The Sunfire

by Mike Smith

  “Thank you Doctor,” Captain Turner replied, wiping away a bead of sweat that had formed on his forehead while waiting for the diagnosis. He dreaded to think what the consequences to his future career and life would have been, had anything happened to this man on his ship. He could imagine that both would have been abruptly cut short.

  “I’m staying. I’m not leaving him.” Sofia insisted stubbornly, taking Jon’s hand in hers, as if to reassure herself what the Doctor said was true and he would live. For she had felt the life draining out of him whilst cradling him on the floor of the Eternal Light, as she had waited for what had seemed an eternity for the Intrepid to arrive.

  “I assure you ma’am, I will notify you immediately if there is any change in his condition, however the medical bay is not equipped to host guests,” the Doctor replied exasperatedly.

  “I’m staying.”

  The Doctor looked despairingly at the Captain, who shook his head, denying the request. Instead he caught the eye of his XO and subtly nodded his head in the direction of an empty corner of the medical bay where they could talk without being overheard.

  “I have been in communication with the admiralty, the Intrepid has been recalled with immediate effect. Our new orders are to make best possible speed back to Eden Prime. We are also under a communications blackout, no information leaves this ship about the distress signal, the shuttle or its two occupants,” Turner informed his XO.

  “They are recalling the entire ship?” His XO asked aghast. “But what about our patrol schedule? Not to mention the fuel reserves that we will have to consume for a direct trip.”

  “It’s even worse. We have been ordered to make best speed for Eden Prime and are not to divert course for any reason, including any further distress calls.” It was obvious from the tone of the Captain’s voice what he thought of that particular order. Having been in the Imperial Navy for the past twenty years, finally achieving the rank of Captain, it was an unwritten rule in the navy (and had been ever since the old sailing ships of Earth), that you always responded to a distress call, as you never knew if one day it might be you in distress.

  “But—”

  “Those are our orders XO, directly from the office of Admiral Sterling. We might not like them, but I expect us to follow them. Please tell the bridge to set a new course for Eden Prime, at the best possible speed.”

  “Yes, sir,” The XO replied stiffly. However, as he was turning to carry out his orders, the Captain interrupted him one last time.

  “And try to find a spare change of clothes for the woman. I don’t want to present her to the fleet admiralty looking like she has just crawled out of a slaughter house.”

  The XO was about to make a sharp retort to the Captain, that it was not his job to play dressmaker for the female occupants of the ship, when he recognised the expression on the Captain’s face and wisely kept such thoughts to himself. “Sir,” he replied disapprovingly, departing from the medical bay.

  Returning once again to stand beside the young woman, whose gaze had not once left the Commander, he observed the way she closely cradled his pale hand in hers. He had no idea what had transpired between these two in the past, although from the injuries sustained by the Commander and her own blood-splattered attire, he could make some educated guesses. The Captain could only assume the two had become very close, as the way she was holding him, refusing to leave his side, demonstrated far greater concern than one would usually show for an injured guard.

  “Princess,” he interrupted her contemplation. “I have asked my crew to bring you a change of clothes. I understand that the Doctor’s office has an adjoining washroom that you may use and I will give orders that you are not to be disturbed. Is there anything else that I can do for you?”

  “I assume that we are heading towards Eden Prime?” She inquired in a quiet, subdued voice.

  “Yes Princess, those are my orders.”

  “Then I will require an audience with Admiral Sterling immediately upon our arrival. I need to make sure that he is aware of recent events.”

  “Very well Princess, I will pass on the message.” The Captain tried to finish the conversation, but his curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask. “Princess, what happened?”

  Looking up at the Captain, the despair clear to see in her green eyes, she simply replied, “My father, the Emperor, is dead.”

  Those few, simple words hit the Captain with the force of a jackhammer. Reeling back in shock, speechless, he didn’t know what to say. So with a bowed head, he muttered his condolences to the Princess and quietly left the medical bay.

