The Last Praetorian
Chapter Eight

Five Years Previously

Altair V, Altair System

Jon brought the ’Light down in a gentle descent along the terminator of the planet Altair V. Following their disastrous visit to Transcendence, Jon had made the conscious decision to avoid any populated areas and had decided to land the ’Light some distance from Carrington city, the main settlement on Altair. The plan, discussed during the short FTL jump from Transcendence, was to put the shuttle down just beyond the city, to conceal it and then make their way using ground-based transportation to his family’s home.

Jon had purposefully chosen this time to begin the descent, as hopefully the setting sun along the terminator would help shield the shuttles re-entry from any observant eyes. Jon knew for a fact that sensors from the ancient orbiting docking control would be unable to track the descending shuttle.

Outside of the core-worlds, Altair had been one of the first worlds settled. Located sixteen-point-seven light-years from the Sol system, it was one of the most visible stars from the birthplace of humanity. Unfortunately it had also been one of the most disappointing. As a type-A main sequence star with approximately one-point-eight times the mass of the Sol star, it was also eleven times its luminosity. Combined with an extremely rapid rate of rotation it resulted in an extremely narrow ‘Goldilocks zone’, the zone where water could exist in a liquid form on the planetary surface and a breathable atmosphere could develop. Unfortunately only one planet in the system fell into this zone—just. With a wide day-night temperature variation of between -40oC during the night and up to 50oC during the day, life was difficult for the early colonists. Crops often failed due to the temperature range and the infrequent rains, and there were little mineral resources discovered on the planet. Was it not for the close proximity to the core-systems it was entirely possible the system would have been completely abandoned. Instead the system managed to eke out a meagre existence from the frequent trade ships travelling between the core and rim worlds, combined with some heavy industry and weak agriculture. With high unemployment, rampant crime, and little prospects, the rest of the Imperium looked down upon the inhabitants of Altair.

Jon had not been born into a well-to-do family. The eldest of two, he had spent most of his youth scrabbling in the streets, doing anything he could to earn some credits to help his family. His father worked as a mechanic in the small spaceport and his mother had balanced two jobs along with bringing up two kids. The likely outcome for the young Radec would have been a short education followed by longer hours in the factories, were it not for his parents. Desperate for their son to aspire to greater things, they pooled all their hard-earned wages and sent Jon to the Imperial Military College, the select school on Altair, where Jon’s situation only grew worse.

The buffeting of atmospheric re-entry awoke Jon from his internal contemplation. It had been many years since he had last been to Altair. Reducing power to the shuttle’s main engines and bringing the shuttle’s nose up slightly to reduce the air turbulence, Jon looked up to observe Sofia had gone an even whiter shade of pale. Not having said much since their frantic escape from Transcendence, Jon was hoping to have an opportunity to talk, in private, at his home. Jon had been in enough combat to recognise the symptoms of post-traumatic stress. Hopefully Sofia would confide in him and he could help her, as Jon knew from personal experience just keeping the feelings and emotions bottled up inside would only make the situation worse.

Turning back to the flight instruments, Jon confirmed the shuttle was in atmospheric flight mode. Glancing out of the cockpit windows he could make out the lights of Carrington City ahead. Banking slightly to port, Jon angled the shuttle towards the southern tip of the city, as this was where his family lived. Activating the shuttle’s sensors he began to look for a good, concealed landing spot. A dry riverbed thirty kilometres ahead seemed like the ideal location, and so Jon began the ship’s landing cycle.

Being only a few hours after sunset, Altair time, Jon suggested to Sofia they could walk the few kilometres to the city’s public transport system. From there they could obtain transport to his family’s modest residence on the outskirts of the city. After taking a few moments to conceal the shuttle, the young couple setoff towards the bright lights of the city.

Initially the journey was easy going, as this close to the city the terrain was relatively flat, mostly consisting of well-marked hiking trails for the more adventurous inhabitants. Soon, however, the sky started to cloud over, followed by a light rain, then a deluge. Jon had forgotten how changeable the weather could be on Altair and within moments they both were completely soaked.

Cursing, Jon raised his eyes skywards, wondering what he could possibly have done in an earlier life to deserve such a continuous streak of bad luck. Allowing his gaze to wander, observing a gap in the cloud cover, he took in the magnificent, star-filled vista above them. With little heavy industry on the planet, and still being a distance from Carrington City, the sky seemed to be alive with stars. Jon could easy pick-out the major constellations. He had forgotten what had drawn him to space in the first instance. Sitting outside the city, on a path much like this one, staring into the night-sky, wishing on a star, wondering what adventures awaited, what princesses he would meet. With a soft smile his gaze fell from the dark sky to focus on the soaked and weary woman walking at his side.

Noticing the way her hair was plastered to the side of her face, rivulets of water ran down her face and her drenched flight-suit hugging her curves closely, Jon was mesmerised by the sight, wondering how he had spent so many years in her company but only recently recognising how astonishingly beautiful that she was.

Looks like both of my wishes came true.

It was only a short distance further, trudging through the thick mud the path had become, until they came to the edge of the city proper and Jon quickly found a public communication terminal to call for transport to his home. When the transport arrived it was only a brief journey to their destination and, before they knew it, they were disembarking from the taxi in a small up-market suburb of the city. While the houses were built close together, it was obvious from the street the owners took pride in their homes, with all being neat and well maintained.

Assuming this was where Jon grew up, Sofia looked around curiously and, with a hint of nervousness, following him towards one of the well-maintained homes.

Recognising the nerves in her expression, Jon caught Sofia by the hand and, in a reassuring tone, whispered. “Don’t worry; I am sure my family will love you!” It was only after he had uttered the words that he noticed the Freudian slip. Fortunately Sofia seemed not to notice as her attention was solely focused on the approaching door. Activating the announcer, Jon waited patiently for somebody to open the door; the thought suddenly crossed his mind.

I hope they’re at home!

Fortunately he needn’t have worried, as only moments later the door was opened by his mother. Her puzzled expression rapidly changed to delight upon recognising her son. “Jon?” she asked, confused for a moment as she had not been expecting him. “Jon!” she exclaimed again in delight, enfolding him in a rib-crushing hug. “Ryan!” she called back into the house. “You get out here right this instant.”

The sounds of doors opening and closing could be heard, along with some grumbling when Jon’s father rounded the corner and froze at the sight of his long-absent son. His expression of shocked disbelief suddenly changed to delight and he enfolded both of them in a huge hug, not even giving his mother the chance to release her hold on him.

It was only while enfolded in their loving embrace that Jon truly allowed himself to relax. The last week had been a nightmare of battles, dramatic escapes and running for their lives. Continually looking over their shoulder to see who might be chasing them. Suddenly, Jon remembered Sofia. Looking over his shoulder at her, he watched her observing the scene closely, with such yearning in her eyes. Remembering the recent loss of her father, and losing her mother when she was only a small child, Jon suddenly felt very awkward surrounded by the love of his family. Gently detaching himself from their embrace he reached behind him and slowly dragged Sofia into the light, both parents stilled at the sudden sight of Sofia and Jon awkwardly introduced her.

“Mum, Dad, I would like you to meet… Sofia,” Jon explained with difficulty, only at the last minute deciding to not mention her full title and family name. He knew he would need to give a full explanation later but thought it was better not to have that conversation on their front doorstep. “Sofia, my father Ryan,” Jon introduced. “And my mother Irene.” Both pairs of eyes swivelled to focus on Sofia before turning back to him with inquiring expressions. Internally Jon sighed to himself. This was far too close to an introduce-the-girlfriend-to-the-parents-for-the-first-time situation than he was entirely comfortable with and he knew his parents were leaping to some wild assumptions, but now was not the time to have this discussion.

His mother was quick off the mark, and invited Sofia into the house before he could get one more word in edgeways, leaving Jon on the doorstep facing his very bemused father.

Recognising the weary expression on Jon’s face and his soaked clothes, his father sympathetically asked, “Why don’t we get a drink while the ladies get acquainted?” Jon could only nod in agreement before entering their home.

Seated, Jon gratefully accepted a towel to dry himself and a glass of Scotch from his father, and was momentarily warmed by the smoky drink easily sliding down his throat. His father was briefly taken off balance, when Jon motioned towards the bottle for a refill. Jon had never been a heavy drinker.

“You want to tell your old man what is going on?” His father asked perceptively, recognising the weary expression on his son’s face was not just a result of the long journey.

Trying to think where to start, Jon simply stated. “The Emperor is dead.”

Recognising the bleak expression on his son’s face, his father inquired. “I assume he did not pass away quietly in his sleep?” Jon simply shook his head and started to recount the story from the beginning.

It was sometime later when Jon concluded the narrative with their arrival at his parent’s home. His father just stood silently for a moment before peering down at his own empty glass.

“I think I’ll join you in another drink,” he stated, pouring himself a generous helping and refilling his son’s glass, which was also now empty. “So after almost five-hundred years, the rule of the Aurelius family has finally come to an end,” his father murmured aloud.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Jon replied, peering thoughtfully into his glass, swirling the smoky drink around.

“I forgot, Marcus has, or had, a daughter.”

Jon could never get his head around his father referring to the Emperor by his first name. “Has.” Jon corrected his father’s earlier statement.

“So where is she now?” His father inquired innocently, as Jon had only mentioned Sofia in passing while recounting their escape from the Imperial Star. Unfortunately his father noticed Jon’s eyes flicker towards the sound of his mother and Sofia in the adjoining room.

His father’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “You cannot be serious!” he exclaimed. “You brought her here? An Imperial Princess? Daughter of the Emperor?”

“What the hell was I meant to do?” Jon hissed in frustration, almost spilling his drink. “We have the entire Imperial Navy chasing us. Half seem to be intent on killing us, and the other half, who knows? The Praetorians are no more and, on top of that, we seem to have a bounty on our head, so every bounty hunter and mercenary in the Imperium is out to get us. I didn’t know where else to go.” Jon exclaimed in a despairing tone.

Ryan peered down at his son, ashamed. He had just been taken by surprise and had not meant the harsh words spoken. Patting him reassuringly on the shoulder, he said, “You know you always have a place here, and whomever else you want to invite. After all, you did buy the house for us, so it’s yours just as much as it is ours.” His father exclaimed with a warm chuckle.

With the reassuring touch and warm words, Jon looked up in thanks, before asking softly. “What do I do now?”

“Well the first thing we are not going to do is tell your mother about the princess,” his father stated firmly. “Hell, your mother spends days cleaning the house whenever we have guests from the ‘old neighbourhood’, if she found out we had an Imperial Princess here she would be cleaning into the next decade.” Jon smiled at his father’s humour, deciding urgent decisions about what to do next could wait until the morning.

