by Britt Ringel
“Plus the travel time of the mass driver shot,” Vernay pointed out.
Heskan shivered slightly. If things are so desperate that we have to factor in how long it takes a mass driver round to reach us, God help us. He pressed at his comm panel.
“Ja, Kapitän,” Hussy’s engineer replied.
“Mr. Müller,” Heskan said serenely, “if Hussy has to reduce speed, I want my first warning of it to be when her engines explode, understood?”
Müller chuckled heartily. “Ja. This is a real good chase, nein? Don’t worry, Kapitän, my babies will not let you down.”
Lombardi asked Heskan, “What if that corvette goes faster than three-three?”
“Unlikely, ma’am,” Vernay pacified from her station. “I served on that class for over a year and if our chief engineer couldn’t coax point three-four-C from her, nobody can.”
“U-Uh, Captain,” Truesworth stuttered in incredulity. “Are those destroyers changing course?”
On the system plot near the Carme tunnel point, both destroyers’ headings changed. Their courses settled directly toward Hussy.
“I guess Brewer is sending in the big guns,” Heskan speculated calmly. “They’re too far away to reach us here and I’m not even sure they can catch us in Bianca since they can’t go much faster than point two-C. Still, he has to send something to Bianca, and Poniard lacks a tunnel drive.”
Lombardi looked at Heskan with weary eyes. “So what is next?”
He wiped his brow. “Just whatever is stationed in Bianca, Izzy. It won’t be much, probably just a single system defense ship because it’s a dead system that leads to another dead system inside the Federation.” He began to crack a smile. “We just have to get past that ship and we’re out of Brevic space.”
“Closer to home,” Lombardi said with longing.
“For you,” Heskan sighed.
* * *
The next hours played out like a brazen, slow-motion heist. All of Hussy’s deceptions had been torn away but too late to make a difference. Her pursuers could do nothing more than continue their fruitless chase after a prize that had already escaped them.
Heskan kept partial notice of the system plot but focused most of his attention upon Hussy’s propulsion. His greatest fear was losing one of the CT-B20 drives, forcing a reduction in speed. Despite Müller’s assurances that the freighter could maintain .17c, he watched his engineering status display screen with an untrusting eye. Müller’s only protestations were centered on the alarming rate Hussy was burning through her power cell. It was obvious that the freighter would be forced to switch to only sails early into the transit of the Bianca system.
Heskan nervously looked at the layout of the looming star system. One problem at a time, he told himself. He was reviewing the three tunnel points located in the uninhabitable system when Lieutenant Truesworth interrupted his study. “Captain, Bianca Control says we are not cleared to dive.”
Heskan, still staring down at his console, heard Vernay respond sarcastically, “Yeah, I don’t think we’re going to wait for clearance, Jack. Diane, tunnel the instant you can.”
“Oh sure, ma’am,” Selvaggio said cynically from her station. “Have me tunnel without clearance so I’m the one who gets her piloting license revoked.” She quashed a warning on her navigation panel and added, “Activating our tunnel drive in thirty-three seconds.” Behind her, Vernay announced Hussy’s imminent dive over the ship’s main channel.
Heskan looked up with hope at the system plot. Poniard was just 14ls behind but the nearest ship with a tunnel drive, Envoy-3, was still 13lm away. The destroyers, speeding in from the Carme tunnel point, were even farther out. Two days in tunnel space to plot the endgame, he thought before closing his eyes against the disorientation of their dive.
Chapter 17
Starzy Sierzant Vidic knocked loudly on the alloy doorframe to one of Hussy’s living quarters. The portal cracked open to reveal an annoyed starszy bosman peering at him. “Nilis, you pervert, you know this is a female room. What do you want?”
Vidic exhaled loudly and asked, “Is Ensign Gables in there?”
The portal closed but, after only a few moments, reopened. “She is not here,” the woman answered.
From behind the door, Gables yelled, “He’s lucky I didn’t know him back then or I would have not only launched every missile I had but kamikazed my fighter into his house!”
Vidic stared soberly at the NCO before him. “Then what was that, Marina?”
She shrugged and replied blithely, “Your guilty conscience?”
