The Sunfire (33 page)

“Damn it’s cold in here,” he cursed, his breath clearly
visible in front of him, illuminated by the little light from the torch on his
rifle. However, if he had hoped that by stepping out of the corridor the voices
would disappear he was sadly mistaken. Instead they seemed to grow in volume
and intensity. Warren was not sure if it was his imagination but they now
seemed to have an angry hiss to them. Snapping his rifle left, and then right,
he still could not see anything, but the voices kept coming closer. Close to
panic, he took a step forward, tripped over something and went sprawling to the
floor. Fortunately the safety was still engaged on his rifle, otherwise he
would probably have blown his own head off.

Having dropped the rifle, damaging the torch, he groped
around the floor trying to find both. Instead his hand touched something else,
which was cold and clammy. Jerking his hand away, he finally found the rifle
and, hitting the light, had it flickering back to life. Pointing the light down
towards his feet, Warren had to bite back a cry of terror at seeing a naked
arm, reaching out as if to grasp him. Stumbling back, Warren pointed the torch
back along the arm, until it reached the pale, white torso of a naked cadaver.
The body was partially zipped up in a body bag, and Warren would swear on his
life it looked as if the corpse had been trying to climb out of the bag.

He shone the light around the room, his hands trembling
badly. The room was full of bodies. Dozens of them, hundreds of them. The crew
were all dead! He stumbled back the way he had come and out into the corridor,
mindless with terror. Once he was out of the room, he slammed the door shut,
leaning back against it, trying to catch his breath. Cold sweat dripped down his
face and his heart was hammering, as if it were trying to escape the confines
of his chest.

The next thing he felt was a slight tremor in the door he
was leaning against. For a horrifying instant he thought it was somebody
banging on the other side of the door
—
from the inside.
However, after a brief fright he realised the sound was not coming from the
door, but all around him. Eventually the noise changed pitch to a heavy
clanking sound that was slowly growing in volume. Whatever it was, it was
coming this way. Snapping up his rifle in the direction of the approaching
sound, he tried to make out whatever was causing the noise. However, it was
futile, as the light on his rifle barely covered more than a meter or so in
front of him. The gloom inside the ship was impenetrable.

As the clanking grew louder, Warren could finally make out a
dark shape lumbering down the corridor. It was huge, like some darkly armoured
beetle with multiple appendages, and must have been over eight feet tall. The
ship had been overrun by some sort of insectoid alien species! No wonder it had
not communicated with the station, only attacked. The occupants of the ship
were not human! As if the alien had spotted him it lumbered to a halt, it’s
glowing red eyes feasting on him hungrily.

“If you would be so good as to lower your weapon, old boy.
Face the wall, place your hands on top of your head and spread your legs.”

Why was the alien insectoid speaking in a curt British
accent?

Finally everything suddenly became clear, and he realised
that it was no alien, but a person in some sort of powered armoured suit. So,
instead of following the instructions, he lowered his pulse rifle, aimed at the
chest plate and fired. A green bolt of energy shot out, hitting the armour
squarely on the chest plate. The bolt fizzled slightly before disappearing.
Warren could only gape in disbelief.

“Okay, now it’s my turn. Where is that damn button again,
Gunny said it was
—
oh, here it is,” the curt British voice
said.

The next thing Warren knew he was facing down the barrel of
the largest rifle he had ever seen. It was not so much a gun as a cannon.
Realising what was about to happen he dived to the floor as, with a deafening
roar, a blast of heavy shells flew just over his head. The sound was so
deafening he dropped his rifle and covered his ears with his hands. Then he was
effortlessly picked up off the ground by one arm, the same way a parent might
pick up an unruly child.

“You,” the voice continued on, “Are under arrest for
trespassing on a ship without permission. You do not have to say anything, but
anything that you do say
—
” The voice droned on
conversationally as it carried him away. Warren struggled but to no avail, as
the suit had him in a vice-like grip.

*****

“The enemy ship seems to be disabled, and is now adrift.”
The Officer reported to Commander Hacket.

“Well, that was easy,” he congratulated his crew. “What do
you know, those mercenaries were actually good for something.”

“Shall we cease fire?” The weapons Officer inquired.

“Of course. Of course,” Hackett replied. “After all we do
not want to cause any further damage to the ship we have just captured. I am
sure Mr Sejanus will be giving us all a nice bonus for this,” he added,
wondering how he would spend the money. “Have you been able to contact any of
the boarding parties?”

“No Commander, the interference is still affecting
communications.”

