The Sunfire

by Mike Smith

  Only half-awake, Jon wondered if it was really ringing that he could hear in the distance or whether it was just the gentle sound of Sofia’s heart, beating in rhythm to his own. Seeing her eyes flutter open, he asked her sleepily. “Is it just me or can you hear ringing from somewhere?”

  Turning around, to bury her face into the crook of his neck, nuzzling him contently she replied drowsily. “Isn’t that my line? Something about how I hoped that Eden moved for you too?”

  Deciding to ignore the noise, as Jon had far better ideas of how to spend the morning than going to investigate, he pushed the blanket from their warm bodies and started to kiss Sofia’s neck, heading lower. The small gasps this provoked from her only encouraged him more. So intent was he on this task that he failed to hear the door begin to slide open. It was only the cool breeze from the now open door that alerted him and he immediately rolled over onto this side, carrying Sofia with him, protecting her modesty with his own body.

  “Jon!” Paul shouted, rushing into the room red faced. “We cannot find the Princess. She seems to have disappeared from her room. Security has already sealed off the complex and are starting a room-by-room search.”

  Jon’s only response was to curse softly into Sofia’s neck, invoking a giggle from the woman. He was just about to respond to his old friend, first with the suggestion that next time he knock and then to reassure him that the Princess was well and safe, when Sofia beat him to it.

  Peering over Jon’s shoulder at the shocked Paul, who was only just taking in the scene before him, she gave him a dazzling smile. “Hi, Paul isn’t it? Are you looking for me?”

  Paul could only gape, speechless at the scene in front of him. His gaze shifting repeatedly between Jon’s naked back, Sofia’s green eyes, sparkling with amusement and the rumpled bed, quickly drawing his own conclusions.

  He flushed an even brighter scarlet, and started backing out of the room. “Uh, I’ll let them know where you are. I mean, I’ll call off the alert and tell them what you are doing. I mean, that you are safe.” His final vision of the occupants of the room as the door slid shut, was a goodbye wave from Sofia.

  With another laugh, she pushed Jon onto his back, straddling him. “Well, I think we can rely upon Paul to ensure we are not interrupted for a couple more hours. So how do you think we should pass the time?” She asked seductively.

  Reaching backwards Jon snatched the datapad from the table, powering on the device. “I thought that you wanted to explain your idea to me?” He asked with a smirk.

  “Later,” Sofia replied starting a trail of kisses down his chest.

  As Sofia reached lower, the datapad fell from Jon’s twitching fingers, bouncing off the bed, coming to rest underneath it. Fortunately the device possessed a power saving mode, and after a few hours of inactivity, shut itself off.

  Chapter Four

  Present Day

  Terra Nova, Zeta-Aquilae System

  “Commander, if you can hear me, then help me. Please.”

  Jon’s eyes flashed open, as his body hurled itself off the bed with the shock of hearing that voice still ringing in his head. Unfortunately this thought was quickly followed by the next. Where was the ground? As his hands vainly clawed at thin air, the rest of his body plummeted to the floor. Fortunately the bed was not set that high off the ground and the thick carpet cushioned his fall, somewhat. Still, Jon could feel the air rush from his lungs. All he saw were stars, his head spinning from hitting the edge of the bed on the way down.

  The next thing he felt were strong hands grasping his shoulder, rolling him onto his back, and then a blinding light in his eyes, first one then the other. Now completely blinded, first from the impact and then the bright light, he struggled to get a firm hold on the person who was restraining him. Finally, managing to catch hold of something he could use for leverage, he pulled the stunned individual closer, shouting, “Where is he? Where is Marcus?”

  “Commander. Let me go.” The startled voice replied. “I was just trying to check that you’re not hurt. I was worried the fall might have given you a concussion.”

  Blinking rapidly, Jon tried to see once again. “Where is he? Where is Marcus? What have you done with him?” He angrily repeated the question.

  “Where is who, Jon?” Another deeper voice sounded from behind him.

  “Marcus, Marcus Aurelius. What have you done with him?”

