Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy) (19 page)

Just like then, he felt his body relax, his eyelids feeling heavy, and they started to drift shut of their own accord. “What is this music?” he asked, his voice already heavy with sleep.

“My databanks indicate that Marcus’ daughter was partial to this song. It would seem that her mother would frequently sing this to her.”

The response was lost on him as, for the first time in many days, he slept peacefully, dreaming of resting in the arms of an angel, safe in her embrace, as the
Endless Light
gently sang him to sleep.

Keeping close watch over him.

Chapter Seven

Two Years Previously,

Eternal Light, Interstellar space

The ship hung motionless in space, suspended amongst the stars. With no planets, asteroids, stations or ships in the vicinity, it was surrounded on all sides by the vast emptiness of interstellar space. The ship was running on minimal power, so no external lights were visible, nor were they necessary. For the starlight seemed to be drawn to it, before being reflected off every surface. The
Eternal Light
seemed to glow from somewhere deep within.

On board the ship, much was the same as on the outside. Many of the systems were powered down and the only visible light was from the dim emergency lighting. The shuttle was freezing cold, with a thin layer of condensation showing on most of the surfaces. Nearer the front of the shuttle, in the cockpit, the light was brighter, with the glow from the flight controls and the starlight streaming though the cockpit windows. A cold and motionless body rested in the pilot’s seat. Were it not for the barely perceptible movement of the pilot’s chest and the thin stream of vapour from his lips, an observer might think him otherwise dead.

But Commander Jonathan Radec lived—though barely.

He had not moved a muscle in over an hour. Instead he stared unblinkingly ahead, out of the cockpit windows, his gaze unfocused and his thoughts turned inwards, lost deep within himself. He had been cold for over three years, ever since he had departed from Eden Prime, from the bright, glowing warmth he had left behind. Now, he did not even notice the cold, instead feeling aches and pains in a dozen different places, as the last few years had been far from kind to the Commander.

The first year of searching for Admiral Harkov and the 12
^th
fleet had run smoothly. There were many clues, many rumours, each of which he had meticulously followed up. In those days he had been warmly welcomed at many destinations. For while the Empire no longer existed, people and places did not change so quickly and he was still remembered and respected. However, slowly but surely, things started to change. The stronger trails started to go cold, forcing him to travel further, to areas where the Empire’s hold had always been tenuous, at best. No longer was he welcome and doors did not open on his arrival.

He still remembered the first time when he was politely, but firmly, informed he was no longer welcome there. First the subtle suggestion that he depart, followed soon after by more strenuous prompting. Nobody had died that time. He had been insistent he be allowed an audience and finally they had relented, but only when he had agreed to depart immediately after receiving the answers he looked for. That was the last time they had been polite, after that doors were slammed in his face, permission to land flatly refused.

Jon remembered it was at this point that the killing had started.

First one, then another, and another, until he soon lost count. Every planet, station and asteroid just blurred into another. They all would answer his questions—eventually. The only factor was how many had to die first. Too many dismissed him as just one man, no longer the right hand of the long-dead Emperor or the leader of that legendary band of mythical warriors. He wasn’t even an officer of the Imperial Navy, the force which had kept the peace for over five centuries, as that had also been disbanded.

Instead he was something far worse—a man on a crusade to find a person he had sworn to kill. A person who had stripped everything from him, leaving him with nothing left to lose. After a while things started to slowly improve, as the rumours had started to spread far ahead of him. By the end of the second year, it was unusual to arrive at a destination that had not already heard of him. By then people were more than happy to answer any questions he might have.

Just to be rid of him.

There were still some places where he was made unwelcome. The prestige and glory of being the one to kill the mighty, invincible Praetorian Commander was still too big a lure. Touching the angry scar on his chest, just a few centimetres above his heart, Jon was reminded that he could only be lucky so many times. If the shot had been just a fraction lower then he would not be alive today.

Eventually the day arrived when the trails had finally all gone cold. No more leads, no more rumours. Nothing. Hence he found himself here, floating in the inky blackness of space, contemplating his next move. Currently on the furthest known rim of explored space, what lay ahead was totally uncharted.

In front of him lay a hundred million unexplored stars, any of which could be hiding Harkov and the 12
^th
Imperial Fleet. But he had no idea which star and, even worse, after three years of searching his fervour was starting to fade. He had spent the whole time alone, searching every system, every planet in the Imperium, but to no avail. Even if he did find the 12
^th
fleet, even if he fulfilled his greatest wish and slayed Harkov, what then? Would it bring the Emperor back to life? Would it wash away the look of betrayal and pain he had put on Sofia’s face by his actions? He knew it would do neither, but what was the alternative? He had nothing else. No life, family or other real purpose. Just him, his pain and the ghosts of his past to keep him company. Therefore, lifting a pale finger in front of him, he held it inches from the window of the shuttle, pointing at a bright star directly ahead of him.

“Let’s try that one first then,” Jon spoke out loud for the first time in many days. Even to him his voice sounded rough and tired. Confirming that the navigational computer had the correct coordinates programmed in, he was about to bring the main faster-than-light engines online, when a chime from the communication system interrupted him. Jon raised an eyebrow in surprise. He could count on the fingers of one hand how many messages he had received in the past three years. Even more surprising was the content of the message, for it was unsigned, consisting of only a single word. “Come.”

Jon knew that potentially anyone of over ten billion people could have sent that message, but he knew only one person who would have actually done so. He wiped the coordinates from the navigational computer and input an entirely new set.

After so long it would be good to talk to somebody not intent on causing him harm. Jon paused in his internal deliberations, remembering the cloud under which he had left Memphis Station, and corrected that first thought. It would be good to talk to somebody who
probably
was not intent on causing him harm.

