by Britt Ringel
Seemingly privy to Heskan’s thoughts, Lombardi asked quietly, “How far can we run before they catch up to us?”
Heskan turned in his chair sideways to look back at her. “That depends on what you mean by catch up to us.” His eyes drifted to Lieutenant Vernay, sitting dutifully at the auxiliary station. They may not like each other but I need both of their opinions for this, he told himself. He pointed toward the portal on the left side of the bridge. “Komandor, Lieutenant Vernay, please accompany me to the chartroom.”
The trio moved through the cramped walking spaces of the bridge. Like most portals on Hussy, the chartroom’s door opened not by proximity sensors, but by old-fashioned controls on the wall panel next to it. Heskan ushered Lombardi and Vernay inside and quickly passed command authority to Truesworth before stepping inside the room himself.
The chartroom rested directly across the bridge from the captain’s cabin. A throwback to an earlier naval era, the compartment was identical in size to the captain’s cabin and contained barely enough room for the stellar cartography table unit and the four chairs placed around it. Steeped in history, chartrooms were once used by freighter captains to plot courses and compute orbits, trajectories and other associated necessities of stellar travel. However, with advances in technology, those tasks had become easily accomplishable at the navigator’s station on the bridge. Despite the high probability that no captain of Hussy had ever used the chartroom for its original purpose, the ancient freighter had been built during a time when tradition insisted upon its inclusion.
Heskan sat at the end of the table, its worn surface doubling as a stellar map, and Vernay and Lombardi sat on opposite sides. The metaphor in their chosen positions was not lost on him. “To answer your question, Komandor, it will take quite a while for Secretary Brewer to physically catch up to us.” He rubbed his jaw as he spoke. “By the time they noticed we were missing, figured out what we did and got organized to pursue us, I think we’ve got a good five- to seven-hour lead on the team at Anthe. However, tracking us won’t be difficult. We have to file a dive plan at every tunnel point so we’re leaving an easy-to-follow trail.”
Lombardi bobbed her head in full agreement. “It is the same in the Commonwealth. Disappearing in the middle of controlled space is nearly impossible.”
“Unfortunately for us,” Heskan agreed. “If Brewer really is chasing us, his ship is much faster than ours and he will eventually overtake us.”
This time, Vernay dipped her head in dismal acknowledgment. “Even though we’ve made three jumps over the last dozen hours, we’ve really only traveled a little over ninety light-minutes actual distance if you don’t include our tunnel dives.”
“That’s our lead, about ninety light-minutes,” Heskan confirmed. “It will vary a little, of course, depending on exactly when Brewer started after us.”
“How much faster is Brewer’s ship?” Lombardi asked.
Heskan looked at Lombardi dejectedly. “The Emissary-class sloops, really a misnomer considering their build, are capable of a sustained point two-five-C. They’re specialized ships commissioned only for governmental use. Insanely expensive and tunnel-capable.”
Vernay spoke even more plainly. “Komandor, in a straight line pursuit, Brewer would overhaul us in fifteen hours.” Vernay’s mouth curled slightly in a smile as Lombardi’s eyes widened. “And it gets worse,” she added.
Lombardi grimly dipped her head. “Yes, any warning they send regarding Hussy moves at the speed of light and will reach us much faster.”
“Maybe even in this system,” Heskan ventured. “I fear the uncontested portion of our escape is nearly over and that brings me to the topic at hand. What do we do about it?”
* * *
Lieutenant Truesworth was considering a search party for his missing captain when, two hours after Heskan had vanished into the chartroom, he reappeared.
“Status?” Heskan asked as he moved back to the captain’s console.
Truesworth hopped out of the loudly creaking chair, causing him to look backward in surprise before answering, “Everything’s been quiet, Captain. None of the system ships have so much as given us a second glance. I’ve been keeping an eye out for that Envoy sloop at the Lysithea and Titan tunnel points too. So far, nothing.”
“That’s smart thinking, Jack,” Heskan complimented as he sat. He docked his datapad to the console.