  “He’s dead Jon. He has been dead for over five years now. Let’s try and get you back onto the bed shall we?” The voice continued soothingly, seemingly unfazed at his outburst.

  Finally with his vision somewhat restored, Jon turned to face the second voice, instantly recognising the concerned face of Doctor Richardson. “I thought I heard Marcus. He was calling for help,” Jon explained in a confused voice.

  “It was just a dream,” the Doctor reassured him calmly. “You have been through a major trauma and your brain was deprived of oxygen for a short while. It’s not surprising you are confused.” The Doctor cast a practised eye over the last few minutes of the ECG, which monitored the Commander’s brain activity. The medical device did indeed show an elevated level of brain activity indicative of a patient dreaming during rapid-eye-movement sleep. Although the Doctor had never seen such extreme brain activity, as this was not his area of speciality, some unusual brain waves were probably to be expected considering the recent trauma.

  After completing a quick, but thorough physical examination, the Doctor permitted Paul and Miranda to enter the small, private, recovery room. While the scans showed no indication of any brain damage, the best indication would be to monitor the patient closely for a time, especially considering his more recent short-term memory impairment.

  “Jon!” Miranda cried out, throwing herself into his arms, almost knocking the two of them off the narrow bed. In Jon’s case for the second time.

  “Whoa,” Jon exclaimed, taken by surprise by her actions, his arms hesitantly coming to rest around the young woman.

  Suddenly looking up into his surprised face, she asked suspiciously. “You do know who I am, don’t you?”

  Rolling his eyes in amusement, Jon was about to respond that he had no idea who she was, when he noticed both Paul and the Doctor observing his response closely. Not wanting to prolong his stay any longer than necessary he replied truthfully. “Yes I know who you are, Miranda Sun of Zeta-Aquilae, and you Paul, and yes, I even remember you Doc,” Jon exclaimed with a smile.

  “Well I am glad your oxygen deprivation has not affected your sense of humour, Commander,” the Doctor replied, taking care to hide the relief in his voice.

  “What happened out there Jon?” Paul asked. “We were all sure you were dead, since you had been missing for five days, and we were just about to prepare a lovely send-off for you. I even opened that bottle of Scotch we had been saving for the right moment.”

  “The Imperial Star?” Jon ignored the question, asking one of his own.

  “Gone,” Paul confirmed. “Your plan worked, the weapon vaporised the ship and the rest of the fleet surrendered soon after. We, well you, did it.”

  “All I care about is Harkov, as long as he is gone,” Jon insisted. So relieved that their plan had succeeded, he did not notice the shared glance between Paul and Miranda. “In answer to your question the last thing that I remember was a few moments before the impact with the ‘Star. The collision alarm sounded and I was trying to angle the ‘Light towards one of the flight decks—”

  “You succeeded,” Paul interrupted.

  Nodding his head in thanks to Paul for filling in the gaps, he continued. “The next thing I knew was that the ship’s computer took control of the helm, the cockpit sealed itself and the ‘Light ejected the entire cockpit module from the rest of the ship,” Jon explained in wonder. Even in its final death throes, the ‘Light had once again saved his life. “I never knew the ‘Light had such an emergency escape system,” he said in complete amazement.

  “She was a fantastic ship,” P
aul agreed, patting Jon on the back. “We’re all just glad that you are back safe and well, the station was not the same without you. Anyway we’ll let everybody know the good news and get out of here to let you rest. You have much catching up to do on recent events,” Paul commented softly, throwing another concerned glance at Miranda.

  This time, receiving the message loud and clear, she removed herself from Jon’s embrace, giving him a final hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. “We’re all glad that you are back in once piece,” she insisted. Brushing away a tear, she followed Paul out of the room, leaving him to wonder what he had missed out on while he had been unconscious.

