Chapter Fifty-two
After All These Years

Emperor Austin Burnell

The intervening years have been tough on General Reed.

I still think of him by that title, for all that for a long time I refused to allow him the dignity of his rank and insisted on correcting anyone who slipped and said it; I was consumed by disgust and rage at his betrayal. I even told myself that it was for the sake of the other three – Cutler, Hess and Rostov – that I withheld for twenty-four hours the knowledge I had about the Bunker. I was relatively safe to do so; Admiral Hernandez was busy securing control of the station and starting her own investigations.

It was simplicity itself for me to co-operate and 'discover' the details of that secret facility in the Nevada Desert. It was all contained in an innocuous file buried in material that Reed's flight now supposedly allowed me free access to. As a matter of fact almost all of this had been within my security clearance as his SiC, and concealing the secret there was child's play. It was the layers of encryption on it that had taken the time to break – or so the records showed. And once 'discovered', I let her believe that I ordered the same kind of strike that would be carried out on any nest of insurgents while in reality, I made sure the troops knew to take care not to do any unnecessary damage. The admiral naturally ordered that if the traitors were found they were to be taken alive if at all possible, but I doubted they would be there; and so it proved. Also as I had suspected, some of the gadgets and equipment former Commodore Tucker had designed there have proven quite useful in the medical, agricultural and manufacturing industries. I wasn't even remotely surprised that he hadn't designed any weapons.

My quiet investigations, months earlier, into what then-Commodore Tucker did on those occasions when he 'disappeared' into the lower pylon had paid off in due course; in tandem with searches of the Defiant's database, I eventually put two and two together. It took some time and effort to track the shuttle and locate the place where it went to, but I kept my knowledge quiet in case one day it would be useful. Still, when the four of them fled it was virtually a certainty that that was where they'd go, and they did. One word from me and they'd all die. He would die – the General – the Pack Alpha who'd failed us all.

But for whatever reason, I held my tongue. For twenty-four hours. No more. No less.

It took me a while to admit even to myself that I wouldn't have felt half of what I did if I hadn't loved him. It's only love that gives someone the power to hurt you that much.

Pack laws still applied, of course. While he was in power, if I'd got the chance I'd have launched my bid and killed him if I could, and stepped into his shoes without a qualm. Maybe full humans couldn't understand that even if that had happened, I would have grieved sincerely for his death. Pack relationships normally protect you from that kind of involvement, but there was more between the General and me than mere Pack dominance and submission – or so I felt, anyway. It would have been unthinkable ever to enquire if he felt the same.

But maybe it's just the last few days that have been the hardest on him. His face is ravaged, for all that his body still moves with much of its old grace. I've never loved anyone the way he did, and seeing what it has done to him I'm glad of it.

I think he realises I haven't come to disturb the grave. For what I saw of Lieutenant Cutler, I admired her, and though given their history I never understood why she felt what she did towards General Reed, there was no doubt she sincerely and passionately loved him. But it's widely acknowledged that you can't choose who you love, and I think her influence helped enormously to transform him from a leader who crushed resistance by imposing terror to one who quashed it by distributing justice. As for whatever part she played in the crimes that allowed Admiral Hernandez to convince Empress Sato that a pre-emptive strike against Jupiter Station was necessary, I personally acquit her of anything done out of malice or for personal profit. She was only a minor cog in the machinery of rebellion, and her contribution to the imperial war effort by her care of the wounded was more than enough to redeem her small sins, in my eyes at least, though it certainly wouldn't have saved her from being tried and sentenced as a rebel and a traitor if she'd been captured. Thanks to her initiative in revising the Starfleet Medical training protocols, far fewer people die or suffer serious disability from injuries sustained on the warships these days, and for that alone she deserves our thanks; and for that, too, I always planned that once sentenced, she would be sent to serve out the remainder of her life in a hospital facility along with the rest of the rebels. Doctor Lucas still speaks of her as though she's only just left the station, and always with fondness. I'll place it on internal Security records that I certify her as dead, and that will close the file. No need to spread the news any further.

Reed, though. He's still Number One on the Empire's hit list. It took me a long time to track him down, and even then there were only faint, occasional whispers on the wind; whispers that I heard and should have heeded, but for one reason or another, I didn't...

And now here, at last, he is. That last whisper, I couldn't ignore. Maybe he wouldn't have wanted me to, for I've seen that look in prisoners who've recognised that this is the end, and even welcomed it.

He tilts his head, accepting judgement. Under his ear, the carotid artery pulses.

Right till the last moment, I believe that I'm here to finish him. But almost before I realise what I'm doing, my teeth slide along his flesh, and I find that instead, I'm licking him; long, slow, consoling licks, with my arms around him. He turns his face up, and I follow the contours of it, tasting salt from his closed eyes as his arms slip around me in turn. Finally I kiss him, gently, without words, and he puts his head down on my shoulder as we stand together in front of his wife's grave.

The flitter is waiting, and I have duties to attend to. Fortress is standing by for a tour of the Aldebaran sector, and I need to be aboard in twelve hours, and preferably less. With Hernandez finally out of the way, and my cabinet and the Joint Chiefs of Staff packed with allies who together make me untouchable but individually dare not challenge me, I am finally – in stages interrupted by visits home to Earth to ensure Homeworld activities are going smoothly – undertaking a tour of my empire accompanied by my eldest son, Alfred, the heir apparent.

As we finally release each other, I bend down and write a set of co-ordinates in the sand. If he heads for them, I won't track him. "In one month, a missile malfunction will reduce this place to rubble," I say, not looking up.

He nods, not asking where it is or why he should be interested.

Then I stand up, and give the salute proper to a General and to the head of the Army of the Dispossessed.

He returns it, and for a moment it's possible to forget the grey in his hair, the lines on his face and the unbearable sadness in his eyes.

And then I walk away and leave him there.

Well, that was unexpected! After all these years, Austin gets his chance and just lets Malcolm go. Where do you think he sent him? As always, if you're enjoying the story please review.