*****

The station had not changed much since his last arrival here, almost three years before with Sofia, as they fled from Harkov and his mercenaries. One thing which had not changed at all was the station docking control, as, upon announcing his arrival, the channel went very quiet, followed by a terse, “Please hold.” It was not until almost an hour later that he was given permission to dock. It did not pass his notice that he was directed to the most secluded, remote docking bay on the entire station. His lips upturned slightly upon hearing this, wondering if his reputation had spread even this far.

After docking and making his way to the nondescript entrance to Albert’s small apartment, Jon mused that perhaps his original thought had been correct. For a station with well over a million inhabitants, it seemed suspiciously deserted, with only the occasional curious face appearing outside an apartment, before quickly ducking back inside at his approach.

When Jon finally arrived at his destination, he hit the announcer button impatiently and waited for the predictable response.

“Go away!” the instantly recognisable voice bellowed out, through the small speaker. “I’m not interesting in buying—”

“Albert. Let me in, or so help me God I’ll kick this door down and use it to beat you over the head,” Jon yelled back into the small speaker, interrupting the man’s usual tirade.

After a moment of stunned silence, the door silently slid open, the dark portal hardly welcoming. However he paid little attention to this, only marched into the room and, without being prompted, took a seat on the opposite side of the desk. “If you’re going to shoot me then do it now and save me from the agony of this conversation,” Jon complained loudly to the other occupant of the room.

A dim light illuminated the room before Jon had even finished speaking, and he saw out of the corner of his eye a pistol disappearing unobtrusively into a deep drawer in the desk.

“You look like—”

“Don’t even say it,” Jon forestalled, raising his hand to interrupt Albert. “I’m tired, cranky, irritable and quite possibly homicidal. Come to think of it, much like your usual self. Don’t force me to take you with me, when I launch myself into the arms of the Great Maker. You do
not want
to spend the rest of eternity stuck with me.” Taking a deep breath, he added. “Now where is Harkov and the 12
^th
Fleet?”

Albert stared back at him, only his head and a hint of shoulders appearing from behind the imposing desk. “Not a clue. What made you think that I knew where he was?”

Tired, overwrought, stressed and pushed far beyond his limits, Jon’s mouth fell open in shock. “What the hell do you mean you don’t have a clue where he is? You told me to
come!
”

“Indeed,” Albert nodded his head sagely. “At no point did I ever state, or even imply, that I had the slightest clue where Harkov is hiding.”

Jon did not hesitate, as he launched himself across the desk, arms outstretched reaching for the throat of the much smaller man.

It took him several more minutes to realise what a foolish idea it was to be wrestling on the floor with a man who could bench-press him several times over. He only came back to his senses when he noticed a bottle filled with amber liquid was being held over his head. Squinting at the label on the bottle, Jon quipped. “Are you going to hit me with that, or shall we drink it together? That Scotch is a seventy-five year old blend and it would be a shame to waste it.”

Accepting the proffered hand, Jon felt himself being hauled to his feet and dumped unceremoniously back into his chair. After a couple of glasses of Scotch Jon felt rational enough to ask the obvious question. “If you don’t know the whereabouts of Harkov, then
why
did you contact me?”

Albert took another sip from his glass, using the opportunity to look aside in embarrassment. “I need a favour.”

“A favour? From me? That's rich, coming from the person who always names his price. Anyway, I am a little short of favours to offer at the moment. Surely there is somebody else that you can ask?”

Albert just shook his head insistently. “There is nobody else I trust with this. My niece needs to travel to Eden Prime, on a—job,” Albert added after a momentarily hesitation. “I want you to protect her and keep her safe. Help her to complete her assignment and get her back home safely. There is nobody else that I trust with her life. Only you.”

“Your niece?” Jon replied agape. “Are you crazy? You cannot seriously want me anywhere near your family. Didn’t you hear what happened with Sofia?” He quickly snapped his jaw shut, but by then it was too late. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet by at least twenty degrees.

“I heard what happened,” Albert said, his voice dipping dangerously. “I was so disbelieving, in fact, that I had to hear the story from no less than three different, independent, verified sources. However, seeing you are here, would you like to explain in person what happened?”

Jon held the older man’s stare for a long moment, before looking down at the empty glass in front of him, wishing for a refill but knowing now was not the time to ask. Playing with the empty glass and refusing to look the other man in the eye again, he shook his head and replied, “It happened exactly as you heard it.”

“But why?”

Jon looked up and, in a voice as brittle as the glass resting in front of him, enquired, “How much is that information worth to you?”

The two men locked gazes for what seemed like an eternity, but this time it was Albert that looked away first, frowning. “Whatever the reason, it is in the past now and nothing will change that, so I will let the matter drop,” he muttered. “But you owe me. Therefore you will escort my niece to Eden Prime and ensure that she remains safe while she is there.” Albert looked him squarely in the eyes. “In addition, you will stay away from her. You won’t talk to her unless it is work related and you won’t touch her. You will not even look at her, for if I find out that you have hurt her in anyway whatsoever, I’ll find somebody to kill you. You know that I am capable of it. I still know where all the bodies are buried and hence I have a long line of people that will be more than happy to carry out my threat.”

Albert let the words linger in the air for a while longer, before shrugging and emptying what little remained in his glass. “Do this favour for me and I’ll see what I can find out about Harkov and his current whereabouts. I think you will find my methods are vastly more effective than yours.” Albert motioned towards Jon’s chest, a few inches above his heart, directly where the scar from the last near miss resided, even though Jon had given no indication of the injury and everybody who knew about it was dead. “Now let me get back to my work, my niece is waiting at your shuttle—and don’t forget my warning.”