“Rebecca,” she responded, looking him in the eyes. She paused for a moment, debating how much to tell him. “You are probably wondering why I’m sitting here crying, aren’t you?” she asked, again with that direct look. He nodded.
“My father was serving on Dauntless, the Emperor’s flagship when it disappeared and I don’t know what’s happened to him. I needed to get away from everything and this seemed the natural place to come for a bit of privacy.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to have intruded.” Embarrassed for her and not wishing to intrude, despite the rain Francis made to turn and leave.
“No, don’t go. It’s raining heavily now and you’ll get soaked to the skin,” Rebecca told him before he could move off. “I can’t be responsible for a hero getting wet and catching a cold now, can I? Sit down over here and tell me all about what happened yesterday and how you saved the Empress. You seem like a nice person and Willow likes you.”
At the sound of his name, Willow lifted his head and looked up at her for a moment, then went back to watching Francis through half-closed eyes.
Francis hesitated, then moved over to sit next to Rebecca. The wry smile on her face as she spoke had warmed something inside him, dismissing for an instant the discomfort of his belly and shoulder.
Before sitting down, he returned her smile. “The truth is, Rebecca, I don’t remember too much of what happened and most of what I know has already been reported on the news.” He sat down next to her on the long, padded bench seat that ran around this part of the Pavilion.
Willow moved slightly, dropping his head into Francis’s lap, waiting for a pat or, better yet, his ears fondled.
Rebecca laughed gently. “Don’t mind him, Francis, he just wants a little attention, that’s all. He obviously likes you, which is a good sign.”
Stroking the dog’s head with his left hand, Francis began going over what had happened, trying not to embellish his part, yet at the same time keen not to underplay his involvement in the story, for he wanted to impress her. Now that the ice had been broken, he felt himself begin to relax, which came across as he spoke.
Rebecca listened intently, glad to have something to take her mind off of what might have happened to her father. Her mother having died on active service in the Marines last year, Rebecca was dreading receiving the same notification of death that her father had received. Until such a notice arrived there was always some hope, but the fact that news of the loss of the Emperor’s task force with all hands had been broken by Duke Frederick himself was not a good sign, especially as he then went on to announce he was stepping in to take control of the Empire until such time as the Council of Dukes next met. That statement had met by everyone with disbelief and shock, especially as the Empress herself had later recorded a message refuting the Duke and implicating him as a possible suspect in the Emperor’s disappearance. Unsurprisingly, the news channels were in an uproar, with all the usual pundits and so-called experts having differing opinions of what it all meant.
Despite listening intently as Francis told his story, Rebecca couldn’t help noticing how beautiful his green-brown eyes were. His face, tanned a golden brown from years working outdoors, was perfectly framed by his sun-bleached brown hair and for a few moments, she almost forgot to listen to what he was saying. Surprised at her reaction, she looked away, down at his hands, only to find herself thinking they too were attractively shaped and strong.
After Francis finished recounting what had happened, they sat quietly for a few moments, listening to the sound of the rain as it hammered down hard on the roof of the pavilion, bouncing off the unprotected handrails and causing the temperature to drop several degrees. Noticing Rebecca wasn’t really dressed properly for the current weather, he offered his cloak to wrap around her. Instead of taking it she moved closer to him and indicated he should wrap it around them both. He did so, fearful of saying something in case he did his usual trick of spoiling the moment. Despite this hesitation, Francis felt the need to say something, so was the first to break the silence.
“Rebecca, I have a confession to make. This wasn’t a chance meeting. I’d seen you walking Willow through the gardens quite a few times before and wanted to introduce myself, but didn’t know how. I had hoped to see you again today.”
Rebecca stopped looking out across the lake and lifted her head to get a good look at his face. She gave him a sad, yet hopeful smile.
“Well, isn’t that a surprise, Francis. As we seem to be telling each other everything, there is something you need to know too. I’ve seen you looking at me and had hoped you might come over and say hello, but you never did. Are you pleased we finally started talking?” Her smile broadened a little.
