The Last Praetorian
Chapter Seven

Terra Nova, Zeta Aquilae System

A couple of days later the station’s senior staff gathered in one of the large briefing rooms to discuss a recent breakthrough by Jason and his team in decoding the information contained on the data chip obtained by Jon on Transcendence. Jon, meanwhile, had been in a foul mood ever since the encounter with Miranda in the observation lounge. As he had expected, the next morning the entire crew was aware of the blossoming romance between the station commander and the newest addition to their crew. Jon had decided he was going to shoot the next person to congratulate him! It did not help his mood that, ever since their talk in the observation lounge, Miranda had obviously been avoiding him, most likely troubled by the revelations regarding her past. He was desperate to get this meeting concluded, not the least due to the late addition of Miranda into the group for her ‘independent insight’ as Paul referred to it.

As head of the team tasked with decoding the information on the chip, Jason kicked off the briefing. “As I am sure you are all aware, over the past few years there have been a number of uprisings on various colonies throughout the Confederation. While this is not unusual, as there will always be grievances and, or, local issues that incite the populace, this general level of discontent is notable in its increase.” With a tap on the display controls to the holoprojector a chart appeared, hovering just above the conference room table, showing a steady but noticeable increase in colonies in open revolt during the past eighteen months.

“Again,” Jason continued. “There is nothing alarming regarding this. Historical precedence shows these uprisings tend to be cyclic, with an increased period of discontent, followed by a similar period of contentment when these uprisings die down, usually after the local issues have been addressed.” Again Jason clicked on the controls and the chart was replaced with another but on a much larger timescale, again you could see the peaks where the number of colonies in revolt peaked, but also troughs as these fizzled out and died. “However, the data recently obtained by the Commander sheds a worrying new light on the recent uprisings, as these seem to have been well planned and organised in advance.”

Leaning forward in interest, his recent foul mood forgotten, Jon inquired. “But surely this is normal? While I appreciate that occasional uprisings are fairly spontaneous and caused by some particular flashpoint, surely other rebellions are planned? General discontent causes a small group of individuals to band together and incite the general mass. Again history seems to support this scenario.”

Jason nodded his head in agreement at the Commander’s insight, but added, “The difference this time is the data chip you obtained indicates the planning and organisation for multiple uprisings comes from a single person, or more likely organisation, located outside the systems in revolt.”

The room went deathly silent following this startling announcement.

Once again leaning forward, Jon insisted. “You are referring to a conspiracy? A conspiracy by one or more people to insight revolt and uprising through the Confederation?”

Jason nodded his head in agreement at Jon’s conclusion before continuing. “Currently there are eighteen systems in open revolt, which are actively pushing to secede from the Confederation. There are a further five systems that are actively leaning in this direction. Of the approximate one-hundred, sixty-six systems that currently make up the Confederation, my intelligence team predict it would only take a further dozen or so systems to declare they want to break away from the Confederation to result in outright civil war. As you know, the Confederation Charter stipulates that each individual system contribute to the Confederation Navy. The outcome of almost twenty percent of the Confederation trying to break away would cause a complete disintegration of the navy, resulting in a general civil war, especially if the remaining systems refuse to allow the breakaway colonies to secede and utilise the navy to retain these systems.”

The room was speechless after the dire predictions laid forth by Jason.

“Why does the Confederation not recognise this threat? Why is it not being actively debated and discussed by the Senate?” Paul inquired curiously.

“I can only assume they do not have the same intel we do,” Jason responded. “The current situation is no worse than it has been in the past.” He motioned towards the chart that displayed the historical data for the past twenty years. “We have the advantage of knowing from the data that these uprisings have been incited and we know additional uprisings are being actively planned. Additionally, from reading the after-action report from the Commander, it was obviously the intention of this informant that we pass this information onto the Confederation.”

Leaning back in his chair for a moment, Jon added thoughtfully. “Thinking back about the encounter it was that aspect that most stood out for me. The informant ‘Snow’ was insistent I pass on this information. However, I got the impression he had a particular person in mind and not just the Confederation as a whole. He seemed to suggest this person would pay particular attention to this information if it came from me directly, unlike if he approached the Senate or this person directly.”

Nodding his head in agreement, Jason agreed. “Intelligence noted the same thing from your report and we think we know the person he was referring to. Has anybody been following recent developments in the Confederation Senate?” Jason inquired of the room, as a whole.

There was a general shaking of heads, and Paul commented, “I prefer the sports channel. The political broadcasts put me to sleep.”

Jason rolled his eyes and updated the senior staff on recent events. “Following political infighting and corruption charges levelled at the previous Senate President, the Senate voted in a new President last month—Sofia Aurelius,” Jason announced, purposefully averting his eyes from Jon.

