The Last Praetorian
Chapter Fifteen

Five Years Previously

Memphis Station, Procyon System

The Eternal Light dropped out of FTL in front of…nothing. Sofia looked out of the cockpit viewport confused. There was nothing outside the ship, no planets, no stations, no ships, only the endless night of interstellar space, surrounded by a hundred million brightly shining stars.

Jon meanwhile was tapping his finger incessantly on the ships console, eyebrows furrowed, obviously deep in thought.

“A problem?” Sofia asked nervously. The last thing she wanted was to spend the rest of eternity floating through deep space with a pair of malfunctioning engines and a brooding companion as her only company. Jon had been unusually quiet ever since their departure from Altair. Or at least quieter, as Jon was always a man of few words, believing that actions spoke louder. Sofia was determined to get to the root of the problem before they arrived.

“Not really, more trying to decide upon a course of action,” Jon explained, after a moment’s thought. “That is Eden ahead,” Jon pointed to one of the brightest stars almost directly ahead. “It’s barely two-point-five light-years away. A few more hours in FTL and we will arrive,” he added, biting his lip.

“And that is not a good thing?”

“Perhaps, it all depends on who, or what, is waiting for us?”

“You are still worrying about Harkov?” Sofia deduced.

“I’m worrying who else Harkov could be working with. If he has decided to take this course of action alone, then there is no problem. However, for all I know this could be a fleet wide coup d’état.”

“So we could be flying directly into a trap?”

“Perhaps.”

“But surely you must know people in the fleet based at Eden Prime. People you could trust?”

“I do, but I have no way of contacting them securely without the risk the message would be monitored. All fleet communications go via the Tachyon relay stations, heavily encrypted of course, but the transmission could be tracked back to our nearest relay, giving away our position. Worse, depending on who else in the fleet could be involved, the encryption could have been compromised.”

“What other option do we have?” Sofia asked rhetorically. “We cannot stay here forever.” Although if truth be told, the idea was not so repellent to Sofia. When they arrived at Eden Prime, Sofia knew she would have difficult choices to make, decisions that would affect the lives of millions, maybe billions, of people. Out here, however, those decisions seemed a long way away, and Sofia could think of worse things than to spend time, alone, safe on a ship with a man she realised she had deep, strong feelings for. If their last kiss was any indication, those feelings were reciprocated by Jon. “I’m sorry what did you say?” Sofia apologised, so lost in contemplation she did not catch Jon’s reply.

Bringing up the navigation computer’s star-map of the surrounding space, Jon highlighted one destination the computer had labelled as Memphis. “The Eden system is surrounded by a number of massive arcologies, entire floating cities in space. I know somebody on this one, somebody who is well informed about the military and political situation in the Eden system—somebody we can trust.”

“Sounds good, so what’s the problem?”

“The problem, as you so eloquently put it, is that if I can think of this so can Harkov, he will probably have informants on the station, probably also mercenaries and bounty hunters looking for us.”

“You mean like on Transcendence?” Sofia asked softly, looking away. She still had nightmares about the attack, although the worst of them seemed to be kept at bay by Jon’s constant reassuring presence.

“Like on Transcendence,” Jon agreed solemnly.

“Then we do it,” Sofia replied firmly. “Better the devil we know. We have no idea what could be waiting for us on Eden Prime.” As she spent more time with Jon, Sofia had come to realise fear could be a person’s own worst enemy, paralysing, introducing paranoia, self-doubt and second-guessing everything and everyone. With Jon’s help Sofia promised herself she would get over her own fears and doubts, to try and be the person Jon seemed to think she was, a better, stronger, more self-confident person; the daughter of the Emperor.

Jon looked at Sofia for a moment, surprised, and then nodded his head in approval, as if he saw something new in her, something he approved of. “Then next stop Memphis,” he added before giving her a sly smile. “This time I do not plan to let you out of my sight for a single instant. You seem to be a magnet for trouble whenever I am not around.”

“Me?” Sofia replied with a laugh. “What about you? All I asked for is a dinner and some dancing, and you start a brawl in the middle of the club. Anyway, if you plan on watching me all the time, where are you going to sleep?” she asked playfully.

