Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe)

by Britt Ringel

  He tapped on his datapad and began to compose the line of questioning for her next interrogation.

  Chapter 10

  Aft of the bridge, a short walk down Hussy’s top deck led to the ship’s wardroom. The room was a vestigial reminder of the freighter’s advanced age. No inlaid computer screens resided in the compartment’s battered conference table and the walls were a chipped and faded gunmetal grey. The room’s only decorations were several alloy cabinets lining the walls, storing items that belonged to the former officers of the pirate freighter. Heskan looked anxiously at the people seated around the simple, metal table secured to the deck with rivets.

  Despite the almost overwhelming urge to stay on the bridge and watch their agonizingly slow progress toward the Titan tunnel point, Heskan called the meeting to discuss the group’s escape strategy. Over the past weeks he had thought only loosely about what they would do beyond Anthe; perhaps subconsciously he believed it would not be needed. Now, on the run and looking at the three curious and expectant faces around the table, Heskan regretted his lack of optimism.

  “What are the exact numbers we have among the Hollarans?” he asked.

  Lombardi, still garbed in an orange prisoner’s uniform, answered, “Including four marines, one hundred and ninety-nine personnel from Phoenix and twelve survivors originally from Vaettir.” The marines, led by Starzy Sierzant Nilis Vidic, were now safeguarding Agent Jennings. “A total of only two hundred and eleven souls,” she added bitterly.

  “How many started on Phoenix?”

  Lombardi’s shoulders slumped in despair. “I had five hundred thirty-five when I first dove into Anthe.” Phoenix originally had over seven hundred crewmembers but the fighting at Sponde, Helike and Kale in addition to the flight through Parasite space had reduced that number significantly.

  Vernay’s jaw dropped. “How did only less than half escape?”

  Kapitan Marco Romano, Phoenix’s former chief engineer, gestured at his bandaged right leg. “The same reason I have a limp.” Resentment cut deeply into his words. “Your shock troopers gained control of the major access points in Phoenix and shot anyone trying to abandon the ship.”

  Lombardi reached over to Romano and softly gripped his wrist. “Easy, Marco,” she soothed. “Heskan’s people warned us about the boarding attempt; they were not his troopers.”

  “Still,” Vernay insisted, “there has to be more of you.”

  “There could be,” Lombardi admitted. “Our lifeboats were picked up by ‘Vic ships before we could make an accurate count. It is possible that some of my people were taken to Pallene instead of the orbital.”

  “Isabella,” Heskan started regretfully.

  “I know,” she cut him off and closed her eyes. Her head dipped as she muttered, “We cannot help them. We would not even know where to look.”

  Heskan watched the Hollaran’s eyes remain closed in introspection. She already blames herself for leaving her parents and later her uncle to die while she escaped. Heskan’s voice took on a positive tone. “If there are more Hollaran prisoners, we can hope that they will be exchanged when this war is over.” Lombardi finally met his gaze and he stared hard into her brown eyes, urging his voice to sound reassuring. “They will return to the Commonwealth, Komandor.” Time to change the subject. “What about medical personnel?”

  Vernay responded. “Just that full komandor doctor made it.”

  Romano confirmed with a nod. “Komandor Timoleon ordered all of his personnel to evacuate when the initial abandon ship order went out. He stayed at his post because he expected casualties although none came. When the fighting reached the medical section, he finally ran for a lifeboat.”

  Lombardi picked up the story. “He apparently ran right through the middle of a firefight completely unscathed.”

  Heskan chuckled at the mental imagery and said, “It’s always been said that God loves medics.”

  “Ultimately, Captain,” Vernay summarized, “we have more than enough crew to operate Hussy. In fact, we have too many but we expected that. Chief Brown says that life support won’t be able to accommodate all of us for long.” She moved her datapad closer to Heskan and pointed at the charts. “We’re keeping the PRESERV containers’ life support machinery running until depleted and the doors open to buy us some additional time. We’re also doubling up in the crew’s quarters and the aft and center holds are taking the overflow but it’s still incredibly tight.”

  “What about the forward hold, Stacy?”

