by Mike Smith
“It’s more than that,” Paul tried to explain. “He is an outstanding leader, probably the best pilot I have ever seen and I think the crew would follow him into the mouth of hell and back without question, but the responsibility of command seems to sit on his shoulders like the weight of the world. Every ship we lose to these pirates, every crewmember that does not come back, he takes as a personal loss, that he failed to do a good enough job… To be honest Doc, I was rather hoping that our latest additional to the station might help distract him...”
“I see,” the Doctor replied. “Well I must to confess to having quite a shock myself upon opening that pod. It reminded me of that Old Earth story that I used to read to my daughter, ‘Sleeping Beauty’, unconscious there in the pod. She looked like she was waiting for a prince to wake her up. Perhaps I should have waited for Jon to revive her,” the Doctor said with a laugh.
“Seriously Doc, how is she?” Paul asked in a more serious tone. The Doctor turned back to the data pad and brought up the results of her previous scan.
“Generally she is in pretty good health. She had a number of stress cracks, probably caused by the huge acceleration of the ejection, not unusual in cases like this. I have repaired this damage and her bone density should now be as good as new. In addition she had a few other factures, which had not healed well, which I also repaired. Along with being a little malnourished. I have given her an injection of trace vitamins and minerals. She could do with a few good meals.” Checking to ensure that the young woman was still getting changed he added with a grin. “Perhaps the Commander could assist with that… following that she should be back to perfect health. It would seem that she has not had an easy life,” the Doctor frowned. “A number of poorly healed fractures, cuts, scars and being malnourished seems to suggest wherever she has been has not been easy.”
“They should make a perfect couple then considering all the scrapes that Jon manages to get in,” Paul quipped, but was interrupted by the sound of the door sliding open and Miranda eyeing the two of then warily.
“What was that about the Commander?” Miranda asked suspiciously.
“I was just referring to Jon,” Paul replied easily. “As the chief executive of the company and the owner of Terra Nova everyone just refers to him as the Commander; it’s easier,” he explained. “Talking of which he asked me to escort you to his office when you had finished getting dressed.” Observing that she had now changed into a pair of dark form fitting slacks and matching shirt he motioned her towards the exit of sickbay. Following behind her as they departed sickbay Paul let his eyesight slowly drift lower.
What a great posterior, Paul thought to himself. If I was a couple of years young and not already married…
*****
On the way towards Jon’s office Miranda slowed down to be able to walk abreast of Paul in a clear indication that she wanted to discuss something with him. Realising that he still did not know her name Paul introduced himself.
“By the way I am Paul Harrington, operations chief for Vanguard and second in command of Terra Nova.” Glancing at Miranda who remained stubbornly silent Paul rolled his eyes and enquired, “and you are…?”
“Miranda,” she replied succinctly.
With a grin Paul replied, “Well nice to meet you Miss Miranda.” She gave him an angry glare, which made Paul grin even more. Grinding her teeth in frustration Miranda remained silent.
Having been married for over ten years Paul had a feeling that she wanted to ask something so he remained silent and started counting in his head.
One.
Two.
Three.
“So where did the Commander get his ship?”
Paul smirked and thought, works every time. “Which ship?” he inquired, deciding to try and keep the conversation going and see if he could get Miranda to open up a little. “Vanguard owns quite a number.”
“The one that he was flying when I… I mean the one that he picked me up in,” Miranda corrected her oversight quickly. Probably not a good idea going around admitting to everybody that she had been trying her hardest to kill their boss, Miranda considered.
“You mean the Eternal Light?” Paul replied. “That is a long story but I suppose you could say that he kind of stole it.”
Miranda looked up in shock, it was obviously not the sort of answer that she had been expecting. “He stole it!” she exclaimed.
“Well…” Paul backtracked a little. “You need to ask Jon for all the details but basically the ship belonged to the Imperial Navy, it was assigned to Jon so that he could transport some very important… cargo.” It was obvious that Paul was choosing his words carefully. “The Navy decided soon after that they wanted the cargo back to… dispose of. Anyway Jon had no intention of returning the cargo knowing full well what they had in mind for it. Hence he kept the ship… and the cargo. Well at least Jon managed to keep hold of the ship but not the cargo.” He laughed at his obviously personal joke.
“You have known the Commander long?” Miranda inquired, getting caught up in Paul’s retelling of the story. When she had first seen the ship she had detested its owner, Radec, assuming that unlike her, he had been born with money and given every privilege in life. She had assumed, wrongly obviously, that he had paid a small fortune to either have the ship built or to buy it from its previous owner. However, with Paul’s retelling of the story she realised that maybe they were not so different after all, both put in impossible situations with few options to choose from. Paul had also piqued her interest regarding the cargo, what could have been so important for Jon to refuse to return it? It was obvious that Paul was not going to elaborate, so she made a mental note to ask Jon about it later.