Suddenly, his awkwardness returned and Francis didn’t know how to respond, so he impulsively put his right arm over her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Does this answer your question, Rebecca?” he asked quietly.
She rested her head on his shoulder, not just because she was glad of the warmth from his rapidly healing body, but for the companionship she so desperately needed right now. She had felt alone and vulnerable, and this seemingly gentle and brave man made her feel safer, even if it might be only for a few hours. They sat in silence, listening to the rain and watching the horizon, both wondering the same thing; with all the current uncertainties, what would the future hold for either of them?
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
Scene 3, Dauntless, System DU-499
Alexander was sitting alone in his remaining personal yacht, a small ship not designed for long journeys, currently docked in the far corner of the main hanger bay of his flagship, INS Dauntless. His other yacht, a larger and much faster ship, had been badly damaged in the previous day’s ambush and was probably only fit for scrapping, especially as all available resources were currently being diverted to repairing the remaining ships of his much-diminished task-force. During the battle, when his living quarters were severely damaged by the enemy, he had been on the Bridge with Admiral Frith. However, this yacht made a good, if cramped, base from which to work and helped him retain a little privacy, for the flagship was rapidly filling up with wounded and survivors from the damaged and lost ships of his task force. With all the strain on finding places for them to stay, Alexander didn’t feel right about bumping someone out of their quarters just so he could have a room or two of his own.
Ever since the new enemy fleet had made itself known, the thought of how to escape the trap they found themselves in had been constantly running through his mind, like a recording on a loop, making sleep fitful at best. Finally, at three o’clock in the morning, ship’s time, he’d given up trying to sleep and with just two bodyguards had walked through the corridors of his flagship, talking to and encouraging everyone he met that could spare any time from their repair duties and preparations for the upcoming final battle. With few exceptions, everyone he’d spoken with had indicated that they knew he and Admiral Frith would come up with a way to get out of their current predicament and it galled him to know neither of them was actually in a position to do so.
His tour completed and still no closer to sleep, Alexander ended his walk back at the hanger he’d left two hours earlier. A quick shower and change of clothes in the shuttle’s restroom briefly perked him up a little, but the black mood quickly descended again when Vimes updated him on how preparations for the battle were progressing.
“Once the enemy attacks, at best we can hold out for an hour, but only if we are prepared to let the remaining battleships and carrier sacrifice themselves first, but once they are gone even Dauntless cannot survive for longer than another half an hour,” Vimes told him. “The destabilised Jump Point won't re-establish itself until twenty hours after our latest survival time.”
“Any good news?” Alexander automatically asked him out loud, despite already knowing the answer.
“It least it will be quick,” came the immediate reply in his mind, and Alexander thought he could detect a flash of bl
ack humour in the emotional content of the response. Being linked to Vimes at a genetic level meant they were both very much in tune with each other. “I can report that the AI’s from the damaged ships have been copied and transferred over to Dauntless’s secure data storage and can be uploaded onto new ships if we manage to get away.”
For the hundredth time and without any conscious thought, Alexander again went over the previous day’s events in his mind. His small task-force had been ambushed and almost completely destroyed by a large fleet of unknown origin. If not for the innovative quick-thinking of his Admiral, Janice Frith, in all probability he would now be either dead or captured by whoever had been behind the attack. Although he had no proof that would stand up in an Imperial Court, he suspected Duke Frederick was somehow involved and he had been lured into a well-planned trap.
To make matters worse, another enemy fleet was now only a day away from his battered force, which, as Vimes had just indicated, was incapable of doing anything other than putting up token resistance and delay the inevitable. Despite their best efforts, neither his Science Officers nor Vimes searching of classified research records on Jump technology had come up with anything that would allow them to re-stabilise the Jump Point before the enemy arrived and began their attack. The best estimates of his Science Officers still showed the Jump Point wouldn’t be usable for another forty-eight hours, a full day after the enemy had reached and engaged with them.
