The Last Praetorian (2 page)

Casting his gaze downwards to the floor, Jon stated,  “My
lord, you requested my presence.”  His voice echoed around the still room
before all was silent again.  After a few seconds, still without any response,
Jon started to wonder if he had been heard. 

However a faint disturbance of air indicated movement and a
few moments later the Emperor’s rich baritone voice responded.  “Rise Commander
and approach.  I require enlightenment regarding events that have recently
transpired.” 

Jon winced, having a strong inkling of the topic of
conversation ahead and not looking forward to it.  Approaching the Emperor, a
man whom he had faced daily since being given command of the Praetorian Guard,
Jon was struck by how much older the man looked.  His bright emerald green
eyes, a trait of the Aurelius family line seemed to have faded and his dark
hair had increasing streaks of grey.  However, his face still bore the vitality
of youth and the confidence that had been his trademark since Jon had first
been introduced to him, years ago. 

When Jon reached the side of the Emperor, Marcus Aurelius
inquired.  “I understand that there was a confrontation yesterday evening
involving my daughter and one of the senators’ sons; explain to me what took
place,” he ordered.  Recognising that Marcus had no interest in excuses or
justifications Jon recounted the events of the previous evening…

*****

The officers’ lounge on the
Imperial Star
was packed,
as usual.  With second shift having recently ended the senior offices and their
respective partners congregated for a meal and drink before dispersing to their
respective quarters.  With recreation facilities on-board the star carrier
severely restricted, it was a popular social scene, especially with the
children of the senior officers and other VIPs presently on the ship. 
Unfortunately this also included Sofia Aurelius, only daughter of the Emperor,
the crown jewel of the combined star systems.  As far as Jon was concerned she
was rich, spoiled, conceited and arrogant.  Far too used to getting her own
way… and yet there was something about her that constantly attracted Jon’s
gaze.

Unfortunately as the Emperor’s daughter she also fell under
the protection of the Praetorians.  It was considered an unfortunate assignment
to babysit
the Princess
, as she was referred to within the squadron. 
Therefore Jon insisted it only fair that everybody takes turns; unfortunately
tonight was his turn.

Surrounded by the constant chatter of people, the occasional
clinking of wine glasses and clatter of cutlery, Jon struggled to push through
the crowd to locate the Princess.  Finally making it through the dense crowd
into the dining area Jon finally spotted her.  Sofia was, as usual, surrounded
by her harem of followers, mostly the younger and easily impressed girls of
some of the senior officers and politicians.  Often there was also a straggle
of male admirers following the group at a distance.  Jon noticed with deep
irritation that a couple had swords belted at their waist.  This was the result
of one of the Princess’ earlier off the cuff comments that it was “so romantic
to be surrounded by officers armed with swords, like my very own white knights
in-waiting.”  While there were strict regulations regarding navy personnel
bearing swords outside official occasions there was no such rules for
civilians, much to Jon’s constant irritation. 

The Princess obviously observed his arrival, as she rolled
her eyes in his direction.  Leaning towards one of the younger women at her
side, she motioned in his direction, whispering something that Jon could not
overhear.  A quick glance in his direction and a snicker from the young woman did
little to improve Jon’s already foul mood.

Therefore biting back a scowl he looked around for somewhere
to sit out the evening, however, as usual the officer’s lounge was packed and
there was no free table in sight.  This was quickly remedied by a vicious glare
at one of the younger officers and his partner who quickly decided that they
had an important appointment elsewhere.  Resigning himself to a long evening,
as was evident coming from the occasional giggles from the group Jon wondered
who he was going to have to kill to obtain a drink…

*****

It was sometime later in the evening when a shadow crossed
his table. Wondering who would dare to interrupt him; Jon was quite taken aback
on looking up, to be staring into the emerald green eyes of Sofia Aurelius. 
The Princess was wearing an ivory-white evening dress that matched her pale
white skin.  This was offset by a streak of bright red hair, which obviously
came from her mother’s side of the family.  Taking a moment to let his gaze
linger upon her, he noted that the dress showed off enough leg to be completely
unseemly and that the only thing hiding the tiny straps was a gauzy white shawl
that she had wrapped around her shoulders.  No matter how exasperating Jon
found Sofia, he would be the first to confess, only under torture, that she was
stunningly beautiful. 

