by Britt Ringel
The CEO tapped his foot impatiently and glared at Wallace. After thirty seconds, the Seshafian fleet commander made her terms clear. “I want four times the usual ransom and assurances that AmyraCorp will not be attacked once your ships are repaired, Archduke. Fifteen years of peace.”
Dunmore winced at the offer but his dreams of a speedy hostile takeover had long since shattered. “Twice the ransom and five years,” he countered instinctively.
Another interminable silence prevailed until the reply came. “Ten years… and you will surrender Admiral Wallace to Seshafian custody.”
Wallace gasped. “Your Grace, certainly you would never consider caving to such absurd demands!”
Dunmore glowered at the Red Admiral as he answered Vernay. “Done, Commander. These negotiations have concluded.” He motioned abruptly to cut off the channel.
Wallace pounded at the holo-tank’s command console in disbelief. “Archduke, what you’ve agreed to is unprecedented! It’s an outrage! Never before has an admiral been forced to be subjugated like a common prisoner during post-battle negotiations. You can’t possibly give me up… think of the standard you’ll set.”
Dunmore put a reassuring hand upon the Red Admiral’s shoulder. He patted the man to calm him as he smiled callously. “But, Oliver, I have given up no one. You promised IaCom that you would do anything to protect her. You provided us those assurances but proved unequal to the task we gave you. Now our needs have changed. This is what you must do to protect us. Do your duty, Oliver, nothing more.”
Wallace’s jaw dropped, and hung there.
“IaCom will remember your noble sacrifice, Oliver,” Dunmore assured. “And your name will be written into the annals of our corporate history.” He gestured toward the exit. “You had best collect any belongings, Viscount. Your shuttle departs in twenty minutes.”
Epilogue
The synthetic soles of her boots mitigated Denise Gables’ heavy footsteps. Although it had taken over half a year to adjust to her prosthetics, her walk now looked completely natural. Shortening the length of the cybernetic feet by six millimeters had made all the difference. Only the weight of her steps betrayed the seeming casualness to her pace. She wore a blue flight suit with lightning bolts wrapping around its legs. Running down the shoulders was not the rank insignia she had grown accustomed to but the words “Dunnings Racing.”
The experimental fighter program conceived by AmyraCorp and Unadex had flamed out. There were too many technical hurdles that required far too many credits to clear, and cost was not the only barrier. The carnage her fighter wing had endured while defending Seshafi served as the ultimate deterrent. The executives of each corporation had weighed the costs and benefits and promptly shelved the concept of fighters on the corporate battlefield. Gables was facing the dissolution of her piloting career and her inevitable return to Operations with a lagging enthusiasm when a Dunnings representative approached her a week after the battle of “Second Seshafi” with an unexpected proposition. She declined Dunnings’ initial invitation, a role as a test pilot in their research and design division. The explanation she offered: it was too dangerous. Dunnings’ second proposal guaranteed her not only the lead pilot’s position on its racing team but a job as spokeswoman as well. She had accepted the offer immediately on the condition that she could maintain her Seshafian citizenship. Dunnings had approved the simple request and sent her an interview schedule within ten minutes of the agreement. Her first interview would be, naturally, with IaCom’s Chase Fuller.
The resignation of her commission had been met with a mixture of excitement and sorrow from her friends. Ultimately, they were happy she was following her passion and remaining a pilot. When she had informed Chief Brown, the gruff man had hugged her like a father and told her how proud he was of what she had become. The encounter had left her teary-eyed.
Gables spied her destination and she approached the faux-wooden door at the end of the hall. She knocked rapidly on the door but entered a moment later. “Jack, you in here?”
Truesworth, garbed in civilian clothes, was packing items from his desk into a box. “You just caught me, Denise.” He lifted the base of a small holographic projector and added it to his collection. After a quick look around the office, he began to close the container.
“You sure I can’t talk you out of this?” Gables asked. “It’s not too late.”
“Yes it is,” he said matter-of-factly. “You weren’t in the room when I resigned my commission.”
Gables paled slightly. “What did you do?”
Truesworth shrugged lightly and lifted the box to test its weight. “The admiral gave me permission to speak freely, so I did.”
“Uh-oh. What did you say?”
He cast her a sideways look and answered stiffly, “Just the truth, that his decision to put Ravana in the rearguard killed the woman I loved. He may as well have fired those lasers himself.” Truesworth might have wanted to say more but he paused. His head dipped down and he brought a trembling hand to his face.
Gables’ voice became tender. “She died to save you, Jack. She loved you so much that your life was more important to her than her own.”
“Not just me,” Truesworth said, squeezing the corners of his eyes with his fingers. “She saved Tyler Pruette too. He was Dash’s WEPS.” His voice grew distant. “She saved everyone.”
Gables stepped around the desk to stand by her friend. She reached out and took his hand. “She was wonderful, wasn’t she? Are you sure you want to leave the star system she died protecting?”
Truesworth sniffed lightly before answering. “I have to. There’s nothing left for me here. I’ve already bought my way into Catalina’s Iron Brigade and I’m hitching a ride on Uhlan when it ships out tomorrow.”
“To more war?” Gables asked dubiously. “Is that what you want?”
