Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy)

by Mike Smith

  He had already glanced at the menu, detailing the dozen or so courses that were shortly to be served, and had to resist the temptation to tear it to shreds. If anything the Senate excesses had grown over the years. He had to spend ten minutes alone, breathing in the fresh air on the balcony, before he could get his temper back under control. He repeatedly reminded himself that this was Sofia’s decision and he had promised to support whatever she decided. However, the desire to walk back into the ballroom and take back the authority they had squandered was so strong he could almost taste it. Somebody had to start forcing them to rule the Confederation for the average citizen and not just for those contained in this room.

  Taking full advantage of the free champagne, it was not until he had downed two glasses of the cold liquid that he stopped shaking with anger sufficiently to go back inside. On his way in he collected another glass for him and his date.

  Jon had no trouble locating Sarah, as the amethyst evening dress she wore stood out easily in the crowd. However, it was the deeply irritating laugh from a senator, who was easily twice her age and at least three times her weight, that drew his angry gaze. The Senator was standing far too close and his eyes were fixed more at chest height than on her face. From the pained expression on her face and the way her eyes lit up at his approach, Sarah was more than happy to be rescued. For a moment Jon considered abandoning her, especially in light of her own recent actions. In the end his own personal sense of honour would not allow it and he casually bumped into her companion, accidently spilling the contents of one champagne glass down his tuxedo, which probably cost more than an average family earned in a year.

  “Whoops. Pardon me,” Jon uttered unsympathetically.

  The Senator, furious with indignation, was about to let loose a torrent of abuse when he looked up into the Commander’s face. The scowl was enough for the Senator to quickly lose most of his ire and made a quick excuse to depart.

  “Your champagne, my lady.” Jon offered Sarah the remaining full glass. “I apologise for my prolonged absence, as I suddenly felt myself in need of some fresh air. I find the atmosphere in here quite stuffy.”

  Sarah laughed honestly at the explanation, not the overly forced laugh that she had been using earlier with the Senator. “What about you? You seem to have already finished your glass, although it was for a good cause.”

  “I’ve already had two, which I think is my limit for the evening. Any more than that and I might not be held responsible for my actions,” Jon growled, with obvious disdain for the crowd that had now started making its way towards the dining area.

  “I’m sorry,” Sarah commented honestly, taking his arm as they followed the crowd. “I know enough about your history to know how uncomfortable being here must be for you.”

  Jon stopped, looking at her quizzically. “I was not aware that my history was public record.”

  Sarah looked embarrassed for a moment, before replying. “My uncle spoke about you often.”

  “Not all bad, I hope?”

  Sarah shook her head in response to his question, choosing her next words carefully. “He said that you were one of the few people he ever respected. He told me that you always chose the right path, no matter how difficult it might be. I don’t understand, what did he mean by that?”

  Jon just shook his head in surprise, before replying. “It often feels that there is never a right decision. You just end up choosing the least worst option.”

  “Well thank you for coming anyway, even if I did not request it. Uncle Albert can be so overbearing sometimes.”

  “Perhaps it is just his way of showing that he cares,” Jon replied carefully. “Your uncle has lost much in life. I guess that he has a right to be a little overprotective of what little family he has left. As for being here, I hardly feel that it is a burden. After all I rarely get to attend a party, especially with the most beautiful woman in the room.” Jon added sincerely.

  The comment obviously surprised Sarah, as she stopped on the threshold of the dining area, looking at him in surprise, taken aback at the sincerity in his voice. “Jon, can I ask you a personal question? I asked my uncle but it was the one question that he refused to answer.”

  “You can ask, I cannot promise to answer it,” he replied honestly.

  “Why are you so lonely? It does show, you know, although you hide it well.”

  Jon looked around the now almost empty ballroom, with the deserted dance floor and most of the servers having long since departed, along with their guests, to the dining area. “I’m alone because I want to be,” he finally said. “I do not deserve happiness, because I have never offered any, only pain and heartache. Too many people have suffered because of me and my mistakes.”

  “You need to forgive yourself, one day,” Sarah commented sadly.

  “Maybe,” Jon replied, motioning her ahead of him. “But not today.”

  *****

  They eventually found their allocated seats and Jon was relieved to see that they were not the last to arrive, as two seats still remained vacant. He distinctly disliked being the focus of attention, in the current situation even more than usual, as he was forced to lie repeatedly about their relationship. Speculation around the table quickly shifted instead to the final missing pair and the reason for their tardiness.

  Jon did not feel it appropriate to opine that he expected the reason was that a much older Senator was probably better enjoying his time with his much younger partner in the bedroom than he would attending this unending torture of a party.

  His contemplation about the event was interrupted when he felt movement behind him and their fellow guests at the table hurriedly got to their feet, greeting the latecomers. He slowly stood up and turned round to face the pair behind him. He glanced over to the Senator, who matched his earlier expectations; late forties, an overly expanding waistline, pale blotchy skin and a receding hairline. Not unexpectedly the Senator had his arm slung casually around a far younger woman.