Jon was once again reminded of the intimate dinner they had
shared a few weeks earlier, when for the first time he questioned if her
spoilt-rich-Princess act was not just that, an act…

******

“Commander, would you care to join my daughter and me for
dinner tonight?”

The question came absolutely out of the blue.  Jon had been
standing stoically at the Emperor’s side all afternoon, monitoring the
assortment of foreign dignitaries, senators and VIPs for any possible threat. 
The negotiations had just concluded; when the Emperor seemingly popped the
question out of thin-air.

Jon’s mind went completely blank and hence said the first
thing that came to mind.  “I was not aware of any formal dinners scheduled
tonight on your agenda, sir.”

“Nothing formal, just an personal family dinner with my
daughter and me,” the Emperor responded.

Then why the hell am I being invited?
Jon thought to
himself rhetorically.  However, one did not turn down dinner invitations from
the ruler of almost 30 billion people.

“Of course sir, I’d be honoured.”

“Excellent, dinner is served at twenty-hundred hours.  Don’t
be late.”  The Emperor disappeared though the door into his private quarters
leaving the hint of the threat lingering in the air.

“Just fantastic,” Jon said aloud, sighing. Wondering what
one wore to a personal family dinner with the Emperor and his only daughter - Princess
Aurelius.

*****

Steeling himself, Jon pressed the announcer exactly three
hours later, twenty-hundred hours and…no seconds.  Jon had absolutely no
interest in finding out what happened to an officer who turned up late for a
private dinner with the Emperor…

Jon had absolutely no idea what to expect when the door slid
open.  He was most definitely not expecting to be staring into the sparkling
green eyes of an Imperial Princess.  A subconscious part of his mind noted that
they both stood at equal height.  Knowing for a fact that he stood a couple of
inches taller than her, he could only hazard a guess that she was wearing a
pair of shoes that made-up for the height difference.  It was only through
force of will that he kept his eyes focused on her face and did not glance down
to confirm this observation.  The eyes of a lowly Commander in the Imperial
Navy did not rove unabashedly over an Imperial Princess.

Instead he bowed his head slightly in greeting, before
inquiring.  “I hope I am not late, Princess,” knowing full well that he was
exactly on time.

“Not at all, Jon.  Although my father apologises that he
will join us in a few minutes.  He is just finishing up a conference call with
Admiral Sterling on Eden Prime.”  The Princess obviously had no aversion to
inspecting him, as Jon could feel her gaze roving over him, before her lips
curled up in a slight smile.

Slightly self-conscious about his dress, Jon had, in the end,
decided to wear what he usually wore to dinner alone – his white navy dress
uniform, with sword.  His only other choice of wardrobe - an academy T-shirt
and shorts that he wore to bed, he had already rejected out of hand.

“Anyway, as you are joining father and me for dinner, why
don’t we drop the formal titles?  You are welcome to address me by my name.”

“My thanks… Princess,” Jon replied with a smirk, knowing
fully well that the Princess often used his given name.  Often to tease him
about his overbearing attitude and lack of any kind of…social life.

He was about to continue when the Emperor swept into the room. 
Immediately dropping to one knee, Jon bowed his head and uttered, “My
Emperor.” 

“Commander,” the Emperor responded, striding past him
towards the imposing dining room table.

Jon did his best to suppress the grin on his face, upon
hearing the Princess laughing behind him.  He could well imagine what she was
thinking, after just mentioning about dropping formal titles and all.

“You can arise now, Sir Knight!”  The Princess giggled into
his ear as she glided past, her father already having taken his seat.