  Suddenly best speed back to Eden Prime did not seem fast enough.

  *****

  Jon woke from his restful slumber to a warm breeze, which smelled of freshly cut grass and flowers in bloom, just like summer in full swing. The smell was invigorating and revitalising. With his eyes still closed, Jon could feel the warmth from the sun on the left side of his face. Obviously during his convalescence he had been moved planet-side. Jon’s memories of prior events were still hazy. He remembered the meeting on Memphis, the hurried departure and then only blinding pain. He could vaguely recall Sofia sobbing that she would not leave him, the dampness of her tears wet against his cheek.

  Sofia!

  Eyes wide open, he tried to sit up, but his movement came to an abrupt halt. It felt like his whole back was on fire. Overcoming the pain, like he had been forced to do so many times in the past, Jon tried to sit up again. This time it was as if a heavy weight was lying across his chest, like a tight band around his lungs. Ultimately defeated by these two factors, he lay back on the bed, eyes staring up at the white, featureless ceiling.

  Events suddenly came rushing back in a kaleidoscope of images and sounds. The brief and very one-sided duel in the officer’s lounge of the Imperial Star, the meeting with the Emperor and their rushed departure from his flagship. Followed by the fight to escape the ambush, with the resultant sacrifice of his fellow Praetorians to allow the Eternal Light to escape. Jon had been so busy trying to keep Sofia and himself alive he had not had time to reflect on that sacrifice. His squadron, his friends, the closest that he had to family aside from his parents, now all gone.

  Thinking of his parents, it reminded Jon of their time on Altair. With Sofia in his arms, the feel of her soft body pressed so intimately against his and the feel of her lips against his own. Jon found it ironic that during the bleakest, darkest moments of his life he had managed to find absolute serenity. It had only been at that moment in time when it felt as if he had finally found the missing part of his life he had always been searching for, ever since the death of his sister, Catherine. Jon remembered when they were children his sister had foretold he would fall in love with a beautiful princess. With a faint smile, it occurred to Jon that if there was a heaven Catherine would be there at the moment, laughing.

  His thoughts were interrupted by another sound. Initially Jon had thought it just the sound of the breeze, but this was deeper, almost a low rumble. Casting his gaze to his side, at the source of the sound, Jon was astonished to see a mass of red hair lying across his chest, the sound emanating from within. With a soft smile, Jon recognised the face of Princess Sofia Aurelius, lying across his chest, asleep and snoring gently. He was relieved to see she appeared unhurt, if not a little more pale and thinner than he remembered. She at least accounted for the weight bearing down on his chest, causing his lungs to expand and contract painfully. Jon, however, would not have changed anything about that moment, ignoring the pain from her weight. Instead he reached up with his free hand and gently ran it through her soft, gentle locks. In Jon’s mind her hair was the second most beautiful aspect about her, the best being her sparking emerald green eyes, so full of life, intellect and mischievousness. Jon longed for her to open her eyes so he could gaze into them once again, but instead he let her sleep, recognising she probably needed that more.

  Continuing to run his fingers through her hair, Jon was puzz
led for a moment, trying to remember why this feeling was so similar, until finally it came back to him. Sofia sleeping gently on his chest, in his parent’s guest bedroom, at their small house on Altair. Jon remembered at the time wishing the moment would last forever, and he felt the same now.

  Now that he was awake, he cast his gaze curiously around the room. It was obviously a private recovery room, as Jon was the only occupant, apart from Sofia. Jon hazarded a guess that the room was part of a larger medical facility. It was painted white and sparsely decorated, with only the bed, chair and some miscellaneous medical monitoring equipment, which he assumed were to monitor his health. A sliding door, which was slightly ajar, took up one length of the room, from floor to ceiling, and was obviously the source of the warm breeze. The window was slightly tinted one-way glass, Jon could only assume. Beyond the door Jon could just make out the sight of green grass and trees in full bloom. The slight red-tint of the sunlight streaming through the door was the final confirmation Jon needed to know they had made it to their destination. Eden Prime.