“Do you have anything to eat?” Jon inquired desperately. “We have been living off emergency rations from the shuttle for the past week. I’m famished!”

With a hearty laugh his father clapped his hand on his shoulder and stated. “Let’s go and see what your mother has planned for dinner.”

Sofia looked around curiously, not sure what to expect from Jon’s family. She was still embarrassed at not having given them a thought in the past. Sofia remembered, uncomfortably, more than once mocking Jon about having no life when, lonely and roaming the Imperial Star, she came across him. Whenever she encountered him, he was always busy with reports, eating alone or checking on their security. She repeatedly urged him to get a hobby, or get a life she remembered was her favourite term. Now, walking through his childhood home, she wondered if he had also been very much alone. She could never remember seeing him with anyone, aside from fellow officers, issuing orders. Looking back on the time, Sofia remembered he had always made time for her, while the other officers and Praetorians seemed to go out of their way to avoid her. She wondered if it was this, back so long ago, which had drawn her interest to the young Commander.

Picking up a photo that was resting on a shelf, she noticed the young boy with the grey eyes and dark hair, wearing an instantly recognisable, serious expression. It was another thing she associated with the Commander. He almost never laughed or smiled, and she wondered what happened to cause him to permanently wear such a grim expression. Her sight was instead drawn to a young girl at Jon’s side. She guessed she was a few years younger than Jon; his sister she assumed, as both children had almost identical features, except the girl had a wide smile, as though she had just trounced her older, more serious brother.

Remembering Jon’s mother, she turned to face her, the picture still in her hand. “Jon’s sister?” she asked motioning towards the picture. Sofia was taken aback when instead of the proud smile that she was expecting, Irene’s expression slipped and a sliver of sorrow crept into her expression.

Taking the picture gently from the younger woman, she looked at it for an instant before explaining. “Yes, our younger child Catherine. She passed away when she was still young. This was the last photo that we have of the two children. They were always close and Jon was never quite the same after she passed away. We think he blamed himself.” Irene continued to look at the picture fondly before putting it back safely on the shelf.

“Jon was involved in her death?” Sofia asked shocked.

“Of course not!” Irene replied firmly. “Catherine died from a genetic disorder, Tay-Sachs disease. There was nothing Jon could do.”

Surprised, by this news, Sofia replied confused, “I thought we could cure all genetic defects now by gene regeneration therapy.”

“Yes, dear,” Irene replied patiently. “But such a treatment is hugely expensive and is only available on the core words. The medical centre on Altair does not offer treatments and we…we could not afford to send Catherine for treatment.”

Sofia looked around at the neat and tidy house, with the plush furnishings, remembering the pretty neighbourhood and asked confused, “But how can you afford…?”

“We did not buy this house, dear,” Jon’s mother explained. “Jon purchased this for us a few years ago. Our old home, was…” Irene paused for a moment. “Let’s just say it was not such a safe neighbourhood and Jon worried about us.”

Sofia was just astounded, looking at her surroundings in a new light. Jon had purchased this for them? But how? Remembering her earlier recollections of Jon on the Imperial Star. Always alone, never leaving the fleet, never spending anything. Suddenly Jon’s past began to make more sense, but still it did not explain everything. While this home was certainly no palace, it was still a substantial purchase and while Sofia had no idea what a Commander in the Imperial Fleet earned, she doubted that it was enough to buy this in just a few years. So where had Jon got the money for this? Borrowed it? Looking at the proud woman in front of her and having known Jon for a few years, she doubted it. They would have been too proud to ask. Ashamed, Sofia realised a few years ago she would have just laughed in Jon’s face if he had asked her for money, although the money to purchase such a house was a drop in the ocean for her.

So how had he done it? Sofia hated not knowing things and would not let the thought go. Stole it? Blackmail? Threats? Sofia rejected each one out of hand, unable to picture the scene of some darkened corridor with Jon shaking down somebody for money. She knew Jon, knew he would never lower himself to that, that his personal honour and integrity would not allow it. Her mind kept going back to the phrase a few years ago. Why did that sentence keep sticking in her mind? Well that was an easy question to answer, since it was when she first met Jon, at the award ceremony… And suddenly everything slotted into place and she knew with absolute certainty what Jon had used to purchase a new home for his family.

Imperial Princess Sofia Aurelius, daughter of the Emperor, crown jewel of the Empire, stifled a yawn. As an Imperial Princess tradition dictated she had to be present, at her father’s side, at the fleet award ceremony. Held twice per year, it was to recognise Imperial Navy personnel, the backbone of the Empire, for outstanding contributions and recognition for heroism and bravery. Peering down the line of immaculate naval officers Sofia was quick to form the opinion there certainly were a large number of Captains, Commodores and Admirals to be recognised.

Is nobody else in the fleet above Captain capable of bravery and heroism? Sofia wondered ironically. Perhaps the rest of the navy have more common sense.

Finally her eyes came to rest on one of the officers at the end of the parade line. Considering her earlier thought she noticed he was much younger than the rest, nearer her own age. He was also a lot junior, no Captain or Admiral but simply a young Lieutenant. By chance he was also standing directly opposite from her and, while the other officers seemed to be staring into outer space, probably trying to stay awake too, Sofia thought, this officer was staring straight ahead, at her. Subtly glancing to either side she confirmed nobody else was standing near her. Noticing her puzzled expression, the young officer’s stoic expression shifted to a knowing grin for an instant, and then was gone. Sofia was incensed! But what was she going to do? Interrupt proceedings and berate the young officer, in front of all, for smiling at her? Everyone in the room would think her silly. Hence, with a firm shake of her head, she intently focused on the Admiral currently being awarded the fleet cross for bravery.

Yawn.

Quickly glancing back at the officer to check he was not still staring at her and replaceing he was, she averted her gaze again. Damn it! She could feel herself start to blush and it was only though extreme self-control and thinking about other topics, aside from young fleet officers, with deep grey eyes and gentle smiles, she was able to control it.

Finally, much to her relief, the ceremony came to the young fleet officer, the last recipient for the day.

“Lieutenant Jonathan Radec,” the herald called out. The young officer smartly stepped forward. “In recognition for outstanding heroism and bravery, in the face of impossible odds and at significant risk to yourself and your squadron, the Emperor awards you the Fleet Medal. The Aurelius Star Cluster.”

Sofia could not help it, her mouth dropped open in disbelief. This young man, this lowly Lieutenant, surrounded by Captains, Commodores and Admirals was to receive the Fleet Medal, the Aurelius Star Cluster, the highest military award in the fleet, in the Imperium? No way!

However, the young officer ignored the stunned silence in the room, ignored the fact every eye in the room, and probably those of the fleet, as this ceremony was broadcast live, was on him. Instead he confidently marched forward to stand in front of the Emperor, her father, to receive the award.

He fell to one knee, with a flourish, in front of the Emperor. Her father laid the medal around his neck and then, in a complete break with tradition and to an audible gasp from the audience, offered the young man his hand to stand. For a brief moment Sofia thought he was going to refuse her father’s hand. After all, it was death for anybody daring to touch the Emperor, and she wondered why her father offered his hand, perhaps some test? However, the young officer smoothly grasped the proffered hand and rose once again to his feet. Slowly, but with increasing volume, clapping began from the legion of assembled officers, which quickly grew in volume until it was deafening.

Sofia was expecting the young officer to return to his position in the parade when, instead, he turned the other direction to face her. Sofia watched, speechlessly, as the young officer took her hand with a gentle smile and, bringing her hand to his mouth, kissed her softly on its back.

With a small bow and his eyes sparkling, he simply uttered the word, “Princess,” half in greeting and half in farewell. He then departed to re-join his fellow officers. Sofia could not help herself and blushed furiously. Bastard!

Several hours later, late in the evening on the Imperial Star, Sofia found her father alone in his study.

“He must have been very brave, or very heroic.” Or very crazy, Sofia added silently.

“Who, dear?” her father inquired.

“That young officer you awarded the fleet medal to today.”

“Oh, him,” her father replied with a grin. “I noticed he made quite an impression on you at the ceremony. Although I did not like how he touched you,” the Emperor continued. Sofia just waved away her father’s overzealous, protective streak. “And yes, he was very brave, and heroic,” her father added.

Sitting down across from her father, she asked, “So what did he do to achieve such an award?” She was just curious about what he did to achieve such a medal and was in no way personally interested in the man himself…

Her father was silent for a moment then began to explain, choosing his words carefully. “Different people have different beliefs,” his father explained to her. “Sometimes these different groups of people do not get along. When this happens, sometimes, we relocate these people to other systems to avoid conflict. We were moving one such group of people, twenty-five thousand of them in fact, many women and children, when slavers attacked.”

Sofia had studied enough political science to know that while slavery had been illegal for centuries, it was still a very profitable enterprise, especially on some of the rim worlds, which had extreme climates but were rich in minerals.

“The slavers attacked in a surprisingly large force and took the Imperial escorts by surprise. Most were destroyed, and the Commander ordered the remaining task force to withdraw.” Her father made it patently clear what he felt regarding that, and Sofia could well understand his disappointment at the fleet abandoning twenty-five thousand people to slavers. “What remained of the task force escaped,” her father explained, “except for the Lieutenant and his squadron of fighters. He refused the order to abandon the families to the slavers.”

“He ordered his squadron to stay and fight?” Sofia asked, amazed his fellow pilots did not just ignore the order and escape.

“No, he asked them,” came the astonishing response. “According to the communication transcripts he told them he would prefer to die with honour protecting women and children from slavery, than live for the rest of his life with the guilt of abandoning them. It seemed his squadron agreed with him, as none of them left. They held off the slavers for almost an hour, until Imperial reinforcements could arrive, by which time he was the only one left alive.”

Sofia gasped in grief. “He was the only pilot in the squadron to survive?” she asked. Her father just nodded sadly. “So what is he going to do now?” she asked concerned.

“I have not thought about that yet. He will probably be re-assigned to another squadron,” her father replied distractedly.

“You should assign him here,” the young Sofia insisted brightly. “He must be an excellent pilot and, as you said, he is certainly very brave, and heroic,” Sofia added, responding with her father’s own description. “And anyway I thought he was kind of cute,” Sofia added.

Her father looked up thoughtfully for a moment before replying, “I might just do that.”

Looking at her surroundings in an entirely new light, Sofia was completely astonished. She knew with absolute certainty Jon had sold the medal, the Aurelius Star Cluster, a medal that had been awarded exactly sixteen times since the founding of the Empire by her great, great, great grandfather Edward. She had checked and knew the number of recipients was accurate. She could picture Jon in his cramped quarters on board the Imperial Star, gazing at the medal. Rewarded for leading his squadron to their deaths, only to be spared the same fate, by, well, fate. Then picturing has family back on Altair, in some small decrepit apartment, in some horrific neighbourhood, and realising the medal could have a purpose, could be put to good use to help somebody. The thought brought tears to her eyes.