“With you,” Jon shot back, with a heated gaze. “I’m not letting you out of my sight for a moment.”

The tight knot of fear and worry that had settled in Sofia’s stomach when she agreed they change course to Memphis abruptly vanished. Suddenly she was looking forward to this excursion.

In some ways Memphis reminded Sofia of Transcendence. It seemed that the core hub, with multiple surrounding docking spokes was a universal design. However, that was where the similarity ended. Sofia could just not wrap her head around the sheer size of the station. Dozens and dozens of hubs seemed to exist, and the various docking spokes seemed to have become so intermeshed Sofia could not see where one started and the other ended. Jon’s description that it was an entire city floating in space was fairly accurate. This point was reinforced when docking control informed them all the public bays were currently occupied and if they wished to avoid a wait they would need to pay a fee for one of the private bays. Playing the part of an independent trader, Jon enquired about the docking fees for a private bay. Jon did not need to fake the shock and indignation in his voice when he refused the offer after being told how much they cost.

“I could afford a brand new ship for that much,” Jon told Sofia indignantly after shutting off the channel.

Sofia had to smother a laugh as, once again, Jon’s simple and relatively poor background began to show through. “I would be happy to chip in to help you afford the docking fee if you would like?” she asked with a brilliant smile.

Jon had no doubt that Sofia could afford to purchase most of the station and still have change left over, but he shook his head, politely declining the request. “We need to stay in character anyway. No independent trader would ever use a private berth. We would destroy any profit we would make from the venture before we had even arrived. Only wealthy individuals or company owners ever use those berths, or visiting royalty of course.” Jon snickered. “We will wait, we are hardly in a rush.”

“In that case,” Sofia replied stretching, as she had been in the co-pilot seat for many hours and was very uncomfortable. She noticed Jon’s eyes immediately drawn to her bosom, but he quickly averting his gaze with an endearing blush when he realised she was watching him. Sofia had to suppress the wicked grin she could feel threatening to escape. Deciding now was a good a time as any, especially when she had Jon off balance, she stood up and, leaning back on the flight panel, looked Jon straight in the eyes.

“So, are you going to tell me what has been bothering you since we left Altair?”

“It’s nothing,” Jon replied, averting his gaze from Sofia.

Infuriated, Sofia stamped her foot in frustration. Perhaps it would just be easier to order him to tell her, Sofia mused. Deciding she did not want a relationship like that, she instead settled her hand on his chest and softly beseeched him. “Please Jon, we promised we would keep no more secrets. What is it bothering you? You have been unusually quiet, even for you, ever since you had that private conversation with your parents before we left.”

That conversation bothered Sofia almost as much as Jon’s subsequent silence. For the first time since she could remember, she had felt part of a family. Being excluded from the final goodbyes had hurt her painfully.

Recognising the pain and hurt in her eyes, Jon cursed himself. He had been trying to spare her the worry and instead had just made it worse. “I didn’t want to tell you, as I didn’t want you worrying,” Jon explained softly, cupping her cheek with his hand.

Leaning into his gentle touch Sofia explained. “It worries me more when you are obviously unhappy and won’t tell me what the cause of the problem is.”

“It’s my parents.”

“Ryan? Irene?” Sofia asked confused. “They seemed fine when we left.”

“I am more worried about what will happen to them once we have gone,” Jon explained. “Harkov and his thugs are not going to stop looking for us. When your father elevated me to the Praetorians all records of my past were destroyed. It’s standard practice for us, so that nobody can dig into our past and blackmail us against your father. However, records do exist. Sooner or later Harkov is going to find my parents and then…”

Sofia gasped, as she had never considered the evil Harkov could stoop to. Sofia could not imagine the anguish Jon would have to face in choosing between his family or her, his duty to her father versus the obvious love he had for his family. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

“I have already done it,” Jon replied, looking away ashamed. “The reason I wanted to talk to them in private was so that I could warn them. They have agreed to leave the house. They still have friends, colleagues, in the old neighbourhood. They will stay there for as long as necessary until I can let them know it’s safe.”

Sofia could not prise any more information from Jon or his family about their original home, just that it was a small apartment in one of the more run-down, dangerous areas on Altair. “They will be safe there?” Sofia inquired.