Vidic placed his hand inside the doorframe to prevent its closure. “Marina, I want to apologize. I was wrong about her… twice.”
The woman’s eyes tracked to his intruding hand. “You are going to look strange holding a rifle with only one hand.”
“Please, let me talk to her.”
“Patru…”
“I acted rashly.”
“Trei…”
“I acted stupidly.”
“Doi…”
“I must set this right, Marina,” Vidic pleaded.
“Unu.”
Vidic reacted instantly as the portal slammed shut, missing his fingers by just centimeters. He stared at the door in anguish. It was not meant to be.
* * *
“The remaining three bio-canisters will expire in the next seventy-two hours,” Müller summarized to the group seated in the chartroom.
“But we still have the oxygen candles, right?” Heskan asked from the head of the table.
“Ja, but that will last us one or two more days at most. It won’t be enough,” the engineer predicted.
Kapitan Romano pointed emphatically at the star chart letting acrimony fill his voice. “We dive into Bianca in five hours. If we can even reach the Syrinx tunnel point, that dive will take an additional three days, Captain. Syrinx is a dead system, Captain. From Syrinx to Syntyche is another three days, Captain. Your choice of Bianca has killed us all, Captain.”
“Screw you, Romano!” Vernay volleyed back. “Without Captain Heskan, you’d be rotting in a cell.”
Romano glared insolently at Vernay and retorted, “With plenty of oxygen to breathe.”
“I didn’t realize Hollies were livestock that enjoyed being kept in a pen,” Vernay declared mordantly.
Lombardi stared down Romano and growled sinisterly, “If you do not stop, Marco, suffocation will be the least of your concerns.”
The room grew still as silence filled the void. Heskan looked at Romano; the Hollaran’s cheeks were flushed red with anger. Opposite of him, Vernay glared at the engineer with a stern expression that dared him to speak again. At the end of the table, Lombardi fixated on the star chart. The only contrast to the stillness of the room was the nervous shifting of Müller’s weight from foot to foot.
Finally, Heskan said softly, “Mr. Müller, thank you for your report. You’re dismissed.”
“Danke schön,” he muttered gratefully and quickly evacuated the room. The portal closed behind Müller and the quiet resumed. The rattle of an overhead vent serenaded the tense, gloomy atmosphere.
Heskan finally looked up from the table and spoke. “Kapitan, I understand your position but Bianca was the only option. We’re running out of food, fuel and oxygen but I promise you we’re not dead yet. Syrinx is a border system. There will have to be a ship or some type of orbital in it. We can barter to extend our life support.”
“With what?” Romano asked. His voice grew accusatory. “You foolishly jettisoned our only bargaining chip.”
How about I offer them one, irritating Hollaran engineer, Kapitan? Heskan looked at the coarse man. “We’ll trade them Hussy’s last lifeboat for oxygen candles. Between those and the electrolysis Mr. Müller is rigging, that should get us to the Syntyche system.”
“And that system is corporate-controlled,” Vernay said with a rising optimism. “We’re sure to find some opportunities there. Does anyone know what outfit controls Sy
ntyche?”
“Humex, mostly,” Lombardi answered. “It is a major exporter in the bio-mechanical industry. They also produce some of the best bio-gels available.” After a beat, Lombardi added, “They would offer you half the system for the Parasite gel.”
Vernay frowned. “Wish we had some.”
Heskan looked curiously at her from across the table. “How do you know all this, Isabella?”
“My aunt, Samanta De Luca, sits on the Board of Naval Procurement. She deals with many corporate systems eager to feed the Hollaran military machine. If we make it to Syntyche, there are contacts and accounts I can access that will aid us.”
Heskan sat upright at the good fortune. That’s right, he remembered. She told me that not only was her late uncle an intelligence admiral but his wife was a big wheel in the defense industry.
Lombardi looked at Heskan and stated, “If you can get us to Syntyche, Commander, I can take us home.”
Heskan smiled slyly. “Then let’s talk about getting us to Syntyche.”