  *****

  A few days later Jon was finally able to make good his escape from the Doctor’s clutches, by employing his usual modus operandi of making everybody else’s life unbearable. Jon had always taken the view that if he was to be stuck in Medical feeling miserable, why shouldn’t everybody else be equally unhappy? However, the Doctor had absolutely refused to sign off on him returning to active duty, including his still revoked flight status. Instead, he was sent back to his quarters with strict instructions to rest. So closely following the doctor’s orders, he had spent the past couple of hours catching up on the station’s latest reports and logs.

  Finally with a headache threatening to overwhelm him, he pushed back his chair from his desk, opened a beer (the Doctor had also strictly forbidden any alcohol), and wandered over to the small window in his quarters, lost in thought. After awakening in Medical Jon had felt out of sorts; as if he was standing at a crossroads in his life, unsure which direction to turn. Ever since Harkov’s betrayal and the death of the Emperor, Jon had been so consumed with the need for revenge he had little time for anything else. Only when he had finally conceded defeat, believing that Harkov had truly vanished, did Jon take up the offer from Paul to head-up Vanguard. He was not immune to the irony that it was only after abandoning his search that Harkov had finally come to him—and now what? Harkov was dead, the Imperial Star and the Eternal Light were gone. Almost every link to his past gone, except for Sofia.

  Sighing to himself, he allowed his thoughts to drift back to her, although she had never been far from his mind even before he regained consciousness. Jon remembered clearly hurtling towards the Imperial Star and that his biggest regret was not being able to say goodbye to her. That their last spoken words had been ones of anger rested heavily on his soul. He knew he should call her and tell her he was alive and well and Harkov was dead, but something held him back. The same something that stopped him calling her prior to the arrival of Harkov—fear. The fear that he would look into her eyes and see happiness there. That she had already moved on with her life, perhaps found somebody else…

  His continued musings were interrupted by the sound of an argument taking place outside his quarters. Cocking his head to one side, listening intently, Jon could clearly make out the sound of both Paul and Gunny’s voices, although the words were too quiet to be heard clearly. He was curious to know what they were arguing about and even more curious why they were doing it in the corridor outside his quarters. Striding to the door, which slid open at his approach, Jon stepped out into the corridor to quite an astonishing scene. For there, as expected, were Paul and Gunny, almost nose-to-nose exchanging angry words. Even more astounding was that Miranda had wedged herself between the two senior officers, obviously struggling to keep them apart and stop events escalating.

  “Excuse me,” Jon interrupted angrily. “Would somebody like to explain why two of my most senior and trusted officers look like they are about to start a brawl in the corridor? I hardly think that this is an example you should be setting for the rest of the crew.” Turning towards the small group of onlookers who had gathered to observe the spectacle, he gave them a hard stare and the group quickly dispersed. Turning his gaze back towards the three senior staff, he was at least relieved to see the argument seemed to have stopped in its tracks. “Well? I am still waiting for an explanation,” Jon ordered angrily.

  “Tell him. Jon has a right to know,” Gunny insisted vehemently.

  “I’ll deal with this. Jon is still recovering from his latest trauma and he doesn’t need to be involved with this at the moment,” Paul refuted angrily.

  Both of the senior officer’s eyes swivelled towards Miranda, obviously giving her the deciding vote. “Well thanks, boys,” Miranda replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Leave it to me to make the final decision. You,” Miranda turned to point at Jon. “Inside and sit down. I am not going to tell you this while you are standing up. The Doctor has already picked you up from the floor once this week and you are not going to be any help to anyone in Medical with concussion.”

  Eyes narrowing, Jon gave Miranda a disapproving stare. “You cannot go ordering me around on my own station,” he spluttered.

  “Fine. I won't tell you,” Miranda insisted, crossing her arms resolutely.

  “Women!” Jon cried, spinning on his heel, stalking back into his quarters and slumping down on his sofa. “Okay, fine, I am now sitting down,” he sulked.

  Following Jon into his quarters, Miranda stood a couple of meters in front of him, both Paul and Gunny hovering nervously behind her. “Okay, now where to start?” she said aloud, before glancing at the computer, still displaying the latest reports that Jon had left powered on. “Okay, so you are familiar with recent events, good. So I assume that you know we have been picking up the odd escape pod from the Imperial Fleet?”