The next minute she was engulfed in a similar rib-breaking hug, similar to that which had been inflicted upon Jon only a few minutes earlier.

“There is no need to be upset, dear,” Jon’s mother explained hurriedly. “Ryan and I are perfectly fine here now. We’ve gotten over the loss of our daughter, although we still both worry about Jon a lot.”

Sofia considered for a moment explaining it was not that had brought tears to her eyes, but instead what Jon had sacrificed for his family. However, it was obvious he had not chosen to tell them how he managed to afford their new home and she did not feel that it was her place to explain. Anyway, Sofia could not remember the last time someone had embraced her in such an affectionate manner. Her father had been loving, but not a demonstrative man. Thoughts of her father brought back memories of her own recent loss and before she knew it, she was spilling the story of her own loss to Jon’s mother.

Coming to the point in the story about the attack on her on Transcendence Sofia’s words ground to a halt. Not knowing how to put into words the paralysing fear and loathing. However, a soft touch on her chin lifted her gaze to look into Irene’s eyes. Her eyes were so sympathetic and understanding the words just came out in a tumble, the thought of being forced down and their disgusting hands pawing all over her body.

“They cannot hurt you anymore, dear,” Irene reassured her softly. “Jon and Ryan won’t let anything happen to you while you are here. Nobody can hurt you.”

“I know they cannot hurt me anymore,” Sofia tried to explain, recounting Jon’s rescue and her captor’s violent deaths.

“Good,” Irene stated in a vehement tone that shocked the younger woman. “Then as well as you, they cannot hurt anybody else.” Sofia had never considered that before, still reeling from the attack and the violence Jon had seemed to display so effortlessly.

However, any further discussion was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Ryan and Jon stomping into the room. Both froze like statues at the sight of the two women standing in the middle of the room in a tight embrace with tears running down their cheeks.

Eyes darting between the two women, Jon asked cautiously, “Mum, Sofia, is everything okay?”

“Yes dear,” his mother hurriedly reassured him, brushing away the tears from her cheeks. “Sofia and I were just catching up. Have you and Ryan finished your discussion?” She quickly deflected the question back.

“Yes, I don’t suppose you have anything to eat? Sofia and I have not had a proper meal in days and we are famished.”

“Of course, dear. Sorry, I should have thought of it earlier. Ryan, while I am heating up some dinner for us could you prepare the guest bedroom for Sofia. Unless you are staying with Jon tonight?” She blissfully threw the question out to the room. Surprised by the sudden silence she looked up to replace the three of them rooted to the spot, all with eyes as wide as saucers!

“Uh no, if you could make-up the spare bedroom…that would be… great,” Jon replied hesitantly, refusing to make eye contact with anybody else in the room.

“Okay, sure,” Irene replied, confused by the reaction to her innocent question from the other occupants of the room. “Ryan, could you see to it while I go and start dinner?” She asked her husband.

“Sure, love, I’ll get onto it right away. I expect after their long journey they will want to retire early tonight.”

“Sofia, would you like to give me a hand?” Irene asked casually. For the second time in the space of a minute you could hear a pin drop.

Ryan Radec, you are going to have some serious explaining to do later, Irene thought to herself, fuming. It seemed everybody knew what was going on except her.

“I’m not very good at food preparation, Mrs. Radec,” Sofia explained softly. “But I would be happy to help you any way I can,” she added confidently, purposefully ignoring the two men who were staring at her, open–mouthed, in disbelief.

Gently pulling her by the elbow in the direction of the kitchen, Irene exclaimed loudly before the door closed, “Please dear, call me Irene.”

Jon stared at his father intently. This was entirely his fault, as he had planned to make detailed introductions before now.

“Not a word son, not a word.” His father exclaimed, wagging his finger at his eldest son before heading towards the bedrooms to prepare the guest room.

“So what am I meant to do?” Jon asked the empty room rhetorically.

Dinner consisted of a meat stew with some carbohydrate supplements and fresh vegetables, recently picked from his parents’ garden. Having been living on fleet rations for the better part of a week, both Jon and Sofia were famished and hence both asked for second helpings. The topic of conversation at dinner was purposefully kept light, with Ryan and Irene updating the young couple on the latest news on Altair. Jon asked a few casual questions about some of the old neighbours and the new, along with inquiring about what they thought of the new house. The only important topic discussed over the meal was regarding repairs to their ship. Ryan assured his son that, while he had long since retired from working at the spaceport, he still knew a number of colleagues working there who would be happy to help.

Jon had not been away from Altair long enough to have forgotten how things worked. As nobody had much to spare, everything worked on an informal barter system, where you helped out your neighbour and colleagues and they returned the favour when you need it.

By then it was already starting to get late, Jon was exhausted and looking forward to getting some sleep. Sofia’s expression was also starting to sag, so she quickly agreed when Jon proposed that they both retire for the night. Showing Sofia to the guest room and making sure that she had everything she needed, Jon wearily made for his own room. Only just having time to strip off his flight-suit before falling dreamlessly asleep, draped across his bed.

Jon’s eyes suddenly snapped open a couple of hours later, all his senses suddenly flaring to life. His hand had instinctively reached for his sword by the side of his bed, before he realised that he was not in his quarters on the Imperial Star. Jon stayed silent for a moment, reaching out with all his senses, trying to determine why he had woken so suddenly.

Suddenly he heard the noise again, which had woken him moments earlier. A muffled cry coming from the next room—Sofia’s room. Grabbing the nearest pair of pants, which Jon ironically noticed were a pair of sweatpants emblazoned with the tag, ‘Property of Imperial Military College, Altair’ Jon hurried towards Sofia’s room. Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, Jon decided discretion was the best approach, and hence knocked softly on the door. As there was no response, but still the occasional muffled cry coming from inside the room, Jon slowly opened the door and entered the room.

As his eyes slowly adjusted to the dark, he could make out Sofia lying across the bed. She had obviously found one of his old sweatshirts to wear, as it was about five sizes too big and reached almost to her knees. Tossing and turning on the bed, her face covered in sweat, it was obvious she was having a terrible nightmare. Being able to guess the contents of the dream, Jon hurried to her side and, taking care not to restrain her, gently touching her on the shoulder. “Sofia, wake up. It’s just a bad dream,” he whispered quietly trying to rouse her gently from the nightmare in which she seemed trapped.

Sofia, however, was caught up in the dream, muttering, “No, no, no… help me! Somebody help me…Jon!”

His heart almost breaking from the gut wrenching fear in her voice, Jon shook her more urgently. “Sofia.” he whispered. “Wake up it’s just a dream.” Suddenly her body froze solid and her eyes snapped open. It was only Jon’s quick reflexes that saved him from a vicious blackeye when her fist came flying out of nowhere towards his face. Ducking the blow, he was prepared to fend off another when he noticed her body had relaxed a little and her eyes were focused on him.

Confused, Sofia asked. “Jon? What are you doing here? On my bed?” Looking down Jon realised, embarrassedly, he was lying on her bed, having fallen onto it ducking her earlier, vicious left hook.

Quickly rising off her bed he looked her in the eye and explained. “You were having a bad nightmare. I was trying to wake you.”

Sofia averted her gaze and, drawing up her knees to her chest, hugged herself tightly. In a small tone of voice she apologised. “I am sorry for waking you. This is the third time I’ve woken up tonight. I don’t sleep very well. I’m sorry.”

Jon’s heart went out to the younger woman, remembering the first time that he had been in combat, remembering how he was unable to sleep for days. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly, deciding that it was probably now safe to sit down on the bed next to her.

“There is not really much to tell,” Sofia explained. “It’s dark and cold and I cannot seem to move. There are… things. I cannot see them. I just know they are out there in the darkness, coming closer and then they start to touch me. I try calling for help, begging them to stop but they keep coming.”

Jon could immediately see the parallels between her attack and the nightmares but did not think it would help Sofia to bring up the obvious similarities. Thinking furiously, it occurred to him a big source of the problem seemed to be that Sofia felt she could not defend herself, hence being unable to move in the dream. Never in his life had Jon ever contemplated combat training for an Imperial Princess, but considering their current situation, some self-defence training was probably going to be far more useful than her political science classes.

Gently broaching the subject, Jon hesitantly proposed, “Perhaps I could help you.”

Looking at him quizzically Sofia asked, “You can help me to sleep better?” Suddenly realising how that sounded she blushed furiously.

Jon was fascinated to notice it spread all the way down her cheek, neck and under the sweatshirt. Jon idly wondered if she was wearing anything underneath the shirt, before bringing his thoughts sharply back on-topic. The last thing she needed was some mooning, lovesick admirer, like the ones that surrounded her on the Imperial Star. Ignoring her reaction he cautiously explained how he could teach her to protect herself, so that if she was ever in a similar situation she could defend herself.

“Perhaps that would also help you with these nightmares?” Jon concluded. “At the very least you will be so worn out from the exercises you should sleep…” Jon was going to say like the dead, “…better,” he proposed.

“Well I cannot see how it can hurt.”

“Good. We can start tomorrow,” Jon concluded. “Do you want to try and get back to sleep?”

“No,” Sofia replied, shaking her head violently. “I could not get back to sleep after that last nightmare.”

“Okay,” Jon replied, getting up to leave, but Sofia’s hand closed around his arm and she asked.

“Please, stay with me a while and talk,” she pleaded, looking at him beseechingly.

“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know, anything. Tell me about your early days in the Navy?” Sofia asked, remembering, like earlier, about when he had been awarded the fleet medal.

So Jon told her some stories about his basic training, some of which made her laugh, some that made her gasp. Then he told her about his first few deployments, all the while watching her beautiful green eyes as they got heavier and heavier, before they closed completely and she was lying against his arm, snoring gently.

Pulling the blanket over her, to avoid her getting cold during the night, he was tempted to give her a goodnight kiss but at the last minute thought better of it. However, when he tried to rise from the bed he found that he couldn’t, as Sofia still had a firm grasp of his arm. Not wanting to wake her after finally getting her to sleep, he just shrugged, switched the light off and let his own eyes drift shut.

The light shining through the bedroom window awakened Jon early. The intense luminosity of the Altair sun and its extremely rapid rate of rotation meant that sunrise was very early. Glancing next to him, Jon was pleased to see that Sofia was still sleeping soundly. She had no more nightmares during the night, whether that was because of his presence, or his promise Jon had no idea, but he was pleased to see that her skin seemed to have regained some of its colour. Sometime during the night she had shifted position and her head now lay resting across his bare chest. Jon allowed himself the small pleasure of a further few minutes of rest, running his hand gently through her lustrous red hair. Wondering what life would be like if he could wake up every morning with her at his side. With a gentle sigh, he slid his body out from underneath hers to start his day, fully aware if he did not move soon he would replace further excuses never to leave her bed.

