The Last Praetorian (49 page)

*****

For the second time in his long, undistinguished career
Harkov was forced to watch as a much inferior force tore his fleet’s fighter
complement to shreds.  Pounding his fist in frustration, Harkov cursed the day
that Radec was born!  This was the second time, the
second time!
That
Radec had made him look like a fool.  Looking at the unfolding tactical
disaster on his display, a bead of sweat broke out on Harkov’s forehead that he
was quick to brush aside.  While the tactical situation now looked far less
promising, with the bulk of his fleet’s fighter complement now destroyed or in
complete retreat, cut of from his own forces by that damn Confederation task
force, and where had they suddenly appeared from?  Harkov had the sudden
uncomfortable thought that his trap, was starting to backfire badly.  He needed
to make a decision and quickly, but what to do?  Ultimately the decision was
made for him…

“Sir, we have unidentified ships departing from the station,
on a direct intercept course with the fleet, what are your orders?” the young
Captain at his side interrupted his thoughts.

“How many?”

“Sensors are reporting three ships, in a close formation. 
We cannot detect any external weapon mounts.  Tactical have tentatively
identified them as freighters.  What are your orders?”

Well that’s an easy enough decision to make,
Harkov
thought.  “Destroy them!” he growled.

“Flank speed!” the Captain ordered the fellow bridge
officers.  “Bring the fleet into weapons range of the advancing ships.  Weapons
are free when within range.”

“’Belay that order!” Harkov shouted, examining the tactical
display.  Radec would never send three unarmed ships to take-on the bulk of his
fleet; he was obviously up to something, but what?  Licking his lips nervously
Harkov ordered.  “The picket line is to advance and engage the approaching
ships.  Remaining ships of the fleet are to hold position here and await
further orders.”

His captain looked surprised at the change of orders for an
instant, before nodding sharply acknowledging the new orders.  He quickly relayed
the orders to his bridge officers.  A few moments later, the fleet’s picket
line, the dozen or so smaller frigates, currently the fleet’s outer-ring of
defence, accelerated away from the bulk of the fleet, weapons orientating in
the direction of the oncoming freighters.

As Harkov observed his picket line accelerating towards the
oncoming freighters, something jogged his memory.  A similar scene he had
observed recently, but where?  The thought suddenly hit him like a
thunderbolt.  The attack on the Syndicate outpost a few weeks back!  Harkov had
reviewed the tactical recordings from the station; near the end of the battle
Syndicate ships had approached to engage a fleeing freighter, but the freighter
hadn’t been so defenceless after all…  Suddenly Harkov realised what was
happening!  Just like the shuttles, this was just a ruse to draw out his
forces, and to use the element of surprise to engage them, but this time Harkov
would not make the same mistake!

“Captain!” he ordered.  “Picket forces are to expect hidden
gun and missile batteries on the approaching ships.  The ships are to be
engaged and destroyed at maximum range.”

“Sir!” the captain saluted, acknowledging the new orders
hurrying to pass them on to the rest of the fleet.

Harkov leaned back in his chair, with a confident
expression, observing on his tactical display as the two groups of ships
approached one another.  Radec was not going to be able to pull the same stunt
twice, this time they would be ready for them.  After this Harkov was going to
deploy his remaining ships to tear the station apart,
compartment-by-compartment if necessary.

*****

“
Where are we going?
”  Miranda finally asked
exasperated by Jon’s sudden silence.  She had initially assumed that Jon simply
wanted a co-pilot for the
Eternal Light
, but they were going in the
wrong direction, as she knew that the ship was docked on the outer docking
ring…

“Keep your panties on!”  Jon replied with a roguish smile. 
Rolling her eyes, Miranda would swear that Jon was actually skipping down the
corridor!  “Are you abusing some illegal substance or something?” she asked
suspiciously, seriously she had never seen Jon look and act so…energised!

“Not at all!” Jon insisted with an innocent, who me? Look. 
“But don’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”  Miranda continued to look at him suspiciously.

“How crisp the air is?  How bright the lights are!  How good
it feels to simply be alive!” he exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with delight. 
“There is a fleet out there, dozens and dozens of ships, tens of thousands of
people, all with a single purpose, to end our lives, abruptly.  Doesn’t that
make you feel…anything?” he inquired curiously.