“Of course,” Truesworth added, “we’ll only be aware of them when we detect their beacon since we don’t have an operating optical array to actually monitor the tunnel points.”
Vernay took her position at the auxiliary station before asking, “Diane, what’s the queue at the New London tunnel point?”
“Not bad, ma’am, about eleven minutes.”
Heskan stared at the system plot and did the math. Hussy was a little over halfway through her transit across the Bree system. They would be diving in about two hours. We need to send our counter-warning about then.
* * *
Envoy-3’s transition into normal space occurred at 22:41 Bree local time. Secretary Brewer felt the all too familiar disorientation from the dive but refused to remain beholden to it. He rose from his well-padded dignitary’s chair, slightly off-balance, and commanded, “Find them.”
Envoy-3’s captain valiantly shook off the nausea and ordered, “Start with sweeps from the Thalassa tunnel point first; it’s the most likely route they’d take.”
Acknowledgments rang through the sloop’s bridge.
“They must be here, Captain Long,” Brewer stated. “We missed Hussy by less than four hours in Lysithea.” The freighter’s unfortunate escape into the Bree system had opened a Pandora’s box for him. It would now be impossible to conceal from Minister Fane the depth of treachery committed under Brewer’s nose, although the beginnings of an escape plan were coming into shape. It might require the regrettable sacrifice of Assistant Secretary Neal but life preservers went first to the most important when a ship was sinking.
Envoy-3’s dedicated communications officer asked from a side station, “Mr. Secretary, shall I send a comm request to Capital Intelligence?”
“Not yet,” Brewer dismissed with the wave of a hand. “I want Hussy located first.” His eyes scoured the bridge’s system plot for the beacon that would reveal Hussy’s position. Somewhere, in the vastness of Bree’s space, Garrett Heskan was running desperately for his life. His tension surged at the thought of Jacob Heskan’s only son. After your father died, I guided your career and you threw it away. When no admiral would touch you, I gave you Anelace. How could you turn your back on your father’s legacy, Garrett? It was an unknowing betrayal, Brewer understood. Garrett had been merely a toddler when he sat on Brewer’s bouncing knee and but an infant when his mother was killed. Still, Brewer wondered, did your father ever tell you any stories about his service? The Republic had been a different place those many decades ago; simpler in various ways but untamed. Brewer’s eyes focused on Bree’s planetary symbol on the ship’s plot. It was for the best, Brewer justified. The Republic needed people willing to defend her.
“Found it!” the sensorman cried out. “It’s headed toward New London, five light-minutes from the tunnel point.”
Brewer bit down sourly and thought, And now, I am forced to defend my Republic yet again. A lifetime of sacrifices ran through his mind. He thought about his empty home on Bree. Oh, Garrett, you could have honored my legacy. Instead, you slipped a dagger into my back. “Broadcast the alert. Have any military ship in range order them to heave to. Contact those fortresses at the New London tunnel point.”
The communications officer nodded while rapidly inputting commands into her console.
“It’s not going to reach them in time,” the captain said reluctantly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Secretary, but they’ll dive before our message reaches the tunnel point.”
Brewer sank petulantly into his chair at the news. Hussy would dive out in approximately thirty minutes while Envoy-3 was 47lm f
rom her. He looked crossly at the captain. “Set your course to New London via Bree proper, Captain.” Brewer began to pull up New London’s stellar chart as he added determinedly, “And embed that order into the standata. I want that freighter already stopped by the time we dive into New London.” The secretary sat in silent deliberation before dropping his fist onto the arm of his chair like a gavel. After an indomitable nod, he stood and announced, “I’ll be in my office, sending a report to the minister. Notify me immediately of any updates.”
Brewer hardly perceived the chorus of acknowledgments from the bridge crew. They were under his thumb and of no concern to him. He instead thought of the impending conversation as he traveled to his office.
