The Sunfire Page 11

  “Madam President, we must go now,” her aide insisted firmly. Deciding that she could reply to the message later, Sofia Aurelius, the last Imperial Princess turned her back on the workstation and walked out of the apartment, ignoring a call she had been waiting at least five years for. After some time the workstation once again went dark, a blinking light the only indication of the stored message.

  *****

  It was later, much later, when Sofia finally returned to her apartment. Feet dragging she looked the complete epitome of exhaustion. Not unexpectedly the meeting had overrun, continuing late into the night. It seemed every member of the committee wanted to use his or her full allotment of time to make the point, repeatedly, that steps were necessary to ensure a repeat of Zeta-Aquilae could never happen again. Of course the Senators were a little vague on how they might be able to accomplish this. The general consensus seemed to be that further cuts to the Confederation Navy were necessary to ensure its loyalty to the Senate. This made no sense to Sofia, as it was only the swift action of the Confederation fleet, with a little assistance from some civilian ships, that had averted the disaster in the first place—or that at least was what the majority of the Senate thought had happened.

  Sofia threw a weary glance at her workstation, observing the blinking light indicating she had messages waiting for her. Instead, she once again turned her back on the device, heading for her bedroom. She let her dress pool at the foot of her bed and crawled under the covers. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  Many years later in life, Sofia looked back on that day, wondering how different her life might have been had she answered that call. Possibly she could have responded in time, catching Jon and changing their fate, and that of the Confederation. Unfortunately that is the thing about fate—it’s incorrigible.

  *****

  Sofia slowly came awake to the feeling of a warm, hard body pressed intimately up against her, its warm breath slowly caressing the back of her neck. Sofia stretched languidly, pushing herself further into its embrace, the warmth a cocoon surrounding her, protecting her. Sofia could feel short whiskers rubbing against her cheek, and their bare legs were entwined. Over the years Sofia had lost count of the number of times she had woken up to such sensations. Wondering if fate was just cruel or at least had a twisted sense of humour.

  Turning in her bed, Sofia opened one eye hopefully, praying this time her dream lover would be there, in the flesh, but as always only observed a wide expanse of empty bed. On slow mornings, like this one, Sofia contemplated all those who woke in a similar fashion, wondering who was their perfect dream lover. For Sofia it was far, far worse, for she knew exactly who it was. The few mornings when she had actually woken in his arms were seared across her memory with painful clarity.

  She stayed like that for a long time. Lying in the same bed she always woke up in, staring at the same bare, featureless ceiling, waiting for the feeling of Jon to recede. His warmth, his smell, his touch and the taste of him on her lips.

  However, finally Sofia did rise from bed. She realised that if she did not under her own time, she would soon be roused by one of her numerous aides, politely reminding her of some urgent, over-due appointment. She poured herself the first coffee of the morning, always smiling at the knowledge that Jon started his morning in exactly the same fashion. After all it was she who had first introduced him to coffee, made with real coffee beans.

  Without glancing at her workstation, she tapped the screen to start replaying the messages from the previous day, deeply inhaling the rich aroma of the fresh coffee. So intently was she enjoying the smell, still somewhat asleep, that she paid little attention to the voice of the recording, after all it was a voice she was intimately familiar with. One that occupied her dreams, every free minute of every day. It slowly dawned on her the voice that she was hearing was not coming from her, but from the workstation. Turning back to the screen, she stared into Jon’s deep grey eyes. Forgetting for an instant that this was a recording, Sofia dropped her coffee in shock. The contents spilled across the desk before dripping onto the richly upholstered carpet, the drink totally forgotten.

