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

by Britt Ringel

  * * *

  ANOTHER BLOODBATH AT

  THE TUNNEL POINT?

  The words of the tagline on the wall screen slammed into a collection of digital brigs and line ships, causing the vessels to explode. As the screen flared from the explosions, Chase Fuller’s voiceover narrated animatedly. “In an IaCom exclusive, my sources have obtained a copy of Seshafi’s casus bellum and I will share the provocative language of the document with you!”

  Archduke Covington slowly shook his head in disenchantment while Heskan questioned, “Provocative? What’s so provocative about our casus bellum, Archduke?”

  Sitting next to Heskan, Captain Nguyen simply sighed.

  “Nothing at all, Garrett,” Covington answered. “It’s just sensationalism on his part.” The patrician resumed shaking his head. “As if sending our lads into combat were not dramatic enough for him.” Covington focused again on Fuller’s words and grunted distastefully.

  In the background, Fuller’s image replaced the onscreen explosion. He summarized the ship casualty list from the previous battle before adding, “And which privateer outfits will dare contract with Seshafi now that we’ve installed a fleet commander that has shown such callous disregard for loss of life and property?” Fuller’s roguish smile widened. “Already there are rumors which seem to bear out that privateer companies were reluctant to employ with Seshafi. But now? With a former Hollaran komandor leading the fleet?” Fuller shrugged his shoulders. “Who’s to say that he wouldn’t order his fleet to total annihilation? Just consider some of the early results of the battles Hollara fought against the Brevic Republic. Entire task forces wiped out by ‘Vic heavies.”

  “—and what kind of psychological damage does that kind of devastation inflict upon a komandor who witnesses it?” Fuller’s guest interjected.

  Fuller nodded gravely with a deep look of concern. “Excellent point, Michael. Could this, let’s call it traumatic stress disorder for argument’s sake, this trauma be the reason why Archduke Covington has refused to promote Heskan to rear admiral?”

  The wall screen faded to black, muting out the guest’s response. Covington entered a new command into the inlaid keyboard of his desk and the wall screen produced the latest revision of the Seshafian order of battle. “I’m quite disappointed with the tone of reporting by IaCom but I must believe it has more to do with a clash of personalities rather than corporations.”

  “I’m sorry, Archduke,” Heskan said feebly.

  Covington nodded. “It’s regrettable but understandable, Garrett.” He glanced briefly at Nguyen before adding, “I suppose the media in the Commonwealth is slightly more focused on portraying current events in a more favorable perspective for the sitting government than our media is here.”

  Heskan hung his head. All this negative press might not be happening if I had shown more restraint during that interview. The entire situation was vexing for him. To be discussing problems related to media coverage rather than preparing for the actual conflict seemed unreal. Those “unreal” problems had become very real of late. Due to the negative coverage and the portrayal of Heskan as an uncaring leader willing to burn ships and lives unflinchingly, Seshafi was, once again, having difficulty recruiting privateer ships. The ships would not be needed in the immediate skirmish, Heskan knew, but a failure to be able to supplement their home defense force in the following conflict would spell the end for AmyraCorp.

  “Well,” Heskan mumbled, “who’s next on the list?”

  Covington’s eyes glanced down to his desktop. “Catalina’s Iron Brigade.”

  “One of the best outfits in the Federation,” Nguyen stated. “They’re based in Hiisi and we have strong ties with them that go back for decades.”

  Heskan looked across the room with questioning eyes. “Why didn’t they send ships for Admiral Cooke during the last action?”

  Covington grimaced. “A rather unfortunate set of circumstances. You see, they’re small, like most privateer companies. They have just two brigs and three snows and the entire lot was tied up covering the independence parade in the Spinward Sector Corporate Zone.”

  Nguyen muttered under his breath, “Damned ‘Vics cost us our most supportive privateer company the last time around.”

  Heskan noticed Covington’s flinching reaction to Nguyen’s words. Curiously, the slight against his home did not bother Heskan in the least. Six months ago, I would have defended Brevic honor at all costs, he reflected. What does this say about me? Have I truly turned my back on the Republic? The wrenching in his gut whenever he thought about a Brevic defeat at the hands of the Commonwealth suggested otherwise. I still love my Republic, but, maybe now I can look at it without rose-colored glasses.