By design, engineers had placed the dignitary’s office on Emissary-class vessels the shortest possible distance from the bridge. The alloy door opened when it sensed Brewer’s presence and he seated himself behind his magnificent oak desk before opening his report concerning the entire Anthe situation. Armed with more favorable knowledge, he spent nearly an hour amending his report to reflect the circumstances in the best possible light before encoding and sending it to the intelligence building in Bree’s capital city. His I.S. secretary code ensured priority delivery status to Minister Fane. With the report dispatched, he began to prepare for his inescapable conversation with the minister once his ship approached Bree.
* * *
Selvaggio used thrusters to maneuver Hussy toward the New London tunnel point. “We’re third in line, Captain, with MT Perseus directly ahead of us. We’ll receive dive clearance in about six minutes.”
Heskan wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. “Jack, embed the counter-warning and synchronize our standata when the next ship dives.”
“That will give them four minutes to stop us,” Lombardi muttered as she closed a hand on the back of Heskan’s chair. In their earlier meeting, she had lobbied hard for Heskan to wait until the last moment to send their contradictory message via standata. However, Heskan had agreed with Vernay, measuring that the risk of having the ship preceding Hussy dive out of Bree before receiving the update was greater than having local authority question the contents.
“It’ll be okay, Izzy. Those tunnel fortresses don’t immediately read every standata update they receive from each passing freighter.” Heskan was not sure if he was speaking more to console her or himself.
“But this is a high priority update from an esteemed commander attached to Republic Internal Security,” Lombardi disputed. “They will read that,” she added with real fear entering her voice. “And I have seen firsthand what your tunnel defense citadels can do to even armored warships.”
“Freighter away,” Selvaggio proclaimed.
“Syncing standata, Captain,” Truesworth echoed.
“In Sponde,” Lombardi recounted with a haunted look on her face, “the first shots from one of your citadels drilled straight through our shields and into Engineering. That opening salvo killed twelve sailors.” Her voice grew distant. “They told me two were hit directly and just… vaporized. Phoenix’s power core was never the same after that hit.”
Heskan was surprised at her rambling but understood it was merely nerves. There was a very real race between the controllers of the New London tunnel point granting clearance for Hussy to dive and the standata update that every ship and orbital around the tunnel point had just received. Isabella is right, Heskan thought. The people on those citadels will read my warning and wonder why the person who transmitted that message is riding on the very vessel the warning covers. There are too many inconsistencies in the message. Republic officials hate inconsistency.
“Can I move Hussy up yet, Jack?” Selvaggio pestered.
“Patience, my navigatrix,” Truesworth replied coolly.
Vernay, absentmindedly tugging at her braid, stated, “Diane, you know you’re to jump no matter what they say, right?”
Selvaggio was about to reply when Truesworth blurted, “We have clearance.”
“Go, Diane!’ Heskan and Vernay exclaimed.
For once, the nausea from diving was a sweet relief.
Chapter 14
“We’ve shifted into tunnel space, Captain,” Selvaggio announced gratefully.
“Ready to sail?” Heskan asked.
Selvaggio gave a quick nod and looked down at her controls. “Aye, sir. Conventional drive is zeroed out; thrusters are inactive.” She used her index and middle finger to slowly push two levers forward. “Deploying our main masts.”
Lateral spurs angled outward from Hussy’s hull, anchoring into a ninety-degree position. Small restraining disks spun lines of energy from each mast to their companion disks attached to Hussy’s sides. Once locked, containment field generators inside each mast shaped energy to extend the mast virtually, several hundred kilometers long.
“Stays are secure. Backstays, shrouds are secure. The masts are secure,” Selvaggio noted. “Extending the mainyards.” She shot a sheepish look at her captain before saying, “I’m just going to use the mainsails in the beginning.”
“Just move us forward, Diane,” Heskan replied.
“Mainyards deployed.” She leaned to one side to scrutinize a console display. “Standing rig is holding.” Satisfied that the virtual connections fastening the ship’s masts and booms were functioning correctly, her hands moved to a second set of controls while she uttered, “Energizing the smartlines.”