  “We’re using it too but it has a cargo container in it so it’s already crowded.” Vernay grimaced and stated, “Of course, the container is filled with euphoria.”

  Lombardi arched an eyebrow as she smirked. “Starting a new career, Lieutenant?”

  Vernay ignored her. “I almost dumped the container in t-space, Captain, but I’m worried we’re going to need it.”

  This time, Heskan smirked as he quipped, “I know things look bad now but drugs are never the answer, Stacy.”

  Vernay flashed a quick smile but then became serious. “Captain, we’re running from the government, this ship is falling apart around us, our life support will last about two weeks and we only have food for thirty-five people for about a month.” Silence pervaded the room after the chilling statement of facts. Vernay finally added, “We’re also dead broke.”

  “Stacy, you’re not suggesting—”

  “No,” Vernay headed him off. “We aren’t drug dealers but that cargo is a resource and we’re desperately short of them. We don’t need the extra space bad enough to jettison it yet.”

  “She has a point, Garrett,” Lombardi admitted.

  Vernay bristled at the support.

  “You’re right, we’re not drug dealers,” Heskan insisted. “I want it jettisoned in t-space.” He looked decisively at his first officer for a beat before saying, “Next on the agenda is the route I intend to take.” He unrolled a map he had taken from Hussy’s chartroom. After placing his finger on the Anthe system he explained, “We’re going to dive to Titan in a little under three hours. A corvette is going to pass close by us but it hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary so I don’t think we’ve been made yet.” His finger traced the tunnel to the Titan system. “In Titan, we head to Bree.”

  Groans escaped the onlookers.

  “The Obsidian Planet,” Romano hissed.

  “We’re not going to Bree itself, Kapitan, but we have to pass through the system. It’s the gateway to the south.” Heskan fingered the chart from Titan to Bree and then moved down toward a district system. “From Bree we tunnel to New London.”

  “Hitting all the popular Brevic sights, I see,” Lombardi commented sardonically.

  “If we’re running to the Federation, why not dive to Thalassa, Captain?” Vernay questioned. “It’s faster.” She sighed longingly and added, “It sure would be nice to get a message home.”

  Heskan looked at his first officer with empathy. That’s right, Stacy’s family lives in that system. “I’m sorry, but we can’t. There are no habitable systems after Thalassa for at least four more dives in the direction we’d have to run,” Heskan explained. “You said yourself that our life support systems will collapse before that.” He traced the remainder of the route. “No, we dive to New London, then a Type B jump to Carme, then Kalyke before finally reaching Terra Mater and the Federation.”

  “Fifteen days,” Vernay estimated. “Life support for fourteen of them.”

  “We’ll just hold our breath for the last day,” Heskan joked while looking around the room. “That’s the plan so far. Isabella, I want you to send it down channels so your people know what’s in store for them. It’s going to be cramped, we’re going to be hungry and hunted, but if we can hold out for two weeks, we should be safe inside the Federation and the Commonwealth is only three dives from Terra Mater.”

  Lombardi’s brilliant white teeth shone with her smile as she exaggerated, “A veritable vacation for us compared to the last two w
eeks, Garrett. My people will do whatever is necessary to support you.” A sideways glance at Romano encouraged his agreement.

  “Yes,” the engineer said, ‘I was out of line earlier regarding those ‘Vic troopers. Captain, you and your crew have acted with honor.” Romano finished his proclamation but looked pensive.

  “What is it, Kapitan?” Heskan asked.

  “I am hesitant to bring this up but I must ask what my position on the ship is.” Romano shrugged and added, “That engineer, Mr. Müller, will hardly let me near the chief’s panel in the Engine Room. I told him of my experience but his ‘Vic prejudices keep him from letting me perform my duties.”

  “He’s not a ‘Vic—er, Brevic citizen, Kapitan,” Vernay corrected. “He was the original engineer when the ship was a legitimate freighter in a corporate system.”

  “Nonetheless,” Romano persisted, “how can I perform my job if the man refuses to accept my authority? What is the chain of command on this ship?”

  “The Captain is the captain,” Vernay declared and then screwed her eyebrows together at the inanity of the statement.