Truesworth dropped his hand and cleared his throat. He answered staunchly, “It’s what I need. I have to get away from here. Everyone here reminds me of her.”
“I understand,” Gables accepted with gloomy resignation. She wrapped her arms around her friend in a tight embrace. “Be safe, Jack. I know Diane will be watching over you.”
* * *
Stacy Vernay looked over her shoulder at her empty office. She had never really personalized it after turning over command of battered Ajax two weeks ago. The windowless room seemed foreign to her as she scanned it a final time not with nostalgia but merely to ensure she had removed all her belongings. Her hand swiped over the panel near the door and the lights winked out, casting a gloom over the space alleviated by the dim light spilling in from the door.
After her final check, she stepped out of the office and into the hulking form of Andrew Brown. The collision knocked her backward a half step but strong hands caught her shoulders.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” Brown apologized. “Didn’t expect you to be goin’ out when I was comin’ in.” The grey-haired man smiled as he took in Vernay. “What you all gussied up fer?”
Vernay looked self-consciously down at her service dress. She had spent the last minutes inside her office changing into the formal uniform. She groped for an explanation but Brown granted her a reprieve.
“Nevermind, Commander,” he said. “Guess it’s true then.”
“What, Chief?”
“I was comin’ here to see if it was fact that they offered you promotion to capt’n an’ you told them you’d have to think about it.” The chief’s eyes danced over her uniform again and up to her face. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”
“Why’s that?”
Brown smiled knowingly. “I’ve seen that look before, ma’am.”
Vernay shook her head but knew there was no denying it. Instead, she smiled faintly and asked, “When do they teach enlisted how to read minds?”
“Senior NCO Academy,” he said as he turned away. Brown took two steps but stopped. “You wouldn’t leave without sayin’ goodbye to me, would you, ma’am?”
&nbs
p; The simple expression of friendship drove a spike through Vernay’s heart. “I hope I’m not going anywhere, Chief.”
Brown resumed his walk away from Vernay. “Good luck, Commander.”
“To you as well, Master Chief.”
Brown held up three fingers in triumph. There was real glee in his voice. “Just three more months an’ a wake up.”
* * *
The back brace constricted his breathing and made him sweat. Even with the temperature of his office turned down to arctic levels, the skin pushing against the rigid material felt like a swamp. It’s more like a tourniquet, Heskan groused. Making matters worse, his surgically repaired left shoulder had been frozen into place by neural inhibiters that would not wear off for another week. At least I’ve got legitimate excuses for cancelling my afternoon interviews, he thought with a smile. Technically, I should be going home. Naval doctors had limited his duty day to a maximum of four hours.
He knew he had been lucky. Clayton Covington was still in a hospital recovering from the horrific injuries his lungs had received when Hawk’s bridge decompressed and his shocksuit had failed to pressurize. Still, the young Seshafian would survive and, after several months of recuperation, be certified fit for duty. His father had made it his mission to convince the young man to medically retire. His mother was busy desperately trying to prevent his younger sister’s enlistment into Seshafi’s marines.
Heskan smiled wistfully, remembering the praise lavished upon him by the CEO and his wife. The elder Covington insisted that his admiral had saved the entire corporation and ensured it would have more than adequate time to prevent a third takeover attempt by IaCom. The navy had succeeded and protected every Seshafian’s home, even at such a terrible price.
The memory brought Heskan’s thoughts to his own home by the sea, filling him with mixed emotions. It was finally completed and fully furnished. The house was incredible. Incredibly spacious, incredibly panoramic, incredibly empty.
A distinct knock jolted him from morose contemplation. He glanced at his datapad to check his schedule. It was also empty. “Enter,” he said loudly. Whoever you are, he added to himself.
The portal opened to reveal an immaculately dressed Commander Vernay at the threshold. Her service dress immediately captured Heskan’s attention and he felt a dread riding just underneath his pleasure at seeing her.
Vernay moved past the closing door and took precise steps to come to rest one meter from Heskan’s desk before rendering an impeccable, Brevic salute. Her motion was measured and deliberate, as if she was savoring something she would never do again. “Commander Stacy Vernay reports to make a statement, Admiral.”
Heskan felt his heart rate increase at the peculiar greeting. He returned her salute. “Be at ease, Stacy.”
Vernay remained at attention. “Thank you, sir, but it’s easier this way.” She took a deep breath as if steadying herself. “Admiral, it is my duty to report my knowledge of an unprofessional relationship.”
At first, Heskan refused to believe his ears. As he parsed through her unexpected words, his stomach churned at the mention of the dreaded “UPR.” He leaned forward and sighed. “Who is it, Commander?”
Cerulean eyes dropped fractionally to meet Heskan’s. Her face struggled for control. “It’s me, Garrett, and I’m resigning my commission.”
Heskan was shocked into incomprehension. “Wait. What?” He shook his head. “Wait. Stacy, start over. I’m not hearing you right.”
A single, large tear rolled down Vernay’s face. Her entire body trembled slightly. “I’m trapped, Garrett. My feelings for you cloud my professional judgment, and since I can’t change them, I’m changing my profession.”
