by Mike Smith
“I assume Gunny was on duty?” Miranda guessed.
Jon nodded and continued the story. “When Gunny arrived and Castle explained the situation to him, he strode into Elizabeth’s bedroom.”
“What’s the problem ma’am?” Gunny inquired.
“There is a monster in the wardrobe,” little Elizabeth cried, hiding under her blanket. “I saw him when I was getting into bed.”
“I understand ma’am, please leave this to me,” Gunny replied, turning to face the wardrobe. “Unauthorised monster,” Gunny announced loudly. “You have the count of three to vacate the wardrobe, otherwise I will use lethal force.”
“One.”
“Two.”
Gunny drew his pulse pistol from its holster, pointing it towards the wardrobe.
“Gunny!” Castle interrupted alarmed.
“Ma’am, please cover your ears,” Gunny instructed the little girl cowering under the blanket who, looking up with wide-eyed fascination, did as the officer instructed.
“Three,” Gunny announced.
“He didn’t,” Miranda interrupted disbelievingly.
“He sure did,” Jon replied with a smug grin. “He put three bolts from his pulse pistol straight though the wardrobe.”
“What did Castle say?”
“I think she was too shocked to say anything, but little Elizabeth hasn’t been afraid of any monsters since and thinks the world of Gunny. Meanwhile Gunny made it clear to Castle that if she ever needs a hand with Elizabeth, he would be happy to help. They’ve been close ever since,” Jon added wistfully.
Surprised at his tone of voice, Miranda looked up into his eyes, recognising the sadness and regret lurking in the corners. “What about you?” She inquired, leaning across the table, so close to his face she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.
“What about me?”
“Are you scared of the monsters that lurk in the wardrobe?”
Jon shook his head in the negative.
“Then what is it that scares you?” Miranda asked, honestly curious.
Jon looked at her softy, his eyes full of emotion. Unable to answer her directly, he reached up with his hand, gently running his fingertips along her soft cheek. Barely above a whisper he replied. “I am scared of losing more people I care deeply about.”
Staring into his soulful eyes, Miranda asked something that a few hours ago she would never in her wildest dreams dared to have asked. “Jon, I don’t want to be alone tonight. We don’t know what is going to happen tomorrow, and I don’t want to have any regrets.”
Jon looked at her with wide eyes, stunned at the brazen request, before his eyes clouded over and he broke her gaze regretfully.
Knowing Jon was only seconds away from denying her request, she caught his hand in hers and pleaded. “Not for that, just hold me. Please? Nobody has ever done that for me before.”
Jon looked back at her, preparing to refuse, when he made the mistake of looking into her eyes, and saw in them desperation and the truth of her words. Nobody had ever just held her before. Hence, instead of shaking his head like he planned, he nodded in agreement. “Take off your clothes,” he urged, his eyes like molten steel.
“You—What?” Miranda looked at Jon, unable to believe what he had just said.
“Were you planning on sleeping in your flight suit?” Jon asked reasonably. “I assume that you are wearing something underneath?”
Miranda just gave him an enigmatic smile. “That is for me to know and you to find out,” she said standing up in front of him.
Jon could not tear his eyes from her, as she slowly unzipped the flight suit, letting it fall to the floor next to the desk. Jon was not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when he observed her standing in a black, cropped tank top and matching bikini panties. Jon could only stare with undisguised desire at her toned body and endless flesh, his eyes lingering on her bosom.
“Your turn,” she breathed, staring at Jon.
Standing up he unbuttoned his uniform jacket, taking his time to slowly release each button. Once all had been undone he eased the jacket from his shoulders, taking time to fold it over the back of a chair to avoid it creasing. Hearing Miranda’s laboured breathing he knew she was frustrated at his slow speed. Finally he reached his uniform pants, taking extra time to release them. Finally he let them slide to the floor, showing his strongly toned legs.
Miranda’s breath caught in her throat as she gazed upon Jon. Well at least she had answered one question, whether he was a boxer or briefs man, as Jon’s waist was encased in a pair of comfortable grey boxers.
“Have you finished ogling?” Jon asked with a laugh, after he had finished folding his pants, placing them carefully on the back of the chair next to the jacket. Moving to the bed, he slid his body underneath the blanket, holding it open and motioning for Miranda to slide her body next to his.
Not needing to be invited twice, Miranda slid into the bed next to him. She could feel his firm chest pressed into her naked back. His skin seemed scorching hot compared to hers. Shuffling around, Miranda twisted until she was chest-to-chest with him, resting her cheek over his beating heart. Jon’s arms voluntarily came to surround her, pulling her closer. Glancing up to the endless expanse of neck, Miranda could not help herself as she flicked out her tongue, licking his skin. Miranda could feel his body tense, the firm intake of breath his only audible response. However, Jon could not fully mask his body’s reaction to her closeness as she could feel his hardness pressed against her thigh. However, mindful of her promise only to be held, she ignored the feeling and did nothing more to test his resolve.
After some time, she could feel Jon’s rapidly beating heart even out to a steady beat, unsure if he was still awake she asked hesitantly. “Jon?”
