Duty and Obligation

by Sean Benjamin

  Hochstadt nodded. “After this little escapade, good luck with trying to convince me.” She turned to Bergman. “Since Green Squadron is coming out of vacuum anyway, I don’t want to do anything in response to this.” She gave him a hard look. “Kurt, you got any friends in Green Squadron?”

  Bergman nodded. “A classmate is the squadron logistics officer.”

  “Backdoor the warning that Muller is going to get to talk about this array attack in detail. He needs to have really good answers.”

  Bergman nodded and departed. Dietrich looked at Hochstadt. “You’re not going to fire him?”

  She shook her head. “He will have to abandon the convoy idea. It ties up too many resources. You go light on the convoy escort; Hawkins hits the convoy. You go heavy, Hawkins hits somewhere else. I don’t have extra ships to give to anyone so that is not an answer. I don’t want to be seen as giving in to the corporate screamers who will be after Muller. The fact is, there are probably large stretches of time when the array was open to attack before the convoys even started. We can’t be everywhere.” She thought for a moment and then said “Hell with it.” She reached into the still open drawer and brought out the whiskey bottle.

  Chapter 46

  Raylen Whiting had gone to Albert Cunningham’s hotel room and briefed him on the loss of three more modified ships. Cunningham had responded with the demand for a meeting with Whiting and his five district chiefs for the next morning.

  Now it was morning, and Albert Cunningham returned to the regional manager’s office for his second and last visit. The same six people were there as demanded. Cunningham took the chair that had been left vacant for him at the head of the conference table. He looked at the regional manager and the five district managers seated around the table.

  He smiled and said, “You’re all fired.”

  As the people stared at him in surprise, the door opened behind them and eight Lorelei planetary police walked in. The man at the head of the crowd said, “We have Aurora Empire warrants sworn out by Captain Lisa Cassidy for the arrests of the six of you on slave running charges.”

  Nobody at the table moved as the newcomers spread around the table so one person was behind each of the regional officers. The six arrestees looked at each other and then the five district managers looked at Whiting. He sat and stared at Cunningham. “You had to be talking to this Captain Cassidy about this situation for her to be making out warrants. You would sacrifice us?”

  Cunningham shook his head. “There is no sacrifice here. You know what you did, and you knew it was wrong. You hatched that plan for your own reasons and your own profit. You knew there is no possible way we would have condoned such actions so you hid them from us until you couldn’t.”

  Whiting went wide-eyed as he saw the future and his lack of having one. “We’ll take you down with us! You have to help us. You can get us back to the Empire and try us there.”

  Cunningham shook his head. “No chance. This is entirely your scheme done here. You get the consequences here. You can swear that you were under orders or the plan came from us as part of your defense. Do whatever you want. There is no evidence of that because it didn’t happen that way, so we aren’t worried about that in the slightest. In fact, we will be turning over all we have to the authorities, and I will be testifying about what you have told me since I arrived here.”

  Cunningham stood up. “It’s over and the bill is due. You’re paying it in full with no help from us. Good luck with that.”

  He walked out the door.

  ~ ~ ~

  At the same time as the arrests on Lorelei, Douglas Cunningham rose in the Upper House on Zelenka. He was about to do something extremely distasteful but necessary. Apologies were never his strong suit and never his first course of action, but there was no way around this. The news stories had been out for more than two weeks—first the capture of the ship, then the attempted killing of the captain, and then the trail of that captain had kept the saga fresh. Cunningham knew these tales would not go away on their own. He had too many enemies for that. He had not responded to the stories as he waited to see how this episode played out in the Badlands. His brother’s report about there being eight ships had told him all he needed to know about how this would go. For the foreseeable future, this story would have legs as further new developments would keep it in the media. Once found, the eight ships modified to carry slaves would be the next chapter to be written up by the press. With the extreme distance and resulting time lag, there was no way to stay ahead of the story. For all Cunningham knew, some of those ships could have already been discovered and taken by authorities there. The only way to be safe was to confess all. He had to get ahead of this tidal wave before it smashed him and his company to bits. The time to do that was now.

  Cunningham raised his arms in supplication as he addressed the assembly. “Friends and comrades, I come to you with a sad confession. As you know, our family business is centered on our corporation Aeonian Conglomerate. It has been reported in the media that an AC ship has been modified to carry slaves in the far-off section of space known as the Badlands. Unfortunately, these reports are true. Also, unfortunately, they fall short of giving the true picture of the situation. Point of fact is there were eight modified ships. They have all been taken out of service at this time. When the reports first surfaced, we here at home were completely taken by surprise. My brother immediately went to the Badlands to see the situation first hand and take the appropriate corrective actions. I can report to you he has had the chief perpetrators arrested and is actively assisting law enforcement and the Royal Navy in getting all the guilty parties brought to justice. He will not return until we are satisfied that justice is being dispensed to all who deserve it. I hope and pray that Measure 200 will be applied with vigor to all these criminals.

  “We are indebted to the Royal Navy and Raferty Hawkins, Duke of Black Hallow, as it was their combined efforts that uncovered the first ship and brought this despicable matter to light. Their dedication and bravery in the performance of their duties cannot be overstated.

