The Last Praetorian (25 page)

“Wow, she’s a beauty!” His father commented running his
fingers along the bow.  “We never used to get anything like this at the
spaceport.  Usually we just got beaten up shuttles and the odd decrepit
freighters.”

“But can you fix her?”  Jon inquired in frustration,
interrupting his fathers little jaunt down memory lane.

“Now don’t get your knickers in a twist, son,” Ryan replied
and added with an evil grin.  “And come to think of it, you stay away from your
Princess’ knickers.”

Jon just rolled his eyes and replied, “She’s not
my
Princess,
dad.”

“Could have fooled me, the way that you two were drooling
over each other, earlier when you were practicing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jon replied
desperately trying to change the topic.  He had already had one cold shower.
Trying to forget the way that Sofia had looked, standing there in a thin shirt
and form fitting jeans, sweat glistening on her brow.  Jon could already feel
himself getting warm again, so instead he focused on the expression on her face
as he lied about her mother and the tears she had shed.  Jon felt his blood run
cold and his heart turn to stone. 
Yep, that will do it
, Jon thought to
himself, ashamed.  He turned his gaze back to his father who had crawled under
the port engine.

“Give us some light, can you son,” his father’s muffled
voice came from underneath the shuttle.  Switching on the flashlight that they
both carried for this very purpose he shone the light underneath the shuttle
where his father was pointing.  A few minutes of banging and a couple of
muffled curses later his father slid out from underneath the engine.

“The port engine is fine, I could not see any damage at
all.  Looks like the problem is with the energy distribution matrix, the good
news is that we can fix it.  The bad news - it will take some time, as my
colleagues and I will need to test each connection individually to find the bad
one.”

“How long?”  Jon inquired in a sinking tone.

“Working out here, only after dark?”  Ryan directed the
question towards his son who nodded in confirmation.  “I would guess four,
maybe five nights tops,” he replied.  “Perhaps shorter if we strike lucky and find
the damaged connection earlier.”

Jon just stared into the night sky, wondering who else out
there might be looking for them and how soon they would arrive.  However, if
his father said it would take a week, that’s how long it would take.  Nodding
his head in understanding, Jon offered his hand to his father and helped him
up.

Noticing the despondent look on his son, Ryan clapped his
hand on his shoulder and said positively.  “Look on the bright side son, you
can look forward to a week of your mother’s cooking and a week of getting hot
and sweaty with your Princess.”

“Fantastic,” Jon replied sourly.

*****

It was very late, or more precisely very early when they
arrived back.  The women had already retired to bed for the night.  After sharing
a late night snack, the two of them also quickly retired to their beds.  They both
had a long week ahead to get the shuttle repaired quickly.  Jon paused briefly
outside Sofia’s closed bedroom door, straining to hear anything, but unable to
do so quickly carried on into his own room.  Tired from the long day and longer
night, Jon quickly fell into a restless sleep, with dreams of faceless people
chasing them and Sofia’s desperate cries for help.

Jon arose early, once again woken by the bright light
streaming through the blinds.  Having slept terribly through the night, waking
up several times unsure if the cries of help were from his own dreams or the
occupant of the next room.  Deciding that he desperately needed some coffee,
Jon switched the machine on and sat in his parents’ kitchen watching the sun
rise quickly into the clear sky.  It looked like it was going to be another
scorcher of a day.  The kitchen was bright and airy and Jon recognised several
of his mother’s small touches throughout the room, but for Jon it never felt
like home. 

Jon had spent his childhood in a small, dingy, mouldy
apartment in one of the many slums in Carrington city.  The kitchen was barely
big enough for one, let alone a table and chairs. The combined living room,
dining room was just about big enough to fit the family around a table and the
view…well it offered a superb view of the dank, grey, opposing apartment
block.  The hollow centre of the tower block had long filled up with trash,
completely blocking the windows of some of the lower apartments.  As for the
smell… it was unbelievable.   However, Jon remembered a happy childhood with
Catherine still alive and healthy. His parents were not around much, always
working hard to earn enough money for them, but it was still a family. 