“Yes,” Jon replied firmly. “They still observe the old codes there, blood, loyalty, silence. They will be safe there, protected, and if Harkov sends forces in after them, well,” Jon shrugged. “There will be a dozen more unclaimed bodies that will turn up the next morning. Harkov would need to send an entire division to fight their way in to get them, and he will not spare the forces for that.”

“So what’s the real problem?” Sofia asked perceptively.

“That I spent my life trying to get them out of that hell-hole, now my actions have resulted in them having to go back there. They deserve better,” Jon insisted.

“Then you should never have taken me there.”

“No!” Jon replied vehemently. “It was the only place that I could be absolutely sure was safe, and we needed to get the Eternal Light repaired. Anyway,” Jon replied with an embarrassed smile. “I wanted them to meet you.”

Leaning forward, Sofia easily slipped her arms around his neck, touching forehead to forehead. It was so easy to forget how traditional Jon was, his firm sense of honour and intimate sense of right. Of course Jon would want his parents to meet her. “And I am glad I had the chance to meet them,” Sofia insisted. “Having met them I think I am beginning to understand you a bit better,” she added.

“Really?”

“Really,” Sofia added, leaning an inch closer so their lips could gently touch. Almost immediately Sofia could feel the fire spreading though her body. Kissing Jon was like nothing she had ever experienced before. Meanwhile, Sofia promised herself she would address the problem with Jon’s parents. No matter what happened to her, what decisions she made that might affect the entire Empire, she would not forget that an empire only consisted of its people. Jon was right about one thing, his parents deserved better; Sofia vowed to herself they would get it.

Walking along the grey, featureless, corridor of Memphis Sofia wondered if all these stations had the same interior decorator. Her own apartments on the Imperial Star had been richly decorated with thick carpets, rugs, and pictures. The stark, regular strip lighting of this corridor replaced with subtle shades and chandeliers. Sofia even pointed this out to Jon, who only laughed.

“Not everybody is as rich as your father. Who would pay for all those fixtures here and who would pay to maintain them? No, the rest of the Empire consists of the functional minimum.”

Sofia assumed that insight also extended to her clothes. Not that there was anything wrong with them, the tan coloured blouse, jeans and ankle length boots she wore were almost a spitting image of Jon’s own clothes. While functional, Sofia secretly missed some of her old dresses, bright colours, made from the finest silks of the Empire, tailored by the finest designers in the Empire. It occurred to Sofia that what she probably missed more was Jon’s reaction to her appearing in such clothes. Whenever she appeared, she could see the shock in Jon’s expression, hear his sudden, indrawn breath, followed soon after by his grim expression, his disapproval plain for all to see. However, Sofia would have had to be blind to ignore his blistering gaze following her everywhere. Then again, maybe they were unnecessary after all, as when she appeared from the washroom having changed into these casual clothes, the heated gaze was still present in his eyes when he raked them over her body. This time, however, instead of the disapproval she was used to seeing, his expression turned to a warm smile and he nodded his approval, with a simple “I like it.” Sofia decided she liked this reaction almost as much and decided in the future she would just have to alternate, to keep him guessing.

At least unlike on Transcendence and Altair she was not attracting so many stares. With the casual clothes and her hair in a neat braid reaching her lower back she did not stand out as much. Although Jon’s possessive grasp of her hand as he lead her though the station made it obvious to everybody that she was currently unavailable.

“Where are we going?” she finally inquired, long since totally lost by all the twists and turns of the different corridors.

“We are going to meet my contact on the station,” Jon explained. “We are just taking a more roundabout route as I want to ensure we are not being followed.” Jon was only too aware of how vulnerable the two of them were on this station. At any minute, any turn an ambush could spring it’s trap on the pair. However, the other part of Jon’s nervousness was from having to leave his Valerian sword on the ’Light. It would have completely destroyed the façade they were trying to project of a married pair of young, independent traders. No trader would ever wear such a thing. Instead he had holstered at his side a standard pulse pistol, but Jon still felt naked without his sword. Jon knew it was just superstitious nonsense but he honestly felt the blade protected him. Jon secretly feared that the day he died, the weapon would be out of his reach.