All in all, dinner was not the complete disaster than Jon
had imagined.  The conversation flowed easily around the table.  Jon was amazed
at how quickly conversation between father and daughter could easily flow
between topics, one minute discussing progress on the negotiations earlier in
the day, the next progress of the Princesses’ studies.  Jon was relieved to be
excluded in the most part from the conversation, although the two did
occasionally query the Commander for his opinion.  While Jon was not well
versed in the intricacies of politics he was fully aware of the strategic and
tactical implications of the negotiations, and talked both father and daughter
through some of the possible military repercussions…

Mostly Jon just focused on the food, amazed at the number
and variety of the dishes.  Most he did not even recognise and tasted each with
a certain amount of caution. 

For a small family dinner Jon was certain that they ate
better than 99% of the populace of the Empire.  A simple meal with his family
usually consisted of some vegetables freshly picked from his mother’s small
vegetable plot, mixed with carbohydrate and protein supplements - filling, but
hardly tasty.

Jon’s inspection of the final dish was interrupted by an
aide reminding the Emperor of another conference call where his participation
was required.  Jon was half out of his seat and heading in the direction of the
exit before the Emperor’s voice called a halt to his departure.

“Commander, stay and finish your meal,” the Emperor
insisted, before turning to Sofia.  “My apologies, I forgot about this call. 
Please you and the Commander finish your meal together.”  With that the Emperor
swept from the room with the aide fast on his heels.  Two pairs of eyes
followed his exit until the door slid firmly shut behind him.

Jon momentarily considered making his own apology, when he
noticed the Princess’ despondent expression.  Having intimate knowledge of her
fathers agenda, he knew that these meals must be far and few between father and
daughter.  Looking at the unhappy young woman Jon felt something stirring
inside him that he had not felt in a long time.  Glancing around at the opulent
– and empty - surroundings he could not help but feel some sympathy for her.

Therefore re-taking his seat, that only moments before he
was more than happy to vacate, he stared thoughtfully at the young Princess,
who was staring unhappily at the remains of her meal.

“Your father’s a great man,” Jon insisted softly.  “He is
only gone so often because he cares about the people.  I cannot say that about
many politicians that I know of.”

“But does he have to go every time, after my mother…” her
voice trailed off.

Jon sighed sadly; he knew that her mother had died when she
was young.  Sometimes, late at night when her father was working with Jon
accompanying him, he talked about her.  Jon had no doubt that the Emperor had
loved his late wife, her loss leaving a huge void in his life.

“I know,” Jon replied.  “I know how much that you must miss
her…” He tried to explain, but was interrupted by her angry outburst.

“You don’t know anything!  You have never lost a parent.” 
She angrily pushed her chair away from the table; turning her back on Jon she
moved over to the viewport, tightly clutching something around her neck, misery
lying like a cloak around her shoulders.

Sighing, Jon once again rose from his seat and glanced
wistfully at the door.  It would be so easy, only a couple of steps and he
could be through the door, back into the real world.  A cold, hard, unforgiving
world, as the young woman that was staring miserably out of the window could so
easily testify to.  However, the Commander was never one that had taken the
easy paths in life, so, turning his back to the door, he slowly approached the Princess.

With the Emperor long since departed and the Princess with
her back turned, he took a moment to observe the young woman.  Noticing the
strappy sandals, with the high-heels that she wore, he suppressed a triumphant
smile, as his earlier observation had indeed been correct.  Stopping a few feet
from the Princess he ran his gaze up from the shoes, to her ankles, to her
thighs, observing her narrow waist elegantly wrapped in an evening dress of
sapphire blue, his eyes lingering on the pale skin below her neck, peeking out
from beneath her fiery red mane.  Raising his eyes further he stared into her
eyes, that were reflected back by the pane of the window.

Noticing his hands that had risen unconsciously to embrace
her, he carefully lowered them to his side – nobody touched a member of the
Imperial family, not even the Praetorian Commander. 
Must be hell on a date
,
Jon thought to himself, wondering why the idea of Sofia on a date bothered him
so much.