Quietly creeping out of her room, praying she would remain asleep to avoid another difficult conversation, he finally let out a relieved breath when her bedroom door was finally closed…only to turn around to come face-to-face with his father.

Of all the goddamn timings, Jon cursed to himself on observing his father’s shocked expression. He could guess at the wild assumptions that were currently taking root.

“Let’s get a coffee and talk,” his father announced, tersely. “While we let the women sleep.”

With it still being very early in the morning, with the sun only just up, the temperature outside was very pleasant. Jon knew it would climb quickly, until by midday everybody would have to take cover inside from the sweltering temperatures of the midday sun.

Looking over the rim of his cup of coffee at his father’s brusque expression, Jon decided to go for the pre-emptive strike and try and to head off the looming argument.

“I am not sleeping with Sofia—Princess Aurelius,” Jon hurriedly corrected himself, he had been spending far too much time recently with Sofia, the Princess, and had started to stop thinking of her as that and now simply thought of her as—Sofia. The incredulous look from his father, made him stop and review his previous statement. “Okay, I am sleeping with the Princess, but this was the first and only time.”

The incredulous look from his father changed to one of complete disbelief. “You are sleeping with the Imperial Princess Sofia Aurelius, daughter of the Emperor? Are you insane!” His father hissed angrily trying to keep his voice quiet so not to wake anybody else in the house. “Good grief boy, I thought we at least raised you with some common sense. What is the penalty for sleeping with an Imperial Princess anyway?” He went on rhetorically, “Seeing as it is the death penalty for even touching one of the Imperial family I would assume at the very least it is a more painful death.”

“Have you finished yet?” Jon interjected angrily. “While I did sleep with her, once, just once, I’m not sleeping with her if you know what I mean?”

“No,” his father replied just staring at him, perplexed.

“Look dad, we are both adults here, let me put this simply. I am not having sex with her!” Jon exclaimed loudly.

“Keep it down son,” his father replied nervously, looking around the small garden. “We don’t want the neighbours to hear, what would they think?”

Jon just rolled his eyes in disbelief and replied. “I don’t know dad, hopefully they won’t think I am sleeping with Sofia, agh,” Jon cried, banging his head against the wall. “With Princess Aurelius,” Jon replied, completely exasperated.

Ryan just continued to look at his son with a concerned expression before stating stoically. “I think you are getting too emotionally involved here, son.” And he went off to look for more coffee.

You think? Jon thought unkindly, watching his father disappear into the house.

It was late in the afternoon, the sun had begun its descent from the sky and the outside temperate had fallen sufficiently for Jon and Sofia to practice outside. As it was still extremely hot, Jon had elected to forgo a T-shirt and just wore a pair of sweatpants. Sofia, meanwhile, had managed to replace a better fitting shirt and wore a pair of jeans. Both antagonists faced off, a few meters apart, on some old exercise mats that Jon had found.

Blinking away the sweat from his eyebrows, Jon was having second thoughts about this whole escapade. What had seemed like a perfectly good idea late last night was quickly giving way to the light of reason during the day. Jon was having trouble focusing on the task at hand, as his attention was continually drawn to her figure. In the casual workout clothes she seemed far younger than her age, and her clothes were clinging to her in all the right places, accentuating her stunning figure.

Meanwhile Sofia could not take her eyes off Jon. Standing there bare chested, like some Greek god. Her eyes followed one particular rivulet of sweat as it ran down his chest. Subconsciously she licked her lips and only when she looked up into Jon’s eyes did she recognise the desire that was burning brightly in them, most likely mirroring her own expression.

“So what do we do first?” She asked nervously, trying to distract herself from his body and his searing gaze.

“As most of the time you will be fighting men that are bigger and stronger than yourself, I will teach you to fight with a knife. A gun would be far more effective for you, and we will get to that, but you will replace yourself in a situation one day when you don’t have a gun or have lost it. It will be easy for you to conceal a small knife somewhere, and most men won’t be expecting it. So you will have the benefit of surprise.”

With that he drew a small combat knife he kept in the secure armoury he maintained at his parents’ house. Carefully handing it to Sofia, hilt first, he encouraged her to get used to the weight and feel of the small blade. “From now on you will carry it with you, always,” Jon said seriously. “Now let’s start with a basic thrust. Attack me with the knife.”

Noticing her hesitation, Jon called out in frustration. “Haven’t we already been over this?” Reminding her of the time in the officer lounge of the Imperial Star, when he faced, unarmed, the senator’s son who had his sword drawn.

Jon at least had to give her a little credit. She did not need to be told twice and at least made an attempt to stab him with the knife, even if it was completely pitiful.

Sighing in frustration, unsure if the heat caused it, the close pull of Sofia’s body or the task at hand, Jon desperately tried to think how best to proceed. In basic training it was easy. The sergeant gave you the knife, ordered you to defend yourself with it and then proceeded to kick seven bells of crap out of you until you succeeded. Carefully eyeing Sofia in front of him, with her hair tied back in a braid, the swell of a breast tapering down to her narrow waist—Jon tore his gaze away.

The frontal assault approach was not going to work, no way was he seriously going to attack her, even if Sofia ever contemplated he would physically hurt her. That left the current approach, encouraging her to seriously attack him. Not the current half-hearted approach she showed, but with the full-on intent to cause as much harm to him as possible. Well, if the physical approach was not an option, time to try the psychological option, Jon reluctantly decided.

Moving far closer, to use his slight height advantage, as a psychological weapon to intimidate, he swore at her. “That was pathetic.” He noticed the ripple of surprise in her expression. Jon had never addressed her in such a coarse manner before, having always treated her politely and with respect. Steeling his heart for what he was about to say, he continued in the same manner. “No wonder your father admitted to me he was ashamed of you. How many times he cursed the day he had a daughter, and not a son.”

Now the surprise was giving way to shock and hurt, Jon knew he would need to go even further to ignite her anger and hatred, those emotions he could use, could mould, teach her to harness and use to protect herself. Thinking what he could use to truly hurt her, he remembered stumbling into the room yesterday, shocked at seeing Sofia and his mother in such a loving embrace, something that she had never been able to have with her own mother.

Her Mother!

“You’re useless! Marcus was better off without you. He told me he wished it was you that had died and not your mother!” Now he could see the flames coming into her eyes, her grip unconsciously tightening on the knife, her muscles stretching, ready to strike. Just a little more!

“I don’t know why he was so bothered personally,” Jon commented, off-hand. “She was just another concubine to the Emperor, I know he had dozens of them since.”

With a wordless cry Sofia sprang forward like a cat, slashing at Jon’s face with the knife, which he blocked at the last second, taken by surprise at her speed. But already she was twisting around to try and stab him in the chest. Again Jon parried and again, with each block just fuelling her ire. However, Sofia was quickly tiring and finally, in tears, she threw the knife aside and swung with the palm of her hand at his cheek. While Jon recognised the blow, this one he allowed through his guard, as personally he felt he deserved far worse for his earlier lies.

It was a surprisingly hard smack that snapped Jon’s head back from the force of the blow, the sound bringing Sofia back to her senses. Staring in disbelief at the person she thought she knew, that perhaps she had even begun to fall in love with…

Turning away, in tears, she ran back inside the house. Even from outside Jon could hear the force of her bedroom door slamming shut. Rubbing his face, in pain, reminding himself to watch out since she had a vicious right hook, Jon left to replace his father.

Training was over for the day and Jon needed to get repairs started on the ’Light.

It was a sombre pair who made their way towards the shuttle later that day after sunset. Jon had insisted on waiting until the cover of night to avoid anybody following them and discovering the shuttle.

“Do you want to talk about what is bothering you?” His father inquired, breaking the silence.

“No.”

“How did the training go? I saw you teaching her earlier.”

“Okay,” Jon replied.

Finally giving up in disgust—obviously Jon had learnt that particular trait from his mother—Ryan turned back to the trail, following the directions sporadically supplied by Jon. Having made good time, as Jon had made careful note of their journey from the shuttle, they soon arrived.

“Wow, she’s a beauty!” His father commented running his fingers along the bow. “We never used to get anything like this at the spaceport. Usually we just got beaten up shuttles and the odd decrepit freighter.”

“But can you fix her?” Jon inquired frustratedly, interrupting his father’s little jaunt down memory lane.

“Now don’t get your knickers in a twist, son,” Ryan replied and added with an evil grin. “And come to think of it, you stay away from your Princess’s knickers.”

Jon just rolled his eyes and replied, “She’s not my Princess, dad.”

“Could have fooled me, the way you two were drooling over each other earlier.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jon replied, desperately trying to change the topic. Jon had already had one cold shower. Trying to get the way Sofia had looked, standing there in a thin shirt and form-fitting jeans, sweat glistening on her brow out of his mind. Jon could already feel himself getting warm again so, instead, he focused on the expression on her face as he lied about her mother and the tears she had shed. Jon felt his blood run cold and his heart turn to stone. Yep, that will do it, Jon thought to himself, ashamed, and turned his gaze back to his father, who had crawled under the port engine.

“Give us some light, can you son?” His father’s muffled voice came from underneath the shuttle. Switching on the flashlight they carried for this very purpose, he shone the light underneath the shuttle where his father was pointing. A few minutes of banging and a couple of muffled curses later his father slid out from underneath the engine.

“The port engine is fine, I could not see any damage at all. Looks like the problem is with the energy distribution matrix, the good news is that we can fix it. The bad news—it will take some time, my colleagues and I will need to test each connection individually to replace the bad one.”

“How long?” Jon inquired in a apprehensive tone.

“Working out here, only after dark?” Ryan directed the question towards his son, who nodded in confirmation. “I would guess four, maybe five nights tops,” he replied. “Perhaps shorter if we strike lucky and replace the damaged connection earlier.”

Jon just stared into the night sky, wondering who else out there might be looking for them and how soon they would arrive. However, if his father said it would take a week that’s how long it would take. Nodding his head in understanding, Jon offered his hand to his father and helped him up.

Noticing the despondent look on his son’s face, Ryan clapped his hand on his shoulder and said positively. “Look on the bright side, son. You can look forward to a week of your mother’s cooking and a week of getting hot and sweaty with your Princess.”

“Fantastic,” Jon replied sourly.

It was very late or, more precisely, very early when they arrived back. The women had already retired to bed for the night. After sharing a late-night snack with his father, the two of them also quickly retired to their beds, knowing they both had a long week ahead to get the shuttle repaired quickly. Jon paused briefly outside Sofia’s closed bedroom door, straining to hear anything but, unable to do so, quickly carried on into his own room. Tired from the long day and longer night Jon quickly fell into a restless sleep, with dreams of faceless people chasing them and Sofia’s desperate cries for help.