Eventually they came to an unmarked office door, in the middle of the commercial district. Jon pressed the announcer and waited patiently.

“What happens if he or she is not here?” Sofia whispered, self-consciously.

Jon just shrugged. “Albert works longer hours than I do, as far as I know he does not take holidays or any breaks. If he is not here, then I assume it is because he is dead.”

The statement was prophetic as only moments after he had spoken a high pitched, suspicious voice blared out of a small speaker above the announcer button. “Go away! I am not interested in buying anything, or converting to this week’s latest religion.”

With a smirk at Sofia, Jon replied. “Albert let us in, it’s me, Jon and…” Jon looked helplessly at Sofia trying to think of a suitable label, shrugging again he simply added, “A friend.”

The voice from behind the grill was silent for a moment, then the door silently slid open, darkness beckoning from within. Giving Sofia an unladylike shove from behind, he quickly ushered her into the room before stepping inside, the door quickly sliding shut behind them. The lights suddenly illuminated, blinding the both of them. When they could eventually see once again, they both stared at the barrel of the gun pointing at them.

Jon stepped in front of Sofia, worried that Albert could end up shooting her simply because he didn’t recognise her. A healthy amount of paranoia in his job went a long way to avoiding a lengthy jail sentence or a quick execution from a competitor. “Albert it’s me, Jon, put the pistol away.”

The barrel wavered for a moment. Then the owner lowered the weapon onto the table. Sofia was astonished to see that the owner’s head barely came above the table. He was a child. However, on closer observation, the unshaven face, weathered skin, distrustful blue eyes made Sofia realise the man was far older, probably some years older than Jon and that the man was a midget.

“Before you make some insulting comment,” Albert interjected. “I am fully aware that I am shorter in stature than others.” It was obviously a sore topic for him. “I come from Kessler IV, where the gravity is much stronger, hence we don’t grow as tall. However, it has its advantages,” Albert added. He effortlessly lifted the table he was sitting behind into the air with one hand.

“Just ignore Albert,” Jon replied. “He is very self-conscious.”

“As you would be, if everywhere you went, you were followed by sniggers and terrible jokes behind your back,” came the indignant reply.

Taking a few steps forward, Jon reached the short little man and, with apparently little effort, picked him up to enfold him in the most almighty hug. “It’s good to see you again Albert,” he said.

“Put me down, put me down,” Albert squealed, pounding futilely on Jon’s back.

Jon lowered him gently to the floor, and Sofia thought she recognised a softening in the man’s eyes as he glared at Jon.

“For a dead man, you certainly still seem to be very much alive,” Albert chuckled.

“Dead man?”

“The news channels have been broadcasting nothing but unsubstantiated rumours of the Emperor’s death, your death and even yours Princess,” Albert addressed Sofia.

“You know who I am?” Sofia asked, shocked.

“Of course, I know who you are,” Albert sniffed. “I would not be very successful in my job if I did not recognise the Imperial Princess, Sofia Aurelius, daughter of the Emperor.”

“And what exactly is your job?” she asked curiously.

“Albert is an information broker,” Jon explained. “If Albert doesn’t know about it, it’s not worth knowing.”

“And how much would you charge Harkov for our location and our lives?” Sofia demanded scornfully, less than impressed with the man’s chosen profession.

“Everything has a price Princess,” Albert hedged. “However, somethings have a price that nobody could afford, not even with all your families wealth. Everybody looks down on me, just because I am short, but not Jon. He has never treated me any differently than everybody else.”

“I don’t like big people picking on smaller people,” Jon interjected firmly.

Albert looked fondly at Jon, nodding his head in thanks. “Which is why this information is free. You need to get off Memphis immediately. Harkov has spies, and assassins throughout the station. They have even approached me with offers for your location,” the man sniffed disdainfully. “As if I would even contemplate divulging that information for their paltry sums. You need to make it to the Eden system, the Imperial forces there are still loyal to Fleet Admiral Sterling. He was one of your father’s oldest and most trusted admirals, he is still loyal to the Empire and will offer you sanctuary. Harkov’s forces will not be able to reach you there. You will be safe there, but you must go. Now!”