  Jon nodded.

  “What is not noted in the latest reports are some details about the last pod we discovered on the same day we found you.” Miranda did not want to dwell on such coincidences, which recently had started to become the norm. She most definitely did not want to dwell on how she had managed to find him in the middle of that debris field.

  “So what was special about this pod?” Jon inquired, curious why his three most trusted friends would be arguing over it.

  “Not what, who,” Miranda replied nervously. “Okay, there is no way to break this to you easily, so I will just come out and say it. Harkov was in that pod.”

  For a brief instant what Miranda said just did not register—Harkov was dead. Looking at the three grim faces in front of him, he knew she was not making it up. All the colour drained from his face and for once he was glad he had followed Miranda’s instructions to sit down, doubting his legs would have supported him.

  “He’s alive?”

  Three worried heads nodded in answer to his question.

  “He’s still alive?” Jon clarified his earlier question. Surprised that nobody had already put a bullet in him or, to save the ammunition, just thrown him out the nearest airlock.

  Paul cleared his throat, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze. “I ordered him to be taken to Medical and placed under armed guard, until we decide what to do with him. I don’t need to remind you of our duty regarding the ethical treatment of prisoners do I?”

  Jon’s eyes flashed angrily, but he did not respond to the implied rebuke. As far as Jon was concerned Harkov had discarded any rights he might have had by murdering Marcus, massacring the remaining Praetorian Guard and, even more recently, firing on ships flying under a flag of truce. “Where is he now?” Jon demanded.

  “In the brig, still under armed guard,” Gunny replied promptly. “My men have orders to shoot-to-kill if he so much as looks at them strangely.” The statement would probably have been humorous, if Gunny had not delivered it in a completely serious tone of voice.

  Nodding in understanding, Jon replied, “Very well. I want to meet with him. Alone,” he insisted, upon seeing the shocked faces in front of him. “Gunny, please have your men escort him to my office.”

  Miranda was going to make some quip about it currently being her office, but one look at the expression on Jon’s face and she wisely remained silent.

  “Dismissed,” Jon ordered.

  *****

  Jon was seated in his usual place, behind his desk in his
office, idly spinning a knife, which was lying flat on the otherwise bare table. With Miranda having rearranged his office, behind him was the invisible energy field holding back the depths of space. Between the knife on the table and the gaping void behind, it made for a very bleak impression. Jon was a firm believer in visual stimulation during interrogation, as, often, an individual’s imagination could conjure up far worse than Jon could possibly inflict. When Jon heard the chime announcing Harkov’s arrival, he took a deep breath, preparing to face his antagonist. “Come,” he called out.

  As the door slid open to reveal Harkov, flanked on either side by one of Gunny’s marines, Jon came face-to-face with him in person for the first time since the Emperor’s death. Harkov had not changed significantly since Jon last saw him on a view-screen several days earlier. However, this time the situation was very, very, different. If anything he looked even paler and more sickly looking, but his eyes still gleamed with the same arrogance and over-confidence Jon had always associated with him.

  That confidence quickly died when he took one look at Jon and came to an abrupt halt. His face went completely ashen and, lifting a trembling hand, he pointed at Jon. “You’re dead,” he stammered. “I saw your ship collide with the Imperial Star. You’re dead.”

  Standing from behind his desk, Jon replied in a grim voice. “It was a strange thing because upon arrival in hell I found myself all alone, so I decided to come back and retrieve you. I always promised I would see you there first.”

  Unsure if Jon was an apparition, resurrected from the dead as he claimed, or simply a ghost, Harkov could only quake at the sight in front of him.

  “Take a seat, Admiral” Jon replied forcefully. The two marines flanking Harkov pushed him into a chair on the other side of the desk, opposite Jon. The two marines then took up position, one on either side of Harkov. Jon re-took his seat and looked at Harkov thoughtfully while spinning the knife, now resting between the two of them on the desk.