Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe)

by Britt Ringel

  Heskan felt his arms break out in gooseflesh at the implications. He always held a suspicion that someone with clout had given him a second chance after Derringer. He wanted to believe that it was someone with close ties to Captain West but doubts now crept into his mind. What’s more likely, Garrett, that one of West’s friends looked out for you after the mutiny or that this man has been watching over you? Reluctantly, Heskan accepted the truth. He swallowed hard before speaking. “You did all this because of Dad?”

  Brewer answered forcefully. “I did so because the Republic owed his legacy more than what it had given.” Brewer raised a liver-spotted hand to his chest as he spoke. “When none would touch you, I chose, at personal risk, to breathe second life into you.”

  “I’m not responsible for your choices, Mr. Secretary; just my own.”

  Brewer nodded. “That is correct, Garrett, but the choice you’re making now is with only half the information. You’re unknowingly destroying everything your father fought for, everything that he died to protect.” Brewer closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he reopened them, there was an urgency that Heskan had not seen in those eyes since the bridge of Derringer. “We’re running out of time, Garrett. You’re running out of chances. Please, don’t dishonor your father like this.”

  Heskan’s throat tightened. “Was he an honorable man?”

  Heskan saw Brewer’s eyes cast downward. It was the expression of a man not searching for the truth but yearning to make sense of it. Finally, Brewer said, “I did everything I could to prevent his undoing, Garrett. I want you to know that.” His voice grew quiet. “I failed him just as I am failing his son.”

  The monitor screen was getting blurry for Heskan. His voice wavered, “Did he die for what he believed in?”

  Brewer stared hard at Heskan as he considered the question. “Your father died in defense of the Republic. His final sacrifice, just one in a lifetime of sacrifices, strengthened the Republic to what it is today. You’re destroying what he fought to protect, everything that he, and your mother, gave their lives defending.” Wrinkled hands clasped each other in what may have been a plea. “Don’t betray the Republic, Garrett. Don’t betray your father.”

  Heskan felt as if he were tumbling in space. With his foundation thoroughly ripped from underneath him, his thoughts turned to his only anchor. “I can’t betray the people I’ve saved. They’re all I have left.”

  “I won’t force you to, son,” Brewer promised. “Put yourself in a lifeboat. I promise on your father’s grave that the Republic will not search for your friends. Otherwise…” Brewer frowned regretfully. “Otherwise, I will have to find you, all of you. I may not be able to pursue you today, Garrett, but you haven’t won.”

  “Garrett,” Lombardi whispered desperately at Heskan. Her head was shaking forcefully, eyes pleading. “No.”

  “I know I haven’t won, Mr. Secretary. This time, we both lose.” Heskan looked miserably to Lombardi for support; her joyless smile still buoyed him. He cleared his throat and regarded Brewer with a renewed strength. “I would give myself to you if I thought it served more than your best interests.”

  “My interests,” Brewer responded, “are the defense of the Republic… just like your father’s were.”

  Heskan’s datapad chirped. Lieutenant Vernay’s voice came through it. “Captain, we’re ready to dive.”

  Heskan’s shoulders slumped. Out of time, he thought dolefully. What if this man could answer all my questions? Fortifying himself with a deep breath, he activated the bridge channel and spoke gravely to both Brewer and Vernay. “Sebastian, I believe you but I can’t trust you.”

  Brewer’s jaw dropped fractionally as a shiver ran through him.

  “Stacy, dive the ship.”

  The nausea mercifully supplanted Heskan’s turmoil. As Hussy steadied herself in tunnel space, Heskan cursed the subsiding disorientation. The penumbra of earlier emotion reasserted itself leaving him shaking. It was obvious to Heskan that his father had hidden much of his past. Why would he do that? Was he ashamed of what he did? I thought my father was a man of integrity. How could he have worked with Brewer? Heskan retreated so deeply into his mind that he jumped when a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

  “Garrett,” Lombardi whispered.

  “None of this makes sense,” Heskan confided. “Maybe my father wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

  “Do not let him shake your belief, Garrett,” Lombardi replied somberly.