“Oh well, never mind. Open the docking bay and launch a few
shuttles to help secure that ship. We don’t know how many people are on-board
after all. It’s possible the mercenaries I dispatched might need some help to
subdue the crew.”

“Yes Commander.”

*****

“The station’s guns have stopped,” the Tactical Officer
exclaimed, surprised.

“Of course,” Paul replied with far more confidence than he
actually felt. “After all, they are not going to shoot at a ship they think
they have just captured.”

“So what are we going to do now? We cannot wait here
forever.”

“Helm, are we still drifting towards the station?”

“Affirmative Captain, we are still on the heading and
travelling at the velocity we were before we shut down the computer. Based on
the last navigation data, I estimate we have another three minutes before we
pass the station at its closest point.”

“Very well,” Paul said, jumping to his feet and moving
towards the tactical station. “This is what we are going to do. Load one of the
Mk VI’s into the forward missile battery. As we pass by, at the nearest, point
we will launch it.”

“At that range the explosion will do as much damage to us as
to the station—possibly more, as we are not as heavily armoured.”

“I didn’t say we will launch it
at
the station, we
will take a page out of Jon’s book. We will launch it
into
the station,”
Paul whirled around pointing at the external hangar bay door to the station,
which was slowly creeping open.

“You cannot be serious,” the Tactical Officer said, shocked.
“That hangar bay must be barely twenty meters across, no way are we going to
hit it first time.”

“I have complete confidence in you,” Paul replied
cheerfully, patting the young Officer on the shoulder. “Oh, by the way, you
will need to take the shot manually, as we cannot afford to risk alerting the
station by bringing the main computer back on-line. However, look on the bright
side,” Paul beamed. “If you miss, none of us are going to live long enough to
blame you.”

The Tactical Officer went completely white and gave Paul a
sickly smile before angrily snatching a datapad from another Officer and
quickly entering heading and velocity readings, to calculate the angle of the
shot.

Meanwhile Paul resumed his seat, continuing to watch the
station creep ever closer.

*****

“Captain, McNeill here. We have just rounded up the last of
the stragglers on the ship. What do you want done with them?”

“Good job David. Stick them in an escape pod and when we
start our next manoeuvre launch them.”

“Very well Captain. McNeill out.”

“Helm how much longer?” Paul inquired.

“Thirty more seconds until we reach the closest point.”

“Tactical?”

“I’m working on it,
sir.
” Came back the waspish
response.

“Very well, you know
—
no pressure,” Paul
joked.

“Ten seconds,” Helm called out. “Nine, eight, seven, six
—
”

“Okay, I’ve got it, firing solution manually locked in. The
Mk VI is now armed,” the Tactical Officer suddenly said in a rush.

“I have complete faith in you, honestly,” Paul laughed.
“Okay, on my command bring the main computer back on-line, full thrust, hard to
port. Is everybody ready?”

The bridge crew all acknowledged as the helm Officer
continued the countdown. “Four, three, two, one.”

“Mark,” Paul insisted loudly, as the consoles on the bridge
flickered back to life at the same time as the lights came on. Paul could feel
himself being pushed back into his seat as the internal dampeners struggled to
compensate for the sudden violent manoeuvre.

“Missile away!” Shouted the Tactical Officer over the scream
of stressed bulkheads, as the large warship powered itself away from the
station.

“Shit. It’s going to miss,” the Tactical Officer cursed
helplessly.

Paul quickly glanced back at the view screen, watching the
missile fly straight and true, but just a little high. It was indeed going to
miss the docking bay, overshooting by a couple of meters. Paul just closed his
eyes cursing. Remembering his family back on
Terra Nova
, wishing he had
one last chance to say goodbye to them
—

With a shout of glee from the bridge crew, Paul snapped his
eyes open, once again gluing them to the view-screen, wondering what had
excited the crew, as the missile was still going to miss. Then he saw it.
Something was departing from the station, a shuttle. Paul watched open-mouthed
with astonishment as the missile and the shuttle collided. The missile, failing
to detonate, scraped the underside of the shuttle, knocking it off course.
However, Newton’s third law of motion, ‘for every action there is an equal and
opposite reaction’, came into play. For while the shuttle was knocked off
course, the missile was knocked back
on course
, disappearing from view
into the docking bay
.
Slapping the ship-wide intercom Paul ordered the
crew, “Brace for impact.”