  The sound of the door sliding open was enough to rouse Sofia from her light sleep. She looked around, disorientated, for a moment before her gaze came to rest on Jon’s open eyes.

  “Jon, you’re awake,” she exclaimed delightedly, throwing her arms tightly around his neck. Covering the rest of her body with his, draping herself across his bed.

  While he was ecstatic to once again have her in his arms, the feel of her body against his, Jon’s gaze was instead locked on the amused face of the doctor whose entry into their room had roused Sofia from her slumber. Gently, but firmly, Jon disentangled Sofia from her embrace. “I am fine, thank you Princess,” he replied brusquely, purposefully ignoring her hurt expression. “Doctor where am I? How long have I been unconscious?” He directed this question at the doctor, hoping to draw his attention away from the very improper actions of a certain Imperial Princess, who shouldn’t even be touching another individual.

  “In answer to your questions, you are currently in the Imperial Military Medical Centre on Eden Prime. After transferring you from the Intrepid we ensured you were stabilised, before cloning the necessary skin grafts for your back. I am sure you will be pleased to hear you are recovering nicely; the pain is a good sign. It means your nerves are reattaching themselves to the new skin. You should make a full recovery, although your back will be stiff and painful for several weeks. I would not recommend any strenuous physical activity.” The Doctor delivered this medical prognosis with a knowing smirk that irked Jon no end. “In answer to your second question, we kept you in an induced coma for the past week, to allow the skin graft to take.”

  “A week,” Jon exclaimed, astonished. No wonder his legs felt so rubbery. “I need to get up, I have to make a report to Admiral Sterling, Harkov—” Jon trailed off, realising that the Admiral would not be best pleased hearing the report about the Emperor’s death from a doctor.

  “Doctor can you please excuse us for a few minutes,” Sofia interjected politely, but with a hint of command in her voice.

  “Yes, well, sorry. I guess that you have a lot of catching up to do.” The doctor replied with another patronising smirk. Turning about face and leaving the couple alone, he slid the door firmly shut behind him.

  Jon’s angry gaze followed the doctor out of the room and would have burned a hole through the door if Sofia had not interrupted him.

  “I have already met with Admiral Sterling, while you were unconscious,” Sofia explained. “I told him about my father,” she added, her shoulders slumping dejectedly.

  Jon’s heart broke at the sight of the defeated young woman, wishing that he could have been by her side for what he knew must have been a very painful conversation. Knowing he was breaching protocol, for he could not be seen touching her in such a facility, but desperate for the contact, however brief, Jon gently took her into his arms, rubbing her back reassuringly. “What did the Admiral say?”

  “He wanted to know my decision,” Sofia replied miserably.

  “Your decision? Your decision regarding what?”

  Sofia squared her shoulders, looking up from the bed meeting Jon’s gaze squarely. Taking a deep breath she replied, “The decision if I will succeed my father, continuing his rule. To become the first Empress of the Imperium.”

  Jon sucked in a deep breath, as he knew this would have been the question Sterling needed to ask, after all it was the most pertinent one. Jon knew Sophia would eventually have to make this decision, although he wished she could have had more time to decide. Such weighty decisions resting on the shoulders of one who was still so young. Deep inside, Jon knew Sofia would make the right decision, although which one that might be he had no idea. Over the past few weeks he had come to recognise a strength and determination in her that had taken him by surprise. This, together with an understanding and compassion he honestly felt her father lacked. Jon had absolute confidence that if Sofia did decide to succeed her father, she would be a leader like no other. One the Empire desperately needed at this time in its history. But wisely he did not voice any of these thoughts aloud. The final decision had to be hers, and not influenced by his own personal feelings. “So what did you tell the Admiral?”

  “I told him that it was an important decision, which I needed to have time to think about, and I would let him know,” she replied in a hesitant voice.

