Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe)

by Britt Ringel

  Heskan shrugged. “That is a decision far above my pay grade, Chase.” It was a lie by omission. The ultimate decision was made by Covington but Heskan had attended the meeting. He added with another benign shrug, “I’m still new to the workings of your rather complicated system of justice.” It never hurts to cover the trail with a dash of feigned ignorance.

  “Indeed,” Fuller replied. “And what type of government’s justice are you familiar with, Garrett?”

  Heskan once again shook his head and reverted to his planned answer. Its delivery sounded a little too mechanical this time, even to himself. “You know that articles regarding the confidentiality of privateering prevent me from answering that.”

  Fuller reached over the desktop and placed a supportive hand on Heskan’s shoulder. The man’s voice was an ocean of reassurance. His eyes were predatory. “Come now, Garrett. You’re Seshafian now and it’s not like it’s a secret where Secure Solutions draws their captains from.” Fuller winked playfully at Camera One. “I won’t tell anyone your secret!” He chuckled at his witticism along with the audience. “You don’t even have to say anything, Garrett. Just nod if you’ve ever held the rank of Komandor.”

  Heskan merely stared at Fuller as the audience broke into a light chatter in anticipation of their mysterious hero’s origins. Heskan remained a statue.

  Fuller rocked back slightly and changed course. “Or don’t you believe that the good citizens of Seshafi deserve to know what type of man their admiral-to-be is… and where he came from?”

  The background chatter ceased instantly at the remark. Heskan felt his self-control falter as he glared at the man. He thought of lives lost a week ago and the lunacy of having to dance to this man’s fiddle. His final thoughts were not of where he came from but of all that he had been through, before his last semblance of composure was jettisoned. “Look, you pompous ass, I told you I’m not allowed to answer that question and you promised me before this show that you wouldn’t ask it.”

  Fuller’s jaw dropped at his guest’s rebuke. He glanced to his director, whose expression mirrored his own, before raising a hand to silence Heskan. For the first time in a long time, Fuller stuttered. “I, I don’t think—”

  “Not exactly a news flash,” Heskan growled over the man. “Now, let me finish.” He risked a look to his right and saw Vernay covering her face with both hands. Covington’s warning flashed through his mind again, causing him to exhale slowly before looking directly into the nearest camera to launch his appeal. “I can understand that each of you might want to know more about me,” Heskan admitted. “You deserve the open and honest truth, but you and the sailors under my command also deserve security, and that security could very well be compromised if certain details of the battle were leaked to Sade. We’ve already seen the lengths of Saden treachery and the impact it can have on the lives of your sons and daughters. I’ll be damned if I reveal information that might be used against them.”

  Heskan swallowed as he nodded slowly in a fatal acceptance. “I understand your need to know more about the person trying to fill Admiral Cooke’s shoes and even if I can’t tell you exactly where I come from, maybe I can tell you a little about who I am.” Eyes never wavering from the camera, Heskan explained earnestly, “I’ve seen my share of war, enough to know that any level of engagement is a brutal and terrible thing.” He cast a sideways glance at Fuller before continuing. “I know there are rumors that I’m some kind of glory hound, looking to write his name on The Wall of Heroes by using the blood of Seshafian sailors.” He shook his head. “That’s not true. Every life lost under my command haunts me, and Seshafian lives are as precious to me as all the other sailors and marines I’ve entered battle with. To the sailors that may be placed under my command who are watching me now, I want to tell you this. I can't promise you that I will bring you all home alive but I swear before you now that if we are forced into another battle, I will sail into the fray with you and we will sail off the battlespace together. Dead or alive, we will all come home with honor.”

  Stunned silence from the audience took the place of Heskan’s voice. He looked at the members seated closest to him. One, an elderly man with a fearsome scar etched down his face, wiped at his eyes before rising slowly to his feet and began to applaud. Like a wave propagating outward from a stone thrown into a pond, each audience member rose and cheered. The cacophony drowned out Fuller’s next words as he reluctantly joined the standing ovation. The director resorted to hand signals to count down the show’s remaining seconds and the audience was still cheering when the red light atop Camera One faded out.

