Chapter 1
All was quiet.
Those eyes not glued to computer-screens were staring out the windows at the two very large cruisers flying alongside them. Warships more interested in preventing their escape than offering protection.
Raidan felt the weight of every passing second, each moment taking him one step closer to the inevitable. And, in the silence of spaceflight, he heard the solemn bells of the executioner.
"This is it, boy," he whispered to himself. "I hope it was worth it."
His XO looked up from her station, probably a response to his mumbling. Her narrow eyes shot him a hateful glare. Seeing her that way, knowing her disgust was justified, it made him almost regret his decision to leave her in the dark. She’d been a faithful friend these past several years and deceiving her left a bitter taste in his mouth. But if he hadn’t betrayed her, if he’d chosen to tell her everything, she would have worked against him and tried to compromise his efforts. Or, perhaps worse, she might’ve taken his side. He doubted it—breaking the law and defying orders wasn’t her way—but if she had, she’d be a prisoner now too. And that would be unbearable.
Poor beautiful Commander Presley. And she really was beautiful with glossy golden hair, a splendid physique, and, most important of all, cunning green eyes that pierced anything, feared nothing, and gleamed with intelligence. She was more than most twenty-eight year old officers could hope to be, and an outstanding second in command. His eyes traced her misleadingly delicate face and part of him wished he were ten years younger, like the junior helmsman at her side, enthralled and intimidated by such a stunning young woman. With an amused smile, he imagined himself as the boy he used to be—the timid young officer at the ops post—nervously scouring his mind for an excuse to ask her out. It made him smile and, for a moment, he almost forgot the gravity of his situation. Almost.
“We’re being instructed by the flagship to increase speed,” said the helmsman.
Raidan raised a curious eyebrow. They were afraid he’d somehow slip away and escape, despite the massive force they’d sent to arrest him. The powers that be must realize how much I still threaten them… “Comply with all instructions,” he said, knowing he had no other choice.
“Aye, sir.”
The helmsman and the rest of the bridge staff looked elegant in their blue-and-black uniforms while they worked tirelessly to keep the damaged ship under control. They had a certain dignity, and it had been a true honor serving with them over the years. An honor tainted by the fact that he was leaving them this way, shocked and confused. Wondering… why had fellow Imperial starships intercepted and boarded them? Why were they being escorted to the nearest government station, Praxis One? And why was their faithful CO under arrest? Had their last mission been the Captain's personal crusade and not orders from the Fleet?
Poor officers, they’d never know the whole truth. Very soon they'd all arrive at Praxis and the tribunal would invent whatever explanation it wished. No one would ever get the real story. If only they could, they'd realize he'd done the right thing. But that knowledge was too dangerous to have. So, for their own safety, he'd kept his crew out of it. If things didn't go as planned, if his friends didn’t come through for him, then he'd be dead soon. No sense in dragging such fine men and women to the grave with him.
"I'm going to my quarters," he announced, all heads turned his way. "Commander, you have the deck."
"Yes, sir." Even though hate poured through her striking green eyes, her tone remained respectful. Despite how he'd betrayed them all.
"Thank you," he paused. "All of you." It was barely more than a whisper—an inadequate tribute, but sincere.
He left the bridge, flanked by a marine who followed him down three decks to his quarters. Raidan thumbed the plate and the door whisked open. Before stepping inside he addressed the marine. "What's your name, soldier?"
"Lance Corporal Charlie Davis, sir."
Raidan nodded. "Thank you for the escort, Corporal. That will be all." He stepped into his quarters, making it clear the soldier wasn’t invited to follow. Instead the marine took up a position outside, guarding the door which slid shut.
Finally alone, Raidan was able to relax. He pulled off his uniform shirt, replacing it with something more comfortable, and took a seat at his small desk. His bedroom was the largest aboard the ship but he kept it just as barren as the lowliest midshipman. Basic carpet, empty grey walls, a standard bed, and a simple desk. His only luxury was the one he couldn't dispense with, the window set against the port wall. The current view was dominated by the very large ISS Andromeda, the flagship of the Fifth Fleet. She was an awesome spectacle to behold. More than four times the size of the Phoenix, she was like a giant tapestry with every contour and edge boasting the finest human craftsmanship and engineering in the galaxy. Her running lights splashed the royal Navy's colors against her hull, blue and white, and the ship glowed fiercely against the black vacant backdrop of space. To Raidan that starship was a symbol of everything that had once been great about the Empire, and his heart saluted it.
They wouldn't believe him. But the truth was, everything he'd ever done had been for the good of the Empire. That knowledge gave him some small measure of peace.
Vice Admiral Aleksandra Harkov was somewhere aboard that ship. Whether she was on the bridge or asleep in her quarters, her commanding presence filled every inch of her massive starship and permeated the space all around. She’d been kind to allow him the dignity of retaining his command until they reached Praxis, even if it was just a façade. And, even though she’d been the one to corner and arrest him, Raidan felt no grudge toward her. She was equal parts good intentions and ignorance. He doubted she could see or understand the true threat facing the Empire, despite her lofty position. Most likely she was just another unknowing pawn in the deadliest game ever played.
"Don't worry, Admiral. You'll get no resistance from me… yet."
He picked up the bottle of whiskey on his desk and pulled off the cork. An old proverb came to mind. "Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow I die." He took a sip, trying to forget that in three hours’ time he'd be taken into custody by the authorities on Praxis. And, after that, either his friends would come through for him or they wouldn't. But at least he'd done his part to save the Empire.