He arose early, once again woken by the bright light streaming through the blinds. Having slept terribly through the night, waking up several times, unsure if the cries of help were from his own dreams or the occupant of the next room. Deciding he desperately needed some coffee, Jon switched the machine on and sat in his parents’ kitchen watching the sun rise quickly into the clear sky. It looked as though it was going to be another scorcher of a day. The kitchen was bright and airy and Jon recognised several of his mother’s small touches throughout the room, but for Jon it never felt like home.

Jon had spent his childhood in a small, dingy, mouldy apartment in one of the many slums in Carrington City. The kitchen was barely big enough for one, let alone a table and chairs. The combined living/dining room was just about big enough to fit the family around a table and the view—well it offered a superb view of the dank, grey, opposing apartment block. The hollow centre of the tower block had long filled up with trash, completely blocking the windows of some of the lower apartments. As for the smell. It was unbelievable. However, Jon remembered a happy childhood with Catherine still alive and healthy. His parents were not around as much, always working hard to earn enough money for the two of them, but it was still a family.

He was interrupted by the sound of movement behind him and instinctively knew it was Sofia. Jon wondered how and when he had become so in tune with her that he could feel her presence. Remembering the harsh words stated the previous day, Jon did not turn around but he knew she had seen him by the sound of her sudden indrawn breath. He heard the clinking of cups and the sound of coffee being poured, followed soon after by the sound of the kitchen door being quietly closed. Jon wondered if the echo left in the kitchen was actually the sound of his heart breaking.

Naturally an active person, Jon found the inactivity during the day particularly frustrating and continually found himself staring at the clock, waiting for the sun to set so they could resume work on the shuttle. It was therefore a shock when he noticed Sofia had changed into her workout clothes and was following some of the simpler warm-up exercises he had taught her the day before. Frankly Jon was surprised that Sofia had any desire to continue with the training but, as was often the case, he found himself underestimating her. He hurried to change into his exercise clothes, this time deciding to wear a shirt, as he had no plans to torture himself demonstrating the various holds and throws by holding her against his bare chest.

Sofia did not meet his gaze when he arrived, instead simply held the knife firmly in her hand and cocked her head at an angle as if to say, ‘now what’?”

“Strike at me with the knife, like you did yesterday,” Jon ordered, wincing at the reminder of why she used the knife yesterday. “But this time slowly, and I will help you correct your posture.”

Sofia nodded her head in understanding and reached out to strike him with the knife once again, but this time slower, as if time had been slowed down to a crawl. Jon stopped her, when the knife was barely inches from his throat and helped her correct her centre of balance and lock her shoulder, so her full weight was behind the thrust. Jon and Sofia went through the motion half a dozen times, with him patiently explaining what she was doing wrong and each time correcting her. Sofia refused to meet his gaze or respond, just nodding her head in understanding. After several more tries Jon was satisfied with her posture and they ran through several more forms, from different thrusts to slashes and blocks. They then reversed positions, with Jon being the attacker with the knife, and he taught her the very same blocks he had used on her the day before.

Unused to the punishing physical exercise and the heat from the late afternoon sun, Jon offered Sofia several opportunities to rest but she refused each time. Impressed with her determination, Jon ran through several more forms of unarmed combat, demonstrating the vulnerable areas of the body and where best to strike to incapacitate or disable an opponent. Sofia was a quick learner and often only needed one or two demonstrations of a technique before she mastered it and they moved onto the next.

Jon was stunned by her progress, while Sofia lacked the physical strength necessary to excel at combat, she more than made up for it with her speed and exquisite balance. He assumed she had spent many years learning dance and gymnastics to have such perfect posture. When the sun started to disappear beneath the horizon he called an end to the training session. Once again Sofia failed to respond, just nodding her head in acknowledgement, before pivoting around and heading back inside the house.

Sighing wearily, Jon collected the practice mats before heading indoors for a change of clothes and a shower before dinner. Unlike their first night together, dinner was a strained event, as the tension in the air between the two was easily noticeable to both parents. The two refused to make eye contact and all conversation went via one or the other parents. Finally the entire table lapsed into an uncomfortable silence. Jon was not the only one relieved when dinner was finished and cleared away. Eventually the time came to depart, with Jon waiting for his father, who was in a deep discussion with his mother. With a nod of understanding, the couple broke apart and Jon followed his father out of the house.

By mutual agreement they met his father’s ex-colleagues several kilometres from the house. Jon initially had some concerns about having to trust several unknown strangers. However, his father reassured him that he had known them all for many years and trusted them implicitly. Additionally, without their help the repairs would take weeks, if not months. They agreed his father would only explain the bare minimum, that the ship was damaged in an attack, required repairs and they wished to avoid the taxes and commission charged at the spaceport. After a brief introduction the small group made their way to the shuttle and within a few hours the landing site was a hive of activity, as panels were removed for easier access and detailed diagnostics initiated.

Having only basic engineering knowledge, Jon was little help beyond instructing the ships computer to power-up the individual systems as his father and the engineering team monitored the power distribution to try and locate the damaged connector.

The next thing he knew was a brief shake of his shoulder as his father woke him up. “I’ve been calling for the last few minutes,” he explained. “We need you to initialise the secondary actuator.”

“Sorry I must have nodded off for a moment,” Jon explained, embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it; you’ve had a hard time of it recently. Look why don’t you give this a miss tomorrow and get some sleep?”

“I’d love to,” Jon replied. “But you need me to power up the systems. The shuttle is genetically coded to me, it won’t respond to any of your commands.” At his father’s dubious expression, Jon motioned towards the flight controls. “Try it yourself. The secondary actuator is the one on the top left.”

His father tentatively reached out to activate the control but, besides an indignant beep from the ship’s computer, nothing happened. Smoothly reaching out, Jon gently touched the control, which immediately activated.

“And only you can fly this ship?”

“This ship and its sister ship the Endless Light are, were the personal shuttles for the Emperor and his family, only they have permission to fly them.”

“So how come you have permission for this one?” Jon’s father asked the obvious question.

Jon was about to reply the Emperor had ordered him to use this ship to take Sofia, hence must have added him personally as an authorised pilot, when he stopped. Jon clearly remembered that night, after receiving the orders he had gone straight to the flight deck to check on the ship. He had already been given access to the ship by the time he had arrived. So exactly when had he been authorised to pilot the ’Light? Suddenly curious, Jon accessed the security log for the ship and scrolled back in time until he found the record detailing his access. It was dated several months earlier. But that did not make sense—how could the Emperor have possibly known that he would need access to the ship so long before? He remembered the conversation with the Emperor clearly. He had made it expressly clear the two ships belonged to the Aurelius family—they were private property and could only be flown by members of the family. Confused at why he then had been given the necessary access, Jon turned back to testing the next component on the power-up list.

Life slowly settled into a routine, with Jon rising early, wondering aimlessly around the house until the temperature cooled later in the day to spend a few hours training Sofia, before working on the shuttle repairs late into the night.

Jon was exhausted, tired and irritable. While Sofia’s progress in their afternoon training sessions had been astounding, she still refused to even look him in the eye, let alone talk to him and the atmosphere in the house was unpleasant. The little sleep Jon had been getting was restless, intermittent and plagued by bad dreams. Sofia fared little better, as she had retreated back into the same shell that she had after the attack on Transcendence and showed little appetite at meals, content to just push the food around her plate and actually eat very little. Her sparking, emerald-green eyes had faded to a dull green, and her skin appeared pale and washed out.

Having put up with this for almost a week, and having been unable to get a word out of his stubborn son, Ryan decided to approach the princess directly. Ryan did not have much experience dealing with Imperial Princesses, but having been married for over thirty years he felt he had some experience with women.

That afternoon, when Sofia had once again retired to her room and Jon had fallen asleep in the kitchen, Ryan felt it was as good as any opportunity to try. Knocking gently on her door, hoping that she was not also asleep, he was relieved to hear her voice, giving him permission to enter. Upon entering Ryan found Sofia sitting up on the bed, with her head resting on her knees, which were folded against her chest. Ryan’s heart went out to the younger woman, as she seemed so alone and miserable. It occurred to Ryan that if Catherine were still alive, she would be around the same age as this woman. While there was nothing he could do for his long-dead daughter, perhaps he could help this troubled young woman.

“Excuse me Princess, I hope I am not disturbing you,” he apologised, suppressing a grin at the flash of surprise that crossed Sofia’s face. You didn’t know that I knew your secret, let’s see what else you don’t know, Ryan thought to himself, smugly.

“I didn’t know you knew who I was,” Sofia explained embarrassedly. “When Jon didn’t say anything I thought it best to keep quiet about it.”

“Jon told me, the night you arrived. However, I would probably have guessed eventually. Anyway I don’t have much experience prostrating myself in front of royalty,” Ryan explained matter-of-factly.

“It’s not necessary, to be honest. Having spent my life as an Imperial Princess, it was nice just to be a Sofia for a while. Anyway it was fun helping Irene with the dinner, I’ve never cooked before,” Sofia explained, with a giggle.

For a brief instant, Ryan could understand his son’s attraction to the princess, as when she laughed her entire face lit up. Taking a seat next to her on the bed, Ryan cast his eye around the room, trying to think how he could bring up the topic of her and Jon’s sudden coldness. “Did Jon tell you that he bought this house for us?” he finally asked.

“Yes, Irene mentioned it.”

“When I asked Jon where he got the money, he just told us that he sold some silly trinket that he had been given. Must have been some expensive charm.”

“The fleet medal, the Aurelius Star Cluster.” Sofia decided to confide in Jon’s father. It bothered her a little Jon’s parents did not seem to be aware of the sacrifice their son made for them.

Ryan’s eyes went wide at the news. “Sounds important,” he whistled. “I hope Jon does not get into any trouble if anyone ever replaces out.”

“I’m sure that daddy would have been furious if he discovered that Jon had sold the award,” Sofia explained. “But I think secretly he would have approved, if he knew what Jon had done with the money.”

“Jon talked about your father a lot when he was last home,” Ryan replied thoughtfully. “At the time we did not know who he was, and Jon was not forthcoming, but I knew that Jon respected him a great deal. Jon referred to him as one of the greatest men he’d ever known and I know Jon is devastated about his death. He blames himself for not doing enough, not being able to protect him.” Deciding to change the topic slightly, Ryan added. “I remember one of Jon’s biggest regrets was not being able to meet your mother. He often told us how he would have loved to meet the person who could have captured your father’s heart so completely. I think Jon thought your mother must have been a pretty special woman.”

“Yes, she was,” Sofia replied. Remembering the times as a child when her mother would comb her hair and sing softly to her until she fell asleep. “I think my mother would have enjoyed meeting Jon too. Aside from her, Jon was the only person who could never be intimidated by my father.