  “Needless to say, my family and all our company officers are appalled at these developments and we beg your indulgence as we work to overcome this black stain on our reputation. I realize this body has to address this issue, and I stand ready to accept any sanction you feel is justified by the situation. Thank you.”

  Cunningham sat down as the peers began to talk among themselves about this startling confession. Instead of fighting this, Cunningham confessing the sins done by others in his employ had taken his critics by surprise. He had briefed his allies on his speech, and they had pledged their support when the time for sanctions was discussed. Cunningham was assured that his friends would bring out the fact that he and his brother were totally unaware of events in the Badlands and should not suffer undue punishment for the mistakes of employees far away. As everyone in the chamber knew, good help was hard to find. Cunningham was confident that the punishment would be some form of censor and little more. He could live with that. Besides, the anticipated victory in the first large offensive of the war would overwhelm this petty little problem and that would be that.

  Epilog

  Baron Ernst Hochstadt sat at the bar in the Hideaway. He was alone in the building. With no company to entertain, he entertained himself by drinking heavily. He had received the word of his new assignment to Rialta from his mother. She had impressed upon him as to how lucky he was. Ernst knew that was true, but he didn’t feel particularly lucky at the moment. He had to look up Rialta in the database. There were worse places for exile, but Rialta was damn far away. Of course, that was the point of it all.

  He reflected on his affair with Carlotta. From the very start, he knew it was stupid, but it had been exciting. The excitement came from the danger and that danger did him in. Now he would be gone for decades, or, maybe, for the remainder of his life. No woman is worth that, but he didn’t do a cost/benefit analysis at the beginning of their affair. He
was too busy getting undressed. Yep, stupid.

  He looked around the well-appointed room within this well-appointed residence. He would miss this. His social status had changed, and he already missed that. That change had happened immediately. Old friends and acquaintances alike were avoiding him. Several business arrangements were terminated by the other involved parties as the Baron would be too far away to “participate in a direct and meaningful way.” That was another way of saying the Baron had no royal influence anymore so was no longer a necessary or desirable business partner.

  Even the women had vanished. The majority of his companions were of the high social classes so always had their noses in the wind to detect the slightest change in the social order. Of course, his case was not a mere breeze but a raging storm, so the women had all gone to ground in an instant, never to be heard from again. He had hoped his newest interest, Gabrielle, would not be so well informed on such events or so wedded to the social order to really care about his recent setback. She was a sweet woman who seemed to like him for himself, and he had hopes she would be with him for the five days he had left on Vorfreude. He had gone to see her two days ago only to find her apartment empty. A visit to the landlord had revealed she had moved out three days prior, citing a family emergency as requiring a return to her home planet in the Edinburgh Systems. It came to him he did not know what planet that was. In fact, he knew damn little about her as he realized he had talked mostly about himself during their conversations. He was surprised by that as he prided himself on showing interest in his lady companions so as to duly impress them with his caring attitude. It hadn’t happened that way in this instance. As he reviewed their interactions, it almost seemed as if she knew how to play that same game and was better at it than he was. He shrugged as he dismissed that silly notion. She was just a sweet, simple girl who was impressed by him, and he had let himself prattle on too much about his own life. It was nothing more than that.

  Hochstadt shrugged. It didn’t matter now. He would file the Gabrielle mystery in his memory right next to the mystery about who wrote the story of his affair with Carlotta. Despite his uncle’s best efforts, nothing had come from the search for the sources of that sordid tale. He wasn’t surprised. It had happened to many people before and would happen again. He was just one of countless media victims, and there was nothing to be done about it.

  He drained his glass and reached for the bottle of scotch to refill it. Halfway through the gesture he paused, pushed the glass out of the way, and drank directly from the bottle.

  ~ ~ ~

  The OrCon battle squadron at Excandor had been caught unaware by the approaching Royal Navy fleet but had organized well with the two hours of advanced notice given by their sensors. The ships had taken up positions behind the wrecked floating batteries that had been destroyed at the beginning of the war while other ships were playing hide and seek behind the planet itself. Although greatly outnumbered, they did not attempt to run.

  The Zekes were coming in from two directly opposite directions, so the hide and seek game would be of limited use to the defenders. That also meant the Zeke forces could not support each other if the unexpected occurred.

  “We’ll be in firing range in thirty minutes,” reported Mackenzie’s operations officer from his station behind the captain’s chair.

  “Roger that,” replied Skyler Mallory. She had the sensor readouts on her screen now. The heavily damaged base was devoid of all freighter traffic despite reports of such vessels being there only hours prior. If the OrCon freighters had just fled based on sensor readings, they would be on the screens of the Zekes now. The OrCons may have received some advance warning before their sensors picked up the incoming Zekes, but if so, that OrCon squadron should have run also. Since the outnumbered OrCons had time to leave, deciding to make a stand here didn’t make any sense. Mallory began to get an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. There was something here, something bad. If she was in command, she would have stopped closing on target and maneuvered to unite the two attacking forces. Of course, if she was in command, she never would have come up with this plan or this target to begin with.