  “Is Komandor Lombardi the first officer?” Romano asked innocently.

  Heskan saw Vernay’s back stiffen at the suggestion. Stacy still doesn’t trust them, or is it something personal against Isabella? How do I proceed without wrecking the faith both of them have in me? “There’s merit to that, Kapitan, but I think Lieutenant Vernay needs to remain the first officer.” He looked at Lombardi and explained hastily, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Isabella, but that Stacy knows these systems better than you.”

  Lombardi waved her hand dismissively. “Garrett, I understand—”

  Heskan continued to mollify, “She’s also familiar with the protocol of civilian traffic lanes and so forth. She’s had two years of experience in system defense—”

  “Garrett,” Lombardi interrupted, “it is all right. She is the right woman for the job.”

  Heskan exhaled noticeably and turned toward Romano. “Kapitan, I also think Mr. Müller should keep his position on Hussy.” He noted that Vernay was nodding emphatically. “However, I want you to monitor his actions and make suggestions as you see fit. If you see any suspicious activity from him, bring it to the komandor’s immediate attention.”

  Romano nodded silently.

  Heskan looked at the chronometer integrated into the wardroom’s wall. “Finally, we need to agree to the disposition of Agent Jennings.”

  “Snake,” Lombardi spat.

  “Agreed, but there will be no killing,” Heskan said adamantly. “It wouldn’t even serve a purpose. With any luck, we’ll dive from Anthe before Brewer notices that we’re missing but he will eventually miss us. It won’t be hard to review the tower logs on the orbital and see Hussy loading the containers. Tracking our course to the tunnel point won’t be problematic either.”

  “We just need to make sure that Jennings can’t alert Brewer before he discovers the situation for himself,” Vernay said.

  “Right,” Heskan agreed. “Hussy has two lifeboats. We’ll disable the drive and communications equipment on one of them and set him adrift right before we dive.”

  “That’s good,” Lombardi admitted. “He’d still be drifting away from the system at point one-seven-C so it would take a while for a rescue ship to catch up to him.”

  “Plus,” Heskan said, “any would-be rescuer would have to match his speed and then spacewalk across to the boat since he wouldn’t be able to dock. That will add even more time.” He looked at Vernay. “Stacy, make sure we put that pressure suit I used into the lifeboat for him.”

  Vernay acknowledged. “I’ll disable the comm unit in the suit, too.”

  Heskan looked around the table, searching for unanswered questions. Finding none, he said, “Let’s get to work.”

  The group rose from the table and filtered out of the wardroom and into the tiny hallway. Vernay and Romano stopped at the stairwell and began to descend. Next in line, Lombardi turned to face Heskan and pushed him back into the wardroom.

  She closed the hatch behind them and looked at Heskan with amused eyes. Grinning, she said, “I can see by your expression that you are unsure whether to return my smile or run for your life.” She brought a slender hand to his. Her touch was electric. “Garrett, please stop, uh—,” she searched for the correct expression, “—tiptoeing around me like Trax.”

  Heskan eyed her curiously before she clarified, “Mythical figure who crept in Jorogumo’s lair and stole eggs.”

  Heskan smiled back at her. Her caress threatened to push their current predicament completely from his mind. “Isabella—”

  “The people close to me say ‘Izzy’, Garrett,” she purred.

  Heskan reflected on the first time he had seen the woman before him. She had been incensed at the time, defeated without admitting it, and raging at Admiral Hayes over his pointless attack on her uncle’s carrier. Even at the height of her vehemence, she was remarkable, a person who stirred emotion and whom others naturally looked to for guidance. His thoughts turned to the kiss in Hussy’s hold. It was not the first time he had recalled it. Both brazen and honest, it hallmarked the woman next to him. She’s passionate, Garrett, and she makes no apologies for it. His smile widened. “Izzy.” The word rolled off his tongue, and it felt good to say it. “I didn’t want to hurt you but Hussy’s best chance to make it out of the Republic is with Stacy as first officer.”