  Jon took his time to peruse the woman with interest. Her sexy scarlet evening dress revealed her shoulders and dipped just low enough to hint at what might be waiting underneath. The fabric creased and stretched, hugging her narrow waist, only to flare out in a skirt that barely reached her thighs. He continued on to look at the pair of strapless, wraparound high heels that accentuated the strength and shape of her calves.

  A frown touched Jon’s lips, as a strange feeling of familiarity began to wash over him. He looked up quickly until his gaze reached her face and he forgot to breathe. For he found himself staring into a stunning pair of emerald-green eyes, neatly framed by a flaming mass of auburn hair that had been carefully put up, with just a curl framing one cheek. He felt the desire that he had pent up inside of himself unfurl like a slumbering dragon. Heat exploded within him as he gazed upon Sofia, like a dying man who had just been offered salvation. The feeling lasted a fraction of a second, before his thoughts came crashing down around him and his eyes looked down at the arm circling her waist.

  Suddenly remembering his earlier thoughts about the reason for the couple’s late arrival, he suddenly found something uncomfortable take up residence in the pit of his stomach. Without thinking, he found himself taking a step towards the Senator, fully intent on tearing his arm from around her waist, before he caught himself. Using every inch of self-control he had learned over almost a decade in the fleet, he instead forced a pleasant expression on his face. He nodded politely at the Senator, before ignoring him and turned to face Sofia.

  “Princess Aurelius,” he bowed politely in greeting.

  “Senator Aurelius,” she corrected him haughtily.

  Jon’s eyes widened in shock, looking upon the couple in a new light, as he had just assumed she was the Senator’s partner for the evening. Jon let his heart beat once again, but only to have it shattered by her next question.

  “Perhaps you would like to introduce me to your date for the evening?” Sofia asked, her eyes staring daggers passed him.
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  Jon had completely forgotten about Sarah, standing at his side, her arm possessively wrapped around his own. She had not released him since he had rescued her from the lecherous Senator earlier.

  Staring in horror at Sarah’s curious expression, as her gaze switched between the two of them, remembering his earlier horrific betrayal of Sofia’s trust, he wondered how he was ever going to explain this away.

  Chapter Eight

  Present Day,

  Altair V, Altair System

  Sunrise on Altair was still some time off when the first of the trucks rounded the bend in the road and came to a shuddering halt a hundred metres from the dark, wrought iron gates. Due to the unusual tilt of Altair, sunrise occurred extremely early, at almost four in the morning local time, so the air was extremely cold as the troops quickly disembarked from the back of the first truck. The second truck came to a halt a few metres behind the first and also started disgorging men.

  They were already running hours behind schedule, because, on arriving at the small spaceport at the edge of Carrington City, there had been no air transport available. To get around the city, old trucks, which were powered by internal combustion engines, were used. The cost of spare parts and repairs made any other form of transport prohibitively expensive, so all they had managed to obtain were two flatbed-trucks and two jeeps to carry themselves and all of their equipment.

  Once they had disembarked, they gathered around in a small huddle, more to conserve body heat than any real desire for close company. All wore black tactical armour, which was designed to protect the owner from the fatal effects of energy weapons rather than to keep them warm. While the pulse rifle that each clutched firmly in his arms could potentially be used for warmth, it was far more effective at inflicting death and destruction, which they recognised they would be carrying out soon. They were all keen to complete their mission quickly, so as to get back into the warmth of their vehicles.

  “You’ve all been briefed prior to our arrival on this God-forsaken shithole. Remember, the objective is to take the family alive. None of you mercs are going to see a single credit if you cap one of ’em, so watch your fire. I, for one, fully intend on getting paid for this job, so you cap one of ’em, and I’m gonna cap you. Capiche?” The Sergeant ground out the no-nonsense type of pre-mission briefing that had served him well in the past.

  “What about any resistance Sarge?” One of the shadowy mercenaries asked. “Are we allowed to cap them?”

  “I don’t give a flying shit what happens to their hired guns. The boss reported it was possible there might be a couple. Just don’t go and cap the fucking family. Got it?”

  At affirmative nods from the group, the Sergeant turned off the small light he had been using to illuminate his map and motioned with his hands towards the gates. “Then move out and let’s hurry the hell up. My ass is freezing!”

  *****

  The emergency signal had Captain Stefan Frasier awaking immediately. Over his many years in Special Forces he had come to realise that people fell into two broad categories, those who could wake instantly and those who could not. A veteran of dozens of such operations, spanning almost a decade in the Imperial Navy, ensured that he definitely fell in the former category.

  His distinguished career, however, had come to a jarring halt when the newly formed Confederation had started a rapid downsizing programme of the navy, which resulted in him, and many others like him, losing their jobs. Faced with the prospect of having to learn a new trade, god forbid accounting, he had leapt at the offer from Captain Harrington to lead this security detail.

  That had been almost five years ago.

