The Sunfire

by Mike Smith

  Three shuttles separated from the formation, leaving the remaining ships stationary in space and heading towards the upper flight deck of the Sunfire. There were no issues docking as the massive flight deck dwarfed the small shuttles. Once the shuttles had docked successfully and all systems were powered down, Paul and Jon prepared to depart, to lead their respective teams.

  Jon noticed Miranda unbuckling her flight harness in preparation to depart with them. Hurrying over to her he motioned for her to remain in her seat. “Miranda, I want you to remain with the shuttle until I signal that it is safe.”

  Miranda gave Jon an outraged look, insisting. “I’m coming with you. I can look after myself just as well as you can,” she insisted, touching the pulse pistol at her side.

  Sighing, Jon squatted down until he was level with her. Reaching out with his fingertips he brushed them gently against her cheek.

  Miranda’s breath caught in her throat, as she stared into his understanding grey eyes. She could vividly remember the last time that he had touched her in such a fashion. She could still recall his taste on her tongue, his searing heat as he pressed intimately against her. Miranda averted her gaze so Jon would not see her flushed cheeks.

  However, Jon did not mention anything or purposefully ignored it, instead he replied softly. “I have never doubted your bravery or your courage. Instead I am trying to spare you from something, trying to keep you away from it for as long as I can. For one hundred and thirty eight brave souls perished on this ship and they are still out there, some in their seats at their consoles, and others fallen where they stood. Please stay here, let me spare you from seeing that.”

  Inside Miranda cursed herself, for she had come to realise that she had a weak-spot for this softly spoken, gentle voice Jon occasionally employed. Not trusting herself to speak, instead she just nodded in agreement.

  With a gentle smile, Jon pushed a lock of hair back behind her ear and, dropping a soft kiss on her cheek, breathed. “We will be back shortly.”

  Departing the shuttle, Jon noticed a small crowd already gathered at the bottom of the ramp. Paul, David, Neil with Gunny at its head. Stopping a few feet from the bottom, to utilise the height advantage he called out, “Ok, listen up people. We are going to split into small sweeper teams. We will spread out and check that the ship is safe. There are one hundred and thirty eight crew on this vessel; we need to find all of them. I shut off the environmental controls prior to closing down the ship, hence the bodies will not have decomposed significantly, frozen by the sub-zero temperatures. However, they will now start to decompose rapidly. I have designated cargo bay two as a temporary morgue; we will move any bodies we find there. The temperature has been lowered and we can store the bodies until they receive a proper burial when we are back. Are there any questions?”

  “Is there any risk from the radiation that killed the crew?” One of the marines called out from the back of the group.

  “The radiation employed by the weapon was specifically designed to disperse quickly, it had an extremely short half-life. Therefore there should be no risk. However, to be on the safe side the Doctor and his medical team will be on board to confirm it is safe. Any other questions?”

  With a general shaking of heads, the large group broke up into smaller groups, each departing for their allocated sections. Jon fell in behind the group tasked with the bridge. He had no wish to go back there, but it was his responsibility and his fault that they were all dead.

  Upon reaching the door to the bridge, Jon turned back to address the marines, security officers and medics that made up this detail. “Wait here,” he ordered. “I need to go on ahead, give me a few minutes.” Nobody in the group was willing to meet his gaze, everybody understanding why Jon needed some time alone.

  Stepping onto the bridge, Jon was taken aback by the bustle of activity, exactly as he remembered it. Officers moving quickly between consoles, orders and information passing backwards and forwards. Steve occupying the captain’s chair, his back to Jon. Janet, his Executive Officer, seated next to him.

  Blinking away the sudden vision, Jon instead faced the silent, desolate bridge. Fortunately the effects of the radiation had been swift, most died before they even knew what had happened. The sub-zero temperatures had preserved the bodies, hence the majority looked simply asleep. Bodies slumped over consoles, others still in their seats. Softly walking around the fallen bodies, Jon approached the front of the bridge. Taking a deep breath he turned to face Captain Ferguson. Fortunately, like the others, the signs of his death were minimal. A small trail of blood ran from his lips, down the side of one cheek. Obviously he had bitten his tongue, or lip, when he had died.