  Over the subsiding roar of the crowd, Fuller beamed amicably at Heskan while coldly warning, “You dare to cross swords with me? I will eviscerate you, Garrett.” He stepped around the desk to shake Heskan’s hand heartily. “Enjoy the adoration now because your every action will be demonized. I’ll see that each of your steps will be one step farther away from the hearts and minds of these people.” He turned from Heskan and brought his hands to his mouth to blow kisses toward the audience.

  Heskan merely shook his head and quickly retreated from the stage.

  “That went well,” Vernay said sarcastically as she peered around Heskan to watch Fuller signing autographs near his desk. “And I thought I was the one with the uncontrollable temper. You’re not going to change the whole dynamic of our relationship, are you?”

  Heskan ground his teeth and swore under his breath. “That was so stupid of me.” He stalked past Vernay, desperate to flee the scene of the crime. “Covington gave me one job this morning and I blew it.”

  “Hey,” Vernay spun gracefully in place and trotted toward her captain. She reached out to place a hand delicately around his elbow. “Garrett, it wasn’t that bad. That jerk deserved it and, besides, your speech at the end was perfect.”

  Heskan stopped and turned back to face her. His eyes glanced downward at her hand resting on his arm before looking back to her face. She met his stare only briefly before removing her hand and looking away shyly. “Do you really think it wasn’t that bad, Stacy?”

  Vernay replied while still inspecting the tops of her shoes. “Yeah, Captain. You’re always at your best when you’re talking about defending principles and how much you care about the people serving under you. That’s your wheelhouse.”

  Heskan’s datapad chirped. He looked down at it and grimaced. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough. The archduke has invited me to ride up with him to the orbital for Dioscuri’s christening ceremony.”

  “Is that what they finally decided to call her?” Vernay asked.

  Heskan nodded. “Yeah. Seshafi seems to be big into mythological names for their ships of the line. It probably has something to do with their ties to the Commonwealth.”

  Chapter 1

  Heskan had never seen a finer shuttlecraft than the one belonging to Archduke Covington. He ran a hand over the intricately carved arm of his oak chair for the third time. Only one other person shared the extravagant passenger compartment with him. This shuttle is closer to a yacht with atmospheric capabilities, Heskan judged. His glass rattled lightly in its holder as the shuttle pushed its way through Seshafi Major’s thick atmosphere.

  “You’ve barely touched your cognac,” Joshua Covington observed.

  Heskan fretfully tugged at the collar of his newly tailored naval service coat. Just over a week ago, the archduke remarked that Heskan would look “smashing” in the Seshafian uniform and Vernay had informed him that the CEO was correct, especially while wearing the service dress. The entire uniform was a throwback to the Terran age of “Wooden Ships and Iron Men.” The top coat, colloquially called a choker because of its stiff standing collar, ensured no sailor would willingly wear it for daily duties. While Heskan conceded that the service uniform was striking, he was unsurprised given the seeming obsession that corporate navies had over their regalia. But when it’s all said and done, Heskan mused, I’m grateful to be wearing a military uniform again.
It feels good; it feels right.

  “I’m just not used to drinking while in uniform, Archduke.” Heskan picked up the brandy snifter. He imitated Covington’s swirling motions with the glass while trying his best not to spill the dark liquid.

  “Joshua, please… we’re alone now, Garrett,” Covington said with a friendly smile that morphed into a frown as he studied his glass. “This should be in a tulip, you know. More surface area for the cognac and the bouquet is more forcefully directed.” The patrician stuck his nose deep into the snifter and inhaled. After several moments, his eyes refocused on Heskan. “Still, it’s the rare Hollaran that declines a snifter because of his dress.” AmyraCorp’s CEO stared thoughtfully at Heskan. After a period, the man finally sipped his drink and a slow smile spread across his lips. “Garrett, I’ve been waiting for the proper time and I must ask. During the battle, why did you refuse to strike your lights?”

