Free The Last Praetorian by Mike Smith Page B

employers the effort of hiring
somebody else to do it. 
    Jon pounded on his desk in frustration, hard enough to
dislodge the mountain of paperwork, sending it spilling across the floor.  Jon
was not bothered in the slightest at the thought of somebody else trying to
kill him - they would have to get in line - but instead the knowledge that his
ships and people would be at additional risk and why?  Because he was a
stubborn fool who had always refused to back down in the face of threats.  He
had seen the Syndicate grow more and more powerful in this system. 
Threatening, blackmailing or just eliminating all rivals until only he
remained. 
    Jon recognised that a reckoning was fast approaching with
the Syndicate, as it seemed that they had delivered their final warning. 
Shrugging to himself Jon was satisfied that he had given them fair warning of
his own.  If the Syndicate moved against Vanguard, they would quickly discover
that they had woken a slumbering dragon.  One that would destroy them, utterly.
    Jon tensed as he heard the door quietly slide open but
relaxed again when he felt the presence of Paul Harrington – his chief of
operations.  When they had first met, years previously, while both had been
serving in the Imperial Navy, the blond hair and bright blue cerulean eyes had
taken Jon aback.  While the man was ten years his senior, he looked like he
belonged on the front cover of some surfing magazine, instead of leading an
Imperial Special Forces task group.  However, time and time again Paul had
surprised him, as behind the good looks and bright blue eyes was a tactical
mind that was second to none.  Between the two of them they had achieved
victories for the Empire that seemed so fantastic, many of them had just been
dismissed as fanciful rumours.  When Paul had offered him the position of Chief
Executive of Vanguard he had not hesitated in accepting… 
    “Well, the Magistratus from the Chamber just shuffled past
me on the way out.  He did not look happy.  I take it you turned down his
offer?” he asked with a hint of a smirk.
    “Damn right I did!” Jon said.  “Hell will freeze over before
I turn Vanguard over to that bunch of thieves,” he replied with venom.  “Anyway
what the hell is it with the name?  Who came up with the name ‘Chamber of
Commerce, Business and Shipping’ anyway?“
    Paul just shrugged. “I hear that the Syndicate got together
and declared a cease-fire between themselves. It seems that they realised they
could make more money by stopping killing each other and focus on stealing,
murdering and extorting their way through the rest of the system.  I guess they
felt that the new name gave them a veneer for respectability; after all The
Syndicate has such negative connotations”.   Meanwhile Paul approached the
large viewing port in the office and was gently running his fingers across the
surface – causing energy ripples in their wake. 
    “You know,” he mused, “everybody else on the station is
perfectly happy with Tri-Aluminium Silica windows, but not you.  What is it
with you and empty space…?” 
    Unlike the other windows on the station, an energy field,
much like the one on the flight deck, which could be easily raised and lowered
to allow ships to dock, protected one full length of his office. 
    Jon turned back to his desk, picking up the paperwork that
now littered the floor.  The paperwork that running a sizable company
entailed.  “As I have told you before I prefer the view; anyway I would get
claustrophobic shackled to this desk without it,” Jon explained. 
    Paul had known Jon a long time and had inkling to some of
the ghosts in his past and hence let the matter drop, almost.
    “Hey!  It’s no problem with me,” Paul responded with a grin.
“I just want to know who is going to be signing my pay-check if we ever have a
power failure in this section of the station.”
    “And here I thought you were gunning for the Chief