Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy) (61 page)

“There are
more
of them
?”
David replied in astonishment.

*****

Jon slammed his fists into the console in frustration. Of all the systems on the
Invincible
the one that was meant to work, no matter what, refused to do so.

The shaking around him only became worse, and he reached out towards the console to steady himself. For the enemy armada had opened fire, with a vengeance, only minutes before. The only reassuring thing was that there was very little left for them to break, as pretty much everything on board had already been damaged beyond repair.

Another violent impact had him once again reaching for the edge of the console, but this time he missed, and was thrown violently against it. The edge of the console cut into his side, exactly where Captain Benson had shot him some hours earlier.

With a scream of complete agony everything went black, and he mercifully slipped into unconsciousness.

He didn’t know how much later it was when he finally regained consciousness. A part of him was surprised that he ever did. The enemy assault seemed to have ceased, as everything was quiet and still. Having long since given up trying to activate the ship’s self-destruct, he pressed the dark cloak to his wound to stem the bleeding, which mercifully seemed to have stopped along with the pain, and stumbled to his seat to consider his next move.

He had not gotten far with his deliberations, when he suddenly felt a presence behind him. Realising the only reason that the assault would have stopped would be to permit a boarding party, Jon’s hand flashed to his waist. The sword in his grasp an instant later, he whirled around, raising the blade—

He landed firmly on his backside. Gazing up in astonishment at a face he had never expected to see again. At least not in this lifetime. She looked exactly like he last remembered. Standing tall, impeccable in her pristine white Imperial Navy uniform, her sword resting untouched at her side, the Lieutenant rank insignia clearly visible on the lapel of her uniform next to the crossed sword emblem, denoting she belonged to the elite Praetorian Guard.

“Elsie?” Jon uttered in disbelief. “What are you doing here? How can you be here? I saw—I watched you die.” For she had once been his second-in-command of the 58
^th
squadron, the Praetorian Guard, but she had died, along with the rest of them, in their flight from the Epsilon Indi System and Harkov.

“Hello Jon, it’s good to see you again,” she replied, the small smile that was forever present whenever she found something amusing gracing her lips.

“But you’re—”

“Dead?” she replied. “Yes. I know.”

“Then does that mean I’m—”

“Dead?” she replied, her lips now upturned into a full-blown smile. “No, but let’s just say that you’ve got your foot halfway through the door. So this gives us a little time together. To talk.”

“Then I am sorry,” Jon replied remorsefully. “I never forgot you, or the sacrifice that you made for Sofia and I. My only wish was that it could have been me leading the squadron that day. It was my place, my responsibility. I should have died that day, not you.”

“You have so much guilt Jon, you carry it around with you, like a millstone around your neck. It is eating away inside of you, like a cancer, you need to learn to let go. That is one of the reasons I am here—what we need to talk about.”

“I don’t understand,” he replied, wide-eyed.

“You see, I am not the only one that you are carrying around with you. There are many others. While I’m only strong enough to talk to you here, now, there are others that can reach out to you, even while you are conscious.”

“The shadows that I see?” Jon guessed. “Sometimes I think I can even make out a shape, a person, but then they’re gone.”

“They’re the strongest ones,” Elsie nodded sadly. “But most of them are so crazed with pain and anger, they’re not able to communicate much more beyond that. So they’ve sort of nominated me as their spokesperson, to talk to you on their behalf. As we’ve known each other for a long time, as I served under you for many years.” She paused, eyes sparkling mischievously. “Well maybe not in
that
sense as, if I had, Sofia would have killed me long before Harkov ever got the chance,” she laughed.

“Sofia?” Jon replied confused.

“Yes you dolt. Didn’t you ever wonder why she and I always fought tooth and nail? She was in love with you for a long time, and saw me as a rival. I, meanwhile, always thought her a foolish, spoiled little brat, totally undeserving of your affections.” Elsie cocked her head to one side. “But perhaps I was wrong.”

“You what?” Jon gaped at her.

