The Last Praetorian (48 page)

“Still splashing around like the small fish that you are
Radec,” Harkov sneered at him.  “You were always a small fish, swimming in a
sea of sharks, but this time it looks like you are swimming alone.  I don’t see
any of your precious Praetorians that you can hide behind this time.  No
running away this time, with your tail between your legs and leaving them to
die in your place.”

Jon gripped the armrests of his chair, until they were white
with the strain, forcing himself not to let the Commodore bait him, as he knew
that was exactly what he was trying to do. “What do you want Harkov?” Jon spat
out.

“Want?” Harkov asked in surprise.  “I want lots of things,
but I guess we can start with you.  I could guarantee your safety, but let’s be
honest; we both know that I would by lying.  You’ve been a thorn in my side for
too long.  I promised myself your head on a platter and I have been waiting a
long time…It would almost be worthwhile keeping you alive long enough for you
to see what I am going to do to Marcus’s daughter.  A shame, I had such great
plans for her, but alas they are all worthless now.  I’ll just have to suffice
with using her in another way, almost enjoyable, but then I hear it’s nothing
that you have not already done?  I must confess that I am surprised at you
Commander, really what would Marcus think?”

“I think Marcus would wonder why I have not already taken
your head off and stuck it on a pike, for the rest of the Imperium to see what
happened to those officers that commit treason,” Jon retorted angrily.  “Then
again maybe I will just give your bloated corpse to Sofia, so she could have
you stuffed and hung on the wall.  It’s not the usual sort of present that she
likes, but in your case I think she would be happy to make an exception.”

“Enough of this crap!” Harkov exclaimed angrily.  “Will you
surrender yourself to my forces?”

“You know, if for a moment I thought that you would actually
take me and leave, I would consider it, but you will destroy this station and
everybody on it the moment I surrender to you, so I think I’ll decline the
generous offer, Commodore.”

Harkov just shrugged, obviously not expecting that Jon would
simply roll over and die.  Without much surprise, Jon observed on the tactical
display that the
Imperial Star
had commenced launching its full
complement of fighters.  Obviously the Commodore planned to use these as the
fleet’s hammer, and then the rest of the fleet would mop-up any remaining
defenders.  It was the first page of tactical doctrine drilled into the lowest
officer; as a result it was totally predictable.  Jon meanwhile had long since
torn all the pages out of the book of tactical doctrine and was busy writing an
entirely new book.

“We have civilians on this station Commodore; women and
children that have nothing to do with this,” Jon quickly interjected while
Harkov was still willing to talk.

“Their loss,” Harkov shrugged.  “The station is a military
objective, therefore anyone remaining on it is a valid target.”

“Understood, but what if they left in shuttles under a flag
of truce?”  Jon proposed, desperate to get the women and children out of the
way before the firefight that was soon going to get underway.

The Commodore seemed to think about it for a moment, before
he nodded in agreement.  “Very well, I give my word as an officer of the
Imperial Fleet that the shuttles will be able to leave unharmed, as long as you
give me your word that they are unarmed.”

“You have my word Commodore,” Jon promised.

“Very well,” Harkov replied ending the communication.

“Launch the shuttles, and give Eagles one, two and three the
green light to engage the Imperial forces as soon as the shuttles are clear,”
Jon ordered Paul.  “I’ll be in the
Eternal Light,
call me if you need
me.”

“You’d better be sure about this,” Paul replied.  “Remember
it’s my family you’re putting at risk.”

“Don’t worry, I know exactly what I am doing.”

“That’s what worries me,” Paul complained, carrying out the
orders regardless.   

*****

Meanwhile on the bridge of the
Imperial Star
, Harkov
took his seat in the middle of the command deck, observing the eager young
officer at this side.  Over the years he had come to the conclusion that he
much preferred to remain seated and be giving orders, let the others scurry
around following his command, much better to remain seated… in charge.

“Any thoughts Captain?” he addressed the young officer at
his side who was standing ramrod straight next to his seat.

“No Admiral,” the young captain replied, his expression unwavering.