  With a trembling hand she reached out to pause the recording, needing to overcome her shock before she could focus on what he was saying. Glancing at the timestamp of the message, she observed that it had been recorded some twelve hours earlier. Casting her mind back, she remembered the console lighting up to signify an incoming call just as she had left for the sub-committee meeting. It had been Jon calling! Sofia would have torn her hair out in despair, had she thought that it would have made any difference. A call she had been waiting years for and she had ignored it. To attend a pointless senate meeting, which meant little and achieved less. Hand trembling, terrified of what the message might say, equally worried of what it might not, she hesitantly touched play, Jon’s rich baritone voice filling the room, caressing her.

  “Hello Sofia, I was hoping that I could talk to you, but I guess that you are busy,” the recording of Jon’s voice started without any preamble. Sofia could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Anyway, you know how I hate talking to these things, so I will keep this brief. I am sure you know by now that rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

  Even while making the recording Jon realised that Sofia could tell that the joke fell flat; and instead of smiling he just gave her a self-conscious shrug. “Anyway I hope that you are well,” Jon continued guardedly, as if he was unsure of the question or the answer. “I’m not really sure what the point of this call is, perhaps I just wanted to hear your voice, to see you one last time.”

  A shudder ran through Sofia, as she felt that this message sounded far too much like a final goodbye.

  The recording of Jon seemed to rouse himself from whatever wave of uncertainty had overcome him and he turned his gaze firmly back to the screen, a resolute expression on his face. “That's not true,” he said. “I know exactly why I wanted to talk to you. For in the last few moments of my life, seconds before my ship was about to collide, I realised that I had a one final regret. That I could not see you for one last time, to talk to you and say things to you that I should have said many years ago. However, I was too proud, or too scared, that you might have moved on with your life and at last found the joy I could never seem to give you. We parted with such harsh words and I did not want those words to be the last between us. So maybe it’s a good thing I can only leave a message, as it will give me the opportunity to tell you what I should have said many years ago.”

  With a quivering finger, Sofia paused the playback, wiping away the tears from her eyes, so that she could watch the recording clearly.

  “The first thing that I need to tell you is that I am sorry. Sorry for so many things that it would take me a lifetime to list them all. However, the thing that I am most sorry for is hurting you as I seemed to do so much of the time when we were together. Although it was never my intention, it always seemed events around us conspired to keep us apart.

  The second thing I wanted to tell you is that I miss you, so much that it hurts. You exist in my dreams and when I wake up I wonder why you are not by my side. I go through every day, every waking moment, wondering if I am truly awake and this is not just a nightmare, and that I will eventually wake up—with you in my arms. My life now exists in shades of grey, I can barely remember what it was like to live in colour, as when I was last with you.”

  Sofia ran her finger gently across the surface of the screen, imagining it was Jon’s soft, warm cheek she touched, not the cold, hard, unyielding screen. Tears streamed down her face. Realising Jon had not finished, she once again focused on what he was saying.

  “I wanted to let you know this, while I still can. I need to leave for a while and I cannot tell you why or where, but it is something I need to do, or at least try to do. I could not live with myself if I did not and I certainly could never speak to you or look you in the eye again. This is my burden to bear and I must do it alone. If I n
ever speak to you again, please do not think harshly of me. Forget our last words together, instead remember this; I will never forget you, as I will always carry a small piece of you with me, in here,” he said, laying his hand across his heart.

  With that the screen went blank, the message delivered.

  Many times Sofia played and replayed the message, over and over again. The years they were apart seemed to vanish with each playback. Eventually Sofia looked up from the screen, looking around at the richly furnished apartment. Her robes of state, freshly cleaned and folded, waiting for her next official engagement. The next meeting, the next vote, the next bill—all for what? She had spent the past five years fighting to try and make a difference, to make her idea, her dream, a reality. Looking back she came to realise that, instead, she had become like her father, just what she was most trying to avoid. So caught up in the day-to-day politics of an empire, she lost sight of what was most important to her. Her family. Jon.

  Determined to put things right while she still had time, she wiped away her tears and slapped her palm down on the call option on the console. Perhaps she could still reach him in time before he embarked on whatever foolish mission he was about to launch? For while Jon knew her, she had also become adept at reading him and although he did not say anything in the message, she could read it in his eyes. He did not think he would be coming back alive.