*****

Hackett could only stare in astonishment as, with lips glued
to his teacup, he tracked the missile on the view-screen with his eyes. Only
moments before the enemy ship had been dark, adrift in space, dead. Then, as if
with a dying breath, the sole missile had ignited from the bow of the ship. In
the darkness of space the missile was soon lost, but the glow from the rocket
engine was clearly visible, like a flare, as it arced away from the ship, into
the dark night.

For a brief moment Hackett thought it was going to miss, as
the rocket seemed to head off in a perpendicular direction to the station.
However, as if reaching the zenith of its flight, the rocket suddenly angled
back down, diving straight at the station.

A small part of Hackett’s mind idly wondered why was there
only one rocket. After all, how could that threaten his mighty defence station?
But as the rocket accelerated closer, a primordial part of his subconscious
started to scream at him to do something. To do anything, before it was too late.
However, by then it was already too late.

The teacup fell from his numb hands, spilling liquid across
his pants, from where it dripped onto the floor. However, Hackett failed to
notice. His gaze was totally consumed by the missile as it came closer and closer.
Finally disappearing from the view screen altogether.

From inside the station came a sound Hackett had never heard
before, partway between a sigh and a groan, the sounds of stressed metal and
bulkheads.

Hackett’s very last thought was to wonder if the missile had
detonated or not. When suddenly everything around him disappeared into a ball
of white light.

Planet Tartarus, Sigma Draconis System

Of the three of them lying on the floor, it was Sejanus who
was the first to recover once the building stopped shaking. Realising he had to
move swiftly, as he only had moments to live, he rolled across the floor.
Grasping Sofia by her arm and pulled her to her feet in front of him. Keeping a
firm hold on her by looping his arm around her throat, he backed away from
Radec, who still had his sword in hand. Sejanus drew his own sword with his
remaining free hand.

“Not so fast Commander, unless you want your precious
Princess with her throat slit open,” he sneered, waving the point of his sword threateningly
at her.

Jon just eyed the scene in front of him steadily, making no
move forward, but similarly offering no avenue for escape.

“Your sword, drop it,” Sejanus barked.

Pausing for an instant, considering the situation, Jon
slowly placed his sword on the ground at his feet, before once again standing
to his full height.

“Now kick it away from you.”

Jon gave the sword a gentle kick with his toe, sending it
spinning away. It came to rest underneath the sofa Marcus had fallen back onto.

“So, who is in charge now Commander?” Sejanus laughed,
tightening his hold on Sofia. Leaning forward he nuzzled the side of her neck
at the junction with her shoulder, all the while keeping his eyes fixed firmly
on the Commander. “I am puzzled though, why are you with the delectable Captain
Sun instead of the Princess? You never answered my question of who was the
better in bed?”

Sofia looked at Jon in shock and wondered if she had
misinterpreted Jon and Miranda’s relationship. For when she had last spoken to
Miranda weeks before, the younger woman had assured her their relationship had
never been like that. Had something changed recently?

However, instead of appearing angered or embarrassed by
Sejanus’ words, Jon simply looked unimpressed. “My thoughts and feelings for
Miranda, or Sofia for that matter, are none of your business. Now that you have
her, what are you going to do with her?”

“I want to see you dead and buried, with the Princess here
crying out my name. And him,” Sejanus pointed to Marcus, who was observing the
proceedings with a dazed and worried expression, “To pronounce me the next
Emperor of the Imperium.”

“Okay,” Jon replied, rolling his eyes. “Time for you to take
a reality check and come back from whatever twisted fantasy land you are
currently inhabiting. I’m planning on remaining very much alive and Marcus is
not going to be declaring anybody the next Emperor and, as for Sofia,” Jon
smirked. “Well, I can speak from personal experience it was not you she was
crying out for.”

Sofia meanwhile just closed her eyes in embarrassment,
wishing the earth would open up and swallow her. She could not believe the two
men were having
this
conversation, in front of her
and her father.

Sejanus just went red in the face with fury at Jon’s
nonchalant words, and hissed, “Get out of my way. I am leaving now, with the
Princess.”

Jon just crossed his arms with a bemused expression, but did
not step out of the way. “And where are you planning on going? My marines now
control this facility. The warship currently in orbit above us belongs to me.
So I ask again where are you planning on going?” He asked, taking another step
closer to the pair.

Sejanus meanwhile was trembling in fury as all of his plans
and dreams turned to ashes. Destroyed first by Gideon and now by his replacement,
who stood here in front of him. “I’ll kill her, you watch. I’ll never let you
have her.”

“No you won’t,” Jon replied venomously, taking yet another
step closer. A curiously intent expression was on his face.