“Terrified?”  Miranda replied, unsure if it was a statement
or a question, but even as she said it she questioned if that was true.  Having
been on the station for almost six months, having worked with these people,
eaten with them, laughed with them and cried with them, something inside her
had changed. 

Sure, when she had first been told of the fleet’s arrival
she had been terrified, but upon seeing the reaction of those around her:
determination, confidence, belief in themselves, their training and most
importantly in Jon and Paul, the stories that she had been told over the past
few days!  Impossible situations! Suicide missions! Hopeless last stands, but
always, every single time, Jon or Paul had pulled them though.  Everybody she
had talked to had at least one story of how Jon or Paul had saved his or her
life, usually more than once!  She began to understand the confidence, no, the
belief that this crew had in their leaders and even she had started to think
that maybe, just maybe they would make it through this.

Finally arriving at their destination, one of the many
pressurised docking bays that literally littered the station, Jon turned back
to face her with a knowing smile.  “Then perhaps this will help you change your
mind.”  With that the door slid quietly open to reveal a dark unlit hangar, Jon
motioned with his hand for her to enter.  “After all what is a pilot without a
ship?”

Frowning at the strange question, Miranda entered the large hangar,
letting her eyes slowly adjust to the darkness.  Something was inside the hangar,
a large patch of darkness, a shadow darker than the surrounding air.  As Jon
slowly raised the light level, Miranda stopped breathing as she began to make
out more and more details.  A hooked nose, above which sat a raised cockpit,
resting above a pair of massive sub-light engines.  As the light level
continued to increase Miranda could make out wide, swept back wings.  Slung
underneath these wings were large weapons mounts; missile pods, pulse cannons,
rail guns…  Suddenly something clicked in Miranda’s head.  “It’s a
Wraith
!”
she breathed out in stunned delight.

“An Imperial heavy attack fighter,” Jon clarified, but at a
glance from Miranda he added.  “Yes, a
Wraith
.  When ownership of the
station was transferred to us, we found the ship here, abandoned, in need of major
repairs…  I have no idea why we did repair it; we had no plans for her. 
Perhaps we repaired her simply because we couldn’t bear for such a thing of
beauty to sit in such a state of disrepair…” Jon let his voice trail off as he
gently ran his fingers along one of the now pristine flight control surfaces. 
“Anyway she belongs to you now,” Jon added addressing Miranda.

“
Me?
”

“Yes, you.  And I don’t mean temporarily or as a loan.  She
has been registered with the central ship registry on Eden Prime, as having one
owner - Miranda Sun of Zeta Aquilae.  You.”

“You finally learned my last name?” Miranda replied with a
pleased smile.

“Yep, it took Jason long enough, but he finally found it.  I
don’t know why you didn’t just put the poor boy out of his misery and tell
him…” he laughed.

“A girl needs to have some secrets…” she replied, laughter
dancing in her eyes.  “By the way what is her name?”

“Her name?”  Jon asked momentarily confused.

“The ship.”

“Oh, we haven’t given her a name, just her registry number. 
As her owner it’s up to you to name her…”

With a distant expression in her eyes, Miranda turned her
back on the ship and approached Jon, who was still looking at her with a grin
on his lips.  Stepping well into his private space, almost touching him, eyes
dark with emotion she looked up into his deep grey eyes.

“You like it?”  Jon inquired, his lips quirking up, eyes
dancing with mirth.

“I like it,” she replied, catching his jacket in her hands,
to pull his lips to hers.  She swallowed a moan as his warm tongue caressed her
sensitive flesh.  He took his time, teasing her with a half kiss that made her
legs shake.

If this was what he did to the women he liked, she was
astonished that he seemed to spend so much of his time alone.  “I think I’ll
name her
The Praetorian
,” Miranda murmured, her breath mingling with
his.  “No,” Miranda changed her mind, “
The Last Praetorian
.”  

“I think,” Jon went quiet and pinched her bottom lip between
his teeth, “it’s a good name.”  A deep groan rumbled in his chest when her legs
jumped in response to the mind-blowing sensation he was inducing in her.

