Pax Imperia (The Redemption Trilogy) (52 page)

“Many of you here know Captain James Harrison, of the 12
^th
Fleet,” Jon called out, realising that he needed one final push to make them understand the sort of people they were protecting. “He was a popular Captain, well-liked by all and, by all accounts, a fine officer. I’m sure many of you have also heard the rumours that he was behind the attack on Eden Prime.” Jon paused for effect, letting his words sink in, before he hit them with the truth. “The rumours are completely true. James Harrison gave the orders to open fire on Eden Prime. He was directly responsible for the deaths of thousands.”

This time the group was not quiet, the shock rippled out through the crowd, for many did indeed know Captain Harrison.

“Why did he do it?” Jon called out to the crowd. “Why would anybody do such a thing? I will tell you why. Because he had no choice. I would have done the same in his situation; every one of you here would have. Why? As the people that
you
are protecting took his family. They made him watch as they raped his wife.” Jon paused for a moment to let that sink in, before delivering the final resounding blow. “Then they threatened to do the same to his young daughter.”

At this the crowd went deathly still. Many of them were married, even more of them had families of their own. Each silently wondered what they would do in the same situation. Their expressions quickly turning to anger and then fury and, before the marines realised what was happening, the crowd behind them started to push and shove. Only able to see the armed marines who were protecting people who would commit such evil acts.

Shouting now, to be heard by the crowd pushing at the Marines, he called out. “But do not take my word for it. Hear the words from the very lips of the deceased—Captain James Harrison!”

The crowd fell silent, stunned at the apparition that had suddenly appeared next to the Commander. The apparition seemed to flicker and waver as if he was as insubstantial as a ghost. With eyes closed, head bowed, the spirit finally spoke. “My family,” it whispered. “They will hurt my family.”

“Who has your family, Captain?” Jon asked the apparition.

“I don’t know,” it uttered. “I received a call from whoever had them, it was heavily encrypted and untraceable. They didn’t identify themselves, they claimed to have my wife and daughter, and they would kill them if I did not go along with what they said.”

“How did you know that their threat was real? That they even had your family?”

In a dead voice, which carried from the grave, it replied. “Because they forced me to watch while several of them took turns raping my wife. They told me if I didn’t watch, if I looked aside even for just one moment, that they would kill her. After they had finished, they told me what I had to do. They warned me that if I told anybody, or did not carry out their orders to the letter, they would do the same to my daughter. By the Maker, she is only seven years old. I couldn’t. I had no choice, I had to—” Whatever else it was going to say was lost to the sound of sobbing as the apparition completely broke down—and then vanished.

In the great cavernous bay, nobody uttered a sound; the occasional sob could be heard in the background, like a chorus to the grief-stricken words that had just been spoken by the dead. As Jon stepped away from the shuttle the crowd parted before him, none making a move to intercede, until he stopped in front of the ranking officer, who had earlier called for his arrest.

“It’s over,” Jon replied softly. “You have done what duty demanded of you. Now step aside, and let me do my duty. For I promised Captain Harrison that I would bring those people to justice.”

“Was that really him?” the officer whimpered in fear.

Having reprogrammed the emitters in the hangar bay prior to stepping from the
Endless Light
, Jon looked at the spot where the holo-recording had been standing. “Yes, it really was,” he confirmed sadly, stepping around the officer, departing the flight deck.

*****

Jon sighed with relief when nearly an hour later the door to the command deck slid open at his approach. For he had run a gauntlet of sealed bulkheads, decompressing corridors, locked lifts and automated defence systems as the bridge crew, increasingly frantically, did everything in their power to impede his progress.

It had all been for nothing.

For every sealed bulkhead opened at his approach, corridors re-pressurised as soon as he arrived, lifts pausing momentarily before speeding him to his destination, automated defence systems powering down at the very sight of him. For as quickly as the command staff placed another impediment in his path, the ship’s computer reversed it, clearing his path to the bridge. The senior officers could only observe helplessly, as the angel of death took another step closer, and another, until he had finally arrived.