  “But,” he protested, “Brewer wasn’t lying. That much was obvious. If my father helped make the Republic what it is today, then I have truly disappointed him.” The words returned tears to his eyes. He brought a thumb and index finger to the corners of them and squeezed hard. Have I let you down, Dad?

  “You do not know that.” Lombardi knelt beside him. It was the first time Heskan had ever seen the proud woman on her knees. “But let me tell you what I know, Garrett Heskan.” Her brown eyes never wavered from his as she gently reached out to cup the side of his face. “The man before me is one of strong convictions. He is a good man, Garrett, and because of this, everyone looks to him for support. This weighs heavily upon you but you are an honorable man who shoulders more than his share of life’s burdens.” She delicately traced his jaw with a hand. “Do not accept this new burden, tesoro mio. Free yourself.” Her hand dropped to his collar where she clutched at him and drew him close to her. “And I know the father of Garrett Heskan must be proud of such a man.”

  Chapter 18

  The four days tunneling to Syrinx were a paradox for Heskan. As his crew celebrated their successful escape from the Brevic Republic, he personally held no such appetite. Heskan merely felt an empty hollowness to it all. What he had hoped would be a triumphant dive from Republic space, instead, became tarnished in a bittersweet moment that culminated in the knowledge that he could never go home again. Worse, he realized that he had not only subjugated himself to exile but also his entire Brevic crew. There will come a time, Heskan thought grimly, when they realize that I haven’t saved them so much as damned them.

  His dourness was augmented by Hussy’s food shortage and increasing environmental problems. Their food now came out of squeeze tubes from the emergency locker. Müller’s rigged electrolysis system had only kept up with demand in tunnel space with the assistance of the now exhausted supply of oxygen candles. Hussy had, at most, another twelve hours of life left inside her. The additional four days required to tunnel from Syrinx to the Syntyche system would be a death sentence. As it was, the entire crew had been deprived of sleep for the last twenty-four hours. Doctor Timoleon recommended against letting crewmembers sleep in such a toxic atmosphere. Further, no crewmember was to be alone at any time.

  Sitting ahead of Heskan on the bridge, Lieutenant Selvaggio prepared the ship for dive. Heskan vaguely heard the announcement before the ship activated her tunnel drive to reintegrate into normal space. The transition seemed gentle compared to the pounding headaches the crew already suffered due to carbon dioxide poisoning. Heskan sat still for some time before finally reacting to their dive. The wall screen displayed the uninhabitable M4III star system. Only two beacons shared the system with Hussy, one emanating from a science station orbiting the innermost gas giant and the other, a Federation patrol ship docked to it.

  A full minute passed as Heskan interpreted the data. With a thick weariness, he ordered, “Give me an intercept course to the orbital, Diane. ETA?” He sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples to ease the pain. He had given up monitoring the environmental status display long ago.

  After a long pause, Selvaggio answered, “A little less than three hours, Captain.”

  Heskan nodded lethargically. He looked over to Truesworth who was holding his head in his hands. “Jack, open a comm channel to that orbital.” After Truesworth signaled he was ready, Heskan recorded his message. “Federation orbital, this is CSV Hussy, a tramp freighter en route to the Syntyche system. We have suffered a catastrophic life
support systems failure. Our carbon dioxide concentration is eight percent and rising. We burned our last oxygen candle hours ago. Can you assist us?” Heskan motioned at Truesworth.

  “Message sent,” Truesworth said simply.

  Damn, Heskan cursed as he realized, I forgot to tell them my name.

  Fifty minutes later, Truesworth’s communications console beeped loudly at him. He listlessly played the message without announcement.

  On screen, a man wearing a light blue lab coat and a concerned expression stated, “CSV Hussy, this is Doctor Franklin Witt of the Federation orbital, Tilskuer. You are cleared to dock immediately. Our patrol ship, Redoubt, will escort you in and we have medical assistance standing by. Captain, do you require assistance in docking your ship?”

  “Diane?” Heskan asked.

  “I can do it,” Selvaggio insisted weakly. “But it sure would be nice to take a nap for the next couple of hours before I try.”