  Jon carefully got down on one knee, so he could look the Captain in the face, to an outside observer it almost seemed like Jon was bowing down before the bridge crew. “You should be proud Steve,” Jon whispered quietly. “You and your crew completed your mission. You did what duty demanded and you stopped them before that terrible weapon could ever be used on others. I’m proud of you, all of you,” Jon said with a raised voice, addressing the entire bridge. “Now that you’ve done your job, it’s your turn to rest. We will take you home, back to your loved ones, so that you can finally rest in peace.” Jon took a deep breath before continuing. “However, first there is one last mission to complete. Somebody that I love, somebody that I care about more than life itself, needs our help. She has already lost a mother; I won’t let her lose her father too. For that I need your help, I need this ship, as we can only do this together.”

  Jon felt a slight breeze passing across his neck, unsure if it were the environmental systems coming fully back on-line, or the answer he had been looking for. Regaining his feet, he took one final look at the courageous crew of the Sunfire.

  He left the bridge and told the recovery team they could start to remove the bodies.

  *****

  It was a sombre group that gathered in the ship’s briefing room several hours later. The recovery of so many bodies had dampened their enthusiasm for the mission. A stark reminder of what they could all possibly face in the next few days. Jon had organised some food and drink for the officers, as they were too busy to eat since their arrival, but the food and drink lay untouched. Nobody had an appetite anymore.

  “Paul, what is the status of the Sunfire?” Jon asked, getting straight down to business.

  “Pretty good all things considered,” Paul replied. “We have already run a full diagnostic test on all of the computer and flight control systems and they all came back green. All the internal systems were shielded against an EMP strike.” Paul added, referring to the Electro-Magnetic Pulse caused by the close detonation of the neutron bomb. “Damage to the ship is minimal, mostly localised around the bow, point-defence weapons. Fortunately those can be repaired in space, so there will be no need for a space-dock. The ship’s ammunition batteries are almost full; we have eighty-eight per cent of the ship’s missiles and ninety-seven per cent of the rail gun rounds. All that is required is to bring the ship’s reactor up to full power and then initiate a cold start of the engines. This will take a couple more days, as we need to do it slowly to check for leaks or damage.”

  “Thanks Paul,” Jon replied. “Doctor, what about radiation levels?”

  “They are all within safe parameters,” Richardson replied. “It seems as though the weapon worked exactly as designed, killing the crew, but dissipating quickly.” The firm set of his jaw and the biting tone of his voice, easily conveyed his thoughts about such a weapon.

  “Jason, any intelligence on a suitable target we could commandeer, to sneak onto Tartarus?”

  “I think so,” Jason replied. “I have been checking the flight plans filed in all the adjoining sectors and I think I have found a suitable target. A medium sized freighter, called the Phoenix, is scheduled to dock in a few days at a shipyard in the Sluis System for a sensor refit. This is scheduled to take a few days and then there is a flight plan already scheduled to
take her back to Tartarus in exactly five days’ time.”

  “Paul, will that fit within your schedule?” Jon asked.

  “It will.”

  “Gunny, assemble your team then. We will target the Phoenix, and once we have the authorisation codes will fly her ourselves to Tartarus. This will then give us two days to locate, secure the Emperor and make our exit, before the Sunfire arrives to punch us a hole off Tartarus.”

  “Are there any further questions?” With a shake of heads around the table, Jon concluded the meeting by saying. “In that case Paul, I have transferred the ship’s command codes to yourself. Congratulations on your new commission, Captain Harrington.”

  Paul only grimaced, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

  “Furthermore, I have also transferred the codes to arm the Mk. VI’s to you. You now have the full combat capability of this ship at your disposal Captain.”