Meanwhile Jon, who had been leaning back in his chair, with his feet propped up on the table, fell to the floor in complete shock. Desperately grabbing an arm of his chair to drag himself off the floor Jon asked, in a strangled voice, “Sofia…my, our Sofia is now President?”

“The President of the Confederation Senate,” Jason replied succinctly, just in case there had been some misunderstanding with regards to which presidency she had recently been elevated to. There was a general clearing of throats and averted gazes as Jon hauled himself back into his seat and slumped in his chair.

“I cannot believe it,” Jon stated in disbelief. “She mentioned she was thinking of going into politics the last time that I saw her.” he said, thinking aloud.

“Would that have been the time that she was clinging to you like a barnacle in tears?” Paul commented with a wide smirk. “Or the other time when she was throwing things at you and threatening bodily harm if you ever set foot within her sight again?” Paul was trying to suppress a laugh.

“I do not understand,” Miranda interjected, obviously confused. “Who is this Sofia Aurelius?”

Taking pity on Jon, who was still trying to get over the shock, Paul replied. “Sofia Aurelius was, is, the only daughter of the last Imperial Emperor Marcus Aurelius,” Paul explained. “She and Jon had a ‘thing’ going on a while back.” Paul smirked.

“Old Flame,” Doctor Richardson added, also grinning.

“Ex-Flame,” Jon interjected, giving the occupants of the room an evil stare. “We had some history a while back, but we are both long over that.” Jon tried to dismiss the matter as unimportant.

“Sure was some history,” Paul quipped. “I remember walking into your quarters that morning when we could not replace her, and found you in bed with…”

“Thanks Paul,” Jon interrupted before he could continue, starting to turn an interesting shade of red and noticing the poorly suppressed laughter coming from many of the occupants of the room. It seemed to be his week to be the centre of the station’s attention regarding his love life, or lack thereof.

“Anyway, getting back to the topic at hand,” Jon insisted, trying to deflect the attention away from Sofia and himself. “Jason, did your team manage to retrieve anything else from the data chip?”

“Only some ship registers, cargo manifests, intercepted communication fragments, nothing concrete, certainly nothing we can use. However we did come across an interesting correlation. With the on-going threat to our ships and crew we have been paying a lot more attention to Syndicate activity in this system, in particular their ships, routes, cargos etc. The computer found an extremely strong correlation between the Syndicate activity we have been tracking and the data contained on the chip.”

“Interesting,” Jon thought aloud. “How strong is the data correlation that you have found?”

“Approximately eighty-eight percent so far,” Jason said. “We are still trying to track down the registration of the other ships detailed in the data chip, but so far almost everyone is either a Syndicate ship or one that is registered to one of their innumerable shell companies.”

Jon raised an eyebrow at such a high correlation in the data and inquired, “What is the possibility this is just a coincidence?”

Tapping a couple of controls, Jason replaced the image on the holoscreen with a shipping manifest for the “Eagle Star” an interstellar freighter.

“This freighter is owned by Carnival Logistics, which through various financial transactions and shell companies we have confirmed is actually one-hundred percent owned and run by the Syndicate. This freighter was at the Lalande system approximately four weeks before the revolt started in that system. The cargo manifest lists it as carrying 120,000 kilograms of food-stuffs.”

“That’s a pile of crap,” Paul interjected. “I know the Lalande system. Their primary export is agricultural foodstuff. The entire system is one big farm. It’s the biggest exporter of food in the entire sector.”

“Correct,” Jason agreed. “This is just one example out of dozens of others. Coincidence? Perhaps, but it’s strange to have such a high data correlation of what we know for a fact are smugglers visiting systems that are soon after in open revolt, often with well-armed insurgents, excellent intelligence, who quickly overthrow local planetary authorities. The question is, what are we going to do with this intelligence?” Jason asked the room.

Jon reviewed the shipping manifest still projected in the air and thought about the other intelligence that had been highlighted. “It’s not enough,” he concluded. “What we have so far is all conjecture, speculation and a lot of coincidences. We need hard facts and more importantly we need proof. I am not going to approach the Confederation Council or Sofia—” Jon winced at the thought of how that conversation would pan out. “Without some hard facts, people.” Jon did not think it would be helpful to add he had risked his life and cost the lives of a large number of close friends to rescue Sofia the last time. He had no intention of telling her anything that was going to put her life at risk—the Confederation be damned.

“Suggestions? Proposals?” Jon addressed the question to his senior staff.

After a moment of silence, Gunny offered, “I have discussed an idea with David, and got his full support,” he said, referring to their head of security. “However, as the original idea came from Miranda, I think she should be the one to present it.” Patrick gestured to her to continue.