A red light started to chime incessantly on the small console that was embedded into Albert’s desk. “They have found you already!” Albert hissed, touching another control on the panel. A panel on the rear-wall slid open to reveal a previously hidden passage. “In my profession a backdoor is always advisable. It is not on any of the station schematics, it will take you out near the docking port, now GO!”

“Thank you Albert,” Jon uttered sincerely, grabbing Sofia by the hand and pulling her in the direction of the newly revealed exit.

“What about you?” Sofia asked in a concerned voice, remembering the warning that Jon had conveyed about his own parents. It was unlikely that Harkov’s men would treat this little man any better.

“Don’t worry about me,” Albert insisted, pulling an assault rifle that was almost taller than he was from behind his desk. “You look after Jon. There are not enough people left like him in the Empire. Trust me I should know.”

With that Sofia allowed Jon to pull her through the hidden passage, which shut quickly behind them. Sofia could hear a muffled explosion from the other side of the door, followed by Albert’s high-pitched yell, “Just come and try and get me you bastards!” Whatever else was said was quickly drowned out by the booming sound of an assault rifle being fired on full automatic. Sofia, however, had no way to telling if this was Albert’s or Harkov’s men, as Jon continued to pull her along the pitch-black corridor, the sound becoming fainter and fainter as they hurried away.

Suddenly a bright light appeared ahead; as another hidden door slid quietly open. Sofia had no idea if this had been triggered automatically by their approach, or Albert had activated it from his office. Silently Sofia hoped that Albert was safe, as in the short time she had met him she had grown fond of the man.

Stepping out into the sudden piercing brightness of a corridor, Sofia had to blink rapidly to adjust her eyes to the sudden light. Looking around cautiously, Sofia was glad to see that nobody else was in sight. It could be difficult to explain to a stranger how come you just stepped out of a solid wall.

Meanwhile Jon was quickly looking around to re-orientate himself. “Good,” he stated. “We are not far from our docking bay and the ’Light. The sooner we get off this station and to the Eden system the better that I will feel!” Jon pushed Sofia on ahead, urging her to hurry.

For many years later the gunshot that echoed down the corridor would haunt Sofia. Unlike the high-pitched whine of an energy pistol or rifle, this was more a resounding crack, like the first bolt of lightning in a storm. Before the sound even registered with Sofia she went sprawling to the ground as a huge weight slammed into her back. Time seemed to suddenly slow down to a crawl. For an instant she thought that she had been paralysed, as she was unable to move from the neck down. It took a few moments for her thought process to catch up and realise it was not her body that was frozen, but a large weight bearing down on her, pressing her into the corridor floor.

She could barely breathe, let alone move.

A damp wetness started to spread across her blouse, and for a moment she thought that she had fallen in a puddle of water. It was only when she finally managed to get her hand free and bring it up to her face that she realised the awful truth. It was not water, but blood. The rapidly expanding pool of it seemed to spread everywhere. Sofia thought she must have been going into shock, as she could not seem to hear or feel anything, her ears still resounding from the earlier gunshot.

Taking a deep lungful of oxygen, time suddenly sped up as a racking cough sounded from above her. Twisting around Sofia looked into Jon’s eyes, which were glazed over in pain. A froth of blood appeared from between his lips and started to trickle down his cheek. Suddenly Sofia realised the awful truth, the blood was not hers. It was from Jon.

“Jon!” she cried, trying to twist around to get a better view. However, Jon was a dead weight lying across her back, she dared not push him away, worried that it could cause him more harm. However, from the corner or her eye she saw something far more terrifying approaching. The sandy haired man was wearing a crumpled jumpsuit, almost faded through in some patches from constant wear. However, it was not that which drew her attention, but the large rifle he carried in his hands, firmly pointed in their direction.

“I told Franklin there was no point in chasing you across half the station, that sooner or later you would have to return here, but no. He insisted on trying to barge his way inside after your little friend. Well, he took half a dozen shots in the stomach as thanks,” he laughed. “So this is the infamous Commander Radec. I hear you took out Marcel and his entire crew back on Transcendence,” he muttered, with grudging respect. “Lucky I brought Betty here with me,” he stroked the rifle fondly. “I don’t particularly want to end up like Marcel.”

