Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy) (51 page)

*****

“Admiral Alexeyev.” The words were shouted angrily out across the command deck. “You are contravening direct orders from Senator Malthus. He left standing orders that Commander Radec should be engaged upon sight, and killed immediately.”

“Captain Benson, I remind you that this is my bridge, my flagship, not yours. It is up to my personal discretion how I interpret the Senator’s orders—not yours,” Alexeyev insisted, whirling around to face the younger Captain, his frustration clearly visible. For the man had constantly been a thorn in his side for the past few days, ever since the departure of the Senator.

“I would remind the
Admiral
,” Benson sneered condescendingly, approaching him, until they were almost nose-to-nose. “That he only remains in command if he follows the orders issued to him. As you’re incapable of doing so, then it falls on me to carry out the Senator’s instructions in his stead. Tactical,” Benson pivoted around to face the officer, looking wide-eyed at the two commanding officers. “Is Radec’s ship within range of our guns?”

“No sir, sirs,” the Tactical Officer hurriedly added. “But the ship is in range of our missiles,” he added guiltily, ignoring the furious glare from the Admiral.

“Then target the ship with our missiles and open fire,” Benson raged at the officer, purposefully turning his back on the Admiral.

With an apologetic glance at the Admiral, the Tactical Officer nodded his head. “Missiles tracking, tracking, confirmed targeting lock. Missiles away, Captain.”

“You stupid fool,” Alexeyev raged, impotent on his own bridge. “Do you not see what you’ve done? You’ve just sentenced us all to death.”

“Our deaths?” Benson laughed aloud. “I think you’re mistaken Admiral, for I’ve done what you were incapable of doing. I’ve just ordered the death of Commander Radec. He is one man Admiral, with one lowly shuttle. I command a flagship, a fleet of warships. What possible danger can he pose to us?” Benson laughed at the pale-faced Admiral.

“I have it on good authority that those were Admiral Harkov’s exact last words too. If you’ll remember things didn’t end too well for him either,” Alexeyev uttered sotto voiced, watching in dread at the rapidly departing missiles.

*****

“Missile launch detected,” The
Endless Light
reported in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, that could have been discussing the weather and not their imminent demise.

“What?” Jon demanded, leaning forward in shock. Of all possible outcomes of their arrival this was surely the least expected. To be arrested and confined indefinitely upon his arrival? Sure. To have a knife effortlessly slipped into his back as he stepped out onto the bridge? More than likely. But a swarm of missiles while still over seventy kilometres distant from the fleet? That just seemed impertinent. More than that, it seemed out of character for Alexeyev. If he was going to kill him immediately why the pretence about permitting him to land? Jon wondered if this was the result of Malthus’s actions, as it seemed ill conceived, and brash.

“Commander, do you wish me to engage countermeasures?” the ship prompted him. For the ship was equipped with both powerful defensive and offensive systems, electronic warfare systems that could jam or disable the missiles, or powerful railguns that could engage the missiles many kilometres distant. They could even vanish from sight, if he so wished, by simply activating the ship’s stealth systems, but instead he ordered none of these.

“No continue on course to the
Invincible
, take no further action,” he commanded. For this was not a battle about ships, missiles or guns. Instead this was about power, namely who controlled it. Jon had never wanted it, but had little other choice when it was thrust upon him. From what Anna described, Malthus was obsessed with it, prizing it above all else. Convinced that it had been stolen from his family, that they were the rightful heirs to it, not him. Not that Jon particularly cared, as he had no plans to allow Malthus to live long enough to ever see that dream come to fruition. Marcus, his father and his, going back five generations, all the way to Edward Aurelius, had fought and died for the Empire; to ensure that the chaos, death and destruction prior to its founding never returned.

They
were
the Empire, and in turn the Empire intrinsically belonged to them.

It was time for a demonstration of that fact, a clear display of power of who was the rightful heir to the Imperium. Jon just hoped that it was a performance he would live long enough to see through. “Continue on course,” he insisted, observing the rapidly approaching missiles clearly now. The bright glow of their engines clearly visible, a swarm that only continued to grow and multiply as they came ever closer.