“Excellent, then carry on.”  Harkov glanced around the
bridge with quiet confidence.  Over the years he had replaced many of the older
officers, with younger, more compliant, members of crew.  Looking fondly at his
new captain, a big improvement over Captain Pendleton, whom he had dismissed
for his gross incompetence, over the escape of Commander Radec and Princess
Aurelius years previously.  The Admiral could not tolerate such failure on his
flagship. Following the change in command, Harkov had promoted himself back to
fleet Admiral, to recognise his superior experience and tactical knowledge. 
A
well deserved reward in recognition of my achievements
, Harkov thought to
himself.

“Once the shuttles are at a safe distance from the station,
order the fighters to close and destroy them,” Harkov ordered coldly.

“Sir?”  Captain Maxwell asked surprised.

“I gave an order, Captain, I expect it to be followed
unquestioningly.  There are to be no survivors from this engagement,” he went
on more quietly. “Anyway, I want Radec to feel
some
pain and anguish
before he dies.  Hopefully watching the death of the people that he cares about
will compensate for the fact that I won’t be able to have his head delivered to
me.”

“Sir,” Maxwell replied, turning and barking orders to the
flight controllers.

Leaning back in his chair, Harkov sighed contently.  He had
been looking forward to this day for a long time…

*****

“Sir, gravimetric sensors are picking up additional ships
exiting FTL,” Lieutenant Patterson reported from the tactical station.

Jon looked up in surprise, as he was just about to leave the
C&C for the
Eternal Light
.  “More reinforcements?” he asked
incredulously.  “I know we have a certain reputation, but this is ridiculous. 
We must be out gunned at least 50-1, and Harkov has called in
additional
reinforcements? 
Frankly this is getting silly.”

“Looks like a reinforced squadron, sir,” the Lieutenant
replied.  “I am counting one destroyer, two light cruisers and half a dozen
frigates.”

“Well this is turning into a fairly sizable, skirmish,” Paul
exclaimed.

“We’re being hailed by the captain of the destroyer, sir.”

“We are?” Jon replied surprised.  “Then by all means;
perhaps he wants his turn to gloat before blowing us to kingdom come too?”

However, as soon as the Captain appeared on the view-screen
it was immediately apparent to all that blowing them to kingdom come was the
last thing on his mind, after all the Captain was wearing the uniform of the
Confederation Navy…

“Sir,” the Captain started saluting Jon formally.

“
Sir?
” Paul mouthed silently towards Jon, who just
shook his head in equal surprise.

“Captain, I must confess that you are an unexpected sight.”

“I’m here under direct orders from Fleet Admiral Sterling,”
the captain replied uncomfortably.  “His orders come directly from the
President.”

“
Sofia?”
Paul asked leaping in quickly.  “How did she
know about events taking place here?” he asked in an outraged tone of voice.

“A very interesting question,” Jon replied staring intently
at his friend for a long moment, before turning his gaze back on the Captain
Maxwell.  “One I don’t suppose that you could enlighten us on?”

“My orders dictate that I am to inform you that following a
declaration of emergency, in this system, you have received a battlefield
commission back to your original rank of Commander.”  Jon looked at the
Captain, stunned, not sure what to say.  However, before he could reply the
Captain continued in a strangled tone of voice. “In addition, I am ordered to
immediately place my forces under your command. Sir.”

Jon could tell exactly what the Captain thought of those
orders, to travel to a remote system, inform some civilian that he now
outranked him and then to give him command of his forces.  Jon had no idea of
how Sofia knew about events taking place at
Terra Nova
.  In another time
and place he might have been outraged at her impulsive intrusion back into this
life.  However, this was not the time or the place to look such a gift-horse in
the mouth.  He would deal with Sofia another day, probably by pushing her
against a bulkhead, professing his thanks and then kissing her senseless…
assuming he lived through today.  “Understood Captain, please hold your forces
there and await further orders.  You are expressly
not
to engage the
Imperial forces until so ordered.”  With a nod of understanding the channel
closed, leaving the stunned occupants in the C&C on
Terra Nova
.

