Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy) (13 page)

She just stared at him for a moment, before her lips formed into a naughty smile, her eyes darkening with desire. “You can hold me as much as you like,” she said. “Me? I plan on making better use of the little time that we have left together.” With that she reached up between them and started unbuttoning the jacket of his uniform. With deceptively little force she pushed against him, making him stumble off balance and he landed awkwardly—on their bed, back in their apartment on Eden Prime.

Jon looked around in astonishment, but Sofia just nodded approvingly, before straddling him. The next thing he knew, the two of them were entwined together, as if they had never been apart, their clothing gone.

“Our clothes?” Jon inquired, with a moan of delight.

“This is my fantasy and clothes are not necessary,” she uttered breathlessly.

Before she could move, Jon reached up, running a gentle finger down her cheek. “I promise you we will be together again, some day. I love you so much. I am sorry. Those should have been my final words to you.”

Leaning forward, she just smiled at him beatifically and, just before their lips touched, she whispered in response. “They just were.”

After that words were no longer necessary.

*****

Jon awoke with a start. The dark, empty apartment surrounding him, pressing against him, but for the first time he did not feel claustrophobic or oppressed. For his heart was still beating wildly in his chest. The sheets were entwined tightly around him, just as he had been with Sofia. Jon imagined he could still smell her, feel her touch all around him, soothing his tortured soul.

For the first time his heart did not seem heavy with despair, the darkness that had been suffocating him dispersed by her love. He could still remember the dream with crystal clarity. He had no idea whether he had imagined it or Marcus and Sofia had truly been there, but, finally, what he had was hope. The sure and certain knowledge that one day they would all be reunited. However, before that day arrived he had other plans that needed to be fulfilled.

Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Jon observed the white uniform and sword firmly attached to his waist. He knew Admiral Sterling and Paul had urged him to accept this role for good and noble purposes. They seemed to see something in him he did not see in himself. He had decided to accept the role they had thrust upon him, but not for the reasons that they wanted. He had no plans to do good or even help others, as Paul proposed, or to avoid chaos, impose order or the rule of law, as Admiral Sterling had suggested. For Jon had only a single goal in mind…

Revenge.

Revenge for his father, his wife and the years of happiness that had been so cruelly stolen from them. He was going to find those responsible for this act of terror, and he was going to kill them. Reaching down, Jon lifted the black cloak from the floor, coating himself once again in its darkness.

Looking at his reflection he nodded his head in satisfaction. Now he was prepared for what was going to come next.

*****

Jon did not even break stride as the door to Admiral Sterling’s office slid open at his approach. There had been no need to announce his arrival, for very soon the entire Confederation would know who he was.

Admiral Sterling and the female officer he was deep in discussion with both looked up in shock at his unannounced arrival.

“Commander, can I help you with something?” Sterling enquired, with a surprised look on his face.

“No,” Jon replied sharply, turning to focus on the woman at the Admiral’s side. On closer inspection he realised his initial assessment had been wrong. The woman standing before him was no ordinary officer and, with her pale skin, shoulder-length blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, she looked much younger than her years. Her eyes showed none of the innocence of youth, being cold and hard as they inspected him with an unnerving intensity. “You are?” Jon asked curtly, as he noticed the rank of Fleet Admiral clearly visible on her collar.

“Fleet Admiral Anastasia Romanov,” came back the sharp retort. “And based on that abrupt entrance I can only assume you are Commander Jonathan Radec, our saviour.” She sniffed disdainfully.

Jon liked her immediately.

“That depends on whether you agreed to Fleet Admiral Sterling’s absurd proposition that I declare myself Emperor, ruler of the known universe and our saviour from death, destruction and the end of all life as we know it.”

Admiral Romanov’s lips curled upwards in a smile, before she quickly got her expression back under control and simply nodded in acknowledgement. “I did.”

“Then that’s me,” Jon declared. Purposefully not making it clear if he was referring to his name or Sterling’s description.