“I remember one time when I was caught sneaking around the ship, I liked to do that a lot—” Sofia added with an impish grin. “Father threw an almighty tantrum, furious I had sneaked out without an escort and was proposing all sorts of terrible repercussions. Jon calmly placed himself between my father and me and simply stated the blame should lie with him, as he was in charge of seeing to my safety. For almost an hour my father belittled him, blamed him, cursed him, threatened every punishment under the sun, from demotion through to treason and death. He just stood there not saying a word! Finally my father collapsed into a chair, exhausted and just dismissed him, but still he stood there impassively and inquired about my punishment. Faced with possible death and he was concerned about my sentence. I don’t think father knew what to say. He just dismissed us both. Aside from my mother, Jon is the only other person to stand up to my father, on my behalf. I think everybody was secretly terrified of him, but not Jon.”

Sofia remembered that incident clearly, she had never seen her father so angry and was terrified of the consequences, but Jon had deflected his anger away from her. Ever since then she had seen him in a new light, as somebody she could trust, somebody she knew she could rely upon to protect her. She had never felt so safe as she did when she was with him.

Ryan smiled at the story, replaceing it incredible to believe his son had stood up to Marcus Aurelius, the Emperor, all to protect this young girl from his temper. “Jon never spoke much about himself and his exploits in the navy,” Ryan explained slowly. “I got the impression that his life was very dangerous and he did not want us to worry. His mother, Irene, was constantly asking him if he had met anybody, I think she was hoping he would meet some girl, settle down and start a family of his own. I remember there was this one time—” Ryan explained, giving Sofia a knowing look, as she was captivated by what he was saying. “Irene pestered Jon endlessly about whether he had met somebody. Finally Jon capitulated and confessed that he had met someone.”

Suddenly Sofia realised she was no longer having fun. She had been spellbound hearing about her family from Jon’s own words to his father, but she did not want to know about some fling, or even worse, a relationship Jon was involved in. She could feel a growing knot in her stomach, as Ryan repeated Jon’s words, describing this beautiful woman, with flawless skin, beautiful eyes and the grace and manner of a princess. Sofia could hear the words as if coming from Jon himself, conveying the love and affection he held for this woman.

As a lump of something cold and unpleasant landed in the pit of Sofia’s stomach, she hesitantly asked, “Did Jon ever tell you her name?” While she did not know all the women on board the Imperial Star, she knew many of them, and counted a significant number as her friends. Thinking back she lost count of the number of times her female friends commented about the fetching Commander, and knew more than one of them had approached him, but each one being politely rebuffed. At the time she had felt relieved, jealous of any other women sharing the Commander’s attention, but unsure why. Now she knew most likely at least one of them had caught his eye.

Surprised at the question, as Ryan was preparing to leave the princess to her thoughts, he shook his head in a negative. At the disappointed look from the princess he did add. “The only other thing that he mentioned was that she had flaming red hair, and eyes like the brightest emeralds.” With a smile in her direction, he left the room, closing the door softly behind him.

He was talking about me! He meant those beautiful words for me! The thought sang through her mind. As an Imperial Princess of the Empire, Sofia had very little say in her own life. Her time was strictly scheduled for study and official ceremonies, for her to appear next to her father. Therefore she had never had to make an important decision on her own before. She sat down and thought long and hard for many hours about what she wanted.

Jon had been waiting for some time at their usual place for their training sessions, having laid out the practice mats some time earlier. However, now the sun was starting to hang low in the sky and still Sofia had not appeared. Sighing, Jon prepared to put the mats away and call it quits for the evening. Jon was surprised to regret that their training sessions together were coming to an end. While Sofia had said almost nothing after their first day, he missed at least being able to spend some time with her, being able to touch her. Blinking back the sweat from his eyes, Jon was surprised to see her approaching in the late afternoon light. Dressed in her usual workout clothes of a T-Shirt and jeans, with her hair tied back in a braid, Jon tried to work out what seemed different about her.

Finally he realised she was looking him in the eye, not diverting her gaze like she had for the past few days, and her smile—her smile lit up her entire face, reaching into her eyes, which seemed to glow with inner warmth. Jon swallowed deeply. Forget repairing the energy grid for the shuttle, Sofia was emitting enough energy to fly the ’Light halfway across the galaxy by herself. As she approached, Jon took a self-conscious step backwards, unsure of the reason for the dramatic change.

“Sorry I am late,” Sofia uttered, as she arrived at the practice mat, shooting Jon a smile that rooted him to the spot.

“What do you want to practice today?” He asked, reluctant to bring up the reason for her good mood and jinx it. God, how he had missed her smile.

“Let’s practice hand-to-hand, you know, physical contact,” she stated giving Jon a look, which was almost predatory, if he had not imagined it.

“Uh, sure,” he replied. Totally off-balance by her sudden about-turn in mood, wondering suspiciously if this was a ploy to get him off balance for their practice session, in which case, Jon admitted to himself, it was working terrifically well.

Both antagonists dropped into a basic combat stance, which Jon had painstakingly taught to Sofia, and observed each other closely. Which was to say Jon was observing her sparking eyes and warm smile, when Sofia darted a quick blow to his torso, which Jon frantically only just managed to block in time. After that Jon decided it was safer to focus on her hands and feet than other more alluring parts of her body. As they fought within the tight confines of the training mat, Jon came to some quick conclusions.

First that she was an outstandingly, able student and had been paying close attention, as he fought to defect blows to his face, torso, groin and legs in rapid succession. Second that Sofia was toying with him. Sure, she was an outstanding student, but she was not following through with her blows and, instead of identifying a weak-spot in his defence and focusing on it, she was playing. Suddenly it struck Jon that Sofia was not intent on actually hurting him, but was enjoying herself.

With that realisation for the first time in many days, Jon allowed his posture and body to relax and he found himself returning her smile. Deciding she was not the only one allowed to enjoy herself, on the next jab, which had ever-so-slightly too much weight behind it, he caught her wrist and spun her around, sliding her body into his chest, regretting once again he had decided to wear a shirt, as he enjoyed the feel of her against his bare chest.

Twisting her head around to meet his gaze, eyes sparking, she exclaimed, “You never taught me that move.”

Jon just laughed and replied. “I cannot give away all my secrets, now can I?”

However, it was obvious Sofia was not beyond improvising a little herself, as while Jon’s attention was once again solely on her face, she jabbed a sharp elbow into his chest. Not enough to hurt, but enough for him to loosen his grip on her so she could slide out of his grasp. Taking a step back, the two opponents allowed themselves to catch their breath.

“How about we make this more interesting, with a bet on who wins the next round?” Sofia challenged, eyes sparkling in anticipation.

“I don’t know,” Jon hedged, “What are we going to bet on?”

“Whatever you want,” she shot back.

Jon, who had already worked up a heavy sweat, felt his body temperature shoot up by a further ten degrees upon her response. A thousand thoughts, all lustful, poured forth from his imagination into his mind and he had to fight to control his body’s response. Taking a deep breath to calm his overactive imagination, Jon thought quickly. While Sofia was an outstanding student, even with her slight advantage in terms of speed she was never going to best him. He had spent almost all the past ten years in combat of one form or another, continually honing his fighting skills. Hence he would put on a good show, perhaps even let Sofia think she had the edge, before making it seem like he only just won.

And the wager?

Pushing to the back of his mind all the delirious thoughts of what he wanted, especially when she stood there in front of him, hot, sweaty and glowing. Well, he would just make some silly requirement that she never cut her hair, or something. Decision made, he nodded his head in agreement and stepped back into his combat stance.

Sofia once again attacked, harder and faster than before. Jon had to focus a great deal of his concentration into blocking her attacks. Occasionally, when he saw an opening, he quickly counter attacked to make it seem like he was at least trying. Finally after a good few minutes of sparring and both opponents starting to get tired, he finally started to look for an opportunity to finish the match. However, before he could, he saw Sofia take a step off the practice mat, instantly slipping. He saw her startled expression and tried to lunge to catch her. Unfortunately he was just too far away and off balance. With a startled cry she fell heavily onto the mat, her ankle at a bad angle, and lay still. Worried Sofia could have badly hurt her ankle with the fall, he hurried over to make sure that she was unhurt.

Before Jon knew what was happening, his legs went out from underneath him and, completely unprepared, he hit the mat, hard. All the air fled from his lungs and Jon desperately tried to catch his breath, but before he could a soft but heavy weight landed on his chest and a vicious elbow was shoved into his throat. Lifting his head off the ground, Jon stared into a pair of triumphant green eyes.

“I win,” she exclaimed victoriously.

“You cheated!” Jon replied, experimentally trying to move his body to see if he could dislodge her. However, the moment she felt him starting to move she jabbed her elbow deeper into his throat. Anyway Jon quickly discovered that movement was a bad idea, as most of Sofia’s weight was spread across his lower chest and groin. Her weight combined with his movement was causing other parts of his body to become excited. Laying his head back on the ground in defeat, he sighed deeply before realising the implications of losing. He had never seriously considered losing the wager and had not given any thought to what she might demand, after all she had insisted on anything...

“Okay, you win.” Jon admitted. “So you win the bet, what do you want?” Jon asked curious to know what she was going to demand.

“A night out, dinner, followed by dancing.” Sofia exclaimed excitedly. “You do know how to dance don’t you?” She asked suspiciously, she had never actually seen Jon dance.

As a matter of a fact, Jon did know how to dance. As an officer in the Imperial Navy he was also expected to represent the Empire on formal occasions of state, hence dancing lessons had been mandatory at the Military Academy. Desperately Jon tried to think of some excuse, before suddenly hitting on the perfect one. “I would love to, but we don’t have anything to wear,” Jon motioned towards their sweats and T-shirts. “Unfortunately seeing as I just disobeyed direct orders, stole a shuttle, including taking hostage the Imperial Princess on the afore-mentioned shuttle I think pay-day is unlikely this month.” Jon smiled triumphantly, with the perfect excuse.

Sofia just gave him another predatory smile, before breathing into his ear and whispering, “Jon, dear, honey, snookums, do you remember what I am?”

Staring into her bright green eyes that were dancing in merriment, with her breasts firmly pressed against his chest and their groins joined, all Jon could manage in his strangled voice was “Very hot…”

Surprised, as that had not been the response she was expecting, Sofia released her elbow from the poor boys neck in case he was starting to suffer from oxygen deprivation, before explaining. “I am an Imperial Princess, daughter of the Emperor and very, very, extremely, fabulously, rich. Could I interest you in a new ship, as I understand that our current one has some problems, or a planet perhaps, maybe just a small moon…”

Jon just lay back on the ground, staring into the darkened sky.