  Heskan’s voice filled with sympathy. “Sorry, Diane, doctor’s orders.”

  * * *

  It took two hours and fifty-eight minutes for Hussy to crawl to salvation. Mooring the freighter to the orbital took nearly twice as long as usual but was accomplished without incident. Moments after Selvaggio confirmed a hard dock with the orbital docking tube, Hussy’s single docking bay door was raised and fresh, clean air began to cycle into the freighter. Even though it was too early to feel the effects of the purified air, Heskan swore his headache was clearing. Hussy’s rancid atmosphere had reached 11% carbon dioxide but Müller’s ingenuity with his electrolysis device had created just enough oxygen to avoid lethality.

  Lieutenant Vernay called over the bridge’s speakers. Her voice sounded resplendent compared to the stupor it had contained just minutes earlier. “Captain, there are four doctors on the orbital asking if we need any medical aid.”

  “I’m on the way, Stacy,” Heskan replied before turning to Chief Brown. “Chief, I want a one hundred percent head count performed by you and Doctor Timoleon. I want to know if everyone is up and moving or if someone needs assistance, okay?”

  Brown rose from the auxiliary control station. “Aye-aye, sir.”

  Heskan looked to his junior lieutenants. “You two will be all right if I step away?”

  “Yeah,” Truesworth answered. “The air is getting better already. You can smell it.”

  Heskan inhaled deeply and pushed himself from the captain’s chair. It took several minutes to walk the short distance to the airlock. As he approached, the air freshened tangibly. After several deep breaths, his head still ached but the pounding diminished. Vernay was smiling as he wound his way down the stairs. The orbital’s chief, Doctor Witt, stood next to her. The two were nearly the same height.

  “We don’t see many Loggerhead freighters these days.” Witt extended his hand toward Heskan.

  Inhaling the fresh air again, Heskan shook the man’s hand gratefully. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “No thanks are necessary. I presume you are Captain…?”

  “Heskan,” he answered without thinking. Should I be hiding my identity? I hate the idea of lying to a man that just saved my crew.

  “Captain Heskan,” Witt nodded. “Well, I have my doctors willing to board if you require additional assistance.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary,” Heskan said. “Hussy has a doctor and we’re conducting a wellness check on the crew.”

  “Surely your doctor has suffered from the same effects as you, Captain,” Witt persisted. “Wouldn’t it be wise to have support from my men?”

  Heskan tried to take measure of the man before him. I need his help, he admitted. If we’re going to make it to Syntyche, I’ll need oxygen candles. He’ll be aiding Brevic fugitives and although it may not mean much to him personally, it could have a big impact politically. It seems wrong to be dishonest with him. Heskan again took several cleansing breaths. What if he refuses to help, or worse, insists we return to Republic space? He glanced at Vernay who gave him a barely perceptible nod.

  “Doctor,” Heskan began, “I need to level with you. We’re carrying people on board that the Republic desperately wants back.” Heskan shook his head determinedly. “That’s not going to happen and consequently, Hussy’s crew is not on the best terms with the Brevic government. In fact, we’re probably public enemy number one by now.” Heskan glanced at Vernay and saw the deeply approving eyes of his first officer. “I need your help, Doctor. I have to get my people to Syntyche and I can’t do it without oxygen candles from you. However, it wouldn’t be fair to ask for your aid without warning you who we are.”

  “All I see are people who need help,” Witt replied immediately. “Take twenty-five candles; that will get you through to Syntyche.” He thought briefly before amending, “Actually, take thirty, just in case.”

  Heskan felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He wanted to hug the undersized man. “Thank you, Doctor. You’ve saved a lot of lives today.”

  “Then Hippocrates will smile upon me.” Witt looked between Heskan and Vernay and asked, “Is there anything else I can offer you?”

  “Well,” Vernay said, “we’re starving but it’s only four more days to Syntyche. I think we can make it.”

  “Potable water? Heat?” the doctor asked.

  “Good enough,” Heskan said. “Really, I think we just need to stay docked until our atmosphere clears and then we’ll be on our way. We’ve troubled you enough and I’d hate to be docked to you if any Republic ships dive in.”

