The Sunfire (6 page)

“Doctor can you please excuse us for a few minutes,” Sofia
interjected politely, but with a hint of command in her voice.

“Yes, well, sorry. I guess that you have a lot of catching
up to do.” The doctor replied with another patronising smirk. Turning about
face and leaving the couple alone, he slid the door firmly shut behind him.

Jon’s angry gaze followed the doctor out of the room and
would have burned a hole through the door if Sofia had not interrupted him.

“I have already met with Admiral Sterling, while you were
unconscious,” Sofia explained. “I told him about my father,” she added, her
shoulders slumping dejectedly.

Jon’s heart broke at the sight of the defeated young woman,
wishing that he could have been by her side for what he knew must have been a
very painful conversation. Knowing he was breaching protocol, for he could not
be seen touching her in such a facility, but desperate for the contact, however
brief, Jon gently took her into his arms, rubbing her back reassuringly. “What
did the Admiral say?”

“He wanted to know my decision,” Sofia replied miserably.

“Your decision? Your decision regarding what?”

Sofia squared her shoulders, looking up from the bed meeting
Jon’s gaze squarely. Taking a deep breath she replied, “The decision if I will
succeed my father, continuing his rule. To become the first Empress of the
Imperium.”

Jon sucked in a deep breath, as he knew this would have been
the question Sterling needed to ask, after all it was the most pertinent one.
Jon knew Sophia would eventually have to make this decision, although he wished
she could have had more time to decide. Such weighty decisions resting on the
shoulders of one who was still so young. Deep inside, Jon knew Sofia
would
make
the right decision, although which one that might be he had no idea. Over the
past few weeks he had come to recognise a strength and determination in her
that had taken him by surprise. This, together with an understanding and
compassion he honestly felt her father lacked. Jon had absolute confidence that
if Sofia did decide to succeed her father, she would be a leader like no other.
One the Empire desperately needed at this time in its history. But wisely he
did not voice any of these thoughts aloud. The final decision had to be hers,
and not influenced by his own personal feelings. “So what did you tell the
Admiral?”

“I told him that it was an important decision, which I
needed to have time to think about, and I would let him know,” she replied in a
hesitant voice.

Her sidestepping such an important question disappointed
him, but at the same time he could hardly blame her. If he were asked to decide
the fate of the Empire, he would probably want to think about it too. “And when
are you going to make your decision?” he inquired delicately.

“I don’t know Jon. I just don’t know what to do. I don’t
want to become like my father, so intricately involved in the day-to-day
running of the Imperium that I lose sight of what is in front of me,” she
explained, hesitantly at first but then with more confidence. A political
problem in front of her, to be analysed and debated, just as she and her father
used to do over dinner. “However, what is the alternative? The power structure
of the Imperium is built around the Emperor. He is the linchpin and without him
the Empire would fall apart with all the component pieces grinding to a halt.
The Empire would disintegrate, and the result?” Sofia had no need to continue,
both of them had studied pre-Empire history. All the individual systems warring
against each other, countless millions dead with human civilization on the
brink of collapse. “The Emperor is the key to the current power structure,”
Sofia repeated aloud. “Without him we would need a completely different
political structure, something else
—
” Sofia trailed off in
thought.

Wincing in pain Jon lay back on the bed, his back in
complete agony having spent so much time sitting up. “I’m just a soldier,” he
replied painfully. “I follow orders and leave those decisions to the
politicians.”

“What did you just say?” Sofia asked sharply.

“I said I leave the big decisions to the politicians,” Jon
replied, closing his eyes, waiting for the pain to dissipate.

“You're a genius!” Sofia exclaimed in delight, leaning
forward brushing her lips against his. Without even considering his actions,
for they were automatic, he immediately opened his mouth and Sofia’s tongue
swept in, trailing fire. Once again Jon was swept away on a tide of emotion, a
feeling of completeness overcoming him, a strong sense of fulfilment, the way
the universe should be.