“I see,” she replied noncommittally, glancing back at Admiral Sterling, who was observing the pair with considerable interest.

Meanwhile Jon took a step closer, until he was looming over her and, with an ominous expression, ordered “On your knees, Admiral.”

“I—what?” she gasped in disbelief.

Leaning closer, with eyes as dark as night, Jon insisted. “It’s traditional to swear the oath of fealty to your Emperor, while on one knee.” Spinning around to face Admiral Sterling, his face devoid of all expression, he demanded, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it Admiral?”

Admiral Sterling just stared at him in surprise, before licking his lips and nodding cautiously.

“Then on your knees, both of you,” Jon insisted, his gaze alternating between the two of them. “I want your oath, now.” He held up his hand abruptly before either could react. “But you do not swear your oath of fealty on your life. You swear it on all the lives that have been lost. On the lives of Marcus and Sofia. You swear to honour their sacrifices. For it is not me that will bind you to this oath, but those already departed.”

The Admirals exchanged nervous glances, before they slowly dropped to one knee in front of the Commander.

“Repeat after me,” Jon instructed them. “I pledge fealty to you, my Emperor, Lord and Master, and to the Confederation for which you stand to protect. I pledge to you, and to all those who have gone before and have sacrificed their lives, so that their loss will never be in vain.”

As the two officers repeated the words, a chill passed through them and an oppressive weight seemed to bear down upon them. As if the spirits invoked had risen up to bear witness to the oaths taken in their names.

As their words trailed off into silence, Jon bowed his head in acknowledgement of their pledge, almost as if he recognised something contained in them that the other two officers did not. “Now you are bound to me,” he explained. “In purpose, in spirit and in deed. Nothing can break that bond, not even death, as it was sworn on all those who have already gone before, those who have crossed over the threshold of this life, into the next. Where we all will be reunited one day.”

The two Admirals, still kneeling in front of the Commander, exchanged another worried glance, as it seemed the Commander was no longer present, in spirit at least. As if he was talking to somebody else—a person they could not see.

Finally he seemed to return from wherever he had gone. Focusing on the two of them, he stated, “Inform the rest of the Fleet Admirals that I will address them all within the hour. At which point I will expect the same oath from them, each and all.”

“What happens if they refuse? Not all agreed with Admiral Sterling’s plan,” Admiral Romanov asked tentatively, refusing to admit she had been badly shaken by what had just transpired.

“If they refuse, then I will find others to replace them.”

“Jon,” Sterling explained hesitantly. “Only the Senate had the power to revoke such an appointment. Otherwise the position is for life.”

Jon stopped for a moment with his back still turned to the two Admirals, before replying in a cold voice, “Then they will swear the oath of fealty, or they will die. They can choose.”

With that threat still lingering in the air, Jon stepped through the doors, which automatically closed behind him.

The silence in the room was broken by a chuckle emanating from Admiral Sterling.

“Something you find amusing Admiral?” Romanov asked Sterling.

“Just looking forward to the up-and-coming meeting, that’s all,” he chuckled. “For too many years I have been surrounded by politically appointed lackeys, promoted more for the ability to kiss political ass than any sort of leadership ability. I am looking forward to them discovering, abruptly, what real leadership is. I assume they will learn rapidly. This brings back pleasant memories of the good old days, when the fleet was respected as a symbol of justice and protection. Now it has become an ineffective joke, led by fools who were appointed by their political masters. Once Commander Radec is in charge, I am predicting root and branch reform. I guess that the Commander is planning to start at the top.”

Romanov eyed Sterling thoughtfully, as she had not given any consideration to the changes Radec might introduce, only agreeing with Sterling that the alternative—a political and leadership vacuum—was unthinkable.

“I take it this is the first time you have met our new, enigmatic Emperor?” Sterling asked, with a knowing smile.