  After the third attempt, Sofia had to admit defeat. Either Jon had already departed the station or he was in the process of doing so. Therefore Sofia tried calling anybody else, on the assumption that somebody would be there and could call him back. However, to her increasing frustration and disbelief, she could not reach anyone. Not Jon, Paul or even Neil. Nobody answered. Finally in desperation she called the command centre, using a code Paul had given her, but only to be used for emergencies.

  Miraculously somebody answered this call and as she stared into the astonished face of Lieutenant Chris Patterson. Sofia vaguely recognised his face, as being one of the station’s more junior shift commanders. Patterson could only gape at Sofia, speechless, before a bright red flush spread across his cheeks and he quickly averted his eyes.

  “Princess, Sofia, uh, Madam President,” Chris mumbled, still desperately trying to avert his eyes.

  Sofia wondered what had embarrassed the young officer so much. While obviously a call from an ex-Princess and Senate President was unusual, the officer’s reaction seemed extreme. It was only when she glanced down that Sofia realised that she had not dressed after rolling out of bed, only planning on reviewing her messages. Hence she was still dressed in her underwear, not having the energy to get changed the night before. Blushing Sofia reached behind her, snatching up her dress and hugging it closely to protect her modesty.

  Glancing back at the screen, relieved to see that the Princess was now showing distinctly less flesh, he cleared his throat, asking politely. “Ma’am, what can I do for you?”

  “I’m looking for the Commander, is he still there?”

  “No ma’am. The Commander, Paul, senior officers and the majority of the crew departed the station several hours ago.”

  Sofia blinked. “All of them?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “I don’t know ma’am. The senior officers would not say. The Commander just said that it was a rescue mission and they would be gone for several days. We’re running a skeleton crew here at the moment.”

  “You have no idea where they went?”

  “No, but—”

  “Just tell me Chris,” Sofia interrupted insistently.

  Lieutenant Patterson blinked, wondering if it was a good thing or not he was on first name terms with the Confederation President. “It’s the armoury, ma’am.”

  “What about it?”

  “They’ve emptied it.”

  *****

  Sofia spoke to the young officer for several minutes, but quickly ended the call when it was obvious that he really had no idea where they had departed to. Damn Jon and his secrets, Sofia raged internally, trying to think of who else might know where they all went.

  In desperation, she tried calling somebody she had only spoken to infrequently over the past few years. This time the call was connected almost immediately and Sofia was staring into the face of a surprised older woman.

  “Sofia!” She exclaimed, her surprise morphing into delight. “It’s been far too long since you last called. You are not getting enough rest and not eating enough,” she was quick to observe.

  Ever since being introduced to Jon’s mother several years earlier, they had occasionally kept in touch. Mrs Radec had immediately, upon first meeting her, made it her personal mission to look after her health. Constantly chiding her on the long hours she worked and the poor diet.

  “Mrs Radec, it’s good to see you again.”

  Jon’s mother gave Sofia a cool gaze, immediately seeing through the façade. “I keep telling you to call me Irene and, more importantly, what has my son done now?”

  Sofia sighed, remembering the reason why she now rarely called. Ever since managing to extract from her the sequence of events leading up to Jon leaving her, Jon’s mother, Irene, was always quick to assume the worst about her son whenever Sofia called. “Nothing, really.” She was quick to reassure her, noticing her disbelieving expression. “Jon just left me a message that he was going away for a while, I just wondered if you had any idea where he might have gone?” She asked mildly.

  “Gone away?” Irene replied, misunderstanding. “Jon never goes away; I don’t think he has ever taken a vacation since running off and joining the navy. However, I think he is long overdue one, perhaps he should pay a visit to Eden Prime, and you could do with a holiday too. You both work too hard.”