With a prod from his toe he pushed Jon off Sofia, rolling him onto his back so Jon’s eyes stared up sightlessly. Another bout of coughing, and a gurgle of blood caused the sandy haired gunman to step back in surprise. For the first time since his approach a look of doubt replaced his cocky expression. “That’s not possible,” he muttered taking a closer look at Jon. “I hit you with a fragmenting round, most of your chest should be spread across this corridor. No way, man, can you still be drawing breath.”

He moved closer to investigate.

Sofia meanwhile looked around frantically for something that she could use to defend them, but there was nothing. Then she remembered the pistol Jon was carrying. Now he was no longer lying across her she could move. As the assassin’s attention seemed solely focused on Jon, she reached down to Jon’s side, where the pistol was holstered, to find it was missing.

Her movement must have drawn the attention of the sandy haired youth, as he swung his rifle in her direction.

“Now, you don’t go anywhere poppet!” he urged. “I’ve got a nice fat bonus lined up for bringing you in alive. Let me just check on the Commander here, he should have been dead by now…” With that he turned away from Sofia, leaning down to peer closer at Jon.

Something gleamed out of the corner of Sofia’s eye. Turning her head she finally saw the pistol. It was several feet away, obviously having fallen from Jon’s hand when he had been hit. Sofia started to crawl in the direction of the weapon.

“I’ll be with you in just another moment poppet,” the mercenary said, leaning down, peering at the bloody remains of Jon’s shirt and chest. “How come you are still alive?” he murmured, amazed.

Sofia continued crawling on her hands and knees in the direction of the pistol, seven feet, six, five, she desperately reached out trying to get to the weapon in time, but was interrupted by the shout of surprise from behind her.

“Tactical armour! You’re wearing tactical armour? Underneath civvies. Who the hell walks around all day wearing tactical armour? Well I’ll put another round through your skull, let’s see if you can survive that. Hey, what the hell?” he exclaimed, as out of the corner of his eye he saw Sofia reaching for something in the corner. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Sofia made a desperate dive for the pistol as soon as she heard his shout, knowing she only had this one opportunity, otherwise both she and Jon were going to die. Scooping up the weapon she twisted, landing on her back, pointing the pistol in the direction of the sandy haired man, who meanwhile had started to swing his own rife in her direction.

He never made it.

Unbeknownst to Sofia, the pistol was set to its highest setting. As soon as she pressed the firing stud, the bolt discharged from the pistol, hitting the youth squarely in the chest. The worn jumpsuit offered no protection and with a startled cry he collapsed to the floor, his chest a blackened, smoking char. Sofia looked at his body in startled incomprehension for a moment, expecting him to suddenly get up and reach for his weapon once again. However, after he remained motionless a while longer the thought suddenly hit her. She had killed him. For a moment Sofia did not know what to think, did not know how to feel, but a racking cough from Jon drew her attention back to him.

Jon! He was badly hurt!

Slipping and sliding to his side, Sofia looked at his chest, and then quickly looked away. His shirt was mangled, what remained was a bloody mess. Sofia could not tell where the shirt ended and torn flesh commenced.

“Sofia!” His voice whispered hoarsely, blood covering his mouth. “You must go. Take the ’Light she will respond to you. ’Course is already plotted. Go!” he choked.

“Quiet! Don’t speak!” Sofia ordered. “Everything will be fine,” but even as she spoke the words she knew them to be a lie. Everything was most definitely not going to be fine. Sofia did not need to be a doctor to know that Jon was hurt, badly.

“Sofia! You must go…leave me!”

Sofia stared incomprehensibly at Jon, her hand unconsciously brushing back a lock of bloody hair from his cheek. Leave him? How? Jon was all that she had left. Her mother had been taken from her when she was barely a child. Her father had been dead barely a few weeks. Jon was all that she had left from her old life. Staring into his unfocused eyes, Sofia could picture her life stretching out before her eyes. No family, no friends, nobody to come home to in the evening, nobody to love. Alone…

“No!” she insisted firmly. “I am not going to leave you.” She would not accept that future for herself. Better to stay here and die together with the man she had fallen in love with, than accept that future. “If you want me to go, then you have to come with me. Otherwise I am going to stay here, together with you, ” she insisted.