“Ten seconds until collision,” The
Endless Light
calmly reported.

*****

“Ten seconds until impact,” the Tactical Officer called out to the two Commanding Officers, who were still locked in a silent battle of wills of their own, reflecting the violent conflict taking place outside.

“Nothing to say Admiral?” Benson smirked, breaking the silence. “I’m sure the Senator will reward me well for the death of Radec. Perhaps a Fleet Admiral position that will become vacant very soon?”

“I wouldn’t count on it. You’re an idiot,” Alexeyev snapped back. “Do you have no idea who that man is?”

“Who cares? He’s a dead man.” Benson shrugged, turning back to the tactical display.

“Three seconds,” the officer called out.

“Two.”

“I’ll give Sofia Aurelius your regards,” Benson smirked.

“One.”

The command deck officers collectively held their breaths, waiting for the resulting explosion—that never came.

“Failure to detonate,” the Tactical Officer called out in stunned disbelief.

“What?” Benson howled.

“I don’t understand it,” the Tactical Officer insisted. “The missiles are still active, they’re armed, they were on target, but then they just—missed. They passed right by the shuttle, as if it wasn’t there.”

“Operations,” Alexeyev called. “Have you confirmed the identity of that shuttle?”

“Let me check, Admiral,” the Operations Officer replied, surprised by the question. “Yes,” he said. “The shuttle is on file. Reported as the
Endless Light
—
”

“And?” Alexeyev prompted him, already guessing the answer.

“It’s Emperor Marcus Aurelius’ personal shuttle, Admiral.”

Alexeyev nodded in understanding, before turning back to Captain Benson. “Let me enlighten you, my poor misguided fool. On board that shuttle is Jon Radec; he was the Commander of the Praetorian Guard, right hand of the Emperor Marcus Aurelius, husband to his daughter, Sofia Aurelius, and his chosen successor. Furthermore he is flying the Emperor’s personal shuttle.”

“I don’t give a damn who he is, or who he bedded for the job,” Benson fumed. “He can call himself whatever the hell he likes for all I care. He is going to die here and now. Let’s see if he can dodge railgun rounds like he did missiles. Tactical, order the fleet to target the shuttle with their guns, open fire as soon as he is in range.”

“You see,” Alexeyev droned on conversationally, ignoring him entirely. “What you obviously don’t realise is that for the past two hundred years, the Aurelius shipyards have had the exclusive contract to design, build and maintain the Imperial Navy’s fleet of warships. Every ship, missile, gun and fighter in this fleet was built and maintained by the Aurelius family, right down to the deck plating and bolts that you’re currently standing on.”

“Fire,” screamed Benson, spittle flying from his lips. “I gave you a direct order. For God sake why are you not firing?”

“I don’t understand it, Captain,” the Tactical Officer reported in frustration, pounding on his console. The main computer has just locked out all the fire control systems.”

“I tried to warn you,” Alexeyev continued on relentlessly, “but you refused to listen. This ship, the entire fleet, it
belongs
to him.” Alexeyev pointed towards the view-screen where the
Endless Light
was just becoming visible, a faint pinprick of light that was rapidly growing larger. “You might question his authority, but the ship doesn’t. It knows who its true master is, and he is coming here. Now.”

Suddenly all the lights on board vanished, and the ship went deathly quiet.

“Just like last time,” Alexeyev sighed into the darkness. Maybe, if he was lucky, Radec would let him live, just long enough so he could watch Captain Benson die first.

*****

Jon let out his own sigh of relief, as the swarm of missiles vanished around the ship, disappearing into the dark ether, from whence they came. While he might be alone on the
Endless Light
, he could feel the presence of Marcus next to him, nodding his approval. Not just him, but all the generations that had preceded him, that had made this possible.

“Commander, ships are powering weapons. They are targeting us with medium and short-range railguns. We will be within firing range in thirteen point five seconds,” came the ship’s not unexpected warning.

“Then it is time for the next demonstration,” Jon ordered. “Remotely override the manual control of all ships in the fleet. Lock out their fire control computers, helm and life support systems.”