All too soon reality came crashing down on him, like a blast
of cold water. His eyes snapped open and he none too gently pushed Sofia away,
however desperately his body yearned for her touch. His eyes came to rest on
Sofia, now a couple of steps away. Her face was flushed, lips swollen from
their passionate kisses, but her face and eyes displayed her complete shock and
disbelief.

“Jon,” she pleaded.

“Stop. We cannot do this.” Jon gasped out loud, trying to
get his racing heart under control. “You are the Imperial Princess Sofia
Aurelius, the daughter of the Emperor. It’s death for anybody to even touch
you.”

“I don’t care about any of that,” Sofia cried, tears
streaming down her face. “I want you. I love
—
” she snapped
her mouth shut abruptly, realising what she had so nearly uttered.

Gritting his teeth, trying to blink away the pain, Jon
slowly sat upright in bed, swinging his feet to the side. He had no intention
of actually trying to stand as it would look embarrassing for anybody entering
the room to see the invincible Praetorian Commander on the floor, unable to
even stand upright. Instead, looking up at Sofia’s tear-stained cheeks, he
wondered if he was cursed to go through the rest of his life hurting this
wonderful woman. Not trusting himself to even attempt to touch her, he tried to
explain.

“It’s not a question of what we want, but our duty. Here and
now you are the Imperial Princess Sofia Aurelius, daughter of the late Emperor
Marcus Aurelius, and your duty is clear. You might not like it and you might
not even want the role, but that is who you are and you cannot change it.
Likewise, I am the Praetorian Commander, my sworn duty is to protect you and
the Empire from any threat. Nothing more, nothing less, but I must also be seen
to be fulfilling my duty. This must come before our personal desires, as that
is what people expect of us. To be idols, put on a pedestal and to be an
example to others. Elsie and the other Praetorians sacrificed their lives in
the name of that duty and I cannot, and will not, taint their sacrifice in the
name of my own selfish desires.”

Distraught beyond belief, Sofia just stared at Jon in shock.
Each one of his words shattering her heart until it seemed broken, beyond
repair. “In that case perhaps I should succeed my father,” she spat back. “One
lesson I learned clearly from him is that what he wanted, he got. If I want
you, I will have you. Brought to kneel at my feet in chains if that is what is
necessary,” she cried, whirling around and fleeing the room.

As an automatic door it could not be slammed, but the kick
that Sofia gave the door had a similar effect.

Jon stared at the now closed door in despair, wondering how
events in his life had managed to spin so quickly out of control. A few moments
later the door slid open again and looking up Jon tried to explain. “Sofia
—
” But it wasn’t a Princess standing in the doorway, but a tall
officer wearing the Imperial Navy uniform of a Fleet Captain. With his blond
hair and bright cerulean-blue eyes, the officer looked like he belonged on the
front cover of some modelling magazine, instead of leading a special forces
task group and being one of Jon’s closest friends.

Paul looked on with some bemusement as Sofia disappeared
around the corner, still in tears. “What is it with you and women?” Paul asked
exasperatedly. “They all seem to flock to you, but soon after head off in the
opposite direction, in tears. Me, on the other hand, with my young, good looks,
they seem completely immune. By the way, you look like shit.”

“Thanks Paul, it’s good to see you again too. How about
closing the door so that the whole planet doesn’t see how bad I look,” Jon
replied irritably.

“So who was the stunning redhead that just flashed past?”

“That would have been the Imperial Princess Sofia Aurelius,
daughter of the late Emperor Marcus Aurelius.”

Paul’s jaw dropped open in disbelief. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Wow. She’s stunning, not at all what I had in mind when I
pictured Marcus’ daughter.”

Jon had to bite back his irritation at everybody constantly
referring to the late Emperor as a distant uncle. “So what did you imagine that
she looked like?” He asked curiously.

“Older, and fatter,” he laughed. “So what did you do to
upset the Princess?”

“It’s a long and convoluted story, and you wouldn’t find it
interesting,” Jon replied. Knowing for a fact Paul would find it completely
hilarious. He would be sure to tell his wife and before Jon knew it most of the
planet would be aware of what had transpired between the two of them. The
Imperial Navy had yet to invent an information dispersal system as quick and
effective as the navy rumour mill.