* * *
Welcome to Bianca, Heskan thought as his navigator echoed the sentiment with confirmation of their dive. The system’s star was a blue giant, 12,700 times brighter than Terra’s star. The meager two planets in the system had been blasted clean of any chance for life by intense solar radiation long ago. Bianca’s isolated position coupled with her lack of resources made her a trivial star system destined for obscurity. No orbital controller greeted Hussy, just the tunnel point’s aging navigation buoy. The freighter fired her thrusters to orient toward the next objective, the Syrinx tunnel point, 32lm away.
Inside Hussy’s bridge, her wall screen presented the desolation of the system. Hussy shared the entire section of space with just three other ships. Two of the three were freighters passing between Bianca’s three tunnel points; the third was a patrol craft, stationed 6ls from the New London tunnel point.
Lieutenant Selvaggio had just begun to re-energize the ship’s smartlines when Heskan called out, “Incoming message, Stacy. It’s from the PC.”
The right half of the wall screen transformed into the face of a female lieutenant. “CSV Hussy, this is Lieutenant Dorothy Gwen of BRS Kit. We’ve received some interesting alerts in the last three hours via standata, and one of them is about you. You will heave to and prepare to be boarded. Gwen out.”
“Maintain your course, Diane,” Vernay ordered from the captain’s chair. “Raise the sails and keep us moving.” She looked across the bridge to Heskan for support and then glanced down at her uniform’s blouse. Her collar was already damp with sweat. “Here we go,” she mumbled.
Vernay smiled confidently toward the wall screen and answered, “Captain Gwen, this is Lieutenant Stacy Vernay of BRS Kite. We are a deep cover ship en route to Syntyche with critical cargo. Pursuant to ISC Rules 77.4 and Brevic Military Regulations, Section 23, we will proceed on course. IFF incoming.” She looked assertively to her right and ordered, “Lieutenant, handshake with Kit.”
Out of view of the bridge camera, Heskan cautiously activated the Identify, Friend or Foe, equipment. A loud buzz emitted from the unit. Six seconds to ping them, Heskan thought. Then, six seconds for them to interrogate us and six more seconds for us to reply. He looked nervously down at the IFF gear. Do you have eighteen seconds of life? Smoke began to billow from the seams of the unit. Truesworth quickly waved a rag over it to help disperse the acrid, grey cloud.
Vernay returned Heskan’s look of encouragement with an expression of horror. Next to Heskan, the IFF box had caught on fire. Truesworth dropped the rag and two more over the device.
“IFF confirmed,” Gwen acknowledged suspiciously. “Why does your signal identify you as a destroyer?”
Heskan deactivated the unit, stifling his coughs from the pungent smoke.
“Because we share our identification with one,” Vernay said matter-of-factly. She snorted derisively before adding, “How do you think these missions are paid for, Captain? You think the Republic really spent all of that money just on Cerberus?”
Gwen’s eyes narrowed in consideration as Vernay pressed her advantage. “Captain Gwen, I’ve cited you the proper rules and regulations governing covert operations. You’ve undoubtedly authenticated my credentials as a Brevic officer. I’ve even submitted my command to IFF protocol confirming its status.” Vernay let two weeks of stress, hunger and frustration boil over. “I am just two star systems from completing my mission. A mission that has been nearly thwarted at every turn by security leaks, mixed orders, incompetent ship captains and one useless system commander!” She let the volume of her voice carry. “Either let us pass or kill me now because, frankly, my give-a-damn meter is running at zero right now!”
Gwen’s stunned, slack-jawed face stared blankly at her. The patrol craft’s captain blinked uncomprehendingly while moving a hand to her chair arm. Her image disappeared.
“Give-a-damn meter?” Truesworth asked quizzically.
Vernay flashed a smile at her friend while flapping the front of her uniform to help her cool off. She looked at the system plot. Kit had yet to move.
“Are they really going to let us pass?” Truesworth asked in disbelief.
“They actually don’t have a choice, Jack,” Heskan explained. “Everything Stacy said was right. We’re a properly authenticated military ship. Gwen has to let us pass.”
“Let’s just hope she doesn’t follow us,” Vernay said.
“After your unbalanced outburst,” Heskan replied tongue-in-cheek, “I’m not sure I want to be near you.”
Vernay grinned at her captain. “Yeah, I got inspired. No food, hot-bunking with a stranger and looming carbon dioxide poisoning can do that to a gal.”