Until Sofia had demonstrated such power he never knew that such actions were possible. For years earlier, she had displayed the absolute control that her family had over these ships, in a similar shuttle, on this very fleet. Jon was now convinced that it was no longer Alexeyev in charge, for the Admiral had already received this demonstration of his power before, and knew the vulnerability of his ships. Jon was curious why he had not shared this insight with Malthus? Perhaps things were not as black-and-white as he had first assumed. He would have to question Alexeyev closely upon this arrival.

“Ships are powering down weapon systems,” the shuttle reported.

Not that Jon needed the verbal confirmation, as the result of his actions was clearly visible to his naked eyes. For the mighty ships of the Confederation 8
^th
Fleet were succumbing one-by-one. The massive engines that kept the fleet in close formation, were shutting down. Their bright external navigation lights faded, before extinguishing entirely. The large railgun batteries, which moments before had been actively tracking them, now ceasing movement and falling still. Within the space of a few minutes, the mighty fleet that had guarded this system for decades, was reduced to nothing more than dark floating shapes, prisons for their crew.

“Open the port hangar bay on the
Invincible
,” Jon ordered curtly, as a bright blaze of lights suddenly appeared in the dark, ahead of the shuttle, as the massive hangar doors began to ponderously open, permitting entry to its master.

*****

Once the shuttle had come to a rest in the hangar bay, he ordered the ship to close the hangar bay doors. While doing so he stood, opening the small but comprehensive armoury on the small shuttle and withdrawing a heavy pistol, with spare clips, before stopping. The crew of the
Invincible
numbered a little over four thousand. What was he planning on doing, shooting them all? Unfortunately people could not be as easily reprogrammed as computer systems, but they had something computers did not. A conscience. Free will to decide upon their own course of action. Putting the pistol and ammunition back in the armoury, he decided he would rely upon this to defend himself with. As for Alexeyev and Malthus, he tapped his ever-present sword at this side. He was more than adequately armed to deal with them.

“You remember my instructions?” Jon addressed the ship, possibly for the last time.

“Instructions received and acknowledged, Commander.” The ship confirmed calmly.

Jon doubted he would be able to remain so calm, if he had been ordered to disable all safeguards around the small fusion reactor, the heart of the shuttle, and drop the magnetic containment around its core, if the ship had not heard from him in several hours. The resulting explosion would be more than enough to destroy the flagship, including Alexeyev and Malthus.

With a nod of understanding, he opened the shuttle’s hatch, stepping out onto the flight deck, and heard the portal close and lock firmly behind him.

*****

Not unsurprisingly he stepped out onto a fight deck full of guns. All pointed unwaveringly at him. What was surprising was that they held their fire. Jon considered this his second lucky break in a row—discovering Sofia alive and well being the first—therefore it was sure not to last.

From the long line of pulse rifles that were pointed at him, the ranking officer stepped forward, taking care not to stand in the line of fire. “Commander Jonathan Radec, I have orders to place you under arrest,” his voice echoed around the silent flight deck. The tension on the deck was palatable, every eye on the man wrapped in the dark cloak standing before his shuttle.

“What am I charged with?” Jon’s voice rang out clearly over the crowd.

The officer looked around nervously, wanting only to carry out his assigned orders, not to participate in a conversation, but it was a fair question. “Murder, sedition, overthrowing the duly elected government,” the officer paused for a heartbeat. “Treason.”

“Those are serious charges indeed,” Jon nodded his head solemnly. “Punishable by death.” His gaze raked across the line of marines with their weapons drawn, and behind them the deck crews, watching proceedings agog. After all, how many times in one lifetime do you see an Emperor arrested? “However you are arresting the wrong person, because it is not I that am guilty of those crimes, but your senior officers. Those same people who issued the orders for my arrest. So I pose the question—who is it really that is committing treason? Me? For trying to bring them to justice. Or you? For protecting them.”

The silence in the room was deafening, nobody breathed as Jon’s words rang out across the flight deck. The ranking officer went deathly pale, looking like a stiff breeze would blow him over, looking around desperately for help, but none was forthcoming. What could he say? If he continued with his orders, he was committing possible treason, if he failed to follow his orders he would certainly be charged with dereliction of duty. The officer was paralysed by indecision.