“By the way, I just got out of a confidential briefing by
Admiral Sterling. He is quietly moving the fleet in this sector onto an alert
footing. He is obviously expecting trouble. I am sorry to hear about Marcus and
your fellow Praetorians. If only my taskforce had been in the system at the
time. We might not have been able to save Marcus, but at least we could have
helped your squadron.” Paul frowned, well aware of the futility of playing the
‘what-if’ game.

“Thanks Paul,” Jon replied honestly. It was good to have at
least one friendly face around that he could trust. Eyeing the floor
speculatively, with his feet still dangling several centimetres above it, he
estimated the distance to the furthest wall to be around fifteen meters. “Do
you have anybody here you could trust to man the door for the next twenty
minutes?”

“Sure. I arrived planet-side with one of the marine’s
special operations teams, on rotation. The Master Sergeant is an old friend of
mine. What do you need?”

“Can you ask him to guard the door for twenty minutes, so
nobody comes in?”

“Sure,” Paul replied, intrigued at the unusual request and,
using the communications equipment on the desk, summoned him. Several minutes
later the Master Sergeant arrived, introducing himself as Patrick Reynolds, but
everybody just called him Gunny. Observing the huge sergeant, Jon concluded Gunny
was perfect for what he had in mind.

“Could you man the door for twenty minutes, Gunny? So nobody
disturbs us.”

“Sure thing Commander,” Gunny replied, exiting the room and
placing his imposing self in the doorway, back to the door, as it slid shut behind
him.

“So, now that nobody is coming in for the next twenty
minutes, now what?” The bemused Paul inquired.

“This,” Jon replied pushing himself off the bed and landing
heavily on the floor. He kept his balance by firmly grasping the railing that
ran along the length of the bed.

“Are you crazy?” Paul hissed in disbelief, stepping closer,
ready to catch him, on the off chance his legs failed him.

“That’s not crazy, this is,” Jon said, releasing the
bedrail. With his eyes firmly fixed on the far wall, pale-faced and fighting
back nausea from the pain, he gingerly put one foot in front of the other.

“Praetorians are we,”
Jon wheezed, taking another
step forward. “
The elite us be, unafraid of death are we, for invincible us
be.”
Jon gave a cry of relief as he finally managed to make it to the far
side of the room unaided. Turning to face Paul in triumph, a startled
expression suddenly appeared on his face. “Oh crap,” Jon uttered, as his left
leg gave out beneath him and he tumbled to the floor. Fortunately the floor was
thickly carpeted, which absorbed most of the impact, hurting his pride more
than anything else.

Laughing heartily Paul peered down at Jon with a smirk on
his face. “So how is this invincible thing working out for you at the moment? I
must say that while you could probably take out my three year old daughter, my
five year old son would completely kick your ass.”

“Paul?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up and help me get back up will you?” Jon asked,
grimacing in pain.

Hauling Jon once again to his feet, Paul glanced at the
younger man with some considerable concern, as his face had gone completely
white and rivulets of sweat were pouring down his forehead. Combined with the
fact he did not seem at all steady on his feet. “So what now?” He asked with a
hint of worry. “You have another fifteen minutes before the hordes get past
Gunny.”

“Now I do it again,” Jon insisted, gritting his teeth in
determination.

“You’re crazy you know that?” Paul exclaimed in disbelief.
“You are going to kill yourself.”

“That is a distinct possibility,” Jon muttered, taking
another faltering step towards the bed, only a few metres out of reach but
seeming like another world away.

*****

Sofia punched the pillow next to her in frustration. It was
late at night, Eden Prime time, five days after Jon had first awoken and their
heated argument. Afterwards she had wished she could take back her words, never
really entertaining the possibility. Anyway who would willingly follow such an
order? She had a feeling the only people actually capable of bringing Jon back
in chains were far more loyal to him than to her.

Jon had been discharged a few days earlier from the medical
institute, much to the astonishment of the staff. For what they had predicted
would take weeks of rest and physiotherapy to recover, Jon had completed in a
couple of days.