“Men,” Else sighed aloud. “You’re all totally oblivious to what is going on around you.” She looked around, as if she could see something that he could not. “Anyway, I’m getting side-tracked. The reason I have been nominated to talk to you is that the
others
are worried that you might have lost faith.”

“
Lost faith?
” Jon exploded in frustration. “I’ve done everything that I could. I found Malthus just like I promised them. I fought him with everything that I had, but it was not enough,” he sighed. “There is only so much that one person can do.”

“You see, that is exactly the type of defeatist attitude that concerns them. I never thought I would live to see the day the mighty Praetorian Commander, Jonathan Radec admitted defeat.” Else was quiet for a moment, before adding. “Come to think of it, I never did live to see it.”

Jon couldn’t help but crack a smile at her joke. “What would you have me do?” he sighed exasperatedly. “Throw rocks at them?”

“If that is what it will take. Then yes,” Elsie encouraged him.

“It’s hopeless,” Jon shook his head despondently. “The
Invincible
is badly damaged, the rest of the crew have already abandoned ship. It’s just me, and I cannot do this alone.”

“No Jon, it’s never been just you. That is what I‘ve been trying to tell you. For lost souls naturally gravitate to you. Drawn by your pain and guilt, but also your compassion and understanding. Others are like pinpricks of light in the dark, but not you. You’re a blazing beacon of light shining out into the darkness; souls are instinctively drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Once there they bathe in your kindness, swim endlessly in your love, and float in your righteousness. After that how can they leave, how can they ever face that darkness again? Over time they’ve gathered and multiplied, they’re now like drops of water in an ocean or grains of sand on a beach, and you carry the weight and responsibility for each and every one of them.”

At his confused expression Elsie motioned with her hands, “Look around, Jon, and understand just how not alone you really are…”

With that Jon looked up, realising that the two of them were no longer alone, but instead at the centre of a circle of people. The crowd stretched out as far as his eyes could see, all standing still, staring at him. Jon could pick out people from his past. His fellow Praetorians in their white uniforms. The crew of the
Sunfire
in their black-and-red. Jonas, Jackson, Harrison and Romanov. Even farther out he could recognise some of the crew of the ships of the Confederation 4
^th
Fleet and, even farther out, others dressed in civilian clothing, stretching as far as the eye could see. A veritable sea of people, ten, twenty, thirty, fifty rows deep, thousands of them.

“Now perhaps you begin to understand,” Elsie explained tenderly. “For you are not alone, but instead stand at the head of an army—that is waiting for you to command.”

*****

Jon grabbed his head with both hands, willing the pain and nausea away. He must have hit his head against the console as he fell, as he could feel a massive lump forming there, to add to his already impressive collection.

The alarms ringing in the background, and almost constant impacts against the hull clearly demonstrated he had not been unconscious for very long, as the bombardment from Malthus’s fleet continued on, unabated.

He remembered every word Elsie had spoken, every image from his dream, with crystal clarity, but still could not believe it—it just seemed too incredible. He must have hit his head far harder than he first thought and that, combined with his imminent demise, probably brought about the strange dream. Most likely he simply had a bad case of concussion.

Staring helplessly at the damage control readouts, he decided that ghosts were not likely to be able to offer much assistance when it came to repairing his flagship. The display was a veritable sea of red, showing damaged or destroyed systems, one after the other. Perhaps he would have to fall back on his offer to Elsie to throw stones at Malthus, as that was about all that he had left. He certainly had no shortage of ammunition, glancing around at the piles of debris surround him.

Turning back to the console, his eyes were drawn to one system, the only one still operational. A solitary green island, floating in an ocean of red. He frowned, discarding it out of hand. He had no plans to go anywhere, and that was all that it was good for. For the ship reported that the wormhole generators were still on-line and functioning. He was not the least bit surprised, for they were buried in the very heart of the ship, over a dozen of them, running the length of ship. Used to generate the massive wormhole around it, causing the gravity that formed the wormhole, literally swallowing the ship whole, as it propelled it to speeds faster-than-light, and beyond.

