by Britt Ringel
“That was strange,” Truesworth muttered.
“So,” Vernay ventured, “you don’t want me to shoot them?”
Heskan shot her an irritated look before a small smile etched across his face. His voice mimicked the Saden lieutenant’s odd accent. “Of course not, my dear. Why in heavens would we fire upon the enemy? That would be terribly poor manners, wouldn’t you say?”
Vernay stood Elathra down from battle stations while saying, “Maybe we can find the answer to that question when we arrive at Seshafi.”
* * *
The Seshafi system was centered on her K1V main sequence star. The two terrestrial planets nearest the star were rendered uninhabitable by solar radiation. The third planet not only contained an atmosphere suitable for humans, but also orbited with a moon so large that the two celestial bodies were considered binary planets. Both Seshafi Major and Seshafi Minor had breathable atmospheres and open cities. However, the smaller of “The Twins” had air so thin that vigorous physical activity was nearly impossible. Past the terrestrial planets were two, unremarkable gas giants. