The Epilogue: Chapter Four
An Old Esteem

General Jignesh Vaja

When the lift door slides open, I'm pressed against the wall beside it, my phase pistol at the ready as I make myself as small a target as possible for any random burst of fire. When none materializes, I take a quick glance at my hand-scanner to ensure there's no one waiting in the corridor to spring an ambush on me. So, for now, I live to die another day.

This is obviously not standard practice for me, even in as dangerous an environment as the Empire is, but when the even tenor of life is so dramatically disrupted, taking chances is the last thing any sane man (or woman) should do. Dignity comes a very long way second to survival in such circumstances, so I keep my weapon ready as I make my way down the corridor to Guest Room 17.

Major Cole is standing beside the door when I arrive, and the fact that she's holding a levelled phase rifle is testament to the fact that she thinks that the danger of whatever's going on is potentially extreme. "Report, Major," I order.

"I just received a communication, sir. From inside that room."

"A communication from whom?"

A single blink is the only indication of her nerves, but she carries on looking along the barrel of the rifle, trained on the door. "Reed, sir."

"Reed?"

"Yes, sir. Former General Reed, Head of Imperial Security."

I'd already leaped to that conclusion, but I don't call her on it; after all, there are other people by the surname of Reed in the world, and presumably one of them might have inserted themselves on board and taken up residence in the guest suite, though I'm not sure any of them could expect to be recognized by their surname alone.

"And what did he want from you?"

"He wanted me to turn him in, sir. Specifically, to you."

I keep my face immobile, but behind it my thoughts are working furiously. First of all, I want to know what Reed's doing here and what he may already have done; presumably he's already well acquainted with the legion of explosive devices that Tucker, true to his word, had left all over the place. We've been finding and dismantling these in line with delayed-release information that he's left trickle-feeding to us, probably from some automated source because I can't imagine him being fool enough to send the occasional message risking the possibility of being traced back to whatever safe hole he's found to hide in. But I'm willing to bet that there are plenty of those devices left. Reed's more than capable of planting more, and if he has, it's only a matter of time before someone trips one and Jupiter Station vanishes in a fireball.

In the attempt to discover more about the booby-traps he'd left behind, I was allowed access to Tucker before he was taken away to his holding cell to await court martial. He was already in a pretty bad state, but that didn't stop me; I had to leave him alive, and unmarked to outward view when fully dressed, but that was pretty well the only restriction.

Unfortunately, all I could discover was that he'd given the orders for the explosives to be planted, but made sure he had no sight of the schematics showing where it had been done. This was no more than sensible, in view of the fact that what he didn't know, he couldn't be made to tell – even by an expert like me. The arrangement for them to be drip-released in the event of his fall from power was a purely logical concomitant of that, and followed the same cool reasoning; he knew the scale of the threat he'd be dealing with and took steps to protect others. Those 'others' – to wit, Rostov and Hess – would undoubtedly be far more rewarding subjects for interrogation if only we could lay hands on them (and find some way to quietly circumvent the solemn undertaking made by Admiral Hernandez that nothing of the kind would happen), but for all our efforts down the years to do so, they've remained infuriatingly elusive. Like Reed himself, though for a while there were persistent rumours of him being involved in Resistance activity. These died away into the long grass shortly after Tucker was sprung out of prison, though there was no suggestion that he was involved in that or even knew about it. The blame for that PR disaster fell squarely on the shoulders of the very-soon-made-late Admiral Hernandez, who'd authorised Tucker's ex-fuck toy to visit him.

So, in view of the fact that the ex-General had successfully disappeared off our radar and has to all intents and purposes been lost to official view for the best part of twenty years, exactly why has he chosen to suddenly appear here and deliver himself to my tender mercies?

Suspecting that Cole will have as few answers to that question as I currently do, even despite her current position as a favoured member of the Emperor's staff, I don't waste time asking her.

I step to the comm. panel and run a small hand-scanner cautiously across the chime. It's perfectly possible that a lethal electric charge may be routed to it as part of the welcome party; for an expert assassin like Reed, even now that would be child's play. However, the screen indicates nothing significant, and so I press the button. "General Vaja here, General."

His rank was stripped from him long ago along with everything else, but somehow it slips out anyway and feels right. The years when he was head of the Pack can't be forgotten entirely, in spite of everything.

If I'd had any doubts as to whether it really is Reed in there, they'd be dispelled by the sound of his voice. It still has that lazy, arrogant English drawl. "I'm armed in the interests of self-defence, General, but I have no wish to resist arrest or to harm anyone if it can be avoided. I ask to be allowed to surrender peacefully and be delivered unharmed to the Emperor."

"General, you have no right to make demands."

"I have the right to place conditions on my surrender, General, and you have the right to refuse them if you wish, but in the circumstances, I strongly recommend you consult your Commander in Chief for his instructions. In view of the importance of my capture alive, if I were you, I wouldn't want to be the one who bungled it."

Blast him, he's absolutely right. I've no doubt that between us Cole and I could overpower him – the phase rifle can be set to stun, like my pistol – but even now I've respect for the skills he undoubtedly still has, and even if he couldn't manage to deliberately harm himself, at his age his system might not be up to taking a stun blast. He's had a hard life and his body must be badly worn; after he's offered to surrender peacefully, it wouldn't look good for me if he died of a heart attack when I forced an assault.

Leaving Cole on guard, I retreat to another suite, from where I can contact the Emperor in private on a strictly encrypted channel. This privilege certainly isn't something I've abused, but in view of our old camaraderie I have the right to use it when it matters – and this is most definitely one of those times. I didn't need Reed's wry commendation of my caution to tell me I was doing the right thing.

"General." Emperor Burnell's face appears on the view screen, frowning. "I'm informed there's something you need to discuss with me urgently."

I salute to the precisely appropriate degree, bowing my head respectfully. "Emphatically so, your Majesty. We have an unexpected visitor here on Jupiter Station – ex-General Reed."

He's clearly as startled as I was at first, but his look of surprise morphs into a more thoughtful frown. "I take it he's been committing sabotage. Is there much damage, or have you not had the chance to assess it yet? And is the situation under control, or do you require additional support?"

"The situation is under control, your Majesty." I hesitate. "And as regards sabotage, I have as yet no evidence that any has been perpetrated. Obviously, we'll need to run complete station-wide checks to confirm that, but Reed says he's here to surrender himself. And that he's willing to surrender peacefully, on condition he's delivered to you unharmed." That in itself is enough information, but something makes me add impulsively, "As I understand it, he himself revealed his presence voluntarily and deliberately to Major Cole, probably because he had reason to believe she would take him at his word and react in a properly professional manner."

He takes his time to think about that. "Does he have hostages?"

"He hasn't mentioned any."

"Do we know how he got onto the station, and how long he's been there?"

"No, your Majesty. I received a call from Major Cole five minutes ago; apparently, he asked her to contact me." I pause. "When we take him into custody, I can obtain that information."

He thinks again. "I don't believe that will be necessary, General. Inform him that I accept his offer and that you will deliver him to me, unharmed in any way. And that is my explicit instruction to you, unless he violates his offer and attempts to resist being taken into custody, in which case you have permission to deal with the situation as you see fit."

"Should I secure him, your Majesty?"

Another pause. "Not unnecessarily," he says finally. "Ask for his word as a Pack officer that he will co-operate fully, and if it's given, I believe handcuffs will be sufficient."

Whatever I may feel about his trust in the word of an officer who betrayed us all, I definitely don't argue with his orders. "Yes, your Majesty."

"I'll send a shuttlepod to collect him. Burnell out."

The screen closes on my salute, and I step back, to find that I'm shaking slightly. I have no doubt that the responsibility for getting this done rests squarely on me, and that fucking up would not be well received.

However, dawdling will achieve nothing except potentially fray Reed's nerves, which must be raw enough in this situation. He must know he won't be getting a hero's welcome, and frankly I have no idea what must have motivated him to do this, except perhaps that he has intel that he thinks might be worth trading as part of some kind of a deal. If so, it must be something pretty damn valuable.

I march smartly back to Guest Suite 17. Cole is still in position, rifle still levelled, and if she's moved a muscle since I left, I certainly couldn't tell.

Caution suggests another check on the chime, which is still harmless.

"The Emperor has determined that your surrender will be acceptable, General," I inform him through it. "If you give your word as a Pack officer that you'll co-operate fully, you'll be unharmed. If you fail to render that co-operation or resist in any way, I have authority to deal with the situation as I see fit – and that will include the use of lethal force if necessary."

"Of course," he says drily. "For the record, General, I give you my word as a Pack officer that I will surrender to you peacefully and co-operate with any orders except if they place me in a position contrary to my well-being, at which point my word will be null and void and you and anyone else can take the consequences. And I trust that this conversation is being recorded in full and will be available in the event of legal proceedings."

"It is, sir." Damn, he still knows process, I'll give him that. And he's got some balls, telling me that if I make him kick off, I'll regret it, but even now I don't quite dare laugh at the implicit threat.

"Before you touch the door control, General, I'd appreciate it if Major Cole could repeat the statement I just made. A summation will do."

At my nod, she obeys. It's not word-perfect and she's clearly perplexed by the 'Pack Officer' part, but she gets the important bits, basically that he'll play nice as long as I do.

Well. I'm not going to do anything else unless I have to, but that definitely doesn't mean I'm not going to exercise due caution. I've heard that there are people who can kiss rattlesnakes and get away with it, but in his day the guy behind that door was worse than any rattlesnake and I'm not betting my life that he's gotten harmless for getting old.

"I'm going to enter the room now, sir. Major Cole will enter in support and we will both be carrying weapons. Please lay down your own weapon in token of good faith."

The comm. transmits the slight click that might be a pistol being placed on the floor, and with a feeling of ridiculous trepidation I hit the door control and move sharply to the side, just in case he's a lying bastard trying to go out in a blaze of glory.

Cole doesn't move. The muzzle of her rifle lowers, presumably to point at his head, but she's still fully exposed straight in his line of fire, and she remains completely unharmed.

"The prisoner is unarmed and appears to be surrendering, sir," she reports levelly.

Feeling slightly foolish rather than sensible, I step into the doorway, my pistol following her aim. Reed is sitting on the end of the bed, his hands raised and empty; on the floor beside his left foot is a standard issue sidearm, presumably 'borrowed' from the Armoury at some point in his travels.

He's aged some, but that was inevitable; clearly, he's done his best to keep in shape. His hair's almost entirely grey, but he hasn't lost much of it except for where it's started to recede at his temples, giving him a widow's peak. He's clean-shaven, clad in worn but clean grey pants and a short-sleeved shirt, and around his right wrist there's a slim silver bracelet that looks like it would have belonged to a woman.

Considering he's looking down the muzzles of two weapons that could kill him instantly, he seems remarkably unperturbed. Actually, he seems by far the most relaxed of the three of us, observing our antics with a faint, sardonic smile.

It's standard practice to check a prisoner for hidden weapons. While Cole keeps him covered with the rifle, I restore my pistol to its clip and warily close up to pat him down.

I stop at the correct distance, but almost immediately he steps forward, bringing himself inside my comfort zone. It's a pure Pack move, and his head turns and is lowered gracefully, indicating his surrender. Before I know what I'm doing, I lick his exposed skin lightly, accepting the gesture, and at least some of my suspicion recedes. The check that follows is thorough, but I don't expect to find anything, and I don't, apart from the slender ivory knife that he politely informs me is in the lining of his right boot. I'd like to say I'd have found it on my own, but the Pack greeting disarmed me slightly. Pack only fights Pack for power, and always to the death. There's no way he could have defeated me, and as a known traitor he has nothing to gain, so I'm not sure I would have checked that thoroughly.

I almost jump when he speaks into the silence.

"If you don't mind, General, I'd like Ms. Cole to have that, if she'll take it. A token of my old esteem from when she served under me on the Fortress."

I shoot a glance at Cole, and she replies, "I'd be honoured to accept it, General, once it has been appropriately logged as evidence and subsequently released."

I must have reacted to her use of the word honoured, because she seems to feel obliged to explain. "Respectfully, General, I don't deny ex-General Reed's crimes against the Empire or question the need for him to face justice, but he was a friend to me once, and," she smiles slightly at him, "there is an 'old esteem' between us. I can respect the man he was without excusing the criminal he became."

I find nothing objectionable in her words, or the wishes, so I nod. "I'll make sure the knife gets to you, Major."

Neither Cole nor I make a habit of carrying handcuffs around with us. She wouldn't because she's not part of the station's security staff; I don't because my duties are mostly administrative. Usually, when I'm taking prisoners into custody, it's because I'm leading a sting operation. The cuffs are on the equipment belt that's part of my tactical uniform, so I didn't think to grab a pair when I left the office.

While she keeps him covered, I go into the bathroom, pick up a towel and rip it into strips. For a prisoner of his capability and value, 'secured' would usually involve cuffs, manacles, a straight-jacket and quite possibly sedation; even though he's given his parole, I'm sure that he would feel disrespected, if not deliberately insulted, were I to allow him to stroll around completely physically unimpeded. And despite his enormous fall from grace, I find I don't want to disrespect him. Until I can get more orthodox restraints on him, both of us will undoubtedly feel happier if he's under some form of constraint.