Staring at the lone green light, an idea started to form in his head. It was crazy. It was worse than crazy, it was suicidal, but seeing his only other option was to sit there and await death, it held a certain appeal nonetheless.

As a young officer in the Imperial Navy he had few friends, and even less money. When not on duty, when many of the other officers departed for more expensive pursuits, he had remained behind in his quarters, alone, transfixed by the data-net. Growing up on Altair, his parents did not have their own connection, as it was prohibitively expensive. Similarly there were no public access terminals in Carrington City; the few working terminals belonging exclusively to the rich. Therefore, upon receiving his commission he had been astounded to learn he had his own private access, free of charge, for as long as he wished.

He had gorged himself on it for months upon end, reading, studying and learning everything he could. He had been wide-eyed with excitement, a young boy being given the keys to a candy shop. He devoured everything, from history and politics to botany and science, but it was the technology that had fascinated him most. As a young boy, watching the ships arriving and departing at the spaceport where his father had worked, it had seemed like magic. Therefore he read everything on the subject. From the early days of spaceflight, to the slow sub-light ships that had first set out to colonise the Sol System, to the discovery of faster-than-light travel, which permitted humanity to reach for the stars.

All of the successes—but also many of the failures.

For the stable wormholes generated to permit ships to travel such incredible distances had been the result of many failed experiments, some minor, others catastrophic, before humanity had been able to perfect the technology.

One of the unstable wormholes had even resulted in the complete destruction of a laboratory, badly damaging the building, causing several deaths. Research had been temporarily suspended until an investigation could take place, resulting in several recommendations to stop such a disaster ever taking place again. Over the next five hundred years, the technology had been perfected time and time again. New checks and safeguards introduced so that in the event of a failure, the system would safely shut down, ensuing that no harm could possibly take place.

Jon started to methodically switch off each and every such system, disabling others, bypassing even more. Many of them had purposefully been designed to never be disabled, but all fell swiftly before his commands. Five hundred years of safety precautions were removed in the space of a few short minutes.

Only then did he begin to power up the massive wormhole generators, swiftly passing their usual safe operating limits, forcing them to supply more and more power, quickly heading into dangerous territory, and then beyond. For the wormhole that had destroyed that laboratory was tiny, the generator an experimental one, an order of magnitude smaller than any on the
Invincible
, and the ship had a dozen of them.

Meanwhile, outside the ship, a wormhole started to form, like none that had ever been summoned before.

*****

“Captain,” a voice called out in surprise and shock. “Sensors have detected a large power surge from the
Invincible
. The ship has activated its FTL engines and a wormhole is starting to form.”

“That’s impossible,” Miller shook his head. “We’re far too close to the centre of this system. The ship wouldn’t be able to produce a stable wormhole with the gravity from the star. They shouldn’t even be able to activate the engines, let alone to generate a wormhole.”

“He’s trying to escape, again,” Malthus interrupted with swift comprehension. “He knows he cannot win, so now he is fleeing, just like he did before, with Marcus’s daughter, when they escaped from Harkov.”

“I’m not so sure Senator,” Miller disagreed. “I’ve never seen energy readings like this before, I don’t think—”

“You’re not paid to think, but follow my orders,” Malthus snarled. “Radec won’t escape again. I won’t allow it. Stop him.”

“He’s out of range of our weapons, Senator,” the officer replied nervously. “We don’t have any missiles left, as you ordered that we fire them all—”

“Yes, yes,” Malthus ignored the obvious rebuke. “Well follow him,” he shouted. “You,” he pointed at the Helm Officer. “Follow the
Invincible
, I don’t care what you have to do, just catch that ship. Get as close as you can. You,” he pointed at the Tactical Officer. “Fire as soon as we’re within range.”

At the nod from both officers, Malthus turned back to Captain Miller, gloating. “This is why you all failed to stop Radec. Decisive action, that’s what it takes. Firm, bold leadership.”