“Hmm?” He replied, voice heavy with sleep.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” His chuckle caused pleasant vibrations to run the length of her body.
“I cannot see why not. We cannot get much closer than we already are.”
While Miranda could not see his face, she could picture the smile on it. “What happened with you and Sofia? Paul told me that you left after betraying her.” Miranda could again feel the sudden inhale of breath, but this time it was not the result of her body’s actions. “It’s just I think I know you. I don’t believe you could do such a thing. So why does everybody else think you did?”
For a long time Jon was silent and Miranda worried that Jon had fallen asleep, when suddenly he replied. “Close your eyes, Miranda.”
Miranda cursed, thinking that he had denied her request, when he abruptly continued. “Close your eyes, and listen.” As in a quiet voice, pitched so low it seemed that he was whispering to her only, he added. “You see I did betray her, which is why I have never denied those accusations. But I did not betray her in the way that most people assume. For what I did was far worse. I made her believe I never loved her.”
Chapter Ten
Five Years Previously,
Planet Eden, Eden Prime System
The signing of the Confederation Charter was one of the greatest political acts in over five hundred years, ever since the Rim Worlds swore fealty to Edward Aurelius and the Imperium officially came into existence. Every notable politician insisted on being present and used his or her full allocation of speaking time. After two days of listening to pompous windbags, repeating the same platitudes over and over again, Commander Jonathan Radec was ready to kill somebody.
Fortunately few politicians wanted to waste their precious time speaking to an unassuming and unimportant Commander in the Imperial Fleet. Hence he was mostly ignored and could frequently slip away, unnoticed.
The sole exception was Senator Rione of the Callas Republic, who seemed intent on seeking him out to verbally abuse him for the unprovoked attack on her son, almost six months before. Fortunately on those occasions Sofia intervened and came to his rescue, running interference and allowed him to escape—luckily unscathed.
Instead, Jon used the copious amount of free time at his disposal to keep a close eye on the various Fleet Admirals. For the first time in living memory all eleven were gathered in the same location for the historic signing. In total there should have been twelve, but nobody had thought to invite Admiral Harkov (although Jon secretly suspected a number of senators were quietly toasting him in thanks for removing the hated Emperor).
Jon found it ironic that while most of the politicians snubbed him as unimportant, the Fleet Admirals watched him like a rattlesnake that might strike at any moment. This was probably related to the fact Jon had threatened more than one of them over the past few months, to ensure each of them swore fealty to Sofia. The alternative was to be removed and replaced with somebody more easily manipulated. Hence Jon kept his sword close and the Admirals closer, following the old adage of keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer.
All in all it was a very tense time for the fleet, to which all the politicians were completely oblivious. Jon felt a sigh of relief when it finally came to the signing of the charter. Although he did wonder how many of the politicians had actually read the full manuscript and not just skimmed over the rest of the charter after the part that confirmed all political and military authority would be transferred to them.
Sofia was the first to rise to sign the impressive document. It was of course paper and the signatures were in ink. Electronic documents were far too easy to alter and forge at a later date, but a physical charter like this had weight. With a flourish Sofia inscribed her signature, to great applause from the entire Senate. However, Jon felt a warm glow when he noticed it was his face she first sought out amongst the crowd, as if it was only his approval she cared about. Jon gave her a warm smile that was for her alone and she broke from his gaze, although Jon was pleased to see her cheeks change to a light pink colour before she looked away.
Following Sofia, each of the Fleet Admirals stood to add his or her signature to the document, permanently and irrevocably transferring authority of the Imperial Navy to the Confederation Senate. Internally Jon winced that the real force behind the Empire was being passed to a group of squabbling politicians. Jon was sure Sofia’s great, great, great grandfather Edward Aurelius was turning in his grave.
Last of all to sign were the Confederation Senators, two hundred and eighty in all. It took a long time to work through them all, especially as each insisted on a flourish as he or she signed the charter. By the time everybody had signed, it was getting late into the night and Jon was thankful everything was finished.
However, the silence was interrupted when the voice of the herald called out. “Commander Jonathan Radec, Praetorian Commander, personal representative of the late Emperor, his excellency Marcus Aurelius.”
Jon froze in shock, unable to believe his ears. Meanwhile all eyes in the Senate turned to face him, many in stunned disbelief, having dismissed the young fleet Commander days before. In a daze Jon approached the charter, still glistening from the fresh signatures that adorned it. Jon wordlessly accepted the pen from the herald as he was shown where to sign at the bottom of the document.
As the personal representative of the Emperor, Jon had of course signed documents in his stead before. After all, the Imperium was huge and the Emperor could not be expected to be everywhere at once, but to sign this?
Looking up from the imposing document, staring out at the multitude of faces, Jon had his doubts. He had spent almost five years at the right hand of the Emperor and in that time he had listened to his hopes, as well as his fears, along with his dreams and visions for the future. With the possible exception of Sofia, Jon doubted there was anybody else alive in the Imperium who knew him better. Looking down at this document Jon knew with absolute certainty Marcus would never have wanted this.