Jon caught her hand in hers, and for a moment Sofia thought that he was going to push her hand away, when she suddenly felt his grip tighten on her wrist. “You will have to help me up, then,” he said.

Nodding, she pulled him to his feet. After Jon took a few shaky steps, almost collapsing, she ducked her head under his arm, supporting his weight. Half carrying him, half dragging him, they headed in the direction of the shuttle, arm-in-arm, together.

Lowering Jon gently into the co-pilot seat of the Eternal Light, Sofia hurried away to find the emergency first-aid kit. The journey back to the ship had been a nightmare. Jon had gone more and more pale with every step. Near the end of the journey Sofia thought it was only sheer determination keeping him on his feet. The couple attracted unwanted attention the moment they had stepped onto the docking ring. Jon was a torn mess, trailing blood behind him; Sofia little better, being covered in blood from when Jon had bled over her.

Tossing open the first aid box Sofia rummaged around, finally sighing with relief when she found the emergency analgesic, thanking both Jon and her father for insisting that she attend the same emergency medical training that was mandatory for all ship’s crew. At the time she had vehemently fought against it; she was an Imperial Princess—what did she need to know about medicine? The ship had dozens of trained medical personnel for that. As she injected the opiate directly into the blood stream in Jon’s neck Sofia shook her head in disbelief, amazed at her previous arrogance.

“No more…” Jon moaned, pushing the injector away from his neck, barely half used.

“But the pain…” Sofia stammered.

“Any more and it will leave me unconscious, I’ll cope with the pain. You must start the engines, Harkov’s men could be right behind us.”

Nodding, Sofia took the pilot seat for the first time. Her father had taught her to fly the shuttle at a young age, although Sofia had shown little interest. Once again she wished now that she had paid more attention. Keying the emergency engine start, Sofia watched, biting her lip anxiously as the engines quickly powered up. Noticing Jon now barely seemed lucid, she transferred power to the engines and piloted the ship out of the docking berth.

While the Emperor had taught her basic piloting skills, unfortunately this did not extend to docking etiquette, specifically the need to request permission prior to departure. Hence her first flight was almost cut dramatically short as the Eternal Light shot out of the docking bay, directly into the path of a docking freighter. It was only due to quick reflexes, with a scream of pure terror, that she pulled up and missing the freighter with barely meters to spare.

Of the two dark fighters that launched immediately after, in pursuit of the shuttle, one was not so fortunate. The shuttle was rocked by the explosion as the heavily armed fighter slammed into the side of the freighter, its missiles and ammunition exploding in a massive fireball. The second fighter, however, managed to avoid the freighter at the last moment, quickly accelerating to catch up with the fleeing shuttle. It did not look like they were going to make such an easy escape as they had from Transcendence.

The alarms on the ’Light warned Sofia of the approaching fighter as its targeting scanners tried to lock onto the ship. Unfortunately, unlike Jon, Sofia was no combat pilot and had absolutely no idea what to do, hence she did the only thing she could think of. She accelerated. Throwing full power to the engines she was pushed back hard into the pilot’s seat, as the shuttles internal dampeners struggled to compensate. Taken by surprise by the sudden acceleration, the pursuing fighter fell behind, until it too accelerated to match speed, before slowly, inch by inch started to close the gap.

The warning chime of a missile starting to target them had Sofia urgently trying to shake Jon awake. The chime suddenly changed to a scream to indicate a missile launch.

“Jon! Jon! Please wake up.” Sofia urgently shook him. “I don’t know what to do, help me. Please!” Whether it was her words, the rough shaking or the scream of the missile alarm, but finally Jon’s eyes seemed to focus on her own.

“Top right,” he wheezed. “Ships tactical computer… code Alpha, Gamma, two… three. Automatic,” he stuttered, before another tremor shook his body.

Sofia quickly hurried to follow his instructions, finding the correct panel on the flight controls and quickly entered the correct code. As if the ship had just been waiting for permission to slip it’s leash the moment she finished entering the code, the ships computer deployed the guns into their firing position, the rail-guns barrels spinning up to speed, calculating speed and trajectory of the incoming missiles. The minute the missiles came within range, the ship unleashed a barrage of gunfire. Targeting the closest missile first, the guns tracked the trajectory, spitting out their lethal load, tearing into the first missile before seamlessly switching to the next. The second missile detonated barely one hundred meters from the shuttle. Meanwhile the guns swivelled to face the oncoming fighter, and were they not controlled by an emotionless computer an observer might think that the operator was anxiously waiting for the target to come within range.