  Now the unexpected occurred. The OrCon squadron hiding at Excandor turned and ran directly at Task Force One. Sky watched them run from her group as orders came in to begin pursuit. Excandor was open now, but that was irrelevant. It was clear something was afoot, and Task Force One would bear the brunt of the surprise about to be sprung. Mallory and the rest of Task Force Two chased the OrCon squadron but were twenty-eight minutes from the missile engagement envelope. Despite the Royal Navy ships being faster, a quick computation showed the OrCons would engage TF1 before TF2 could support.

  The young ops officer behind Mallory spoke. “TF1 still has that OrCon squadron outnumbered.”

  The wonder in his voice told Mallory the young man did not see the second shoe that was about to drop. She said, “That’s true right now, but I bet there is an OrCon force about to exit subspace, and it will be a big one.”

  As if on cue, dozens of OrCon vessels emerged from subspace behind Task Force One as the OrCon squadron was closing on them from the other direction. A second group of OrCon ships emerged near their Excandor squadron. Any ideas of TF1 running through the OrCon Excandor squadron and then joining TF2 just went away.

  The OrCons were doing just what the Zekes had wanted to do: trapping a smaller force between two converging forces. The difference was the two OrCon forces could provide mutual support. It was clear that TF1 was going to take a pounding. Task Force 2 was moving at flank speed to assist their comrades, but they wouldn’t arrive in time to prevent serious damage.

  Captain Mallory turned her chair to look at the operations officer. “We’ve been had,” she said simply and then added in a quiet voice, “And we did it to ourselves.” The young commander nodded. Mallory took a deep breath. There was no way this would end well for her side. The entire OrCon force was concentrated on a portion of the Royal Navy force. After they annihilated TF1, they would turn on TF2. Even knowing that, Task Force 2 could not run. They had to do what they could to support their comrades even though it wouldn’t be enough.

  ~ ~ ~

  The Hitching Post bar in the small town of Crossroads on the small planet of Silverdale had a small group of people partaking of the establishment’s hospitality. Owner/bartender Jeb Sloan and one waitress were the only staffers needed for this quiet afternoon. The bar was doing a good business considering the time of day. Five men and one woman sat at a table drinking and laughing. A man and a woman drank quietly in a corner. Two men sat at the bar talking with Jeb. Another man and woman came in and sat down. Immediately following that pair was a lone woman with a wolf hallie on her face. She nodded at Sloan as she walked in front of the bar toward the laughing group at the table. She stopped next to their table and calmly reached to the small of her back to retrieve a shooter stuck in the waistband of her pants.

  Horst Manstein and his five gang members did not at first react to Killian O’Hare’s presence as they were entertaining themselves. They had been holed up in Crossroads for weeks and the long period of relaxation, coupled with the lack of a threat from the town’s people, had dulled their sense of self-preservation. O’Hare waited patiently for the party to notice her.

  Manstein suddenly became startled as he became aware of her close presence by his side, and the sudden change in his demeanor instantly flowed to his companions. They stared up at her as she smiled down at them while keeping the shooter pressed to her leg, out of sight.

  Manstein returned the smile and revealed a mouthful of crooked, stained teeth. “Killian O’Hare.” He paused as he transferred his attention to his people. “Looky here. We’re meetin’ a living legend.”

  His people gave the expected reaction by laughing as he looked back up at her. He could afford to be brave as it was six to one right now. He smiled and talked with a smug tone. “Come to pay your respects? If so, you have to buy a round of drinks to make u
s believe you.”

  O’Hare shook her head. “Nah, respect is for the dead.” She paused and then added, “Wait, I don’t do that either.”

  She brought her weapon into open view and the other people in the bar pulled weapons also. In a blink of an eye, Manstein and his people were covered by six more shooters held by Cody and his death squad, the only other patrons in the place at that moment. The lone bar maid hurriedly left the room. Jeb Sloan put his elbows on the bar and leaned forward, glad to have a perfect view. Manstein and his gang had been abusing people in town for a while now, and Sloan had no problem with the upcoming course of action.

  Manstein slid his hand toward his weapon on his belt as he talked fast with a different tone in his voice. “No reason for this! We have never had a fight with you or Raferty Hawkins!”

  O’Hare’s eyes followed his hand movement with no great concern. He wouldn’t get there in time. She smiled again. “True, but I did promise my sister a wedding present.”

  She started shooting.

  Glossary

  Admin - Administrative.

  AOR - See area of responsibility.

  Area of responsibility - A geographical area assigned to a military unit to secure and control. Commonly referred to by its initials AOR.

  ASAP - As soon as possible.

  Bogey - An unknown sensor contact. Friend or foe still to be determined. Sometimes spelled bogie.

  Bulkhead - Naval term for a wall, in particular the walls of a ship dividing the ship into compartments.

  Burgh - Edinburgh solar systems and the natives thereof.

  Chairman of the military establishment - Highest uniformed person in the Aurora armed forces. Commonly referred to as the CME, pronounced See Me.