  Sofia couldn’t supress a laugh at her words, as Irene had always been convinced Sofia and Jon were the perfect couple. While Sofia had never found out what she had told Jon upon hearing of how he left her, Sofia could well imagine the sharp tongue-lashing that her son had received. “How is the new house?” Sofia asked, changing the subject when it became obvious Jon had not told her where he was going and not wanting to worry the older woman.

  Irene could only stare out of the wide floor-to-ceiling patio windows, to the endless garden stretching out around the spacious property. She could just about make out the imposing gate to their new home, a few hundred meters distant. “It’s a lot bigger than our last place,” Irene stated hesitantly. “It takes me days just to clean it from top-to-bottom, but Ryan and I both love it,” she was quick to add, not wanting to give offence.

  After Jon and Sofia’s last visit she and her husband had moved back into their small apartment in Carrington City on the advice of Jon, who worried the people hunting them would come after his parents too. Several months later they were stunned by a knock on the door, a courier giving them an unmarked package, simply addressed to Ryan & Irene Radec. Inside was a short note from Sofia thanking them for their hospitality and in return a small gift of her gratitude. The gift had turned out to be the deeds to a spacious new property on the outskirts of the city, surrounded by beautiful fields and trees. At the same time they had received a call from their bank, which had spent the past few years hounding them for the repayment of a loan, now asking them how they would like to invest their new-found wealth. For it seemed that their bank balance had swelled significantly, to the point that it was now worth a small fortune.

  To say Irene was shocked was an understatement. It was only when her husband had taken her aside and informed her who their guest had been that events started to make sense. Irene had been mortified for weeks after, remembering how she had asked the daughter of the Emperor to help her prepare dinner!

  “It’s beautiful thank you,” Irene finally replied. “But I am not sure about all the men with guns at the gate. We had a delivery last week and I had to sit the poor boy down with a cup of tea to stop him shaking so much. He kept talking ab
out ghosts rising from the ground with guns.”

  “I’m very sorry about that,” Sofia replied. “Jon and I were just worried about your safety, so we thought that it would be a good idea to ask some of his old friends to keep an eye on your house for a while,” Sofia explained, embarrassed.

  Irene just brushed the comment away unconcerned. “They are such nice polite young men, I bring them hot cocoa during the evening, as it gets terribly cold at night.”

  Sofia could well imagine the scene, the battle-hardened group of ex-marines and Special Forces, sitting around being passed cups of hot cocoa, probably with some roasted marshmallows, by Irene. The mental picture brought a smile to her face.

  Sofia talked for several more minutes with the Radec matriarch, signing off by promising to come and pay them a visit sometime in the near future.

  *****

  Sofia frowned. So far she had spent most of the morning calling everybody she could think of who might know Jon’s whereabouts or destination, but nobody knew. Sofia was certain by now the only people who knew their destination were already en-route. It was just the sort of thing Jon would do to ensure nobody could discover his plan.

  Sofia needed somebody who was paranoid enough to know everything—and everybody. A person who had spies on every planet, every station and probably even every ship. Somebody who was morally bankrupt enough to be willing to sell to Sofia Jon’s destination, and purpose—for a price. As Sofia was only aware of one person to meet all these requirements, she booked herself passage on the next ship to the Memphis station, under an assumed name.

  She asked her aides to clear her schedule for the next week. There was much complaining at the short notice they had been given, which fell on deaf ears. With that Sofia turned to her wardrobe. Over the years, aside from her formal robes of state, she had accumulated many different clothes, ball-gowns, evening dresses and cocktail dresses. Going through her extensive wardrobe, it reminded her of how her work had taken over her life, as she had nothing suitable for such nondescript travel. Finally, at the very back of the wardrobe, tucked away in a disused corner, she finally found something practical. Observing herself in the tan coloured blouse, jeans and ankle boots she wore, she remembered that it was these very clothes that she had arrived in, almost five years to the day, with Jon. Gazing at her reflection in the mirror, Sofia was startled by the transformation.