He was interrupted by the sound of movement behind him and
instinctively knew that it was Sofia.  Jon wondered how and when he had become
so in tune with the Princess that he could feel her presence.  Remembering the
harsh words stated the previous day, Jon did not turn around but he knew that
she had seen him by the sound of her sudden indrawn breath.  Jon heard the clinking
of cups and the sound of coffee being poured, followed soon after by the sound
of the kitchen door being quietly closed.  Jon wondered if the echo left in the
kitchen was actually the sound of his heart breaking.

Naturally an active person, Jon found the inactivity during
the day particularly frustrating, and he continually found himself staring at
the clock waiting for the sun to set so they could resume work on the shuttle. 
It was therefore a shock when he noticed that Sofia had changed into her
workout clothes and was following some of the more simpler warm-up exercises
that he had taught her the day before.  Frankly Jon was surprised that Sofia
had any desire to continue with the training, but as was often the case he found
himself under-estimating her.  He hurried to change into his exercise clothes,
this time deciding to wear a shirt, as Jon had no plans to torture himself
demonstrating the various holds and throws by holding her against his bare
chest. 

Sofia did not meet his gaze when he arrived, instead simply
held the knife firmly in her hand and cocked her head at an angle as if to say,
‘now what’?”

“Strike at me with the knife, like you did yesterday,” Jon
ordered, wincing at the reminder of why she used the knife yesterday.  “But
this time slowly, and I will help you correct your posture.”

Sofia nodded her head in understanding and reached out to
strike him with the knife once-again, but this time slower, as if time had been
slowed down to a crawl.  Jon stopped her, when the knife was barely inches from
his throat and helped her correct her centre of balance and lock her shoulder,
so her full weight was behind the thrust.  Jon and Sofia went through the
motion half a dozen times with Jon patiently explaining what she was doing
wrong and each time correcting her.  Sofia refused to meet his gaze or respond,
just nodding her head in understanding.  After several more tries, Jon was
satisfied with her posture and they ran through several more forms, from
different thrusts, to slashes and blocks.  They then reversed roles, with Jon
being the attacker with the knife and he taught her the very same blocks that
he had used on her the day before.

Unused to the punishing physical exercise and the heat from
the late afternoon sun, Jon offered Sofia several opportunities to rest but each
time she refused.  Impressed with her determination Jon ran through several
more forms of unarmed combat, demonstrating the vulnerable areas of the body
and where best to strike to incapacitate or disable an opponent.  Sofia was a
quick study and often only needed one or two demonstrations of a technique
before she mastered it and they moved onto the next.  Jon was stunned by her
progress.  While Sofia lacked the physical strength necessary to excel at
combat, she more than made-up for it with her speed and exquisite balance.  Jon
assumed that Sofia had spent many years learning dance and gymnastics to have
such a perfect posture.  When the sun started to disappear beneath the horizon
Jon called an end to the training session.  Once again Sofia failed to respond,
just nodding her head in acknowledgement, before pivoting around and heading
back inside the house.

Sighing wearily, Jon collected the practice mats before
heading indoors for a change of clothes and a shower before dinner.  Unlike
their first night together, dinner was a strained event as the tension in the
air between the two was easily noticeable to both parents.  The two refused to
make eye contact and all conversation went via one or the other parents. 
Finally the entire table lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Jon was not the
only one relieved when dinner was finished and cleared away.  Eventually the
time came to depart, with Jon waiting for his father who was in a deep
discussion with his mother. With a nod of understanding, the couple broke up
and Jon followed his father out of the house.

By mutual agreement they met his father’s ex-colleagues
several kilometres from the house.  Jon had initially had some concerns about
having to trust several unknown strangers.  However, his father reassured him
that he had known them all for many years and trusted them implicitly.  Additionally
without their help, the repairs would take weeks if not months.  They agreed
that his father would only explain the bare minimum, that the ship was damaged
in an attack, required repairs and they wished to avoid the taxes and
commission charged at the spaceport.  After a brief introduction the small
group made their way to the shuttle and within a few hours the landing site was
a hive of activity as panels were removed for easier access and detailed
diagnostics initiated.      

