The Last Praetorian (13 page)

The captor at the door suddenly collapsed, like a deflated
balloon - without any air, he just folded to the floor.  Sofia could see a pool
of blood start to congregate on the floor, from a red line that intersected his
throat. 

The room erupted into complete pandemonium, her captors
suddenly shouting in alarm, reaching for weapons, knives, anything within reach
that they could use to defend themselves… but all to no avail.  Jon flew
through them like an apparition. Like a wraith - slashing and thrusting.  One
mercenary, quicker than the rest managed to draw his pistol and fire… but Jon
had long since twisted out of his line of fire and like the others, this man
fell to the floor, lifeless.  The whole sequence of events seemed to be over
within a heartbeat.  Where initially had stood her captors, her abusers, ready
to inflict the ultimate horror upon her, now stood Jon, back from the dead.  One
side of his face covered in splatters of blood.  His or one of her captors’,
Sofia had no way to know.  Sofia could not utter a word, terrified that if she
said anything, that if she even blinked, it would shatter the illusion and her
guardian angel would disappear - forever.

Exhausted beyond imagination, but fear and adrenaline
fuelling him, Jon stared at the scene before him dispassionately.  Jon had no
sympathy for those lying at his feet dead.  They would not have spared any
sympathy for him, or Sofia. 

Sofia!
 

His thoughts, so focused on the battle had not spared an
instant to consider her, or her condition.  Reluctantly he let his gaze fall
upon her, on her back, spread-eagle over the bed.  His sight took in her torn
dress, exposed breasts, but he did not let his eyes linger, instead focusing
his entire being on her face…and eyes.  Keeping his sword firmly in the grasp
of his hand he swiftly crossed the room, to the side of her bed.  Never
breaking her gaze he continued to stare into her terrified eyes.

Gently sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch
her, he continued to hold her gaze, never once glancing at her exposed body. As
he gently touched her pale cheek with his fingertips he asked in a soft, gentle
voice. “Sofia, it’s me Jon.  I won’t hurt you.  I won’t let anybody else hurt
you.”

“Jon.  Are you real or a ghost?” Sofia asked in a dazed,
confused voice.

Jon was confused by the question, guessing that she was in
shock.  He tried to remove his fingers from her cold flesh, but one of her
hands shot out to grasp his hand, keeping it resting on her cheek. “I’m real
and I won’t let anybody, or anything hurt you again,” he tried to reassure her. 
Sofia’s head tried to turn to focus on the bodies, dead on the floor but Jon
would not allow it, tightening his grip he instead forced her to focus on him. 
“They cannot hurt you ever again,” he repeated.

Suddenly reaching out to embrace him tightly, afraid that if
she left him go he would disappear, Sofia broke down in tears.  In great
heaving breaths she tried to explain. “They, they were going to…Oh God.”  Jon
just continued to hold her tightly.  Once her tears had subsided slightly, Jon
leaned back to look her in the eye before asking the question that he had been
dreading, but desperate to know the answer.

“Sofia, did they, did…” Jon was desperately trying to utter
the word rape, but he could just not bring himself to ask the question, so
instead he simply inquired, “did they hurt you in any way?” 

Sofia just shook her head in response to the question,
unable to reply verbally.  Jon just held her tighter, wishing that he could
protect her from all the ills in the universe, forever.

*****

However, eventually they did have to move.  Who else knew
that they were there, their captors could have called in reinforcements. 
Wrapping Sofia in his flight jacket, he quickly bundled her out of the room and
through the station.  When arriving at the station, Jon had received many
envious looks from the men and Sofia jealous looks from their partners. 
However, this time the stares came for very different reasons.  Jon’s spotless
white navy uniform was covered in blood and his face splattered with it.  He
had Sofia in one tight embrace, his other hand tightly clutching his prized
sword.  Meanwhile Sofia was wrapped in his flight jacket, also smeared in
blood, bleeding from a number of scratches to her face, with one eye still
swollen shut.  The two made a visible impression, stumbling their way back to
the shuttle.

