The Sunfire (17 page)

“Furthermore, I have also transferred the codes to arm the
Mk. VI’s to you. You now have the full combat capability of this ship at your
disposal Captain.”

Again Paul would not meet Jon’s eyes, but nodded his head in
understanding.

Recognising the morose atmosphere in the room, Jon looked
each of his senior officers in the eye before stating, “A good man once told me
that sometimes you need to make sacrifices. The previous crew of this ship made
the ultimate sacrifice to stop a weapon that if ever used against a populated
planet would have killed millions. But I will not allow their sacrifice to be
in vain. For today we embark on a new mission, a mission to rescue a good man.
A husband to a lost wife, a father to a grieving daughter. A man who dedicated
his entire life to a duty. A duty to protect every man, woman and child in the
Empire from harm. It’s time that somebody repaid him for that sacrifice. Let’s
go bring him home.”

With approving nods from around the table Jon concluded.
“I’ll be scheduling a briefing for the entire crew at 0900 ship time tomorrow.
If they are risking their lives, they deserve to know why.”

*****

At 0900 hours the following morning, Miranda found herself
once again on the flight deck, standing in front of the assembled crew. The
flight deck had been chosen as the location for the briefing as it was the only
space on the ship that could contain all the crew comfortably. Almost everybody
was present, except for a skeleton crew monitoring critical systems, who were
following the briefing remotely.

Standing on a raised platform so as to be easily seen,
flanking Jon to the left, while Paul was standing to Jon’s right, Miranda
stared out at a sea of intent faces. The crew had instinctively formed into
lines, at parade rest, their feet a shoulder width apart, back straight, hands
clasped behind them. Idly Miranda wondered just how long some of these people
had been in the Imperial Navy to take such a position automatically. For while
she saw a few familiar faces that were around her age, many were older, similar
in age to Jon and Paul. This made sense to her, that Jon and Paul would have known
these crew members the longest and hence extended the invitation for them and
their families to join them on
Terra Nova.

Taking a step forward, Jon started the briefing. “Ladies and
gentlemen, I would like to start off by thanking every one of you for volunteering.
I appreciate that you have all done so based on very little information.
Unfortunately this was necessary, as you will soon appreciate. So without
further delay, our destination is the Tyrell Corporation, on the planet
Tartarus in the Sigma-Draconis System.” With a nod to one side, a large
holo-projection appeared, hovering Jon’s side, several feet above the attending
crew. Motioning towards the projection, he resumed. “As you can see the planet
is very heavily defended
—
”

At this point Miranda stopped listening to Jon, as she had
sat through this briefing with the senior staff only a few days before. Instead
she turned her attention back to the men and women standing before her, all
listening intently to Jon’s words. It occurred to her there were almost equal
numbers of men and women. Sexual discrimination was long dead in the Imperial
Navy; it was more an indication of Paul and Jon’s personality, that they chose
the best person for the job, indiscriminate of sex. It was a very different
environment to the one that she had grown up within the Syndicate. Sexual
discrimination there had been well and truly rife, not to mention the number of
propositions she had to reject, some firmly.

Turning her attention back to the crew, Miranda wondered why
the whole scene seemed so familiar. Finally she placed the memory back to
several holo-films she had watched as a youngster. Part film, part Imperial
Navy propaganda, she had watched open-mouthed as the brave crew lined up,
listening to the briefing from the Commanding Officer, usually detailing the
suicidal mission they were about to embark upon.

It was not until that moment the realisation dawned on
Miranda as to what they were actually about to do. A rescue attempt against an
impregnable planet, with a single warship, to rescue possibly the most heavily
guarded and protected prisoner in the entire Confederation. All this when even
the old Imperial assault plan had stipulated a reinforced task force, backed up
by at least a battalion of ground forces. Part of Miranda could understand why
those assembled in front of her would follow Jon on this forlorn hope. Many of
them owed their lives to this man. But why her? She now possessed her own ship
and had valuable skills she could offer. She should have been hightailing it
for the nearest exit, yet, like those in front of her, she stood in line,
secure in the knowledge she would follow Jon on this mission.

