The Commander hesitated a moment, then took the offered seat.
Quintus dismissed the escorting guards. “I am Lord Commander Quintus Scipio of the Imperial Navy, as it would seem you carry the same rank as I, you may refer to me as Quintus. That is Empire custom. And you are a guest of the Empire.”
His guest snorted. “I’m no Lord Commander. I think you’re confused. Since I’m a guest—can I go now?”
“No,” Quintus said. “It could be worse—you could be a prisoner.”
“What do you want, Quintus?”
“I want to know, who you are, why you chased the other ship to the nebula, and what happened on Atlas Prime.”
The Commander shifted in his seat. “Oddly enough I was looking for you and I don’t know what happened other than Atlas was attacked.”
The Commander probably thought he was trying his best, but Quintus knew he was lying. “Now that you’ve found me,” Quintus said. “It would be a good time to say why you were looking for me, because from our point of view, we’ve captured you fleeing Atlas Prime after a catastrophic attack. Why did you attack the planet, is this how the USSF deals with its dissidents?”
“Atlas is my home. I didn’t bomb it. Neither did the USSF. Perhaps you can explain the presence of an Imperial operative down there?”
Quintus raised his eyebrows. “You met Platus?”
“Oh, Platus, was he? He’s more ‘deadus’ now.”
The blood drained from his face and Quintus lowered his head and squeezed his fists. Platus, brother, I’m so sorry. His blood boiled.
He said. “Very callous, Commander. Please would you tell me how he died?”
The guest sighed deeply.
“He died saving me, and a friend. Who I’m not sure was a friend to begin with.”
Quintus rose and stood in front of his guest. “Did he say anything to you? He had a very important mission—I personally dispatched him to Atlas Prime.”
“He said he wasn’t my enemy . . . then his killer shot him in the back and with his dying breath he called your name. What was his mission? Why are you sending operatives to a USS planet?”
Quintus turned away and lowered his head for a few moments.
“Look, Quintus . . . obviously Platus was a member of your crew and meant something to you. He died saving me. Only to be shot in the back by the same people who attempted to kill me on Atlas. Not even I know who they are or in whose interests they’re acting. I can’t believe your man saved me, gasped your name as his last words, and intended for us to be enemies.”
Quintus looked up with fiery eyes.
“Platus wasn’t only my friend,” he said. “He was my brother. And I concur with your assessment. In exchange for your cooperation, I will tell you Platus’ mission. It would help to confirm whether you are my enemy or not. You’re the last person to see him alive. His mission was to confirm or deny the existence of a rogue USS group planning a false-flag attack on Atlas Prime. If you are not part of that group, then you are not my enemy.”
“Rayne, Aaron, former Commander of USS Trident, destroyed thirty-three days ago near the Border Worlds in the Orion system by an unknown and highly advanced starship. My mission, initially, was to make contact with separatists on Atlas.”
Quintus gritted his teeth. Rayne was telling him half-truths. He couldn’t hold that against him, this USSF officer had taken more than an ordinary leap of faith to cooperate with him. “So you, Commander Rayne, are Shepherd’s operative on Atlas Prime. If only he had trusted me enough when I came to him with evidence of the conspiracy within the USS, Platus might still be alive. You see, Commander, his mission parameters also involved finding Shepherd’s operative and alerting them to the danger of a USS internal conspiracy.
“This is a grievance I will personally ensure has repercussions for Shepherd. However, you and I are not enemies. Not of the kind which lurks out there now as we speak. I have further evidence, which I will show you of collusion between your United Systems Deputy Supreme Leader and Lord Praetor Brutus Bannon. Your leader conspired with our Lord Praetor to commit the attack on Atlas Prime and blame it on the separatists, to turn popular support against them. I do not know the precise intentions of your rogue conspirators but to do this he enlisted the aid of extremist Imperials—whose ultimate goal is to burn your beloved United Systems to the core. They used your Deputy Supreme Leader’s ambitions against him. I presume Bannon is at an advanced stage of plotting a wider invasion beyond the Atlas system. Although they know it will be a brutal struggle, they feel they can win it in the short term, based particularly on some new advanced technologies we’ve engineered.”
Quintus left out the part they were aboard one of those fancy new pieces of technology right now.
“How can you be so sure of your conclusions?” Aaron asked.
“I had the advantage of having the chief conspirator—Bannon himself—within eaves dropping range. I suspected initially the Lord Praetor was up to the usual political games, in his bid to gain higher notoriety within the Empire. Not wishing to leave the lives of my crew to chance, I decided to be sure. Platus was Empire intelligence. He had access to the necessary resources. Thanks only to him, I discovered the full depth of the Lord Praetor’s schemes. Platus’ final act saved your life and with that the hope that together we might stop Bannon.”
“And you, Quintus? Where do you stand?”
“There are many within the Empire’s Navy, who wish to invade the USS again and reverse your aggressive expansion. And there are just as many who are content for the status quo to remain. Imperial citizens generally, however, really could not care less. The distinct issue is no one wears their beliefs on their sleeves. If the majority of this fleet supports the Lord Praetor that could be a problem. Thus far, none of them is aware of his true intent. All they know is they are on a mission of grave significance to the survival to of the Empire.”
Quintus tapped something underneath his desk and released the passive restraints on the Commander.
“Commander Rayne, you are not my enemy. Perhaps in another life, I would even call you friend. Although we may not be allies, however, we have a common interest. We must prevent this madness.”
Quintus met Aaron in the center—Aaron stood.
“We will assist in whatever way we can to repair your vessel. You will depart and rendezvous with your fleet nearing Atlas Prime and show them this,” he handed Aaron an Imperial personnel device, similar to a Fleet personnel device. “This contains everything discussed between the Lord Praetor and the Deputy Supreme Leader. There might be avenues for you to develop further intelligence from it. Give it to your leadership, broadcast it on Atlas Prime, do what you must. I will return with a copy to the Empire. You will be able to communicate directly with me by using this device while I remain near Atlas Prime.”
Quintus crossed his arm against his breastplate.
Aaron extended his hand.
Quintus shook it.
“What will you do if your crew chooses war?” Aaron asked.
Indeed, not even Quintus was certain. “For once in my life, I am not certain. I am a loyal servant of the Empire. A war could destroy it, and then what would I have to serve. If it comes to war, I might be forced to defend it. Even if I made efforts to stop it—or I could decide to have no part in it. Either way it goes on with or without me.”
“I hope it doesn’t come to that, Quintus. I hate shooting honorable men.”