However, before the fighter could reach weapons range the Eternal Light reached minimum safe distance from the station for the FTL engines to engage and the ship jumped to light speed, leaving the final fighter to turn back in frustration, its quarry having escaped.

It was barely a thirty-minute jump to the Eden system. Sofia spent the time in increasing desperation trying to keep Jon conscious and stem the increasing flow of blood.

The minute the Eternal Light dropped out of FTL Sofia activated the emergency distress beacon on the shuttle, uncaring about the attention it might draw. Knowing that if Jon did not receive emergency medical attention soon, it would not matter.

“Jon,” she cried cradling his head on her lap on the floor of the shuttle. She had guessed that laying him flat on the floor might help stem the flow of blood from his chest. Unfortunately it only had limited effect and she could feel each beat of his heart, slowly getting weaker as the precious lifeblood drained from his body. “Look we finally made it, we’ve arrived, we’re at Eden!”

Jon’s eyes opened for an instant, focusing on the blue green orb that was floating outside, the two moons orbiting the planet unmistakably marking it as Eden Prime, political centre of the Empire and home of the Senate. Jon took one final breath before his eyes closed for good. Sofia bowed her head against his, her own tears mingling with his blood.

Captain Turner, of the System Patrol Craft SPC Intrepid, had only started his shift barely twenty minutes previously and was still on his first cup of coffee for the morning when the distress call arrived.

“Sir, we are receiving an automated distress call,” the communications officer reported.

“Location?” Turner asked in surprise. As the home of the Imperial Senate, the Eden system was one of the most heavily defended in the Empire, hence nothing of any interest ever happened.

“Seems to be coming from out near the Heliopause. Looks like the ship has just dropped out of FTL.”

“Okay, helm lay in a course,” Turner ordered, before turning back to the communications officer. “Try and raise them on a channel, find out who they are and what’s the nature of the emergency.”

“The automated distress signal is broadcast ship identification and registry,” his Executive officer reported. “I’m running it through the ship registry on Eden Prime, we should have a match in a few moments.” Turner acknowledged his bridge officers, turning back to his coffee.

“Sir,” the communications officer reported hesitantly. “I am in contact with a young woman on the ship. Sir, she claims that she is Princess Sofia Aurelius’, daughter of—”

“I know who Sofia Aurelius is,” Turner stated rolling his eyes with a smile. “This must be a prank. You remind this woman the penalty of wasting Imperial Navy time.”

“Sir,” the communications officer reported. “The woman claims she is accompanied by Commander Jonathan Radec, that he is badly injured and needs immediate medical attention.”

Turner spat out a mouthful of hot coffee over his immaculate white uniform. “Confirm that last communication, now!” he ordered. While Sofia Aurelius was a name known throughout the Empire, Commander Radec was not. Shunning the media spotlight, he was never far from the Imperial family. Intelligence reported the Commander should have arrived weeks before, with the Praetorians escorting the Princess. If it were true the Commander was on board, then maybe that really was the Imperial Princess. And if Radec was badly hurt—Turner broke out in a cold sweat. It was well known throughout the fleet the Emperor was fond of the head of the Praetorians. If Radec died on his watch…

His executive officer wordlessly handing him a datapad with the ships registry had him jumping from his seat and moving swiftly towards his helm officer. “Flank speed! Now!” he ordered. “I want to be alongside that shuttle five minutes ago.” Hitting the communications button on the flight controls, he opened a channel to the medical bay. “Doctor,” he ordered. “We have two patients that will be arriving shortly, I have been informed that the Commander is badly injured. Get a medical team down to the docking bay immediately, and Doctor…” The captain thought for a moment how best to phrase the next instruction. “I expect both patients to make a full recovery, or God help us.”

The SPC Intrepid accelerated towards the smaller shuttle at flank speed, desperate to assist the occupants.

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