Shaking her head in disbelief Miranda realised that she was already sub-consciously referring to the enigmatic Commander by his first name. She had been trying to kill him barely 24 hours before! However the more she found out about him the more of a mystery he seemed to become… how wrong the Syndicate intelligence had been! She was so caught up in her internal deliberations regarding the Commander that she almost walked into the back of Paul! He had stopped in front of a door that Miranda assumed was an office. Taking a deep breath she prepared for her next encounter with the enigmatic station Commander…
*****
A chime interrupted Jon’s concentration, notifying him of the arrival of Paul and the young pilot, as he was reviewing the latest company shipping manifests. It suddenly occurred to him that he did not even know the name of the young pilot. He made a note to ask, before calling out, “Enter!”
The door smoothly slid open to reveal Paul and the young pilot following closely behind.
Ushering her into Jon’s office, Paul stated with a smirk. “Miss. Miranda, as requested.”
Looking up in puzzlement Jon was about to inquire if that was her first, last, middle name or just a nickname when Miranda interjected in a frustrated tone.
“My name is Miranda, just Miranda.”
Paul responded with a quick grin, “Well nice talking with you, just Miranda,” he said before disappearing back through the door which slid shut behind him.
Glancing around the room curiously, Miranda’s sight was quickly drawn to the large expanse of endless space on the left side of the office. It was difficult to miss a gaping hole in the hull of a space station. Jon watched curiously to see how she would react; generally people reacted in two ways, either to note the expanse and then ignore it and try to put it out of their mind for the rest of the meeting, or to react violently and take a number of steps away. Jon was curious to see how she would react.
Taking a few steps closer to the void Miranda reached out her hand tentatively until she touched the surface of the energy barrier, and then much as Paul had the day before ran her fingers across the field watching the play of ripples in the energy field, fascinated. Jon suppressed a smile as if she had passed some secret test.
“You have an aversion to windows?” Miranda inquired continuing
to run her fingers across the barrier, bewitched. “I hope you don’t have any fluctuations in your power grid,” she commented.
“Not recently,” Jon replied with a grin, before motioning her to take a seat across the desk from himself. Leaning back in his chair Jon took a moment to just stare at her unabashedly, she was certainly an enigma and the very last thing he was expecting when he had brought the pod aboard the ‘Light.
Meanwhile Miranda was becoming very uncomfortable with his steady gaze, and breaking eye contact asked, “Well now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me?”
Tapping his fingers on the desk for a few moments Jon replied. “It is less what I want with you and more what I should do with you. I need to know that you are not a risk to this station or any of my crew.”
Miranda noted that he did not include himself in the list.
“My head of security wants me to throw you in the brig and leave you there until somebody from the Syndicate decides to come and get you. It could be a long wait,” Jon pointed out.
Miranda held her breath not saying anything but internally she was in agreement. It was possible that the Syndicate would never acknowledge her, especially as she had failed and lost their ship in the process. The Syndicate did not regard failure lightly.
“However, to be frank, we do not have the personnel or the resources to confine anybody for an indefinite period of time. Hence the more extreme suggestion from my head of security…” Jon dipped his head in the direction of the gaping void and the infinity of space beyond… Jon let the last statement hang in the air for a moment before proceeding. “However, I am not a merciless killer so I come back to my original question of what I should do with you. My earlier offer still stands, you are welcome to leave the station at any time. Unfortunately it is several weeks before the next freighter leaves for Transcendence. Which still leaves me with the question…are you a risk to this station or any of its crew?” Staring at Miranda for a few moments longer Jon reached into a draw behind his desk and withdrew an energy pistol that he kept there for emergencies.
Miranda noticed the pistol immediately and tensed. Jon was too far away for her to make a grasp for the weapon, and the exit was several meters away. She would be killed outright, long before she reached the exit. Always knowing that it was possible that her life would end in such a manner Miranda sat waiting for the fatal shot.
She almost died anyway! The shock of the pistol being casually tossed onto her lap almost gave her a heart attack. She looked up in disbelief from the pistol to her antagonist still sitting casually behind his desk. Delicately, as if handling a venomous snake, Miranda carefully picked up the pistol, a quick glance confirmed that it seemed fully charged and ready to fire its deadly load with one quick squeeze of the trigger. Casting an inquiring look across the desk, she uttered the first word that came to mind, “Why?”
Leaning back slightly in his chair, Jon replied. “I need to know that I can trust you with the safety of my crew and my station, therefore I give you the opportunity to complete the task that I know you were sent to do. Better to put just one life, my life, in your hands than to risk the lives of my crew or station. So here is your opportunity to finish what you started.” Jon gestured to the weapon in her hands.
Miranda was speechless, for the first time having no idea what to do or say, instead she just stared at the deadly weapon in her hands uncomprehendingly. True, she had been tasked, only days before, with the destruction of him and his ship, a mission with a target and she had tried her very best to complete it, but that was one thing, impersonal, but to sit in front of that person, to kill him in cold blood, to murder him… Miranda had always considered herself a pilot first and foremost. Sure, she had destroyed other ships before, often with little or no warning; she had done what was ordered of her, but a murder? No, Miranda had never thought of herself as a murderer before.
