option but to take up, for instead of simply bringing dishonour, it would bring ruin on him if refused. Once sent, the only way to stop it would be if Malthus killed him. Reading the Imperial Proclamation one last time, satisfied with the content, he forwarded it to Lieutenant Castlebeck with instructions to distribute it to every news organisation and media outlet in the Confederation for immediate release. If that didn’t force him to stand and fight, then nothing would.

With the message sent, and acknowledged, Jon wrapped the black-as-night cloak around him, his pristine white uniform disappearing beneath the dark surface. He did not leave alone, as the shadows were still drawn to him, like a magnet. Stepping into the darkness he vanished into their shadows, disappearing from the room entirely.

*****

It was several hours later when the
Endless Light
roused him from his contemplation, warning him that they would be soon arriving in the Betelgeuse System, home to the
Invincible
, flagship of the 8
^th
Fleet, commanded by Admiral Timothy Alexeyev and, according to Robert Calis, Senator Malthus.

“Commander, do you wish me to activate the ship’s stealth systems?” The voice interface for the main computer that controlled the ship prompted him.

The ship’s voice was a perfect reproduction of Sofia’s mother’s, Marcus’s long dead wife, and for a moment Jon thought Sofia was there, with him, but then he remembered that she was still on Callas Prime—in the arms of Robert Calis. Shaking his head for a moment, he considered the question carefully. The
Invincible
would still be able to detect their arrival, as there was nothing they could do to mask the gravimetric waves of the ship’s arrival into normal space, but with the stealth system engaged they would not be able to detect the shuttle, not until it was too late.

“No, do not activate the stealth system,” he instead ordered. “From the very beginning this has been a conspiracy to destroy Marcus, his family and the entire Confederation. Conspiracies only exist in dark places, hidden from the light. They grow by whispered conversations, passed on in secret. There will be no more hiding in the dark; it is time for the truth to be spoken loudly and clearly, to be heard by all. This conspiracy ends here, today.”

“Emerging wormhole forming,” the
Endless Light
reported a few minutes later. “We are emerging into normal space. Sensors are picking up the 8
^th
Fleet, one hundred and fifty kilometres ahead.” As the shuttle exited the wormhole, its outside surface glistening a pearl-white, as it reflected the first rays of this system’s star. With its prow pointed firmly in the direction of the 8
^th
Fleet, the ship was a lonely sight approaching the massive fleet, vulnerable and alone.

“Signal the
Invincible
, identify ourselves and demand that I speak with Admiral Alexeyev immediately,” Jon ordered. The view-screen on the shuttle came to life seconds later, as if the Admiral had already been expecting them.

“My Lord Radec,” Admiral Alexeyev responded formally. “We were not expecting you. How can I be of assistance?”

“You know why I am here Alexeyev, and what I want,” Jon insisted without any preamble. “I will be docking shortly with the
Invincible
. I expect to meet you, in person, upon my arrival.”

The two men stared at each other, wordlessly, for many long seconds. Alexeyev neither feigning confusion nor protesting his innocence. He was too honourable an officer to indulge in either form of trickery. Instead, after a momentary pause, he simply bowed his head again and uttered, “I will await your arrival.”

The channel abruptly terminated, the view-screen going dead. Leaving Jon to wonder what sort of reception he would receive upon his arrival.