  “The Iron Brigade has strong relations with the Eris system too, Yon,” Covington mediated. “They were honor-bound to assist them. You can’t fault the Republic entirely for their presence there.” Covington and Heskan had held an in-depth meeting in which Heskan explained the exact circumstances of his crew’s flight from the Republic. Unsurprisingly, Covington accepted the tale in stride and merely remarked at the end about the great need to keep their Brevic identities a secret for as long as possible. Additionally, Covington insisted that a further discussion be held with the counsel of AmyraCorp’s security heads. Seshafi could hardly afford to have her newest and best hope for victory fall to an ill-timed and unexpected Brevic reprisal. There had not been time yet to bring Nguyen into the small circle that knew the truth.

  Heskan shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know, Archduke. The Republic’s attitude toward corporate freedom isn’t at all understated and corporate systems that border the Republic have good reasons to beef up their defenses during their independence holidays.”

  “Do you think the Republic would actually invade one of those systems, Garrett?”

  Heskan shook his head in the negative but sighed. “I think the Republic currently has its hands full with other, more pressing matters, Archduke.”

  “But back to the matter at hand, Garrett,” Nguyen stated. “The Iron Brigade is sympathetic to us so let’s try our best not to change that.”

  The pointed barb was enough to stiffen Heskan’s spine. Initially, he had conducted standard negotiations with privateer companies without support from Covington or Nguyen. Fleet commanders had always solicited privateer assistance and conducted such talks without the presence of corporate officers. However, when company after company either outright refused to hold discussions with the newly installed Seshafian fleet commander or walked away from negotiations without coming to a successful agreement, the long-standing policy changed. Heskan believed he had been careful not to let any innate Brevic prejudices against privateers surface during the ill-fated meetings but his reputation, bolstered by Fuller’s infuriating hit-pieces, had obviously preceded him. As Seshafi faced the growing and terrifying prospect of having to enter a conflict without privateer support, Covington intervened and suggested that the remaining negotiations be administered with his and Nguyen’s presence. This is why you don’t rely on mercenaries, Vernay had exclaimed to Heskan in confidence. He grumbled in silent agreement as he reviewed the summary of the Iron Brigade on his datapad.

  “Well, let’s bring Commander McDaniel in,” Covington said after entering commands at his desktop.

  Minutes later, the chamber door opened.

  A generous description would have called Commander Frankfort McDaniel “sturdy” or “stout.” Nearly as wide as he was tall, the barrel-chested man rumbled into the office with an easy smile on his face and an odd Hardee hat atop his head. Foregoing the usual bicorne popular to so many privateer navies, the robust man’s hat brim was pinned to the left side with a brass device and wrapped with a midnight blue cord around its base. The Seshafian men stood to greet him and Heskan saw the short man’s arms were nearly as thick as Heskan’s own legs. The word “mountain” was hardly befitting for the privateer commander as he was lucky to nick the bottom of 1.6 meters. Heskan heard f
riendly greetings exchanged between the other men in the office as he continued to gape at the mammoth proportions of the ship captain in front of him. Finally, he heard Covington’s voice announce, “And this gentlemen here is Captain Garrett Heskan, Seshafi’s youngest ever fleet commander.”

  Heskan smiled and extended his hand. “A pleasure, Commander McDaniel.” The privateer’s hand enveloped his own, covering it almost completely.

  “Nice to meet you, Captain, and it’s nice to finally meet ‘The Hero of Seshafi.’” A large, toothy grin emerged from the human fireplug’s face as he removed his hat to reveal a cleanly shaven head.

  Heskan dipped his head humbly. “The Seshafians who served with me were the true heroes.”

  The tacked-on remark drew a curious expression from McDaniel.

  Nguyen swiftly interjected, “That’s not to suggest that privateer sailors are anything less than heroes as well.” The captain’s dark eyes cast an urgent look at Heskan.