To hand over power, the very mandate of heaven, to a bunch of short-sighted, bickering bureaucrats who could not agree on anything or see beyond their own personal greed? How could he possibly trust these politicians to do what was best in the long term for the entire Empire? Jon’s instincts, his very being, screamed at him to tear this document to shreds. To turn on the Fleet Admirals, who had spent the past week schmoozing with the politicians and order them back to their respective ships, to get back to their job of protecting the Empire, its interests and its citizens.
A cough from the herald behind him interrupted his thoughts. Finally Jon’s gaze came to rest on one person, frankly the only person whose opinion he valued. For looking into Sofia’s concerned gaze, Jon wavered. Standing there, on the precipice of history, Jon had an epiphany. Staring deeply into her eyes, Jon realised that he loved Sofia with every inch of his being and if this is what she asked of him, he would do it, gladly.
Jon leaned forward and scribbled his signature at the bottom of the document.
With a round of applause and a lot of backslapping in self-congratulation, Jon sought out the only person he cared for. Finally reaching her side, recognising the weariness in her expression, Jon offered her his arm and motioned towards the exit. Nodding her head in consent, they made their way together, hand-in-hand towards the exit.
“You know,” Sofia mused softly. “For a moment there I thought you weren't going to sign it.”
Jon was silent for a moment, before replying equally softly. “You know, for a moment there, neither was I.”
*****
In the six weeks the Confederation had been in existence, Jon’s opinion of it had sunk to a new, all-time low. Standing in the shadows of yet another congratulatory party, Jon watched Sofia from a distance. She effortlessly circulated around the room, seemingly in her element, knowing everybody by name, sharing a few words here, a smile there.
Jon had brought up the topic with Sofia, in one of the increasing few evenings they had shared together, before she had to depart for some official engagement or another.
“It’s just natural,” she had replied. Dismissing his concerns with a laugh. “The Confederation is still young and there needs to be a period of adjustment. Everybody needs to socialise, make acquaintances, build political alliances, network, this is how the game is played.”
Jon had kept silent, but in his opinion governing billions of people, ensuring their safety, protection and well-being was not a game. But then Sofia had grown up with her father, the Emperor, surrounded by every luxury imaginable. She had never had to go hungry to pay the medical bills when somebody in the family fell ill. She never had to run errands, through the slums of Altair, just to save enough credits for a new shirt. She never had to watch a sister waste away as the family could not afford the widely available but expensive treatment.
So instead Jon continued to watch from the shadows with growing discontent, as the Senate continued to party on, caring little for the average citizen’s woes and misery.
“Pardon me, Commander Radec?” A deep voice interrupted him, as his eyes lingered on Sofia. Turning to face the unwanted intrusion with a cool gaze, he observed a short man, richly attired, with greying hair and an expanding waist-line. He had seen the man around before but struggled to remember his name.
“Senator?”
“Malthus. I hope I am not interrupting?” He asked, following Jon’s gaze to Sofia’s back, as she laughed at something one of the senators she was in conversation with said.
Jon just continued to look past the Senator with a cool, distant gaze. In the past this was enough to discourage them, but in this instance the opposite seemed to occur as the Senator laughed out loud.
“You know, you remind me so much of Marcus when he was younger.”
Caught somewhat off guard, Jon inquired. “You knew the Emperor?”
“Way back when Marcus was younger, soon after the death of his father. I suppose you would call us political enemies, but after so many years trying to out-manoeuvre the other, I guess it made us almost friends. You remind me of him, you know? He used to ignore me, like you, when I was busy interrupting him. Would you care to walk with
me for a while? It would be good to reminisce over old times. I think I must be one of the few that miss the old boy.”
Jon hesitated, he turned back to Sofia, who was deep in a conversation with another Senator. As if she could feel his gaze on her back, she turned to face him, her eyes darting to the Senator standing next to him. Understanding the question in her eyes, Jon made a snap decision that he could not rely upon Sofia forever to extricate him from these situations, and therefore subtly shook his head. As Sofia turned back to the conversation, Jon took a step out of the room, Senator Malthus following closely behind him.
“The Princess will be fine,” Malthus reassured him confidently, obviously misunderstanding the earlier silent communication between the two. “She is in her element back there, Marcus would have been proud of her.”
Jon remained silent.
“She is a fine woman, just like her mother was, may the Maker accept her soul. You know I hoped the Emperor might look favourably on the Princess joining with my family. Did he ever mention anything to you about it?” Malthus asked, eyes glittering like diamonds.
Jon was so taken aback by the question he stopped mid-stride, staring at the aging Senator in disbelief.
“Not me of course,” Malthus replied, with a hollow laugh. “I have a son, about your age. We are a powerful family, going back many generations. I thought for a while it might be a good match.”
Jon just continued to scowl at the Senator. The thought of anybody touching Sofia, making her smile like he did, set his blood boiling. “He didn’t mention anything to me about it,” Jon snapped, dismissing the question out of hand.
“I’m not surprised,” Malthus replied, with a steely glint in his eye. “After all, why would he need to when he had you?”