Surprised, as it was obvious she was not expecting to be asked to contribute to the meeting, Miranda took a deep breath and explained. “If we need hard facts and information then we need to get our hands on a Syndicate computer core, high level personnel, or both. As we can safely assume they will not volunteer this information, I propose we go ahead and take it.” The room became very still following this announcement.

Leaning forward and staring at Miranda intensely, Jon commented. “You are suggesting we raid one of the Syndicate bases?” Jon scoffed. “Based on our intelligence,” Jon cast his gaze towards Jason before continuing. “Such a raid would be a disaster, as all the Syndicate outposts are too heavily defended with space-based energy, projectile and missile emplacements. Any assault team would get cut to pieces before we could get within a ten kilometres radius of any of their stations.”

“Most of their bases of operations in this system are significant in size and therefore heavily protected,” Miranda conceded. “However I often shuttled high-ranking members of the organisation to a smaller outpost. They used this for more confidential high-level briefings and discussions. By its very nature this was smaller, highly concealed and lightly defended. Ideally I could sneak a small shuttle onto the station with my access codes, assuming they have not been changed. Thereafter we should be able to neutralise any defences and send a boarding team to capture their computer core.”

“I assume this is where you two come in?” Jon interjected, dryly pointing his finger at Gunny and David.

“A number of my marines have been training with security for the past few weeks,” Patrick replied confidently. “While it will take a little longer to make marines out of them, we can assemble an assault team consisting of a dozen Special Forces and Marines backed up by David and his security team. We can punch through whatever defences they have, grab the computer core and be out of there in less than ten minutes, long before any reinforcements could arrive.”

“And you agreed to this crazy scheme?” Jon directed this question to his head of security.

“The plan is tactically sound, sir,” David responded stiffly. “We have a fairly good idea of the internal layout of the station from Miranda. We will have the element of surprise on our side. Patrick and his team will assault the computer core while my team and I secure the dock and cover the exit.”

Jon just shook his head in disbelief at the sheer audacity of the plan his senior staff was proposing. Just to waltz onto a Syndicate station, no matter how lightly defended, poke around until they had located the computer core, steal it right under the noses of the Syndicate and waltz back out. Sighing, as there seemed to be no better ideas, Jon concluded the meeting. “I want to see a full tactical plan on my desk in forty-eight hours... and it had better be damn good. Dismissed!”

As his senior command staff filed out of the conference room, Jon’s thoughts turned back to Sofia. It had been at least eight hours since he had last thought about her. Jon idly wondered if he was going to spend the rest of his life thinking about her.

Lashing out in frustration, Jon threw the datapad that had been resting on the table in front of him, taking some satisfaction in the sharp crack as it shattered against the wall. Stalking across the room he stared out of the window at the stars, the only way he seemed to replace any peace and solitude these days.

Jon had spent years crisscrossing the Confederation, hunting down Harkov after ensuring Sofia’s safe arrival on Eden Prime. In those years he had seen sights and sounds most citizens could only dream of, but with his desperate quest for vengeance always driving him onwards. As each rumour, each possible sighting was meticulously followed up on—always with no success— another piece of Jon’s soul seemed to die.

In his quest for vengeance he had discarded everyone and all he still held dear. Finally, coming to the very edge of explored space, gazing upon the billions and billions of unexplored stars ahead, he finally surrendered to his despair. With loneliness as his only companion he turned his ship around. All the things he had seen, experienced—

But what’s the point of life, if you have nobody to share it with!

On his return Jon had spent restless nights tossing and turning, his dreams plagued by Sofia, her smile, her scent and her gentle touch. Now he spent his days aimlessly wandering the station, alone, in this ivory tower, his own self-imposed exile. Hiding from the mistakes he had made in the past.

Jon had failed so many people in his life, first his younger sister then, when he had joined the navy, his colleagues, finally concluding with the Emperor, his fellow Praetorians and eventually even Sofia. Everything that he touched, he destroyed. Jon felt in his heart this meaningless existence was the cost he had to bear for a lifetime of mistakes.

Glancing down at the conference table, Jon observed the small data chip innocently resting in front of him. Jason had put it there prior to his departure from the room. Delicately picking up the chip he observed it thoughtfully, resting in the palm of his hand.

He had no regard for the Confederation. The Confederation had been Sofia’s dream, not his. Everything he had done for the Confederation in the past was for her—not them. He had dragged Sofia through hell to get her to Eden Prime. By some miracle, bloodied and bruised they had finally made it alive, just. He had no intention of dragging Sofia through such events again. She had seen too much death and destruction in those few short months.

Jon slammed the chip against the table’s surface, and its delicate membrane shattering, leaving a thin coating of fragments littering the table’s surface.