  Heskan felt his heart rate increase even though he had been expecting this line of questioning for several days. He raised his glass and gulped. Its contents were liquid fire. He covered his mouth to cough lightly as Covington chuckled good-naturedly. When Heskan was able to speak, he answered, “Because I didn’t have a choice.”

  It was a true statement. At the time, Heskan felt he was without options. Submitting to Wallace would have left his crew without a future. Heskan sighed as he recalled the battle. I couldn’t quit on them, he reflected. They deserved better than that after everything I’ve dragged them through. “I owed it to my crew not to give up, Joshua.” He thought of Anelace’s final charge at Blackheart and shook his head. You barely knew them back then and you still refused to quit long after you should have. “Maybe… maybe I just don’t know how to quit. Even when I should.”

  Covington grunted at the confession and considered it. Finally, he stated, “I’ve never heard a response like that from a Hollaran privateer before.” He looked Heskan directly in the eyes and added, “But then, you aren’t Hollaran, are you?”

  Heskan looked downward while shaking his head almost imperceptibly. “No.”

  “Am I correct in assuming that your departure from the Republic was not amicable?”

  It’s all coming out now, Heskan thought. Maybe it needs to. “You are correct, Archduke.” He held his breath.

  Covington placed his glass carefully into his chair arm’s receptacle, leaned forward and rested a weathered hand on Heskan’s knee. “Garrett, did you leave because the Republic is losing their war?”

  The question surprised Heskan enough to knock him out of his introspection. He looked at Covington directly. “No!” he insisted. “More than anything, I would have wanted to stay and help them win it.”

  “Then why did you leave?”

  Heskan’s brow furrowed as he searched for the answer. “Because there are more important things than winning a war, Joshua.” He felt his shoulders slump. “I understand that probably isn’t what you want to hear from the commander of your fleet, sir.” Have I blown it? What’s the record for the shortest career in the Seshafian navy?

  Covington eased back into his chair and picked up his glass. “That was exactly the answer I was hoping to hear, Garrett.” The man smiled and nodded. “Truth be told, I’ve suspected your origins based on observations for quite a while now. I don’t know how you came to captain a Hollaran snow inside a privateer outfit, but you and that spitfire first officer were clearly neither Hollaran nor Solarian.” He brought the snifter back to his nose and inhaled the aroma before continuing. “Admiral Cooke suspected as well. In fact, he insisted that just because you were probably Brevic, that didn’t necessarily mean you were a barbarian. I’m glad I listened to his counsel. But still, Garrett, I needed to be certain. I had to be sure that you weren’t the kind of man who would grind any amount of meat to achieve a victory solely for victory’s sake.”

  * * *

  Admiral Oliver Wallace was working toward victory in his office when a chime announced the arrival of his next appointment.

  “Proceed,” Wallace rumbled without looking up from his desk. He scanned the document before him with an adept’s critical eye. Sade’s new casus bellum would be perfect. His peripheral senses informed him that the gentleman who entered his office was now standing patiently near the front of his desk. Despite being mostly satisfied with the text of his document, Wallace saw several opportunities for minor improvement before presenting it to IaCom’s chief operating officer. He considered annotating the changes despite the presence of the Secure Solutions representative waiting for him. Ultimately, he placed his datapad down even as his grey eyes looked up. “I trust my money was well spent.”

  Colby Persin looked nervously around the room before meeting the admiral’s stare. “We are refunding payment back to your personal account, Viscount. We, uh, were unable to acquire new information regarding this Garrett Heskan.”

  Wallace felt a familiar surge of heat rising to his cheeks and grappled to maintain his volume at a reasonable level. “Mr. Persin, are you telling me that your company is so poorly run that it welcomes anyone into its ranks despite knowing nothing of their former service?”

  “That’s not exactly fair, Viscount—”

  “What will other corporate systems think when I inform them that, apparently, Secure Solutions sends utter strangers to represent them in battle?”

  “Viscount, this is a completely unprecedented situation!” Persin declared. “Secure Solutions has the strictest of standards when adding to our ranks. You know that as well as any corporate admiral, sir.”