  “Exactly,” Heskan agreed quickly. “Everyone who fought for AmyraCorp that day served with distinction.”

  McDaniel barked out a short laugh and started for a chair. “Archduke, you mind if I sit?” He circled a short, narrow sofa table and wedged himself into the lush fabric of an end chair. “Sit down, guys. Let’s talk some.”

  Once seated, Covington stated, “We’re prepared to offer you the standard contract we’ve used with your company for the last twenty years. We take great pride in the relationship the exists between us—”

  “How many other privateers have signed on with AmyraCorp?” McDaniel interrupted.

  “We’ve only begun negotiations,” Nguyen answered dismissively.

  The response drew a frown from McDaniel.

  “None,” Heskan admitted.

  McDaniel nodded in self-confirmation. He then looked across the low table directly at Heskan. “Do you know why?”

  Heskan met the man’s stare and did not waver. There was power within the privateer’s eyes but Heskan had grown used to powerful men’s gazes. “I suspect because of me, because of the brutal nature of the last battle.” Heskan thought he saw a glimmer of a smirk forming.

  “Yup,” McDaniel answered simply. He leaned his bulk forward and turned his head toward Covington. The man’s neck would have shamed a bull’s. “I can tell you there are two camps within the privateer companies regarding this conflict of yours, Archduke. There’s the group that’s afraid to sign on with AmyraCorp because they think this man,” he gestured toward Heskan, “will throw their ships and lives away and a second group that believes that this same man must be stopped at all costs before he changes corporate conflicts into something where privateering is no longer profitable.” The man eased back into his chair. “Neither group wants to work for him.”

  Covington cleared his throat, not trusting his voice initially. “We have a deep and enduring bond between our businesses, Frank. My corporation was the first to risk hiring your company when it initially chartered.”

  McDaniel dropped his head in acknowledgment. “I know, Archduke. That’s exactly what I told Arthur Catalina when he said he was sending Commander Sawyer to negotiate instead of me.”

  “So what shall it be, Frank,” Covington cut to the chase. “Is the Iron Brigade available for hire?”

  The rotund man returned his attention to Heskan. “Can you guarantee me that we won’t face the kind of carnage that McMillon Group, Fleet Works and DAC saw last time around?”

  Heskan hesitated. Just tell him “yes,” Garrett. You need his ships. He saw the urgent, almost desperate look from Nguyen. Across the table, Covington merely stared emotionlessly at him. He sagged his shoulders as he thought of how superiors from his past had minimized the dangers of his assignments. “I can’t lie to you, Commander McDaniel. I don’t know what the conflict with Sade will bring and I won’t make a promise I may not be able to keep.”

  Nguyen released a dissatisfied breath. He opened his mouth to, once again, cover for his fleet commander but was silenced by McDaniel’s next statement. “A desperate man would have told me yes, Captain.”

  “I don’t make it a habit to lie to those who may serve with me,” Heskan answered but then confessed, “however, I am desperate, Commander.”

  Heskan saw gigantic shoulders begin to shake in short fits. Strange, muted laughs escaped the man’s upturned mouth. When the guffaws subsided, the privateer announced, “We can do business, Captain… and call me Frank.”

  Chapter 3

  Commander Vernay took anxious steps toward the airlock. These Seshafian sailors don’t know I bull’s-eyed Blackheart from ten light-seconds with a failing targeting system or that I protected Avenger from ten thousand missiles despite our RSLs. They certainly don’t know that I developed the strategy that defended us from the Parasites… all those accomplishments mean nothing now. I’m starting with only what they’ve heard about during the last battle with Sade. When I step onto that bridge as “The Captain,” every minor action I take today will echo loudly as to what kind of captain I am because that is all these people will know. She took a final, deep breath and swiped her datapad over the portal controls. The panel registered the owner’s identity and turned a compliant green. She walked down the narrow docking tube connecting the planet’s main orbital with CDS Ajax, venerable warhorse of the Seshafian fleet.