  Since then he had fallen into a regular routine. The pay was good, the accommodation was comfortable and the food was fantastic—the Radec matriarch was a savant in the kitchen. Although Stefan never forgot the promise, made years earlier, to their son that he would keep his family safe. It was for this reason that he was wide awake, rolling out of bed and striding across to the communications console, only seconds after receiving the first call.

  “Report,” he insisted, slapping the palm of his hand on the key to transmit his response.

  “Captain, I’ve got four vehicles pulling up at the main gate. I am counting at least two dozen people disembarking,” came back the succinct report.

  “Some lost maintenance team?” he voiced out loud, giving them the benefit of the doubt.

  “Not unless it’s a particularly stubborn repair job, Captain. As I am observing many long and short barrelled weapons and tactical armour. I don’t think they are here to help Mrs Radec kill the bugs in her garden,” the marine quipped, staring through the scope of his rifle. It clearly illuminated the scene unfolding almost a hundred metres away, making the darkness no problem at all.

  While he could clearly watch the troops disembarking, they would not be able to see him as he was stretched out under a darkened net, which also absorbed all of his thermal energy. Thus he was invisible to any thermal scopes that they might have, and experienced the pleasant side effect of being kept nicely warm in the freezing night air. He was perched high up on a deck that extended for several metres out from the side of the large residence. Not noticeable from a distance were the addition of several large, load-bearing struts underneath the deck, which were more than necessary to accommodate the weight of a family and guests on sun loungers, but possibly strong enough to hold the weight of a shuttle. Such a landing would be difficult, especially without any illumination, hence the dozens of bright spotlights situated around the deck, which could be easily activated with the flick of a switch. The only question was the whereabouts of such a shuttle, which was Captain Frasier’s very next question.

  “Shit. Have you already contacted the spaceport? Tell them to get the bird in the air. Now.”

  The marine sighed, wondering why today he had to be the bearer of bad tidings. “Negative Captain, all external communications are down.”

  “What do you mean all external communications are down? Have you tried the Tachyon relay?”

  “I’ve tried it three times Captain, all external communications are down, except for our short range tactical communications. I cannot establish a connection with the relay; there is no carrier signal, data-link, absolutely nothing. It’s like it’s no longer up there.”

  “Damn, rouse the others. I’ll go wake up the family and tell them we have some uninvited guests knocking at the front door.”

  “Better make it quick Captain, as the barbarians are already at the gate and are currently in the process of scaling it,” the sniper reported. Activating the range finder on the rifle, although he already had the distance, ninety-eight point five metres to the main gate, memorised. There was no need to adjust for wind drift, as there wasn’t any tonight, but he had to aim a touch higher, to account for the increased resistance from the cold air. The marine flicked off the safety of the massive rifle, his finger tightening around the trigger.

  *****

  Captain Frasier hurried from the small office that long ago was converted into a small command centre. Rapidly fastening the Velcro strips of his tactical armour, he made his way to the family’s master bedroom. Stepping quietly into the room, he was not surprised to find husband and wife both fast asleep, as it was only four in the morning. Stepping around to the husband’s side, Frasier put on the bedside light and tapped the old man softly on the shoulder. The man came awake instantly, his confused eyes focusing on the Captain before they cleared and he was suddenly alert. Frasier was impressed. Obviously the older Radec also fell into his earlier category for waking quickly.

  “I need you to wake up your family and get them dressed. Quickly please, sir,” Frasier explained swiftly.

  “What’s going on Stefan?” Ryan asked in a quiet whisper, so as not to wake his sleeping wife.

  “There is trouble outside. Please just do what I say, at once.”

  Ryan looked at the Captain in puzzlement for a moment, but upon recognising the s
erious expression on his face, wisely kept any other questions to himself as he leaned over to rouse his wife. He had known the Captain and the rest of his team for many years, as they had already arrived before he and the family had moved into their new home. During those years, he had never seen such an expression on the man’s face. Knowing a little of his background and experiences over late night drinks, Ryan recognised that anything to worry him must be serious indeed.

  Once they had both hurriedly dressed, he sent his wife Irene to the adjacent bedroom to get the boy dressed, while he fumbled around in the dark at the top of his wardrobe.

  It was at that point the first shot rang out.

  *****

  Having quickly scaled the wall surrounding the property, the Sergeant indicated to the rest of the men to move onwards.

  While he never heard the shot, the Sergeant could clearly observe the result of the impact of the bullet as it struck the lead mercenary, just under his chin.

  The bullet was obviously on a parabolic trajectory as it continued onwards, passing through the body and exiting through his back, leaving a three-inch-wide exit wound. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion and complete silence. For a moment the mercenary stood still, before falling backwards due to the force of the impact of the bullet. The Sergeant looked on in astonishment as the body hit the ground, the man’s wide open eyes staring sightlessly back up at him almost accusingly, as if the man blamed the Sergeant for his death.

  The shout of warning was still stuck in his throat, as another mercenary standing next to the first was struck in a similar manner. However, by then, the rest of the group was already moving, heedless of his warning, diving in all directions, desperately looking for cover. Unfortunately there wasn’t any, only about one hundred metres of open ground from the front gate to the entrance of the house.