For her, it boiled down to trust.

Jon had taken a chance on her, given her his trust and
opportunities she would never in her wildest dreams have thought possible. For
as Jon had placed his trust in her, so she would reciprocate, implicitly
trusting him. In the firm belief that if anybody was going to be able to pull
off this miracle it would be him. Jon, interrupted her thoughts when he reached
the point in the briefing where he detailed the purpose behind this endeavour.

“I have mentioned before the purpose of this is a rescue
mission, but I have purposefully withheld whom it is that we are rescuing. Each
of you will be risking your lives on this endeavour and hence it is only fair
you all know the full facts. Therefore the objective of this rescue is to
secure the release of the Emperor, Marcus Aurelius, Sofia’s father.”

The silence in the room was all-engulfing, as if nobody
could believe what they had just heard. Then for the first time in the
briefing, Miranda heard a murmuring of whispers. A hand appeared from near the
back of the crowd.

“Go ahead Jonas,” Jon prompted the marine from one of
Gunny’s teams.

“With all due respect Commander, I thought that the Emperor
was dead. How do we know he is being imprisoned on Tartarus?”

“A fair question,” Jon replied. “All I can say is that in
the past few weeks a new and highly placed intelligence source has become
available to us. This source confirmed the location of the Emperor, and that he
was alive, at least until a few weeks ago.”

“Do we know his exact location?” He asked.

“No, we do not. The covert assault team will need to locate
him once we are on Tartarus.”

“Can our intelligence source supply a more specific
location?”

“The intelligence source is no longer available to us,” Jon
replied vaguely.

Jonas did not seem surprised by this response, nodding his
head in thanks and stepping back into line.

As there seemed to be no further questions, Jon concluded
the briefing by saying. “What we are about to do is an unprovoked attack on a
commercial organisation and its private ships and facilities. By all
definitions there is only one word for such action—piracy—and we all know there
is only one penalty for such action
.
Death.” Taking a deep
breath he continued. “I have thought long and hard about this, and even were I
to claim personal responsibility for these actions, I doubt it would be enough
to spare your lives in a civilian court of law. However, in a military tribunal
you would all be protected, as under the uniform code of Military Justice you
would be following a lawful order, hence you would be shielded from
prosecution. Unfortunately, none of us have sworn an oath to the Confederation,
and we are not in the Confederation Navy. But we all once swore a different
oath, that we would uphold the ideals of the Empire, would protect and defend
it from all possible threats, and we all swore an oath to the Emperor. Nobody can
deny us that, nobody can dispute that fact and nobody can force us to rescind
such an oath. Only the Emperor has such authority. Therefore from this moment
on, we are no longer civilians, no longer just employees of Vanguard, we are
what we have always been
—
warriors of the Imperial Navy,
sworn to defend and protect the Emperor.

I will not march to his aid on a ship flying the flag of the
Confederation. If we are to fail, then I want to fail in the knowledge what we
attempted was true and just. Henceforth this ship will fly under her true
colours, what she was always conceived to be. A ship belonging to the greatest
military force in human history. An Imperial Navy warship. A ship-of-the-line.
To be feared by any and all that cross her path. Hell should tremble before us,
for we are coming, and there is nothing in this life or the next that can stop
us.”

Jon’s voice seemed to roll like thunder across the flight
deck. Miranda could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand to attention,
as if the air had become electrically charged. As if the very spirits of hell
had been drawn from that place by the challenge in the Commander’s voice. The
effect on the crew was even more electric. As their eyes seemed to glow with an
inner fire, their backs straightened, their posture hardened.

“Attention on deck!” A voice cried from the crowd. As if the
movement had been practiced to perfection, that crew snapped to attention, feet
together, their arms at salute.

Miranda felt a shiver run down her spine as she gazed at the
crew facing her, and for a brief moment she almost pitied the forces on
Tartarus arrayed against them.