Placidly he places both hands behind his back, where I tie his wrists together. I make sure the knots are tight, though I make equally sure that the strips aren't restricting his circulation. I don't care if he's not particularly comfortable, but I'm not about to risk causing him actual harm, in violation of the terms of his surrender.

"Are you comfortable with that, sir?" I ask, aware that we're in a distinctly unique relationship to each other, and one that seems to be far more difficult for me than it is for him.

Politely he tests the towelling. "Perfectly adequate, General, at least for the present. I'm sure you'll exchange it for the standard variety in due course."

"Of course, sir." I hesitate. "The Emperor is sending a shuttle for you, but until it arrives, I have to confine you to the Brig."

"Naturally." He inclines his head graciously. "Please lead on."

It's ridiculous. He's a wanted fugitive and my prisoner, but he makes me feel as if he's an honoured guest whom I'm escorting through the station. I shouldn't be addressing him as 'sir', I shouldn't be addressing him as anything, but it seems old habits die hard.

But of course, notwithstanding what happened at the end of his reign as Head of Imperial Security and of the MACOs, he was owed an enormous debt of gratitude by all the Old Pack and even some, indirectly, by the New. But for him, the men and women of my generation would almost certainly never have discovered what had been done to us, never been given our own identity and our own destiny, never risen to the heights of power that we now enjoy. We have a Pack emperor on the throne, given the opportunity to reach for it because Reed placed him in a position of enormous influence. We have Pack members in every part of the army and every part of the Imperial Fleet, and we protect our own.

I've never understood, and probably never will understand, what happened to make him desert us. I'd thought it must be cowardice, but stealing glances at that serene, lined face I'm no longer so sure of it.

We reach the Brig, and I open one of the storage lockers there and bring out a pair of handcuffs. Almost apologetically I remove the towelling straps and substitute the real thing – and, not even knowing why I do so (for it exponentially increases his ability to act despite being cuffed), I secure his hands in front of him rather than behind him.

"Thank you, General," he says quietly. "I won't abuse it."

"I know that, sir. And–" I hesitate, afraid I'm going to sound like a fool, but this is in all likelihood the only chance I'll ever have – "And thank you. For everything."

He inclines his head, and then steps into the cell, where he sits on the bunk and after a moment rolls sideways and pulls up his legs to lie down on his side.

"I'm sure you don't need reminding to post guards until the shuttle arrives," he continues, settling his head on the pillow. "They won't be needed, but they should be there."

"They will be, sir." Regardless of our respective ranks now, after I close and lock the cell door on him, I give him the full salute as though he were still a General and the Head of the Pack, and he nods gravely.

Before we leave the Brig, I summon guards to keep watch until he's fetched away from us. We don't leave until they're in place, fully briefed, but I know they're going to have the dullest duty spell ever.

When we're finally outside the room I almost expect Cole to be regarding me with veiled wonder at my reckless trust, but instead her expression's one of muted understanding.

"I've never known what to make of that guy, sir, and I still don't," she comments. "I reckon the only person ever to have gotten anywhere near his measure was ex-Commodore Tucker, and even he never claimed to know half there was to know about him."

"Yet I noticed when we went in that you had apparently no concern that he would break his word and fire on us."

She offers an uneasy shrug and answers with a very circumspect, "I served under him for a time, sir, as one of his armoury officers, and commanded his ship when he was busy with matters of planetary security. I guess I know him well enough after all to have realized he was sincere in his desire to surrender peacefully."

I shake my head. In all honesty I don't really want to talk anymore; I'd rather just be alone to mull over the fantastic events of the last half-hour. But given that the life of the station's still going on and it's well over three hours till my duty spell's over, I'm not going to get the chance. Resigning myself to the inevitable, I dismiss her to resume her own duties and head for the turbo-lift. Captain Kelby needs to be informed at once of what's been going on in the background, and that an extremely important shuttle's going to be requesting permission to dock very shortly.

As the car doors close behind me, sealing me in, I rest my forehead against the cool solidity of the plating. 'I've never known what to make of that guy, and I still don't'... Cole pretty well put my feelings into words. I'll see him again when we have to transfer him to the shuttle, but at a guess he'll have other things to think about than me; and even now I've no idea whether I'll be glad of that, or sorry.

So, Jignesh decided to hand him over to his old friend the Emperor after all. It's probably more than his life's worth to try to take the satisfaction of that victory away from Austin anyway. What do you think of the respect, almost reverence, that Jignesh pays Malcolm? Would Georgiou have shown him this same deference? What about the Emperor? What do you think will happen when they meet again? As always, please review if you've been enjoying the story.