“Commander,” Marcus suddenly intervened, as he realised
Sejanus was deadly serious and now had nothing to lose. “Let them go.”

However, Jon ignored him. Taking yet another step closer,
until he was little more than a few steps away from the pair, he watched
carefully, as if waiting for something.

As Sofia stared into Jon’s confident eyes, wondering what he
was doing, she realised Jon was not looking at Sejanus
—
but
at her. Suddenly she knew Jon had no intention of rescuing her. Instead he was
distracting Sejanus, forcing him to concentrate on Jon, so he was ignoring her.
As realisation came into her eyes, Jon nodded subtly at her.

“You're a failure Sejanus,” Jon swore at him; continuing to
distract and enrage him. “Gideon saw it, Marcus saw it and even I can see it.
That’s why you were stripped of being a Praetorian. The Praetorian Guard does
not accept failures.”

Sofia could feel the rage building up in Sejanus, the
bunching of his muscles and the way he tightened the grip on his sword. He was
totally focused on Jon, to the exclusion of all else and, for just an instant,
he relaxed his hold on her.

Sofia’s mind instantly shot back to years before, when she
stood in the middle of a garden behind a house Jon had once purchased for his
family. Her back was pressed firmly against Jon’s chest, his arm tight around
her throat, a knife hovering inches from it. At the time Sofia had only been
aware of his warm breath on her neck and the tightening in the pit of her
stomach from his closeness. However, she let none of that distract her as she
stamped down hard on his foot and, at the same time, drove an elbow into his
stomach. She could feel the air rush out of him and for a moment felt some
sympathy for him. Meanwhile she raised her forearm to block any attempt to
slash her throat with the knife, pivoting around with all the grace of a Prima
ballerina, ducking under his arm, twisting out of his grasp.

Right into Jon’s waiting arms as he caught her.

Using the momentum of her movement, he turned with her.
Sofia now firmly in his hold, he placed his body between her and Sejanus. As he
swore he would do so many years before, protecting her, with his own life if
necessary.

With a quick glance to ensure she was unhurt, he firmly kept
her behind him, turning back to face Sejanus, who had an astonished expression
on his face.

“She is no longer the frightened little girl you attacked so
long ago,” Jon replied, noticing his look.

“What have you done to her?”

“Me? I haven’t done anything,” Jon replied. “She has always
had this courage within her, it was just buried deeply under layers of her
father’s overprotective tutors and your terrorising attack. I just helped her
find it. She has taken every step forward herself, she doesn’t need anybody to
hold her hand any more. How like Harkov you are, always too quick to dismiss
and underestimate those around you. Take care Sejanus, for one day they will
surprise you.”

Sejanus just growled in frustration, raising his sword high.
“Then it’s time that I surprise you. Time I do away with my replacement, so as
to step out of your shadow, into the light, and reclaim what is rightfully
mine.”

“She will never be yours,” Jon replied, taking a step
forward to put more space between him and Sofia, heedless of the deadly sword
now hovering just in front of him.

“Commander,” Marcus called out. “I think you dropped this?
Here, catch.”

Surprised, as Jon had completely forgotten Marcus was still
there, so intent was he on getting Sofia away from Sejanus. Turning in
surprise, he saw the object being tossed to him and effortlessly caught it. The
little light from the room reflected off the blade of the Valerian sword he now
held tightly in his grasp. With a small nod of his head in thanks, Jon turned
back to face Sejanus. Taking another step forward to place himself between
Sejanus, Sofia and Marcus. Carrying out his duty. A loyal Praetorian placing
himself between his charges and any threat they faced.

Sejanus meanwhile had lost a lot of his former
self-confidence, as instead of facing an unarmed man, he now faced Jon, the
Praetorian Commander, sword in hand, with a merciless expression on his face.

“Sofia,” Jon snapped. “Take your father and head towards the
hangar bay. Gunny and Miranda are already there waiting for you. Here take
this.” Reaching behind him he withdrew the pulse pistol he had placed in the
small of his back earlier.

“What about you?” She asked worriedly as she took the
pistol. Her eyes alternating between him and Sejanus.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine and I will be along
shortly. First I need to finish what Gideon started. I owe him that much.”

The mention of Gideon’s name brought her up short.
Remembering his final words to her as he held her protectively in her
bedchambers after Sejanus had finally departed.

“Then there will be someone else. Someone younger than
me, faster than me. Somebody who will protect you even better than I.”