“How in hell did the President get the Senate to approve
those fleet orders?”  Lieutenant Patterson asked aloud in amazement.

Stroking his day’s stubble thoughtfully, Jon replied.  “I
would hazard a guess that she did not, you notice how Captain Maxwell insisted
that a state of emergency had been declared in this system?  With a state of
emergency the President can bypass Senate approval for fleet deployments, it’s
written directly into the Confederation Charter.  It should be… I wrote that
paragraph.”

“But who determines if a state of emergency exists?” 
Miranda asked, confused.

“Not a clue,” Jon replied.  “I guess that it is at the
discretion of the Confederation President,” he said with a laugh.  “Paul,
update the poor Captain on the order of battle and make sure that he completely
understands that he is
not
to engage the Imperial Fleet.  They still
significantly outgun is, even with the Confederation squadron now on our side…”

“Sir,” Patterson interrupted.  “Imperial fighters are
peeling away from the body of the fleet, they are on a direct intercept course
with the shuttles.”

“What a surprise,” Jon replied, obviously unsurprised. 
“Paul, once the Imperial forces are committed engaging the shuttles, position
the Confederation squadron between our shuttles and the body of the Imperial
forces, we wouldn’t want any of their fighters escaping now would we?  Miranda,
are you coming?”

Tearing her eyes from the tactical display, that showed the
Imperial fighters fast approaching the fleeing shuttles, like a pack of jackals
descending on their defenceless prey.  “But what about that?” she asked in an
anxious tone of voice, motioning towards the tactical display.  “It’s going to
be a massacre!”

“Not my problem,” Jon replied unconcerned, not even looking
back at the unfolding tactical disaster.  Instead he took Miranda by the arm,
escorting her to the exit.  “After all,” he continued, “you would have thought
that after five years, Harkov would have learnt to be somewhat less predictable.”      
 

*****

Strapped tightly into the seat of his
Tiger
interceptor, Lieutenant-Commander Stanford observed the fleeing shuttles
through his tactical scopes with a wolfish grin.  The fleeing shuttles had
obviously just spotted the Imperial fighters as they suddenly broke formation,
accelerating away.  However, it was a futile gesture of last resort, as the
rapidly approaching fighters had a far greater intercept speed than the slower,
sluggish shuttles.  There would be no escape for any of the shuttles, their fate
had been determined the minute that Imperial fighters were ordered to engage.

“Continue at maximum thrust, prepare to engage,” Stanford
ordered the other fighters in his squadron, noticing the other squadrons, like
his own rushing forward.  Stanford increased the power to his engines a further
notch, at this rate it was possible none of the shuttles would still be intact
by the time his squadron was in weapons range.

Once again checking his tactical scopes, Stanford was
surprised to observe that what he had originally taken as the shuttles’
desperate last attempt at escape, he now observed that the shuttles had now
regained a tight formation, but this time on a direct intercept course! 
Stanford had to blink twice, to make sure that his eyes were not deceiving
him!  However, by then his combat computer was already desperately warbling a
warning that his fighter was being targeted.  An instant later the warble
turned to a frantic alarm,
missiles incoming
!

As one of the lead fighters, Stanford was still desperately
trying to alter the heading for his
Tiger
interceptor, when the first
missile impacted his right engine, which instantly disintegrated into a lethal
ball of shrapnel, tearing through his frail fighter.  Fortunately the second
missile scored a direct hit, vaporising both ship and pilot, long before the
shrapnel could have reached the cockpit.

In similar fashion, dozens of additional fireballs
illuminated the intervening space as more and more missiles found their
targets.  Barely seconds later the squadron of shuttles shot through the
rapidly expanding debris fields, missiles and high speed rail guns splitting
their deadly payload.  The tight formation of shuttles, combined with their
overlapping fields of fire shredded any Imperial fighter unwise enough to stray
within a few hundred meters.  The fighters that turned to flee fared little
better against the battery of missiles launched every few seconds.  Within a
few minutes the bulk of the Imperial fighter forces lay in ruins, while those
still alive found their avenue of escape now blocked by a Confederation task
force that was only just launching fighters of their own…