  Ajax’s keel had been laid in 917, nearly eighty years ago. Built in the Federation star system of Helwan, the 6,450-tonne ship of the line was designed with a conventional weapons layout. Two Federation Maclex heavy lasers had replaced her ancient directed-energy heavy weapons platforms in 959, six years after the omnipresent GP laser supplanted her twelve smaller beam weapon turrets. Like most fourth-rates built during her era, she lacked missile armament due to size limitations.

  There are fiercer and certainly more modern ships, but this old girl is mine, Vernay thought with an unbridled relish. The airlock doors, having sensed Vernay’s approach, opened obediently and she heard the “Ajax arriving” announcement carry over the warship’s main channel. The declaration brought a smile to her lips. That should put some bodies in motion, she thought wickedly while thinking back to Anelace. Captain Heskan didn’t warn us either when he stepped onboard the ship. Her smile diminished slightly with the nostalgia of remembering Mike Riedel’s frantic run to meet their new captain. It seemed like a dozen lifetimes ago. Ajax’s outer airlock doors closed and her inner doors opened to reveal the interior of the former Brevic officer’s new command.

  “Room, Tench-Hut!” cried the able spaceman attending the airlock control room. Although the Seshafian rank insignia looked strange, it was still recognizable. Seshafi, along with nearly all corporate navies, patterned its ranks after the Solarian Federation. The Brevic Republic, as a breakaway entity of the Federation, followed likewise with the exception of a few, minor differences in its officer rank structure. The relative familiarity brought Vernay a modicum of comfort.

  “At ease, Spaceman,” Vernay replied immediately and in a fashion that bore striking resemblance to her mentor.

  “Lieutenant Commander Ricot is on his way, ma’am,” the spaceman announced as he relaxed only marginally. “If you wanted to wait, that is, ma’am.”

  Vernay looked toward the exit. “I think I can meet him halfway,” she said. “Keep up the good work, sailor.”

  Upon exiting the room, Vernay realized she was uncertain which direction “halfway” was. She stood, alone, in the corridor and debated the best course. To her right was the nearest elevator that would take her to the mid-deck of the ship and its bridge. To the left were most of the officers’ berths. If I was the first officer and I knew my new captain was due to report in soon, I wouldn’t be caught dead in my quarters, she judged and started toward the elevator.

  The petite officer began to encounter more sailors after her hallway emptied into the main corridor that ran the length of Ajax. The looks on the passing sailors usually began with the bewilderment of encountering an u
nfamiliar face on their ship but quickly transformed into surprise as they realized they were getting their first look at their new captain. A few, intrepid souls were able to issue polite, “Captain” greetings before she had passed.

  Each time the honorific rank was offered, her stoic demeanor threatened to collapse into a comical grin. Is this how it feels for every new ship captain, she wondered. The two sailors waiting for the elevator mysteriously decided upon acceptable, alternate routes and Vernay found she stood alone.

  A few more moments later, the chime announced the arrival of the lift and its door peeled back to spit out a Seshafian lieutenant commander dashing from the compartment at full speed. Only Vernay’s agility avoided a collision. The man continued hastily down the corridor while shouting a speedy apology before comprehending his encounter.

  Vernay watched the man’s strides slow then grind to a halt before seeing her first officer’s shoulders slump. Without turning to face Vernay, he asked matter-of-factly, “I just now almost bowled over my new captain, didn’t I?”

  Vernay did not resist this urge to grin. “Yup. Does the rest of the crew race to battle stations as fast as you?”

  “Yes, but without the running people over part.” The man finally turned to face Vernay, his face bright red. He approached her at a more suitable speed and saluted. “Lieutenant Commander Sam Ricot.”

  Vernay returned his salute with a Seshafian salute of her own—it felt strange to her even after practicing for weeks. “Stacy Vernay.” She reached out a hand to him and Ajax’s captain and first officer shook for the first time. “I can’t stay long, Sam, but I couldn’t resist seeing Ajax in person and meeting you. I’ve got sixty minutes before a meeting on the orbital.”

  * * *

  Nearly an hour later, Vernay arrived at a small conference room just before her appointment walked in. “Lieutenant Gables reports as ordered, ma’am.” Gables rendered a precise salute as she stood at attention.