  Again Paul would not meet Jon’s eyes, but nodded his head in understanding.

  Recognising the morose atmosphere in the room, Jon looked each of his senior officers in the eye before stating, “A good man once told me that sometimes you need to make sacrifices. The previous crew of this ship made the ultimate sacrifice to stop a weapon that if ever used against a populated planet would have killed millions. But I will not allow their sacrifice to be in vain. For today we embark on a new mission, a mission to rescue a good man. A husband to a lost wife, a father to a grieving daughter. A man who dedicated his entire life to a duty. A duty to protect every man, woman and child in the Empire from harm. It’s time that somebody repaid him for that sacrifice. Let’s go bring him home.”

  With approving nods from around the table Jon concluded. “I’ll be scheduling a briefing for the entire crew at 0900 ship time tomorrow. If they are risking their lives, they deserve to know why.”

  *****

  At 0900 hours the following morning, Miranda found herself once again on the flight deck, standing in front of the assembled crew. The flight deck had been chosen as the location for the briefing as it was the only space on the ship that could contain all the crew comfortably. Almost everybody was present, except for a skeleton crew monitoring critical systems, who were following the briefing remotely.

  Standing on a raised platform so as to be easily seen, flanking Jon to the left, while Paul was standing to Jon’s right, Miranda stared out at a sea of intent faces. The crew had instinctively formed into lines, at parade rest, their feet a shoulder width apart, back straight, hands clasped behind them. Idly Miranda wondered just how long some of these people had been in the Imperial Navy to take such a position automatically. For while she saw a few familiar faces that were around her age, many were older, similar in age to Jon and Paul. This made sense to her, that Jon and Paul would have known these crew members the longest and hence extended the invitation for them and their families to join them on Terra Nova.

  Taking a step forward, Jon started the briefing. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to start off by thanking every one of you for volunteering. I appreciate that you have all done so based on very little information. Unfortunately this was necessary, as you will soon appreciate. So without further delay, our destination is the Tyrell Corporation, on the planet Tartarus in the Sigma-Draconis System.” With a nod to one side, a large holo-projection appeared, hovering Jon’s side, several feet above the attending crew. Motioning towards the projection, he resumed. “As you can see the planet is very heavily defended—”

  At this point Miranda stopped listening to Jon, as she had sat through this briefing with the senior staff only a few days before. Instead she turned her attention back to the men and women standing before her, all listening intently to Jon’s words. It occurred to her there were almost equal numbers of men and women. Sexual discrimination was long dead in the Imperial Navy; it was more an indication of Paul and Jon’s personality, that they chose the best person for the job, indiscriminate of sex. It was a very different environment to the one that she had grown up within the Syndicate. Sexual discrimination there had been well and truly rife, not to mention the number of propositions she had to reject, some firmly.

  Turning her attention back to the crew, Miranda wondered why the whole scene seemed so familiar. Finally she placed the memory back to several holo-films she had watched as a youngster. Part film, part Imperial Navy propaganda, she had watched open-mouthed as the brave crew lined up, listening to the briefing from the Commanding Officer, usually detailing the suicidal mission they were about to embark upon.

  It was not until that moment the realisation dawned on Miranda as to what they were actually about to do. A rescue attempt against an impregnable planet, with a single warship, to rescue possibly the most heavily guarded and protected prisoner in the entire Confederation. All this when even the old Imperial assault plan had stipulated a reinforced task force, backed up by at least a battalion of ground forces. Part of Miranda could understand why those assembled in front of her would follow Jon on this forlorn hope. Many of them owed their lives to this man. But why her? She now possessed her own ship and had valuable skills she could offer. She should have been hightailing it for the nearest exit, yet, like those in front of her, she stood in line, secure in the knowledge she would follow Jon on this mission.

  For her, it boiled down to trust.

  Jon had taken a chance on her, given her his trust and opportunities she would never in her wildest dreams have thought possible. For as Jon had placed his trust in her, so she would reciprocate, implicitly trusting him. In the firm belief that if anybody was going to be able to pull off this miracle it would be him. Jon, interrupted her thoughts when he reached the point in the briefing where he detailed the purpose behind this endeavour.

  “I have mentioned before the purpose of this is a rescue mission, but I have purposefully withheld whom it is that we are rescuing. Each of you will be risking your lives on this endeavour and hence it is only fair you all know the full facts. Therefore the objective of this rescue is to secure the release of the Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, Sofia’s father.”

  The silence in the room was all-engulfing, as if nobody could believe what they had just heard. Then for the first time in the briefing, Miranda heard a murmuring of whispers. A hand appeared from near the back of the crowd.

  “Go ahead Jonas,” Jon prompted the marine from one of Gunny’s teams.

  “With all due respect Commander, I thought that the Emperor was dead. How do we know he is being imprisoned on Tartarus?”

  “A fair question,” Jon replied. “All I can say is that in the past few weeks a new and highly placed intelligence source has become available to us. This source confirmed the location of the Emperor, and that he was alive, at least until a few weeks ago.”

  “Do we know his exact location?” He asked.

  “No, we do not. The covert assault team will need to locate him once we are on Tartarus.”

  “Can our intelligence source supply a more specific location?”

  “The intelligence source is no longer available to us,” Jon replied vaguely.

  Jonas did not seem surprised by this response, nodding his head in thanks and stepping back into line.

  As there seemed to be no further questions, Jon concluded the briefing by saying. “What we are about to do is an unprovoked attack on a commercial organisation and its private ships and facilities. By all definitions there is only one word for such action—piracy—and we all know there is only one penalty for such action. Death.” Taking a deep breath he continued. “I have thought long and hard about this, and even were I to claim personal responsibility for these actions, I doubt it would be enough to spare your lives in a civilian court of law. However, in a military tribunal you would all be protected, as under the uniform code of Military Justice you would be following a lawful order, hence you would be shielded from prosecution. Unfortunately, none of us have sworn an oath to the Confederation, and we are not in the Confederation Navy. But we all once swore a different oa
th, that we would uphold the ideals of the Empire, would protect and defend it from all possible threats, and we all swore an oath to the Emperor. Nobody can deny us that, nobody can dispute that fact and nobody can force us to rescind such an oath. Only the Emperor has such authority. Therefore from this moment on, we are no longer civilians, no longer just employees of Vanguard, we are what we have always been—warriors of the Imperial Navy, sworn to defend and protect the Emperor.

  I will not march to his aid on a ship flying the flag of the Confederation. If we are to fail, then I want to fail in the knowledge what we attempted was true and just. Henceforth this ship will fly under her true colours, what she was always conceived to be. A ship belonging to the greatest military force in human history. An Imperial Navy warship. A ship-of-the-line. To be feared by any and all that cross her path. Hell should tremble before us, for we are coming, and there is nothing in this life or the next that can stop us.”

  Jon’s voice seemed to roll like thunder across the flight deck. Miranda could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention, as if the air had become electrically charged. As if the very spirits of hell had been drawn from that place by the challenge in the Commander’s voice. The effect on the crew was even more electric. As their eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire, their backs straightened, their posture hardened.

  “Attention on deck!” A voice cried from the crowd. As if the movement had been practiced to perfection, that crew snapped to attention, feet together, their arms at salute.

  Miranda felt a shiver run down her spine as she gazed at the crew facing her, and for a brief moment she almost pitied the forces on Tartarus arrayed against them.

  *****

  It was several hours later, in the late evening when Miranda arrived in the senior officers’ dining room. Paul had invited her to dine with him and Jon, soon after the briefing had concluded and the crew dispersed. Upon entering the small dining room, Miranda observed Paul and Jon deep in conversation. They were already seated but that was not what caused her to stop abruptly.