  “Then explain yourself, Mr. Persin.”

  The privateer representative took a moment to steel himself. Finally, he assuaged, “We understand your concerns, Viscount. In fact, we more than understand them and we intend to make this little accident up to you, sir.”

  “Little?” Wallace erupted. “Your little accident cost Sade the entire casus bellum, sir! Your error destroyed our best chance to absorb AmyraCorp with as little cost or exposure as possible and finally, it cost an immeasurable loss to my personal honor and standing not only in this system but also in every corporate world! My ship struck her lights! Because of you, I was forced to yield!”

  The man in front of Wallace rocked back under the booming verbal assault. When the echoes of the famed Red Admiral’s rage subsided, Persin offered meekly, “Viscount, Mr. Tunnings himself offers you his personal apology and additionally wishes to return the non-intervention fee you paid us four months ago along with the fee you most recently paid us to uncover Garrett Heskan’s past.”

  Wallace shook his head angrily. “This is no longer a financial concern for me, Colby.” He pointed to a frozen image of Heskan, a still from a short video of the man being escorted into AmyraCorp’s headquarters building on Seshafi Major. Wallace had used the scene as the default display image for his wall screen since the day after his return to Sade. “That man insults me!” Wallace exclaimed. “I cannot permit some Hollaran privateer to impugn my honor without a swift and suitable consequence! Now tell me who this man is or watch your company’s reputation collapse when I explain to other corporate systems the dismal state of your internal affairs!”

  Persin hung his head. “Viscount… we don’t know who he is. All of our contacts inside the Hollaran military have come up empty. Nobody is willing to admit that they know the man!” Persin looked up to make eye contact with the irate Saden as he pleaded. “Even Landon Tunnings has run up against a wall and he has contacts with some of the highest ranking intelligence assets in the Commonwealth. We’ve done everything we can, Viscount. This man may as well be a ghost.”

  Wallace folded his arms angrily and sat in silent contemplation for several moments. “Then what can Secure Solutions offer me, Colby?”

  “Our sincerest apologies, a refund…” Persin paused for a fraction of a second before adding, “And our enthusiastic support for your next casus bellum.”

  The corners of Wallace’s mouth began to turn upward for the fi
rst time that morning. “How enthusiastic, Colby?”

  “Unreserved, Viscount… and gratis.”

  Wallace leaned back in his chair as a smile widened across his face. Secure Solutions, a subsidiary of the Foster Fifteen, had access to some of the finest Hollaran military hardware and sailors in the galaxy.

  Sensing the change in the direction of the wind, Persin rapidly seized on the opportunity and added, “While we know that nothing can undo the terrible humiliation you endured, we want you to know that Secure Solutions is taking this matter very personally, Viscount. You are a most valued and respected client and it has pained us greatly to know that we have, unwillingly, been involved in the stigma inflicted upon you. It’s Mr. Tunnings’ goal that our unequivocal support during your next action will demonstrate how seriously we take this matter, and our hope is that through our performance, your ire at our awkward situation regarding this Garrett Heskan might be calmed and your tongue stayed.”

  * * *

  Agent Aaron Jennings paused as he tried to remember the exact details of his last encounter with Garrett Heskan. “Words to the effect of ‘I haven’t hurt the Republic and I don’t intend to hurt it as long as you let us escape,’” he stated stiffly while sitting bolt upright. The man opened his eyes upon completion of his recollection, desperately hoping he had recited the statement correctly.

  Jennings sat in a firm chair inside a plainly decorated interview room. Upon entering, he had stolen a glimpse away from the pair seated opposite of him but failed to locate the cameras he knew must be in the room. Upon reopening his eyes, he saw the weary expression, so familiar now, on Secretary Brewer’s face. He glanced slightly to his right. Sitting just one meter from him was the compact frame of the Minister of Intelligence herself. Her emotionless, green eyes were unfathomable to him. Jennings quickly diverted his gaze as if staring too long into the jade orbs risked extinction. He was more correct than not.