  Wide, vulnerable brown eyes peered into his own even as her hand slid up Heskan’s arm to the back of his head. Her fingers playfully stroked his hair. “You can hurt me, Garrett,” she confessed, “but no longer like that.” She dropped her hand to her side and said, “I was held away from my crew during my time on the orbital. Days of solitude interrupted only by brief interrogations. The only hope I had was you.” Her eyes never left his. “That hope was enough,” she said as she slipped even closer to him. She whispered, “Thank you for not abandoning me.”

  * * *

  Brewer had finished his outline for the upcoming Lombardi interrogation and was completing an initial mission summary for the Minister of Intelligence when Secretary Neal called. He looked irritably at the distraction. This would be the man’s fourth update from Kite. In brief, the situation was well in hand. Other than the curious, botched bombing attempt inside Truesworth’s quarters, the impending attack had yet to happen. Further, Neal now had a sufficient force on board to ensure the destroyer escort would remain safely in the proper hands even if Truesworth’s cohorts attempted to appropriate the ship. An hour ago, Neal’s agents had moved to the offensive and were conducting a thorough search for the renegades.

  During their last conversation, Brewer had tasked Neal with creating a list of Kite crewmembers to interview in an attempt to root out any possible sleeper rebels, but Brewer was now completely confident that any attack on the Anthe orbital would not come from space.

  The situation inside the orbital was less satisfactory. Jennings had updated him two hours ago to confirm his arrival at the cargo bay and that the prisoners were still secure. Brewer had been in contact with Agent Dunn three times since he had taken over the search for Truesworth on the station. The man still eluded capture. Dunn’s prevailing theory was that Truesworth had discarded his bisht and keffiyeh into the lavatory trash tube and exited the bathroom wearing an alternate disguise. Facial recognition software had not detected his exit, demonstrating once again that low-tech solutions could still counter high-tech protocols. Finally, the security chief at the orbital confinement facility troubled Brewer twice to announce that he had still not come under the anticipated attack.

  Brewer’s datapad chirped impatiently again. This would be the eleventh interruption in three hours. He accepted Neal’s comm request and said sharply, “What.”

  “Mr. Secretary, none of the traitors are here. I recommend we station guards at Kite’s docking tubes and move the rest of the agents to supplement the effort on the orbital.”

&
nbsp; “Fine,” Brewer responded irritably while backspacing to replace a word in his mission report. The phrasing of reports to the minister required meticulous care.

  “Mr. Secretary, I’m starting to think it’s not scheduled for today or that once Truesworth realized he got identified on the commercial deck, he panicked and called everything off.”

  “Fine,” Brewer repeated. He finished typing his sentence and reread it. After a few moments of thought, he said, “Once you have Kite’s guards in place and you’re certain the ship will remain secure, return to the orbital.” He copied a chart of Lombardi’s last physiological indices taken during her interview into his document and aligned it with his summation.

  “Where do you want me to report, sir?”

  The transcript of the interview failed to attach to the report correctly. Brewer felt his anger rise at the failings of technology. After several attempts, he went through the procedure step by step and attached the file successfully. Somehow, Lombardi’s chart had become unaligned with the summation again. Brewer exhaled deeply. “Mr. Neal, you are an assistant to the Secretary of the Bureau of Internal Security.” Instead of rising, his voice grew quieter. “You hold position over thousands of agents charged with the safety of this Republic.” He was nearly whispering now. “Stop wasting my time and start demonstrating the capability to make decisions befitting of your status or seek employment elsewhere.” He terminated the connection with a swipe of his hand.

  * * *

  Heskan walked onto Hussy’s bridge and reached the captain’s console. The chair creaked ominously under his weight, enough for him to examine the bolts at its base with concern. Satisfied the chair would not collapse, he looked to the console. It felt strange to sit behind a panel after his time on Anelace and Kite. Even though the console status screens were larger than on his old captain’s chair arms, there seemed to be a lot of dead space between the displays.

  To his right, Lieutenant Truesworth was halfway inside the open console of his station. Heskan’s briefcase rested nearby and various cables ran between the stolen IFF unit and the station panel. Tools and equipment were strewn about Truesworth’s feet.