Staring at the scene in front of her, with Gideon’s words
ringing through her head, Sofia finally came to understand them. She had been
waiting years for Jon to tell her he loved her, but the words were not
necessary. His actions spoke far louder than words and she finally realised
what Gideon had been trying to tell her,
“Somebody who will love you even
more than I.”

Turning to face her father, whilst tightening her grip on
the pistol Jon had given her she said, “Father, let’s go.” However, there was
one final thing she needed to do first. Turning to stare momentarily at
Sejanus, she then moved towards Jon’s side. Kissing him softly on the cheek.
“We will wait for you. You and I have a lot to discuss.”

Then they were gone.

Jon meanwhile could feel Sofia’s soft kiss lingering on his
cheek and smiled to himself. She had not told him to leave, or even be careful.
Instead she had demonstrated her confidence in him and a promise for the
future. A future that suddenly seemed a lot brighter.

However, first he had an unfulfilled promise to keep.
Raising his sword Jon took a confident step towards Sejanus, for the last time.

*****

Gunny and the remaining Marines had made good time in
progressing towards the hangar bay. This was mostly due to having come across
only a few guards—with only one exception. Having rounded one corridor they
came face-to-face with a small group of mercenaries. However, that battle had
been short and bloody and a very much a one sided affair. As while the guards
had frozen in shock momentarily, the marines had not even hesitated.

Three of the mercenaries were dead before they even had a
chance to draw their weapons. Killed by snapped necks, or vicious knife wounds.
The only exception had been the lead guard, who had recovered quicker than most
and reached for his pistol. However, his weapon had instead gone spinning down
the corridor. For Gunny had taken a tight hold of both pistol and guard,
repeatedly slamming them both against the wall until the guard had finally
dropped the pistol in agony. Gunny had then used both hands to take a firm grip
around his victim’s throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. The guard had
desperately tried to pull the hands away but was not strong enough to break Gunny’s
cast iron grip. The guard had finally stopped struggling and gone slack a few
moments later. Gunny dropped the lifeless body to the floor and the marines
continued on their journey towards the hangar bay.

Finally arriving at the bay, Gunny motioned for the marines
to proceed ahead of him as the massive doors slid open. The corridor in this
part of the complex was far wider, obviously to allow bulky cargos to be
transported from the ships directly into the complex.

Following the marines into the hangar, Gunny could make out
the dim shape of several different ships. The bay was huge. Easily several
hundred meters in length, possibly the same in width, with dim overhead strip
lights interspersed at what seemed like odd distances. Biting back a curse,
Gunny motioned the marines forward as they quickly fanned out in pairs between
the ships. Rifles at shoulder height, their weapons tracked in every direction
as they spread out into the hangar.

Gunny’s own pistol snapped up, as he saw motion from the
corner of his eye. An engineer froze in his tracks
—
terrified
at the sight facing him. Seeing that the man was unarmed Gunny lowered his
weapon slightly, before demanding with a growl. “Do you have any business
here?”

The engineer opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed
it upon seeing Gunny’s expression. With the tactical armour covering his bulk
and the pistol firmly held in his grip, Gunny made for a frightening sight.

“If not, then I would suggest you find somewhere else to be.
Quickly,” he snapped. The engineer scurried past him, disappearing through the
open bay doors. Gunny had little concern about the man telling others what he
had seen and heard. For he knew fairly soon the entire complex would find out.

Turning his back on the bay, and the sound of sporadic
gunfire, Gunny stepped back out of the hangar bay into the corridor to consider
the tactical situation. There was only the single large corridor approaching
the bay, a natural choke point. In addition there were alcoves between the door
and the corridor. Obviously these were used to temporarily store cargo without
blocking the corridor. It was perfect cover, which gave good overlapping fields
of fire back down the corridor.

Gunny was about to recall a couple of marines to secure the
entrance when he looked up. Noticing two figures hurrying down the corridor,
both covered in tactical armour and sporting rifles, Gunny was just bringing
his pistol to bear when he recognised the two marines.

“Sit rep,” Gunny demanded as the two marines finally drew
abreast.

“Scratch one security control room Sarge,” Jonas replied.
“However
—
”

Whatever else he was going to say was drowned out by a
deafening sound and the violent shaking of the building. The marines
immediately reached out to the nearest wall to anchor themselves against the
violent swaying of the building. The lights quickly went out, to be replaced
with the dim emergency lighting. The sound and shaking stopped a few minutes
later, dissipating as quickly as it started, leaving nothing but dust motes
swirling in the air, floating gently in the dim light of the corridor, kicked
up by the building’s violent movement.