Oh yeah, I had forgotten about that. Damn. Looks like dinner and dancing it is.

Jon yanked at his collar once again, while waiting for Sofia to get ready for dinner and dancing. Jon had strenuously refused to use the ‘date’ word.

“Stop pulling at it or you’ll end up twisting it,” his father complained.

“It’s not my fault, the damn thing is too tight, it’s like a noose!” However, his father just gave him an amused look.

“Now don’t forget, I want you both home by midnight, and no necking in the cab,” his father warned him seriously, which was rather spoilt by the grin that was threatening to split his face in half.

“You are having far too much fun with this,” Jon warned his father.

His father gave the accusation careful consideration before he replied, “Yep.”

Sighing at his unrepentant father, Jon had to confess—only privately though—that the suit that he wore was not that bad. While very similar to his usual navy uniform this was a charcoal grey, unlike his usual navy whites. Jon idly wondered if it was this similarity that prompted Sofia to purchase it earlier in the day, when Sofia and his mother went out for some shopping. The fact they were gone most of the day did not faze Jon in the slightest, and if he continually checked the chronometer every five minutes, well, that was just because he was really interested in the time. He had been waiting for over thirty minutes for Sofia to get ready, and for the thirtieth time wondered what she would be wearing. A sharply indrawn breath from his father, who was standing by his side, seemed to answer that question and, steeling himself, Jon turned around.

The breath caught in his own throat.

He had seen Sofia dressed up for many formal occasions, wearing many different dresses but at that moment in time Jon could not for the life of him ever remember Sofia look so beautiful. With her stunning red hair, combed back to almost reach her shoulders, deeply offset by a lacy emerald green blouse that matched her eye colour perfectly, she was wearing a maroon skirt that barely reached her knees. It showed off her perfect, and endless, legs, which concluded in a pair of strappy wraparound sandals. Jon knew he should say something but could only gape, with his mouth open, as she descended down the stairs.

“Close your mouth Commander,” she uttered on the way past. “Otherwise you will catch flies.”

With a pat on the back from his father and best wishes from his mother he followed the princess out of the house to the waiting cab. The cab had also been waiting for the past thirty minutes and only the promise of a truly astronomical tip had mollified the driver. After all, it was Sofia’s money, and Jon had heard the Aurelius ship-yards had been doing good business for the past, oh, five centuries.

They arrived soon after at the restaurant Jon had chosen. He did not actually know any expensive restaurants on Altair, and was fairly sure the phrase ‘an expensive restaurant on Altair’ was an oxymoron. Yet a quick search on the planetary data-net confirmed they did exist, and booking a table had not been a problem, as Jon doubted there were more than a dozen potential customers on the entire planet who could afford the astronomical prices.

Offering his hand to the princess, after all, anyone looking so stunning could hardly have been anything but, he escorted her into the restaurant. The maître d’ scanned the list of names in front of him and, after confirming their reservation, escorted them to a table next to the windows, open to allow in the still warm evening air, with a view of the stars glistening beautifully outside. Seated, completely enamoured, Jon found he could not tear his gaze away from her.

Finally Sofia glanced down at the menu and broke the silence. “Shall we order?” She proposed.

Tentatively, Jon reached for the menu, handling it much like one would a poisonous snake. With a certain degree of dread he read down the list of items, not recognising any of them. Slightly more urgently he flipped to the next page, with the same result. Jon glanced at some of the prices listed next to the items and then adverted his eyes. Possibly he could afford some of the smaller items on his navy salary. For example, the Tartare Salad was priced at just under his monthly salary.

As he slowly closed the menu Sofia looked up in surprise and inquired, “You have decided, already? That was quick.” Jon nodded in acknowledgement and watched as she motioned for their server to come over to take their order. When their server arrived, with real pen and paper in hand, Sofia motioned to Jon to go first. “I’m still trying to decide, darling,” she explained. As Jon observed Sofia peering over the top of the menu, paying absolutely no attention to its contents, he knew he was being set up.

The Witch!

“I’ll have the lobster Newberry, arugula and goat cheese salad,” Jon ordered promptly, gazing deeply into Sofia’s eyes, not for an instant missing the flash of surprise in hers.

“And what about madam?” The server inquired after jotting down the order, turning to Sofia.

“Uh,” she replied with a slight flush, having been far more interested in what Jon was ordering than in actually reading the menu. “I’ll have the same,” she finally stated.

“Excellent,” the server responded, completely missing the non-verbal byplay taking place across the table. “Can I get sir or madam a drink? We have an excellent wine selection.” He motioned towards the menu lying on the table.

“Why don’t you order, dear,” Sofia suggested with an enigmatic smile. “You know me, no idea about wines.”

The server shifted his gaze to Jon expectantly.

“A bottle of 2712 Haut-Brion Blanc,” Jon did not even glance at the menu, keeping his gaze intently focused on Sofia.

“A particularly inspired choice, sir,” the server said approvingly. “I’ll be back with your wine in just a moment.”

As the server disappeared, probably into the deepest, darkest depths of the wine cellar to look for a seventy-five-year-old bottle of wine, Sofia’s gaze fell to the tablecloth. What had initially started off as a little light teasing had quickly lost its allure when it became obvious that Jon was exceptionally familiar with the menu. Sofia, wondered how many other women Jon had wined and dined at this restaurant, perhaps this very table.

Noticing Sofia’s sad gaze fall to the tablecloth Jon cursed himself, as she started to draw random shapes on the table. After the terrible lies he had told about her family, Jon swore to himself he would never hurt this woman again, that she had already gone through enough pain in her life. Now here he was, barely thirty minutes into their date, and already he had hurt her again. This time it was different though, whatever he had done to hurt her, he was going to correct it. Jon had already spent a week living with the painful distance between them and he would not, could not, go through that again. Hence he did something that even a few weeks ago he would never have contemplated. Without permission he reached across the table, enfolding the finger drawing shapes on the table with one hand, and with the other deftly lifted her chin until she was looking him in the eyes.

“Please tell me what I said or did to upset you?” He asked softly, continuing to hold her hand and touch her cheek delicately.

“I guess you must come here often?” She commented. Noticing the surprised look on Jon’s face she hurriedly added. “As you seem to know the menu so well. Do you bring many women here for dinner?”

Jon continued to gaze into Sofia’s eyes fondly, without responding. Only when finally, waiting for a response, did she look him in the eye, he replied. “I’ve never been to this restaurant before. I found it on the data-net while you were out shopping. As for other women, there have been terribly few, ever since I found myself keeping company with a real life Princess.”

Sofia just blushed at his gentle words, but that did not explain how come he knew the menu so intimately. “So how did you know what to order?” Sofia asked puzzled.

Leaning forward so only Sofia could hear his whispered response he replied. “I have absolutely no idea what I just ordered. I simply chose the most expensive item on each page.” The sound of Sofia’s crystal-clear laugh turned more than one male head in the restaurant.

All in all, Jon enjoyed dinner far more than he was expecting. The food was interesting, after Sofia had explained to him what he had actually ordered. The wine was crisp and clear, surprisingly seeing it was almost seventy-five years old. And the bill? Well Jon just decided not to even think about that. It was still fairly early when they left the restaurant, and the evening still pleasantly warm after the daytime heat.

“So what would you like to do now Princess?” Jon inquired, sliding a strand of her hair that had escaped back behind her ear.

“I believe that you still owe me a dance, Commander,” Sofia replied archly.

“So I do,” Jon replied, looking around, taking his bearings. He remembered a club not far from here, which he frequented occasionally when attending the Academy on Altair. Unlike most of the clubs he knew, this one was more of an open-air patio, hence was not stifling and deafening.

Taking her hand in his, the couple walked hand-in-hand in the direction of the club. Frequently Jon pointed out sights, scenes and buildings from his childhood on Altair. There was a short queue already forming outside the club, and they had to wait several minutes for the queue to disperse. Idly Jon wondered if Sofia had ever had to queue for anything in her life, but quickly dismissed the question, as she seemed to be taking it in good humour.

In actual fact Sofia spent most of her time observing the other patrons in the queue waiting to enter the club. Jon felt a stab of jealously for a moment before he realised she was just naturally curious. Sofia had grown up on the Imperial Star, surrounded either by Imperial Navy personnel or the politicians and their families on rotation. She had never seen the riot of colours, styles, tattoos, and piercings that were on show by the youths queuing for the club.

Jon did observe a number of the youths eying Sofia lustfully, and he met each of their gazes for a few moments before they averted their eyes. Most of the young men also got a sharp elbow in the stomach from their partners, encouraging them to pay attention. Jon noticed one or two envious glances from the partners as well. Sighing to himself he realised this was probably not a good idea, but it was too late now, as Sofia would never agree to leave. Jon promised himself to keep very, very close to her when inside.

Sofia, meanwhile, was drowning in a sea of colours and cultures and loving every minute of it. She had not realised how sterile her life aboard the Imperial Star had been until so many different people surrounded her. She stared in amazement at the different people, some with green and orange hair, others covered in tattoos—and the clothes the women wore! Some of them hid almost nothing. She quickly glanced at Jon to make sure that he was not ogling any of them. Instead, one of the young men ahead of them in the queue was staring openly at them and Jon was giving him an angry stare. A few moments later the young man looked away.

Jon just seemed to ooze menace, even dressed in a charcoal grey suit, which now matched his darkened eye colour, without his immaculate white uniform, Praetorian insignia and sword. The suit did nothing to hide the broad shoulders and strong biceps and the frown he wore was enough to scare anybody. While she had always noticed Jon was very handsome, this was a new side to him she had never seen before. Far from being repelled, Sofia found the dark, heated look extremely attractive, knowing it was Jon’s way of warning any potential suitors away. Taking a page from Jon’s book she reached up and touched his cheek, drawing his gaze to her. As Jon’s eyes focused on her once again they lightened to their usual misty grey and his face relaxed.

As they reached the front of the queue, Sofia turned around and reminded Jon. “Don’t forget you owe me a dance.”

Jon only smiled, he had not forgotten.

The club was absolutely packed when they finally made it inside. Finding a table was out of the question and with the deafening noise and stifling heat it would have been pointless anyway. Instead, Jon slid an arm around Sofia’s waist, much to her delight, and shouted loudly into her ear, to be heard over the music, the directions to the open-air patio. Once they finally managed to push through the crowds and out into the open, Sofia gasped in delight. The view was as spectacular as he had remembered it, with Carrington City spread across to the right, but the bay spreading out in a panorama directly in front of them.

By the time they had managed to reach the outside patio the music had transitioned into something softer and slower and much more suited to the hot night. As she felt Jon hesitating behind her, she spun around to look at him.

Playfully tugging his arm, Sofia pulled him forward, until his body brushed up and down hers. “Not so fast,” she said. “You promised you’d dance with me.”