Jon had never been so overjoyed upon reaching the ‘
Light
. 
Helping Sofia up the entry ramp, Jon ensured that the entrance was firmly
sealed once they were back on-board.  Lowering Sofia into the co-pilot seat in
the cockpit, as he had no intention of ever letting her out of his sight again,
he half collapsed, half fell into the pilot seat.  Activating the emergency
start-up sequence for the engines, as soon as they reached sufficient power he
re-oriented the nose of the
‘Light
out of the docking bay into deep
space before throwing full power into the engines. 

It was only when outside the station, pulling away at best
possible speed that Jon noticed the communication system light up like a
Christmas tree.  In his exhaustion and haste he had completely forgotten to
request clearance from docking control to depart.  Not really caring, as even
if they had denied him permission to depart he would have left anyway.  Once
they were at a safe distance from the station Jon engaged the FTL engines, not
really caring what destination was programmed in.  Anywhere else was better
than their current location.  Jon did not allow himself to relax until the ship
was safely cocooned in the grey shapeless void of FTL.

Only then did he allow himself to breath easily once again. 
Turning to face Sofia, he observed her with concerned eyes.  She had said nothing
since departing the station, and wrapped up within his much larger jacket,
staring aimlessly out into space, reminded him of how small and delicate that
she was.  Touching her gently on the shoulder to try and rouse her, he
suggested. “Why don’t you go and get cleaned up?”  It seemed to take an age for
her eyes to slowly focus on him, but eventually she nodded her head resignedly
in agreement.  Jon followed behind her, keeping a close eye on her until she
finally disappeared into the small washing facilities on the
‘Light.
 
Sighing worriedly, Jon used the time to strip his own blood soaked uniform off,
making sure to throw it into the trash disposal system.  The last thing he
wanted was Sofia to see the blood soaked clothes as another reminder of her
terrifyingly close encounter.  Changing into a clean flight-suit and using some
cloth to wipe clean the blood from his face and sword, he sat back in one of
the large cushioned seats to contemplate their next steps.

It seemed like a lifetime later, and Jon was starting to
seriously contemplate entering the washroom to check on Sofia, when the door
slid open and she stood before him.  Like him she had changed into a simple
flight-suit, but the black suit did nothing to hide her pale skin, scratches
and bruises that dotted her face and neck.  Sofia had seemingly aged ten years
in the span of a few days.  Her lustrous red hair seemed to have lost its shine
and was now a rusty colour and her once sparking green eyes now seemed dull and
lifeless.  Taking a seat next to Jon, for a moment, they remained as if frozen
in space and time, neither moving, neither speaking until the silence was
broken when Sofia asked quietly. 

“What are we going to do now?”

Jon was silent for a few moments; he had been giving the
problem serious contemplation while waiting for Sofia and had come up
with…nothing.  All the Imperial facilities were still out of the question and
as their experience on
Transcendence
demonstrated, civilian facilities
were just as dangerous.  Tired, exhausted with no idea or plan, Jon just wished
to go home and leave all these problems behind him…

“
Home!
”
Jon said aloud, sitting up
straighter. 

Sofia viewed him with alarm.  “We cannot go back to the
Imperial
Star
,” she said, “they have already tried to kill us once…” She let the
statement tail off, not wishing to finish it.

“Not your home, my home.”

“You have a home?”  Sofia exclaimed, then blushed slightly,
realising how that question sounded.

Jon simply smiled at her, glad to see a bit of colour
returning to her face.  “Where do you think I came from? Manufactured at the
nearest Imperial Praetorian cloning facility?” Jon replied indignantly.

“So where do you come from?”  Sofia inquired curiously, as
she had never given any thought to Jon’s history or family.  A clump of
something cold and unpleasant landed in the pit of her stomach when it suddenly
occurred to her that maybe Jon had somebody waiting for him at home.

“You are going to find out very shortly,” Jon replied with a
grin striding towards the cockpit to change their destination.          

Present Day

Transcendence Station, Zeta Aquilae System

Looking out of the cockpit window it seemed that
Transcendence
Station had not changed much since their last desperate flight here, almost five
years before.  The port was still a bustling hub of activity with hundreds of
ships of all sizes arriving and departing, some from within the system but also
many others from other systems that made up the constellation of Aquila.  The
station acted as the main trade hub for this entire sector and hence anything
could be bought… or sold.