Having only basic engineering knowledge, Jon was little help
beyond instructing the ship’s computer to power-up the individual systems as
his father and the engineering team monitored the power distribution to try and
locate the damaged connector.” 

The next thing he knew was a brief shake of his shoulder as
his father woke him up. “I’ve been calling for the last few minutes,” he
explained.  “We need you to initialise the secondary actuator.”

“Sorry I must have nodded off for a moment,” Jon explained,
embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve had a hard time of it
recently.  Look why don’t you give this a miss tomorrow and get some sleep?”

“I’d love to,” Jon replied. “But you need me to power up the
systems.  The shuttle is genetically coded to me; it won’t respond to any of
your commands.”  At his father’s dubious expression, Jon motioned towards the
flight controls. “Try it yourself; the secondary actuator is the one on the top
left.”

His father tentatively reached out to activate the control,
but with an indignant beep from the ships computer nothing happened.  Smoothly
reaching out, Jon gently touched the control, which immediately activated.

“And only you can fly this ship?”

“This ship and it’s sister ship the
Star Light
are,
were the personal shuttles for the Emperor and his family, only they have
permission to fly them.”

“So how come you have permission for this one?”  Jon’s
father asked the obvious question. 

Jon was about to reply that the Emperor had ordered him to
use this ship to take Sofia, hence must have added him personally as an
authorised pilot, when he stopped.  Jon clearly remembered that night, after
receiving the orders he had gone straight to the flight deck to check on the
ship.  He had already been given access to the ship by the time he had
arrived.  So exactly when had he been authorised to pilot the ‘
Light? 
Suddenly
curious, Jon accessed the security log for the ship and scrolled back in time
until he found the record detailing his access.  It was dated several months
earlier. But that did not make sense… how could the Emperor have possibly known
that he would need access to the ship so long before?  He remembered the
conversation with the Emperor clearly; he had made it expressly clear that the
two ships belonged to the Aurelius family – they were private property and
could
only be flown by members of the family.
Confused at why he then
had been given the necessary access Jon turned back to testing the next
component on the power-up list.

*****

Life slowly settled into a routine, with Jon rising early,
wondering aimlessly around the house until the temperature cooled later in the
day to spend a few hours training Sofia, before working on the shuttle repairs
late into the night.

Jon was exhausted, tired and irritable.  While Sofia’s
progress in their afternoon training sessions had been astounding she still
refused to even look him in the eye, let alone talk to him and the atmosphere
in the house was…unpleasant.  The little sleep that Jon had been getting was
restless, intermittent and plagued by bad dreams.  Sofia fared little better,
as she had retreated back into the same shell that she had after the attack on
Transcendence,
and showed little appetite over meals, content to just push the food around her
plate and actually eat very little.  Her sparking emerald green eyes, had faded
to a dull green, and her skin appeared pale and washed out.

Having put-up with this for almost a week and having been
unable to get a word out of his stubborn son, Ryan decided to approach the Princess
directly.  Ryan did not have much experience dealing with Imperial Princesses,
but having been married for over 30 years he felt that he had some experience
with women.  That afternoon, when Sofia had once again retired to her room and
Jon had fallen asleep in the kitchen, Ryan felt it was as good as any
opportunity to try.  Knocking gently on her door, hoping that she was not also
asleep he was relieved to hear her voice, giving him permission to enter.  Upon
entering Ryan found Sofia sitting up on the bed, with her head resting on her
knees, which were folded against her chest.  Ryan’s heart went out to the
younger woman, as she seemed so alone and miserable.  It occurred to Ryan that
if Catherine were still alive, she would be around the same age as this woman. 
While there was nothing he could do for his long-dead daughter, perhaps he
could help this troubled young woman.