Jon gazed down at Sofia and tried to pinpoint the exact moment when he felt out of his depth. He was thinking he had things under control. Now, suddenly, he found himself looping his arms loosely around Sofia’s waist, and what a fantastic waist it was, too, as she danced him backward into the middle of the patio.

Dammit, she would want more than one dance, Jon thought to himself resignedly.

Then again, seeing as he suddenly had no idea what he was doing, maybe he should just surrender to her. The thought of surrendering to Sofia took on a way too erotic connotation then, so he set the thought aside and tried to concentrate on something else. Unfortunately, his concentration seemed to be intent on erotic thoughts this evening, and they kept zeroing in on things they had no business targeting. Like how warm and silky the bare flesh above Sofia’s skirt was when he settled his hands on her hips and his fingertips encountered it. Like how good she smelled, sweet and decadent and tempting, up close this way. Like how fluid and natural her movements were when she propelled her body forward into his again. Like how unspeakably lovely her eyes were when she glanced up to see how he was doing.

Like how he wondered what she would do if he kissed her?

“Getting the hang of things, Jon?” she asked as she executed a stunning twirl that offered him quite a nice view of her back.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, the words coming out a bit rougher than he intended. “I’m getting the hang of things really well.”

She laughed with genuine delight, oblivious to the fact the two of them were talking about entirely different things.

“I knew you’d be a good dancer,” she said, spinning closer still.

“How did you know that?”

“I notice more than you think, Jon.”

“I don’t doubt that for a moment. Something tells me you miss very little.”

“And you don’t miss a thing,” she responded, reeling and darting around Jon with the grace of a summer breeze, chuckling good-naturedly at his obvious and total confusion.

Before he realised his own intentions, he snaked an arm out to halt her, pulling her to him until her body was flush against his.

Then the strangest thing happened. Although the music kept playing, faster and faster, and the dancers surrounding them still pranced and staggered merrily about, the world enclosing them gradually slowed down to a halt. So Jon slowed down with it, spinning Sofia in a gradually tighter circle, pulling her closer with every turn, until the two of them stood utterly still at the centre of the dance floor.

And then, although he never planned to do it, he leaned forward to kiss her—only to be abruptly swung around by a firm hand on his shoulder.

His mind still full of her scent and the feel of her pressed up against his hard body, he was slow to respond to the abrupt change of events. Trying to blink away the fog surrounding his mind, he came face to face with a very angry pair of cerulean eyes.

“You have some nerve to come back here, Radec, after the stunt you pulled last time.”

He recognised a hard chiselled face, and the powerful body of somebody used to hard labour. Eyes blinking against the darkness, he noticed a number of other indistinct shapes hovering behind. The realisation hit him like a thunderbolt.

“Jack Stanton,” he exclaimed, “with family.” Recognising the other brothers as they stepped forward. “For crying out loud, it’s been over ten years. Have you not gotten over this yet?”

“You broke little Becky’s heart,” Jack exclaimed angrily.

“You sure this is not more about your wounded pride, when I took exception to you and your brothers using me for a punching bag? By the way are you not missing one? I only count four, I hope you didn’t lose James on the way over.”

“Excuse me!” an angry voice exclaimed, interrupting their little jaunt down memory lane. Sofia stared in complete bewilderment at the group that had just interrupted their dance. And we were just about to get to the best part! Sofia wailed internally, stamping her foot in frustration. “Who are you?” she demanded turning her displeasure on Jack, “and more importantly who is Becky?” she demanded, giving Jon a furious gaze. Seriously, before this night is out I am going to get a full list of all Jon’s previous relationships. Chronologically. Sofia decided angrily.

Jon had completely forgotten about Sofia, so caught up in the surprise of seeing Jack and his brothers again. “Becky was…” at an angry gaze from Jack, Jon corrected, “…is Jack’s younger sister, we dated, briefly, during college,” Jon explained.

“You broke her heart!”

“Oh come off it,” Jon scoffed. “Becky had her heart broken once a week, but it must have repaired itself just as quickly, as usually, by the next week, she had hooked up with whoever the new guy was. Jack and his brothers took exception to this and decided to use me as a punching bag. Well I don’t like being a punching bag,” Jon insisted with a dark look. “Anyway, it looks like most of the bones healed fine in the end.” Jon grinned.

Sofia was about to propose they take up this discussion at a later date, as she was much more interested in continuing on from where they had just been interrupted. However, before she could intervene, a massive forearm encircled her waist, pulling her back against an equally massive chest.

“Hey little lady, why don’t you replace yourself a real man, instead with hanging out with this piece-of-crap,” an equally massive voice boomed out from above Sofia.

Sofia was more surprised than frightened and while Jon had an extremely pissed off expression, it was more anger about somebody man-handling her than the cold hard, I am about to kill everybody in the room expression she had come to recognise on his face when he was deadly serious about something. “This is their youngest brother?” Sofia exclaimed in surprise, encased by the massive body.

“Yeah well, Bill Stanton was a monster himself. Not that I would be surprised if a couple here are half-brothers, as I understand his wife must have lain with half of Carrington City. The male half that is—” Jon added with a smirk, purposefully ignoring the fact Jack had gone completely red-faced at the comment and was cursing a mean streak at him.

Sofia just sighed to herself, wondering what it was about Jon that meant he always had to have the last word. Anyway Jon was a big boy and could look after himself. After giving him a reassuring look that she was fine, she turned back towards the monster who had her surrounded. Stroking him softly on the chest, she looked up into his eyes and cooed, “You mean a real man, like you…James?”

Staring down, wide-eyed, at the stunning woman who was pressed softly against his hard chest, he was just able to make out the slight swell of a breast, encased in a silky emerald blouse. James could hardly believe his luck. He was still staring at her in complete rapture, when she added. “And who do you think you are calling little?” she demanded, slamming her knee straight into his groin. James’s eyes just rolled up into his head and he collapsed onto the floor like a house of cards, hands to his groin, whimpering like a baby. Satisfied he would not be going anywhere in the near future, Sofia turned around to see if Jon required any assistance.

Jon meanwhile had everything under control, ducking under the ridiculously telegraphed swing from Jack and hammering his own fist into the other man’s stomach. The wind rushed from Jack’s lungs and, with a wheeze, he collapsed onto the floor. Jon, however, was not standing idle but already sidestepping a vicious punch from one of the other brothers and aiming a powerful kick, targeted at the brother’s thigh. There was a loud crack as bone snapped and that man too fell to the floor with a howl of pain. Ducking under a haymaker that would have taken his head off, Jon quickly glanced around to see Sofia had disabled her own opponent.

Momentarily glad their days of training had paid off he caught her by the hand and quickly stated. “Sorry. I think we will have to leave dancing for another time. Back the way we came, left of the bar there is a backdoor.” He pushed her back indoors, ahead of him, into the packed crowd.

“You seem to know this club particularly well.”

“Well I must confess, this is not the first time I have been here.”

“I see, and did you need to make a quick exit, out the backdoor, during those visits too?” Sofia inquired, pushing her way through the crowd.

“Not every time,” Jon replied, noticing the other brothers were gaining on them by simply shoving other patrons out of their way.

Deciding he needed to buy the two of them a little more time, he grabbed the two nearest clubbers, shoved them in the direction of the brothers and screamed over the music. “Fight!”

As is often the case, every head turned in the direction of the yell. The brothers pushed the two clubbers out of their way and, of course, everybody else saw it as a challenge and piled in. Before they knew what was happening, the brothers were buried under a mountain of bodies, with fists flying everywhere. Out of the corner of his eye Jon noticed security descending onto the dance floor to break up the fight.

Resuming pushing Sofia in the direction of the backdoor, he instructed her, “Wait for me outside, I won’t be long. I just want to make sure that the gang of five—” he motioned over his shoulder, “—don’t have any plans for chasing us across Carrington City tonight.”

Nodding her head in understanding, Sofia pushed open the backdoor, hurrying out into the night. She was amazed at how undeveloped everything on Altair was, from the old manual swing doors, to public transportation that still ran on combustion engines with fossil fuels. She shook her head in disbelief that, having come from this planet, Jon could even recognise a computer, let alone use one.

Glancing around, realising she was in some sort of enclosed yard, noticing the bins in a corner overflowing with trash, she just rolled her eyes in disbelief. She wondered for a brief instant if they still buried trash on Altair; everywhere else everything was recycled or re-used.

Realising that it was not the best idea to be standing directly in front of the exit, Sofia noticed a gap in the wall next to the trash, and hurried through, glancing left and right when she found herself in a narrow alley running alongside the club. After a further few meters, she found another alley intersecting that one and ducked down this side alley. Finally out of sight, Sofia leaned against the wall to catch her breath, trying to suppress a laugh.

That was fun!

Giggling, trying to remember the last time she had such fun, she decided the time she sneaked into Jon’s apartment and caught him bare-chested had been almost as fun. However, her introspection was suddenly cut short when she heard footsteps hurrying down the alley after her. Tensing her body, she waited for exactly the right moment. As the body flashed past, she caught him by the wrist, using his own momentum to slam him up against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. To be doubly sure she also kicked him in the groin, hard. Only to look up into Jon’s misty grey eyes, wide with complete astonishment.

“Whoops, sorry!” she giggled out, high on excitement and adrenaline. Jon did not say a word, just slid slowly down the wall, whimpering as pain radiated out of every pore of his body.

It was quite some time later when Sofia helped Jon back to his feet, after profusely apologising for hitting him so hard and assuring him she thought he was one of the brothers chasing after her.

Finally being able to see straight, breath, and not being totally incapacitated by the pain radiating from his groin, he looked up into Sofia’s eyes and his breath caught in his throat. She was absolutely glowing; her hair a crimson red, her eyes sparking like the brightest jewels, and her skin, while covered in sweat, was gleaming in the starlight. She was like an angel, descended from the heavens; Jon had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

As if via a magnet, he was drawn to her bright-red, soft lips. He dipped his head forward, Sofia tipped hers back and oh, so slowly, he covered her mouth with his. Her lips opened easily beneath his, and the taste of her filled him, nourished him, intoxicated him. But it didn’t quite satisfy him. Instead, the kiss only inflamed his appetite, making him hunger for more of her than he could ever hope to have. Despite that he deepened the kiss, cupping her face in his hands, tilting her head back further, plundering her mouth at will. Sofia was not passive through all of it. Instead, she curled one hand around his neck, running the fingers of her other through his hair greedily. She returned his kisses with equal fervour, equal finesse, and equal fire. For the life of him, he simply could not let her go.

Even many years later, when thinking back on their first shared kiss, he wasn’t sure how long they stood there so entwined—perhaps seconds, perhaps centuries, perhaps forever.