Jon barely saw the butt of the pulse rifle out of the corner of his eye, before it came crashing down onto the back of his head. When he finally came back to his senses, blinking away tears, he was lying on the floor of the command deck, with two pulse rifles hovering inches above his prostrate body.

Touching the back of his head, where a large bruise was already starting to form, Jon looked up, observing the immediately recognisably form of Admiral Alexeyev standing in the middle of the command deck with a grave expression on his face.

“Admiral,” Jon acknowledged him, wincing as he touched the painful lump.

“Commander Radec,” Alexeyev replied formally, his eyes darting to one side of him.

Trying to twist his head, to take in who or what the Admiral was looking at, Jon blinked back tears at the excruciating pain that seemed to hold his head in a vice. He quickly looked ahead again, deciding that abrupt movement was a bad idea at the moment. Anyway the mystery of who or what the Admiral was looking at was soon resolved, when the aforementioned person stepped into his line of sight. Jon took in the man with a single glance, from the polished black boots, to the immaculate black and red uniform of the Confederation Navy, observing the Captain’s insignia before letting his eyes linger on his face. Taking note of the blond hair, pronounced nose, grey eyes and pursed lips his eyes widened in recognition. “You’re looking good Senator, have you lost some weight recently?”

Captain Benson looked started for a moment, before laughing. “You are referring to my father. I am his son, Captain Benson,” he preened.

“Ah, yes, I remember now,” Jon replied dismissively. “Anna mentioned you in passing. How did she describe you? The younger, cruder, more arrogant version, but completely lacking in intellect.” Jon glanced at the man disdainfully. “She was a good judge of character.”

The smirk instantly vanished from Benson’s face, to be replaced with a flash of anger. With a grim nod from him at the two marines behind Jon, one of them smashed the butt of the rifle, once again, down on his head. Jon went crashing to the floor, yet again. “Did anybody ever tell you that you’ve got a really big mouth?”

“Not really,” Jon groaned painfully from the floor. “But I’m frequently told that most people wish me dead soon after meeting me for the first time. I always thought it was because of my winning personality, but perhaps it could be my mouth…” Jon tried to pick himself up off the floor, but when he did everything started to spin, and he could feel the bile rising in his throat. Therefore he decided that just continuing to lie on the floor was a better idea.

He had already recognised Benson for what he truly was—a bully. The only thing that bullies liked more than spreading misery was to talk. For nothing was worse to them than failing to be recognised for their achievements. “I must congratulate your father, the Senator, on his method of attack on Eden Prime it was—inspired,” Jon goaded him.

Benson frowned, taken aback by the compliment, before smiling in satisfaction. “It should be me that you are congratulating then. My father is a master politician, but he leaves such operational matters up to me. It was easy to find such leverage. I could have chosen any of the senior officers, but I took a great deal of personal delight from watching Captain Harrison crumble, knowing he was the son-in-law of the great Admiral Sterling. It was like screwing them both, after Harrison was promoted over me. It’s just a shame that Sterling wasn’t watching, but I’ve still got personal recordings. Perhaps I will show them to Sterling before my father orders his death. Wouldn’t that be something? I can watch him break—twice.” His chilling laugh echoed around the command deck.

“And Harrison’s family? It was always your plan to murder them anyway?” Jon pressed intently.

“His wife, the silly bitch went and hung herself in the bathroom. I suppose it could possibly have been a comment that I made, something about him killing himself after murdering thousands—but who will ever know? I was going to keep the girl, you know, to taunt Sterling with. Perhaps I could slit her throat after forcing Sterling to watch the recording of his daughter. Now that would be an irony wouldn’t it?” Benson mused out aloud. “Anyway,” he stopped, realising that he had become distracted. “According to your wife, I talk too much, so I will keep this short. Kill him,” he ordered the two guards standing over Jon.

The two marines did not move a finger; instead they seemed frozen in place, like statues.

“I think that you’ve said more than enough,” Jon agreed, levering himself to his feet.