Recognising her indecision Jon leaned forward and with an intense stare explained, “I have faced death many times, in many different situations. I have stared down the barrel of a gun on countless occasions and I have observed the people holding that weapon. Some were scared, terrified of having to pull the trigger. Others were seasoned killers, merciless, they would not give a second thought to pulling the trigger and when facing those I knew that my death was for certain. However, I look at you and I do not see the face of a merciless killer. I recognise that you have had to do some unpleasant things in the past; you had few choices, but a killer? A murderer? No. When I look at you I do not see that in your eyes, I don’t think you could pick up that weapon and shoot me in cold blood any more than I could have shot you.” Jon let his voice fade away quietly and remained still, waiting to see what her reaction was, if he had misjudged her…
With a last uncomprehending look at the weapon in her hand, Miranda delicately put it back on the table and pushed it a short distance away. A clear indication that she wanted nothing to do with it. Purposefully avoiding his gaze, she once again stared out of the window, recognising a faint object docked to the station, remembering her earlier question she asked. “Tell me about your ship.”
Recognising the change in topic for what it was, Jon relaxed slightly, leaning back in his chair he replied. “The Eternal Light? She is my life… or probably better to say that she is all that remains of my old life.”
“You were in the Imperial Navy?” Miranda inquired. “Paul told me that you stole the ship, was that true?” A part of her desperately wanted to believe that what Paul told her was the truth, to be able to relate to another person, to understand that somewhere else, someone who had achieved so much more than her, had once been in the same situation, with few choices, none good.
“Stole the Eternal Light?” Jon replied with a grin. Miranda’s heart sank. “I would describe it more as a loan, but they sure wanted her back, they sent seven squadrons, over eighty fighters, the full fighter complement of an Imperial Task Force to ensure that we returned, or at the very least, ensure that we could not escape.”
“How did you manage to escape?” Miranda asked in disbelief. While she had never seen an Imperial task force in actual life - such a fleet would never be dispatched to a fringe system in the Confederation - she had seen a holovideo of one as a child and had been in awe.
“My squadron managed to hold them off long enough for the Eternal Light and me to escape into FTL,” Jon replied lost deep in the past. “It was a suicide mission, as they were each out gunned many times over, but they managed to hold off the other fighters long enough for the Eternal Light to escape the planetary gravity well and make it into FTL,” Jon explained, pride in his voice. Clouded with the sadness of the loss of so many friends and colleagues. However, Jon knew that if the situation had been reversed, if he had been flying as he would normally have, as leader of the squadron, he would have done nothing different and died proud knowing that his death brought enough time for the Eternal Light to have escaped.
“I did not realise that you were a pilot in the Imperial Navy,” Miranda replied. Subdued at the story that Jon had recited, of so many pilots sacrificing their lives so the man across from her could be here today.
“I resigned my commission soon after…” Jon replied, still lost in the past. “The Imperial Navy was disbanded soon after the announcement of the supposed death of Emperor Aurelius and the establishment of the Confederation. I had few ties and little regard for the Confederation hence decided to go into business for myself,” Jon waved at the office around them. “This used to be an old Imperial Navy repair & resupply station; it was mothballed by the Confederation and was transferred to me upon my request, as thanks for service rendered.”
Miranda almost choked at that, what could this man possibly have done to be given an entire space station as thanks for ‘service rendered’? Miranda could not even contemplate the worth of such a facility, easily running into the hundreds of millions of credits. Suddenly something Jon said leapt out at her. “What do you mean the announc
ement of the supposed death of the Emperor?” Jon considered the young woman in front of him thoughtfully for a few minutes; he had never given voice to these thoughts before, not even to Paul who he considered almost family.
“Emperor Aurelius, Marcus...” it had been many years since he had referred to him by his first name and it felt foreign to his tongue. “He knew that something was coming, he confided in me only a short while before the announcement of his death and the start of the Separatist Civil War. I cannot believe that he did not have some plan or strategy already in place. He had secrets that even I was not privy to. There was never any body produced. I cannot believe he is dead until I see his body with my own eyes.”
Miranda meanwhile was spellbound, feeling like the character from her favourite children’s book ‘Alice in Wonderland’, she was beginning to understand how Alice must have felt after falling down the rabbit hole. She had managed to read some books and a few holovideos that had described the Imperium before the death of the Emperor along with his beautiful daughter. Miranda had thought the whole thing like some beautiful fairy-tale and as a young girl had run around the stations pretending that she was an Imperial Princess. Here was a man, however, sitting across the table from her, who was there! Describing events, which he had been part of.
“You knew the Emperor?” Miranda asked breathlessly.
Jon could only nod his head in confirmation, while Miranda was just rendered speechless. Wrenching his thoughts back to the present and trying to get the conversation back on track Jon stated, “Anyway, as I do not think you pose a threat to any of my crew or this station,” Jon motioned towards the gun that was still resting on his desk, “the problem still stands, what to do with you. As I do not have the resources to guard you in the brig or confine you to your quarters, I have decided to put you to work.”
Miranda tensed upon hearing this, with visions of hard labour or cleaning washrooms leaping to mind.