Heskan watched the fluid motions of Selvaggio’s skilled hands as she manipulated the console. The smartline controls looked incredibly complicated. Each of the virtual lines was independently controlled and even a minor adjustment to a single line could reshape the entire virtual sail. Similar to wet sailing ships, an improperly adjusted sail could have disastrous influence over the entire vessel.
“Running rig is operative.” Selvaggio took a deep breath. “Here we go. Raising the mainsails.”
Heskan could not help but notice the wide grin on his navigator’s face. The nostalgia was not lost on him. Hussy rocked to port and her bow began to dip unnervingly forward. Around the bridge, Heskan saw white knuckles universally clutching at whatever was available to act as braces. He resisted the compulsion to harass Selvaggio for more information.
“Sorry,” she muttered while quickly working the smartline controls.
The ship gradually smoothed out although Heskan could still feel a slight sway to the old girl.
“I did it,” Selvaggio quietly congratulated herself. She appraised her status display. “We’re moving, Captain. Point oh-six-C and I think I can trim the sails for even more speed after a few minutes.” Selvaggio’s grin was wider than ever.
“Fantastic work, Diane,” Heskan offered. To his left, he heard Vernay issue her own compliments while Lombardi remarked about a job well done. After the acclamations were awarded, Heskan asked, “Will adding the topsails push us to point one-C?”
Selvaggio nodded eagerly. “Definitely, and we won’t even need the topgallants. I bet this ship could make nearly point one-five-C in normal space with all six sails.” The topgallants were the third sails on each lateral mast, positioned farthest from the freighter. Although smaller than the mainsails and topsails, their position on the extreme edges of the masts added control difficulty given the inconsistent and compressed solar pressure encountered in tunnel space. Hussy’s ability to travel at the maximum speed of .1c in tunnel space without resorting to the spirited outermost sails was a considerable relief to all.
The efficiency of Hussy’s light sail was no surprise to Heskan. There’s a reason that a lot of freighters still use light sails today, he mused. We’re cruising at almost a tenth the speed of light with hardly any tax on our power core. “Okay, Diane, when you’re ready, raise the topsails. After we’re at speed, call down and bring those two prospective navigators to your station and teach them everything they need to know to keep us shipshape.” He then announced to the entire bridge, “We’re all strung out from the escape but we’re safe, for now. We
have almost six days in t-space to recover so let’s make sure we rest and we’re ready to run when we hit New London.”
* * *
As Envoy-3 made way toward the tunnel to New London, Secretary Brewer was answering to his superior. Minister Fane’s winsome face was attractive even in its seventies. Framed by impeccably coiffed silver hair, it seemed only natural to Brewer that such an important position of power had been seized by such a charismatic figure. Only her cold, jade eyes hinted at the ruthlessness of the person behind them. Fane had not always carried the title, Minister of Intelligence, but she had always possessed the brutal, cold-blooded nature of a viper.
The aged woman held up a thin hand to stop Brewer in mid-sentence. After many seconds of silence, she cautioned, “Don’t mistake patience for weakness, Sebastian.” That was all she said. It was all she needed to.
“I’ll stop him, Madam Minister,” Brewer promised.
“You had better, Mr. Secretary.” The barest expression of annoyance flickered across her noble face. “This… experiment of yours ends now. I never understood it and I should never have allowed it.”
“I understand, Madam Minister,” Brewer said penitently.
“No, you don’t!” Fane spat in a rare outburst of emotion. “That entire line is nothing but traitors to the Republic. We should have extinguished it long ago.”
Brewer nodded regretfully. “Naturally, you are correct. I only hoped that…”
“Sebastian,” the minister said in a gentle tone, “I know, better than anyone, the ties you have to that family.” The slim hand reappeared on the screen as slight fingers tapped near her bejeweled neck. “I share those bonds with you.”
The matriarch sighed. “We go back a long way and even though you created this problem, I don’t blame you for it. However, I will hold you accountable for how you choose to solve it.”