Powering down the ships engines, Jon took his time to make
sure everything was secure, including drawing a powerful pistol and other items
he felt he might need from the ship’s well-stocked armoury.  Jon was never
going to forget the last disastrous trip to this station. Before disembarking,
Jon went to check on the ships newest addition, in the starboard cargo hold.  While
Jon was no technician, the pod seemed to be intact and had come out of the
collision relatively unscathed with ample power remaining.  Trying to peer
inside the pod to catch a glimpse of the occupant, turned out to be a futile
gesture, caused by the heavy condensation from being in space.  Jon once again
deciding to leave the pod sealed, better-trained personnel back at
Terra
Nova
could open it.

Disembarking from the ship, Jon found the dock master at the
bottom of the boarding ramp.  He stopped briefly to confirm the docking fee and
requested that they refuel the ship for the return journey, stating that he did
not plan to stay long.  It was also obviously a sign of how far security had
degenerated in the system that the dock master did not even blink when asked
for replacement ammunition for the guns, instead confirming that the ammunition
would be loaded and the cost added to the bill by the time he returned. With
that accomplished, Jon strode out of the hanger, hopefully in the direction of
the club where he was supposed to be meeting the customer.

*****

Finally arriving at the club, “Ecstasy” a pun on the station
name, that Jon was sure was completely missed by 99% of the clientele.  Jon was
already twenty minutes late for the meeting, having become completely lost in
the labyrinth of the station.  Jon hated asking directions!  You would think,
being able to plot a pinpoint course across the Galaxy, he would be able to
find one club on the station!

Jon could feel the bass from the speakers when he was still
fifty meters from the club; by the time that he reached it the noise had become
a living creature.  Rattling his teeth and sending vibrations up his spine, by
the time it reached his ears it felt like he was being whacked over the head by
a mallet.  Stepping inside the club, Jon was nearly thrown back out by the wall
of sound crashing over him.   The customer had chosen this place for a
meeting?  They would have to negotiate contract details by passing notes
backwards and forwards, as it was impossible to hear anything. 

Casting his eyes around Jon peered through the dark, smoke
filled room; strobe laser lights piercing the gloom, moving in erratic
directions.  Jon was surprised to note that the club seemed to be separated
into two distinct areas, on one side a dance floor with a raised stage, the
other half - well-spaced tables with a small scattering of customers, mostly
engrossed by the current occupant of the stage.  Jon shuddered to a halt as he
observed the blond haired beauty, with short-cropped hair and baby blue eyes,
gyrating to the music around a pole on the centre of the stage.  However, Jon
only spared a glance at her eyes, instead raking his eyes along her sleek
athletic body, with the short cut-off jeans and white bikini top.  Jon had
observed women dressed only in underwear that revealed less flesh.  As their
eyes met across the room, the dancer flashed Jon a sexy grin before turning her
back to him, offering Jon a stunning view of her rear. 

Biting back a flush, Jon cursed himself. He had been far too
long without female companionship.  To distract himself he scanned the room for
his customer.  Jon was finally able to locate his client via his white hair.  The
profile that he had been supplied with put him at a little under forty years of
age, so Jon assumed it was caused by a genetic condition and not simply by
number of years.  Unless of course he had a similar lifestyle to Jon! Having
spent most of his life, avoiding people trying to violently kill him, he
certainly felt that his hair was becoming white prematurely! 

Sliding into the table opposite his client Jon eyed the man
carefully and his dismay grew.  Beneath the mop of white hair was a pale face
with dark eyes that showed too many sleepless nights and stress.  The worn and
torn jumpsuit that he wore seemed to hang from his emaciated frame; all seemed
to indicate a person going through a low ebb in his life.  Jon was also drawn
to the weapon that was hanging from a belt at his waist.  While there was
nothing illegal about carrying personal weaponry it was unusual enough on a
civilian station like
Transcendence
to draw more than one raised
eyebrow.  At least it was still attached to his belt and not in his hand, a
good sign to start a meeting…