It wasn’t this, however, that was the main reason for his frustration and anxiety. Rather, it was caused by the knowledge he could escape the trap at any time by using the yacht he was currently sitting in and his inability to communicate with Christine to let her know he was alive. His yacht, fitted with the ultra-secret Jump Engine that allowed him to Jump from anywhere instead of only from fixed points, remained unaffected by the destabilised Jump Point and could take him safely away to anywhere in the Empire. To do so, however, would not only potentially reveal its secret to the enemy but also mean leaving everyone in his task-force to meet the enemy without him, effectively deserting them when they needed him most. His personal code of honour rebelled against leaving anyone behind but directly conflicted with his duty to the Empire, which demanded he use every means at his disposal to escape and put down the rebellion. Neither option sat well on his shoulders and he desperately tried to find a third one.
Alexander checked with Vimes to see what Admiral Frith was currently doing and if she had managed to get any sleep herself. As expected, she was currently overseeing the task-forces feverish attempts at repair and consolidation, having been at her post all through the night. INS Rodney, one of the two severely damaged battleships, had already been almost completely stripped of her munitions and some armour, which had been transferred to her sister ship, INS Renown, leaving her with just beam weapons. What remained of the carrier INS Glorious was currently being absorbed into the flagship Dauntless, currently moored alongside her to facilitate the transfer of smart-metal and the personnel who remained from the earlier battle. Captain Cooke and her Bridge crew had been found positions on Dauntless, with Cooke invited to join Frith’s personal staff at the Admiral’s insistence.
He sighed yet again, the question of what to do nagging at him, not unlike the hole left by a newly removed tooth, coming back to frustrate him whenever he’d managed to distract himself with other business for a few minutes. Vimes interrupted this well-worn train of thought with a suggestion.
“Alexander, Master Sergeants Lynch and Lambert are currently free. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind working off some frustrations of their own. Training hall four is available. If you would like me to reserve it…?”
Alexander laughed, the first time for a while.
“OK, make the arrangements. I’m getting nowhere and a vigorous workout might be just what I need to clear my mind and work off some anger and frustration. Good idea.” He got up and walked over to the exit, looking forward to the upcoming distraction with mixed feelings, wondering what new moves the two veteran Marines might have in store for him.
By the time the two Master Sergeants, dressed in light training fatigues, arrived at the vast training hall, Alexander was already there and warming up with twin, heavy practice swords. Wearing no armour, just a simple, plain white vest and black trunks, he swung the swords in an intricate dance around his body, weaving a seamless pattern as he tried to clear his mind of everything except the practice Kata. Without the support from his usual armoured suit, the overly-heavy practice blades were already beginning to build lactic acid in his muscles, despite their enhanced abilities to dissipate it and he could feel the familiar burning begin to grow in his biceps and across his broad chest. Sweat ran down from his head onto his face, but he ignored the salty burn when some went into his left eye, his full attention focused on the moment and the drill.
The two Sergeants waited patiently for him to finish the Kata, already looking for any weaknesses in his fighting technique they could exploit. Lynch turned to his left and smiled a lopsided grin at Lambert, for they both had guessed the reason why their presence had been requested. One of their important, but informal duties was to help out whenever something or someone had annoyed the Emperor and he needed to let off steam. It had been recognised many, many years before that infinite power required the exercise of infinite control. An angry or frustrated ruler was apt to make poor decisions and lack impartiality, so Alexander made sure he could work off his anger in a safe and contained environment. In normal circumstances, either of the two men were able to hold their own in a straight fight with him, but asking them both to come down at the same time gave a strong hint he wanted a severe workout. This obviously wasn’t the first time either of them had trained with Alexander, and both were very proud of the regard he showed by trusting them in this way, for very few people ever got the chance to get this close to him, let alone with a weapon and the strong possibility of drawing his blood.