Benson whirled around, observing all eyes firmly fixed upon him, but he found no empathy in their eyes, only anger—and disgust. Finally his gaze came to rest on Alexeyev, who was staring into the distance. “Admiral,” Benson snapped at him. “Order your marines to kill Radec, now. This is your last chance to salvage your honour, career—and life.”

Alexeyev seemed to finally regain focus, glancing at the marines, still frozen behind Jon, before his gaze came to rest on Captain Benson, pale and sweating standing in the middle of the command deck, isolated and alone.

“My honour?” his voice seemed hoarse, as if he was fighting to get the words out. “What of
your
honour? You who stand there, triumphantly detailing the appalling crimes you have committed, while contemplating more? I met Harrison’s wife, years ago at one of the fleet inaugural balls. We danced briefly while she described her daughter to me. She was so proud of her, as she had only just taken her first steps. She showed me a picture of her, a beautiful little girl with blond hair and mischievous blue eyes.” At this his expression darkened, his face going taunt with fury. “There is only one action that my honour permits me,” he growled, taking a step towards Benson. “Sergeant!” he thundered, “Place Captain Benson under arrest. He is charged with abduction, rape, torture and murder.”

Before anybody could move to intercede, Benson took a step back, drawing the pulse pistol from his side, brandishing it in all directions, his eyes crazed. “Nobody moves,” he screamed fanatically. “I’m in charge here. You all obey me.” Turning once again to face Admiral Alexeyev, he sneered. “My father warned me about you Alexeyev. He told me once a traitor, always a traitor. There is only one punishment for traitors—death.”

With that Benson levelled the pistol, pointing it directly at Alexeyev’s chest, depressing the firing stud. Standing only a few feet away, the bolt couldn’t fail to miss—and it didn’t. It struck the Admiral squarely in the chest and he, with a stunned expression, collapsed to the floor, the dark uniform now stained red, with blood.

“I’m in command now,” Benson shouted confidently, still brandishing the pistol. “You will all follow my orders, and my first order is that Radec dies, here and now. Kill him.”

This time the two Marines did come to life, raising their rifles in preparation to fire, but not in Jon’s direction as the rifles pointed squarely at Captain Benson.

“No,” Jon ordered, taking a step forward, pushing the barrels of the rifles back down. “If either of you move against him it’s mutiny. He is still a Captain in the Confederation Navy; your punishment will be the same as his. Death. I will deal with this personally, as I swore to Captain Harrison that I would.”

Hearing these words, Benson swung around, the pistol still firmly in his grasp, murder now clearly visible in his eyes. “You,” he screamed, pointing at Jon. “This is all your fault, you have turned everybody against me. Well, if they will not follow my orders, I will do it myself.” Once again Benson levelled the pistol, depressing the firing stud, and again the shot flew straight and true, striking Jon firmly in the chest, with a cry of pain he collapsed to the floor, the cloak spreading out around him, forming a pool of darkness on the floor.

“Who is next?” Benson screamed, swinging the pistol around to point first at one officer, then the next. “You will all follow my orders, or you will die, and I will find somebody else—” Whatever else he was going to say next was interrupted by a gasp. Swinging around, Benson’s face went slack with horror, the pistol shaking violently in his grasp.

For where once had stood a pool of darkness on the floor, now a dark shape started to rise, a sword clenched firmly in one hand. The dark hood kept any face within hidden in shadow, but nonetheless a voice emanated from the darkness. “It is time for you to stand in judgement, to face your victims in person, as they are the only ones who will decide the punishment for your crimes.” The dark shape raised the sword in preparation to strike, the blade seemingly absorbing all light, as dark as the shadow holding it.

In terror Benson let loose bolt after bolt, trembling so badly that only one or two hit their target, the shape seemed to waver after each impact, but step by step it still drew closer, before the blade snapped down, faster than an eye could blink.

Captain Benson stared uncomprehendingly at his hand holding the pistol, or at least where it once had been, now simply replaced with a stump at the wrist. Hand and pistol fell to the floor with a
thud.
His scream of pain, like a mortally wounded animal, reverberated around the room, but nobody made any move to help him, all frozen, as they stared on with no sympathy.