The impact of her confession floored him into silence. He stared stupidly at the woman in front of him before opening his mouth to speak.
Vernay cut him off. “You don’t have to say anything. I don’t want you to say anything. It’s not fair coming to you like this.” She sniffed and broke her position of attention to swipe angrily at her cheek. “It’s not fair to either of us but I can’t go on like this, Garrett. I can’t be your dutiful, dispassionate lieutenant any longer. I’m not an automaton. I’m a woman and I’m in love with you.”
“Stacy,” Heskan started but stopped short when she waved her hand.
“Stop. I’ve ambushed you and anything you say you might regret later.” She took a step away. “I told you that I was finished after this battle, Garrett. I promised myself that and I’m keeping that promise. I’m quitting but I’m quitting with my head held high.” She managed a smile. “It’s been the greatest honor of my life to have you standing next to me. There’s not a corner in this universe I wouldn’t willingly follow you to.” Her voice choked again and she took another raspy, deep breath. “That’s why I can’t stay in Seshafi. I can’t be here, with you but not with you.” She looked into Heskan’s eyes a final time and paused. Blue eyes drank in every detail of him. “My shuttle’s scheduled to leave in an hour and I’ve booked a transport to Syntyche… I really treasured our time there. Goodbye, Garrett Heskan.”
Before Heskan could speak, the petite woman who had been a constant at his side offered her final salute and escaped from his office.
Heskan was left alone. The hum of the air conditioning replaced the sound of Vernay’s melodic voice. He thought back to the first time he met her on Anelace and how their relationship blossomed while on Kite. She had saved his life on that ship in Perdita and saved his soul when they reached Anthe. She had grown too, grown from a junior officer who doubted her own, astounding abilities to the woman who had just taken complete charge of her life. His memories turned to Vernay’s devastating smile and the tantalizing femininity the woman could exude when the mood struck her. Each of these memories filled his heart with a warm glow. When his vision turned away from those memories and onto his datapad, he remembered that he was just about to leave the office for his home. His quiet, empty home.
A sense of urgency forced him to rise from his chair, not like a man recently released from a hospital but a man desperately chasing his future. He reached the door and impatiently squeezed through before the portal could fully open. In the hall, he burst into a dead run, ignoring the protests shooting through his back. He ran toward a possibility he had never realized yet felt so obvious, and a happiness he knew could fill an entire lifetime.
The door slid closed behind Garrett Heskan, with a smooth, quiet efficiency one would expect from a rear admiral’s office.
Thank you for your loyalty
This concludes the original This Corner of the Universe series. It’s been quite a learning experience for me and I thank you for your patience as I went through the process of becoming an author.
Garrett Heskan, Stacy Vernay and the entire crew have been a part of my life for several years now and it’s hard to let them go. However, I think it’s necessary. Heskan and company have earned a nice break from mortal danger.
So what is next?
You’ve undoubtedly noticed by now that I place the title of my next book into the one I wrote before it. The obvious exception was my very first book, although I inserted “this corner of the universe” very early in that one too (the second to last paragraph of Chapter 3, to be exact). My next book’s title is comfortably resting inside the ninety seven thousand plus words of the novel you just finished.
So when does the next book come out and what’s it about?
That’s harder to answer. You see, three novels are competing for my attention. The first is something completely different from sci-fi. Now, I, personally, hate it when an author I read makes a genre jump, but this is a novel I’ve been dying to write for a couple years now. It might be time. Lawrence (see my list of beta readers) also once told me, “Show them you can write something other than science fiction.” He has a point.
The other two possibilities are closer to what you might expect. Both options are sci-fi and reside within the TCOTU universe. The most obvious
project moves forward and addresses the unanswered questions left in Heskan’s wake. When I wrote the TCOTU series, I was insistent on sticking with Garrett Heskan. It was his story. The side effect was to leave a number of storylines open. One of them probably bugs you as much as it does me (see what I did there?).
I’m determined to answer those major questions and the story in my head is just dying to come out. However, for reasons that will become obvious if you eventually read that series, the story has not yet ripened. So I will let it mature on the vine while I work on other projects.
Project Two inside the sci-fi realm is similar to the first but works backward. The Brevic Republic has an interesting and rich history that’s given it a notorious reputation among the other major governments. Given Heskan’s family and the dealings he’s had with other characters in the TCOTU series, I believe there is plenty of room for a prequel with interesting ties to the series you’ve just read. I relish the thought of future moments where readers of that prequel who have read the original series are rewarded with gems that make them think back to TCOTU and say, “DAMN,” as they realize that a character’s reaction or discussion of a past event was directly correlated to what they’ve just read. My goal has always been to reward my readers’ loyalty and make sure that books they have read in the past have meaning in the books they’re currently reading. I believe doing it in reverse (in a prequel series) would be a very challenging experience.
So when will the next book come out?
Good question. Maybe Summer of 2016? A break would be nice and help recharge the batteries. However, I enjoy writing too much to stay away for long. If you’re really curious as to when you can expect a new book, please visit thiscorneroftheuniverse.com. You can also follow me on Facebook or Twitter (the links are on the website). I’d love to hear your opinions on what you’d like to read next!