Romanov did not like the look Sterling was giving her, and she replied, “Yes, that was the first time we have met, but I observed him a few months ago, when he returned to Eden Prime after rescuing the Emperor.” Romanov did not add it had stuck in her memory ever since.

“What do you know about him?”

“Nothing much beyond what is in his official records. Graduated top of his class at the Naval Academy. Personally appointed to the Praetorian Guard by the former Emperor Marcus Aurelius. He was promoted to Commander of the Praetorian Guard several months later, following the abrupt death of his predecessor. He spent five years in this command until its destruction by Commodore Harkov. The Commander escaped with the Emperor’s daughter, Sofia Aurelius, and fled to Eden Prime. After that, nothing. His official records simply state that he resigned his commission.”

Sterling nodded at her recital of Jon’s official record, before adding, “What is not mentioned in the official records is that Radec personally saved the Emperor from assassination on at least three separate occasions, each at great risk to his own life.”

With that, Admiral Sterling disappeared through the doors, leaving Romanov to ponder the underlying meaning behind his words.

Chapter Five

The Protector, Flagship of the Confederation 12
^th
Fleet

Jon observed the various expressions on the faces of the eleven Admirals—ten men and one woman—facing him. The
Protector
was equipped with the latest holographic conferencing system. Hence, while only two of the Admirals were physically present, the remaining nine were projected in front of him, standing a couple of feet apart and arrayed in a semi-circle so he could observe them all in one glance. The holo-projection room was dark, and Jon was reminded of ghosts that seemed to drift and shimmer in the dark. The projection even reinforced this as, if he looked carefully enough, he could actually see
through
the images. He already had enough ghosts in his past without the need to summon additional ones at the touch of a button. Instead he much preferred to use a view-screen, where the projection could not leap out at him. He forced himself to remain calm, his face expressionless, so none of his dislike for this technology could be mistaken for nervousness.

In any case, the meeting was almost over, with only the last Admiral left to swear his oath of fealty. It was probably no coincidence that this person was Admiral Timothy Alexeyev. Jon could feel the distrust and hate as the projection of the Admiral glared up at him. Jon and Alexeyev had first met several years before, soon after the supposed death of the Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. At that time Jon had been supporting Sofia in her attempts to form the Confederation, which required backing from all of the Fleet Admirals.

Alexeyev had been the first they had approached, as, at the time, he was one of the youngest—and most ambitious. Out of all of the Admirals Jon knew this man was the least likely to agree to back Sofia’s plan—and he had been correct. When they had approached him, Alexeyev had point-blank refused to recognise their authority. It was only when Sofia disabled his flagship and Jon threatened him, at the point of a sword, did Alexeyev finally recognised her right to rule.

Looking into his flashing eyes, Jon was surprised Alexeyev had survived so many of the Senate purges of the fleet, when so many others had not. The only other Admiral from the Imperial Navy who still remained was Admiral Sterling. Having been Commander of the 12
^th
fleet for over two decades, mostly based around Eden Prime, Sterling had too much political power to be removed easily. Jon idly wondered how Alexeyev had avoided being replaced, assuming he had secured some powerful political backers to continue to sponsor his appointment.

As Alexeyev glanced around at the other Fleet Admirals, he found no support from any of them, as all had just finished swearing the same oath Jon now demanded of him. Therefore, bowing his head, he followed the others, and swore his oath to his new Lord.

Jon paused for a moment, after Alexeyev had finished speaking, to let the significance of the moment take over. For all the Fleet Admirals had finally sworn the oath of fealty to him personally. No one man had wielded such unchecked power since Edward Aurelius had demanded the same oath from all the Core and Rim worlds five hundred years ago. Jon recognised that if the power remained unused, then it would soon be lost.

So, nodding his head in acknowledgement of their oaths, he commanded them, “You will all remain at your posts, ever vigilant, until I order otherwise. You now each report to me directly. You take orders from me personally, and no other. In the coming days I will be contacting you, individually, with more specific orders. Until then, carry on.”