  Witt laughed at the remark. “We’ve dealt with ‘Vic bullies before and besides, the Commonwealth is already giving them a sound thrashing. I doubt the Republic has enough moxie left in her to pick yet another fight she can’t win.”

  Heskan and Vernay cringed, causing Witt to arch an eyebrow in curiosity. “You two are both Brevic,” he surmised. “I thought the freighter was corporate-controlled.”

  “A little bit of everything is on board,” Heskan answered vaguely. “Probably the less you know, the better, Doctor.”

  “As you wish, Captain,” Witt agreed. “You are welcome to remain moored to us as long as you want. You are also cleared to cast off when ready.” He pointed a thumb toward the docking tube behind him. “I’ll have Peter bring you the oxygen candles and some extra food. Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you require any further assistance.” He shook Heskan’s hand again and then bowed with a charming smile to Vernay while saying, “It was a pleasure to meet you, miss.”

  Moments later, Heskan and Vernay watched the little man’s withdrawal down the docking tube.

  “Dammit,” Heskan cursed. “I didn’t offer him any compensation.” He looked at Vernay blankly.

  Sapphire blue eyes appraised him. “I don’t think he would have accepted anyway.” She looked toward the retreating man’s back. “I think we’ve consorted with devils for so long we may have forgotten that there are also angels.”

  * * *

  Hussy entered the Syntyche star system ninety-seven hours after casting off from Syrinx’s science station. Although hungry and cramped, the crew’s attitude proved jovial in t-space, buoyed by a proper atmosphere and the knowledge that this was their last tunnel of privation. The small freighter wavered slightly before adjusting to normal space 42lm from the system’s primary planet, Tuxevi. While Syntyche’s star, a G3V, could have been Sol’s brother, Tuxevi could merely pass as Terra’s distant cousin.

  Ship beacons painted themselves on the system plot. Freighters and transports crisscrossed the busy shipping lanes between three of Syntyche’s tunnel points. Ore extractors dotted the perimeter of an asteroid belt with modest veins of promethium. No defense fortresses stood watch over the tunnel points; such massive constructions were far too expensive to build and maintain for the value they provided to a corporate system. Syntyche’s only tangible defense was in the form of eight system defense ships varying in size from corvettes and cutters to more impressive brigs.

  As
with the three major governments of humanity, the ships defending corporate star systems were easily divided into categories based on size and propulsion. The smallest ships, patrol craft, were typically fast, agile ships crewed by less than ten. These ships were simply shepherds and traffic police. Larger and more capable military cutters performed similar duties but with slightly more attitude. The big brothers of these smaller ships were classified as fast ships, the sharks of the system defense force. Agile, moderately armed and flexible enough to perform routine police activity as well as actual system defense against corporate antagonists, fast ships themselves were divided into two categories: corvettes and snows. Essentially identical in size and function, corvettes lacked tunnel drive capabilities while snows were more expensive but tunnel-capable. Finally, perched at the top of the standard corporate defense food chain were brigs. These ships, still smaller than the standard frigates used so frequently by the three major governments, possessed a superb mix of speed, size and weaponry while being economical to operate. There were additional, more powerful classes of corporate defense ships, razees and ships of the line, but they spent most of their lives in dormant orbits around major corporate worlds, unleashed only during times of war.

  Syntyche’s largest brig also happened to be the ship nearest to Hussy, just 25lm away. Forty-three minutes after Selvaggio re-rigged Hussy’s sails to head in-system, the brig’s message reached the freighter.

  “Welcome to the Syntyche system, CSV Hussy. This is Captain Holt of the corporate defense ship, Gremlin. We are moving to intercept you. Do not deviate from your present course. Upon our rendezvous, you will transfer your system transit fee to the Syntyche Shipping and Commerce Account and heave to for ship’s inspection. A reminder, our docking fees have increased to fifteen hundred credits per ten thousand tonnes. Holt out.”

  Selvaggio cast a worried look to Lombardi, who merely smiled. “Komandor, Syntyche charges system transit fees?”