Finishing the final few moves of the Kata and aware of the waiting men, Alexander held the final stance for a few seconds, then relaxed, calling out for the two of them to come over.
“Gentlemen, thank you for coming. I need something to take my mind off our current predicament and provide some inspiration. Are you two up for the challenge today or are you getting too old?” he asked them, with a smile.
“Do Sergeants shit on wooden thrones, Sire?” responded Lynch with their in-joke, throwing his kitbag over to the wall, joined a few moments later by Lambert's.
“Normal rules apply?” Lambert asked, rhetorically, not really needing a response.
A terse nod from Alexander confirmed and the two men moved towards their Emperor, splitting apart as they closed, both relieved to see him throw the two swords off the practice floor and to one side. Each of the three men popped a smart-metal tablet into their mouths, which instantly formed into a custom mouthguard to protect their teeth. Although not strictly necessary, it avoided the need to wait several weeks for a new tooth to grow and erupt should one be lost in the fighting.
Breathing a little harder than normal because of his earlier Kata, Alexander crouched fractionally lower as he flexed his knees, a part of his mind wondering if this was such a good idea after all as he watched the grins on his opponents faces widen as they closed with him. He moved slowly backwards, trying to keep an eye on both of them, before reversing direction and swiftly closing the distance between himself and Lynch, forcing combat. He could sense, rather than hear, Lambert coming at him from behind and at the last moment he dropped down and rolled away to the left, using his forward momentum to spring up and turn. The two Sergeants barely avoided colliding with each other and had just begun to turn, when Alexander crashed into them at full speed, a left forearm striking upwards along the side of Lynch’s jawline, stunning the thick-necked Sergeant for a few moments. Lambert’s left knee slammed into Alexander's right thigh, causing him to drop down slightly as he lost all sense of feeling in the leg, which was instantly followed by an open
-handed blow to the back of his skull that felt as though he’d been slammed backwards into a wall. Stunned by the blow, Alexander relied on instinct and muscle memory to blindly swing his right elbow backwards, the point luckily hitting Lambert’s right temple a glancing blow.
All three staggered apart, each fighting to clear their heads. Lynch recovered first, his heavily muscled neck having absorbed some of the blow’s power. Feinting confusion, he staggered towards Alexander with his arms in front, making a slight V-shape at the elbows with his palms extended. Not fooled, Alexander sensed, rather than saw, the snap-kick coming in, aimed just above his groin at a point where his bladder would have been if he hadn’t swivelled on his good left leg, causing the kick to miss and flash past his right knee instead. Knowing Lynch would be momentarily off balance until his leg was back on the ground, Alexander countered with an upwards strike with the side of his right fist, hoping to strike Lynch’s nose. Unexpectedly, Lynch had used his forward momentum to turn and spin, taking Alexander with his left guard down a fraction too much and unable to stop the elbow that suddenly came into his vision at the same time as lights came on in his head, followed an instant later by them all being turned off…
An hour later, all three men were in the small infirmary adjoining the practice hall, conveniently placed to deal with minor to moderate injuries. In addition to sundry bruises and grazed skin, Alexanders badly split lip, courtesy of an earlier wicked feint and unexpected counter from Sergeant Lynch, had stopped bleeding and in an hour would be almost healed, thanks to the medical nanites and Vimes having accelerated his metabolism for a short period to speed up the healing process. Alexander’s left arm was currently supported in a spider-web lattice sling and he was being lectured by a Doctor on the wisdom of sparring with a damaged arm that hadn’t completely healed, the injury courtesy of the previous day’s boarding action onboard the Carrier. Other than the damaged elbow, both of the Sergeants sported similar injuries to Alexander, testament to the ferocious, no-holds-barred nature of their fight. Fortunately, in a few hours, all their tenderness would have faded, along with most of the bruises. Lambert was sporting a spectacular black eye and Lynch was wincing as his half torn off ear was being repaired.
Imperium: Revelation: Book Two in the Imperium Trilogy Page 2