Sitting at the auxiliary control station, Lombardi asked, “What is next?”
Heskan wiped his brow. “I think it’s over. That patrol craft is an old Fox-class ship. She’s slower than Brewer’s ship. By the time Brewer dives in, we’ll be too far ahead for Kit to catch us.”
“But Envoy-Three might,” Vernay said.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Envoy-Three will catch us about two light-minutes from the Syrinx tunnel point but it’s unarmed. I’ve been on that ship a lot, including the bridge. There wasn’t a weapons station.” He looked up at the system plot. Kit remained stationary at the tunnel point. “And the two destroyers from New London won’t come close to intercepting us by the time they dive in.” He felt the burdens of the last week lift from his shoulders. Have we really done it?
* * *
Ninety-four minutes later, Envoy-3 entered Bianca. Three minutes after her arrival, Kit made way toward Hussy in symbolic pursuit despite the unassailable distance between the ships. Even at Hussy’s reduced sailing speed of .14c, it was clear the margin between the freighter and her pursuers would not be overcome. Envoy-3, unwilling to wait for her slower companion, surged forward unescorted. The distance between adversaries had shrunk to 5lm when the Republic destroyers finally dove from the New London tunnel. Four ships, varying from an unarmed transport to military black space ships, chased Hussy from Brevic space.
Once again, the great distance between ships asserted itself and time crawled by. A total of three hours and thirty minutes had elapsed between Hussy’s dive into the Bianca system and Envoy-3’s overhaul of the freighter, closing to a mere 5ls. No hidden weapon turrets emerged from the sloop to fire upon its quarry. The only energy directed toward Hussy was in the form of a communications request.
Lieutenant Truesworth read the preface of the message and stated, “Message from Envoy-Three, Captain. It’s a private communications request for you.”
“No doubt a personal plea from Brewer,” Lombardi surmised.
“Shall I connect, Captain?” Truesworth asked.
Heskan hesitated. Why would Sebastian Brewer want to speak with me privately? Wouldn’t the safer political play be to openly rebuke me? Heskan thought about his time with Brewer over the past weeks. The elder statesman had actually shown a good
deal of trust in Heskan. Dare I say that he was almost a mentor to me when he thought I was a loyalist?
Truesworth stared at Heskan peculiarly. “Uh, Captain, shall I connect?”
Maybe I owe him this small courtesy. “No,” Heskan decided. “I’ll take it in my cabin.” Heskan rose from the creaking captain’s chair and turned to Lombardi. “Komandor, would you accompany me? Whatever Brewer has to say to me, he can say to you.” There’s no point in letting Isabella think I’m having second thoughts.
Once inside his quarters, Heskan sat at his computer terminal. Lombardi took a position off to the side of the desk, out of view of the camera integrated into the screen. Due to the scant distance between the two ships, the communication would play out close to a normal conversation with minimal lag. The accept button flashed impatiently at him.
Brewer’s image appeared on the screen. He was in his office, a beverage of dark liquid sitting untouched on his enormous desk before him. Brewer’s grey eyes bored into Heskan. To Heskan, they appeared… sad.
Brewer’s voice seemed filled with remorse as he began, “If you’re anything like your father, you think you’re doing the right thing.”
The statement knocked Heskan immediately onto his heels. “My father,” he corrected, “was a machinist.”
Brewer’s head shook slightly. “No, Jacob was a lot more than that. Your father served the Republic… and he was my friend.” Grey eyes misted over in remembrance. “Since his death I’ve watched over you like a son and you don’t know how hard it is to see you like this now.”
Heskan rocked away from the monitor shaking his head in disbelief. “This is not the conversation I was expecting, though I did expect you to lie to me.”
Brewer’s smile seemed to take great effort. “I have lied,” he admitted, “a lifetime of lies, in fact. Nevertheless, Garrett, I have never lied to you. I knew Jacob Heskan. How many people know about the scar on his back? I was with him the day he got it. We were good friends, and he asked me to watch over you the week before he died. Think back. Do you believe it was a coincidence I chose Derringer to transport me to Praxidike? Or that after you languished for a year on Chaldene that a starship command just suddenly fell to you?”