A traitorous moan, loud and throaty, escaped from her as he
dragged his tongue across her lower lip.  Tiny, passion fuelled fires erupted
inside each cell in her body as those lips touched her skin.  Her heart pounded
a frantic rhythm in her ears.  She couldn’t stop her eyes from fluttering
closed as waves of warmth coursed through her.  It was the most pleasurable
sensation she’d ever felt.  The most erotic moment she’d ever experienced.

But the most delicious taste came when his tongue plunged
into her mouth, sliding sinuously over hers.  He tasted exactly like he
smelled.  Tangy but sweet.  Smoky and earthy.  All combined to make a scent
that was uniquely… Jon.  The way a man should taste, but more primal, somehow.

Lost in the tantalising friction of Jon’s tongue tangling
with hers, Miranda didn’t realise he’d released her hands until his warm hands
slid down her back to pull her firmly against his solid chest.

The thrust of his tongue, the maddening back and forth
motion was all she could focus on as he lifted her up.  Wrapping both legs
around his hips, she broke from his hungry mouth to moan as he pressed her back
against the entrance.  The cold steel of the corridor door bit into her skin at
the same moment he ground his hard body against her.

Needing to get to his skin, to feel the heat of him against
her, she slid her hands under his shirt.  He laughed a husky sound at the
brazenness of her manoeuvre.  She smiled at the sensation of his bare chest,
rippling, alive at her touch.

“It was only fair,” he laughed as he nipped at her lips. 
“After all I did kind of trash your last one.”

Lost in a sea of swirling emotion, she replied confused. 
“What last one?”

“Your last ship,” Jon replied with a laugh as she tipped her
head back, as he trailed a searing line of kisses up to her neck, she slid her
hands down his chest, delighting in every drip and curve of lean, sculpted
muscle on the way down to the deep grooves between his ribs. 

He had a body to die for, nothing but firm skin and hard
lines.  Miranda shivered as Jon’s teeth scraped her throat.  Her entire body
was on fire, burning hotter everywhere his mouth touched her.  His deep moan
vibrated against her throat, urging her on.

The man definitely knew what he was doing, but as quickly as
the feelings had risen, they began to ebb and then recede as Jon’s touch began
to cool, placing gentle kisses and the occasional playful nip on her neck.

“There is no reason for you to stay,” Jon commented
hesitantly, his voice muffled by her throat.  “I know why the others refuse to
leave, this is the only life they have known since the Imperial Navy.  But you,
you are younger, you have your entire life ahead of you, the ship is yours,
take it and leave.”

Jon’s words were like a bucket of cold water on her body and
she stepped back, out of his embrace, shocked.  “You want me to leave?” she
demanded, incredulously.

Gazing at the young woman in front of him, cheeks rosy, lips
swollen from their earlier kisses.  “Honestly?”  Jon asked hesitantly.

Miranda nodded.  

“No, I have no wish for you to go,” he replied sadly, “but I
have found that people around me, that I care about, get hurt, or worse.  I
don’t want to see that happen to you.”

“I’m not going to leave.”

Jon nodded in understanding, seeming unsurprised at her
decision.  Reaching forward he pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear,
staring deeply into her eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to freeze the
scene in his memory, he gently kissed her lips one last time, a parting
goodbye.  “Then I wish you a good life, Miranda Sun.  My advice, find somebody
to share it with, otherwise you will find it very lonely.”  With that Jon
turned his back on Miranda and made for the exit.

“Is that why you left her?”

“Left who?”

“Your Princess, Sofia Aurelius.  Did you leave her because
you did not want to see her hurt?”

Jon stopped, barely a foot from the door, cocking his head
to one-side in thought. “Partly,” he replied, still facing the door.  “But the
knight errant only wins the heart of the fair Princess in fairy tales, we both
know that does not happen in real life.”  With that parting comment he stepped
through the door, it sliding shut behind him.

Miranda stared thoughtfully at the door, many minutes after
Jon had departed, before bringing a finger to her still swollen lips.  She
could still taste Jon on the tip of her tongue.