  Her sidestepping such an important question disappointed him, but at the same time he could hardly blame her. If he were asked to decide the fate of the Empire, he would probably want to think about it too. “And when are you going to make your decision?” he inquired delicately.

  “I don’t know Jon. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to become like my father, so intricately involved in the day-to-day running of the Imperium that I lose sight of what is in front of me,” she explained, hesitantly at first but then with more confidence. A political problem in front of her, to be analysed and debated, just as she and her father used to do over dinner. “However, what is the alternative? The power structure of the Imperium is built around the Emperor. He is the linchpin and without him the Empire would fall apart with all the component pieces grinding to a halt. The Empire would disintegrate, and the result?” Sofia had no need to continue, both of them had studied pre-Empire history. All the individual systems warring against each other, countless millions dead with human civilization on the brink of collapse. “The Emperor is the key to the current power structure,” Sofia repeated aloud. “Without him we would need a completely different political structure, something else—” Sofia trailed off in thought.

  Wincing in pain Jon lay back on the bed, his back in complete agony having spent so much time sitting up. “I’m just a soldier,” he replied painfully. “I follow orders and leave those decisions to the politicians.”

  “What did you just say?” Sofia asked sharply.

  “I said I leave the big decisions to the politicians,” Jon replied, closing his eyes, waiting for the pain to dissipate.

  “You're a genius!” Sofia exclaimed in delight, leaning forward brushing her lips against his. Without even considering his actions, for they were automatic, he immediately opened his mouth and Sofia’s tongue swept in, trailing fire. Once again Jon was swept away on a tide of emotion, a feeling of completeness overcoming him, a strong sense of fulfilment, the way the universe should be.

  All too soon reality came crashing down on him, like a blast of cold water. His eyes snapped open and he none too gently pushed Sofia away, however desperately his body yearned for her touch. His eyes came to rest on Sofia, now a couple of steps away. Her face was flushed, lips swollen from their passionate kisses, but her face and eyes displayed her complete shock and disbelief.

  “Jon,” she pleaded.

  “Stop. We cannot do this.” Jon gasped out loud, trying to get his racing heart under control. “You are the Imperial Princess Sofia Aurelius, the daughter of the Emperor. It’s death for anybody to even touch you.”<
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  “I don’t care about any of that,” Sofia cried, tears streaming down her face. “I want you. I love—” she snapped her mouth shut abruptly, realising what she had so nearly uttered.

  Gritting his teeth, trying to blink away the pain, Jon slowly sat upright in bed, swinging his feet to the side. He had no intention of actually trying to stand as it would look embarrassing for anybody entering the room to see the invincible Praetorian Commander on the floor, unable to even stand upright. Instead, looking up at Sofia’s tear-stained cheeks, he wondered if he was cursed to go through the rest of his life hurting this wonderful woman. Not trusting himself to even attempt to touch her, he tried to explain.

  “It’s not a question of what we want, but our duty. Here and now you are the Imperial Princess Sofia Aurelius, daughter of the late Emperor Marcus Aurelius, and your duty is clear. You might not like it and you might not even want the role, but that is who you are and you cannot change it. Likewise, I am the Praetorian Commander, my sworn duty is to protect you and the Empire from any threat. Nothing more, nothing less, but I must also be seen to be fulfilling my duty. This must come before our personal desires, as that is what people expect of us. To be idols, put on a pedestal and to be an example to others. Elsie and the other Praetorians sacrificed their lives in the name of that duty and I cannot, and will not, taint their sacrifice in the name of my own selfish desires.”

  Distraught beyond belief, Sofia just stared at Jon in shock. Each one of his words shattering her heart until it seemed broken, beyond repair. “In that case perhaps I should succeed my father,” she spat back. “One lesson I learned clearly from him is that what he wanted, he got. If I want you, I will have you. Brought to kneel at my feet in chains if that is what is necessary,” she cried, whirling around and fleeing the room.