*****

It was several hours later, in the late evening when Miranda
arrived in the senior officers’ dining room. Paul had invited her to dine with
him and Jon, soon after the briefing had concluded and the crew dispersed. Upon
entering the small dining room, Miranda observed Paul and Jon deep in
conversation. They were already seated but that was not what caused her to stop
abruptly.

Paul noticed her entrance, and was about to offer her a seat
when he noticed the shock in her eyes. “Miranda, is everything okay?” He asked,
concerned.

Miranda could only stare at Paul, or more precisely at what
he was wearing. For like Jon, Paul was now dressed in the immaculate white
uniform of the Imperial Navy, the rank of Captain clearly visible on his lapel.
Breaking the silence, Miranda uttered, “Nobody told me that it was formal dress
for dinner this evening.”

Paul looked surprised, before looking down at this uniform
in understanding. “I haven’t worn this in years. I think it’s a little tight
around the waist.”

“You are going soft, Paul,” Jon quipped.

Miranda could only lick her lips, eyes darting between the
two officers, so similar in their white navy uniforms, yet both so different.
For while Jon was tall and lean, with a whipcord-like strength, Paul was
shorter and stockier, but Miranda could still see his strong muscles beneath
his uniform. Miranda was firmly of the opinion most of the female members of
the crew would have traded their right arm to be where she was at this precise
moment, in the company of the two handsome officers.

“Apologies, I feel slightly underdressed.” Miranda flashed a
smile.

“Not from where I am sitting,” Jon replied, giving her a
wolfish grin. Admiring her in the knee-length, black dress she had worn for the
occasion. “Although I do wonder what you would look like in a uniform? I must
confess to having a thing for women in uniform. Maybe I could interest you in a
commission?” He laughed.

Miranda just rolled her eyes. Jon was in one of his rare
exuberant moods and as far as she could tell these moods usually only occurred
prior to him embarking on a life-or-death venture.

“If you would like me to leave, so that you two can resume
your flirting in private?” Paul interrupted, trying to hide his amusement.

“Not at all,” Jon replied, laughter in his eyes as he stood,
sliding back a chair so Miranda could take a seat. He had to bite back a
startled intake of breath as he glanced down at the endless expanse of back on
show, as he could see all the way down to her derrière.

He and Miranda had been close for a while back on
Terra
Nova
, going as far as to share an all-encompassing kiss prior to him
leaving the station to face Harkov and his fleet. At the time Jon had given
little thought to the consequences, as he did not expect to live much longer.
However, since then he had been keeping a distance from the gorgeous young
woman, not wanting to give her the wrong impression, as his heart had long
since belonged to another. But it was times like this when his resolve waivered
and he wondered if he should stop living in the past and move on. Not wanting
to face such weighty problems at the moment, as he needed to focus on the
mission at hand, he returned to his seat.

Paul broke the silence between the couple by inquiring. “So
Jon, have you thought about your next steps after you arrive on Tartarus?”

Jon gave the question due consideration, before shaking his
head. “We don’t have enough intelligence about the facility, where they could
be keeping Marcus, his current health status. I guess that we will have to play
it by ear.”

“So no plans to just walk up to the front door and loudly
demand his release?” Paul smirked. “Relying on the fear inducing presence of
the great Praetorian Commander?”

“Funny.”

“Miranda,” Paul turned to the younger woman, with a sparkle
in his eye. “Did you know our beloved Commander here has a certain reputation?”

As a matter of a fact, Miranda did have some inkling of
this, as she remembered Paul mentioning it during a discussion in his office,
after Jon had been badly injured during the Syndicate assault on Terra Nova. “I
seem to remember you mentioning it,” she replied dryly. “How did it go again,
something along the lines of being invulnerable, possessing a magic sword,
being the best pilot in the galaxy, clairvoyant and telepathic,” Miranda ticked
each one off on her fingers as she said them. The only one that she
purposefully left off was Paul’s final addition, that according to the crew, at
least the female half, Jon was rumoured to be the best lover in the galaxy. As
Miranda was almost certain that Paul was making that up, just to embarrass her,
and she would
not
fall for the same ploy twice.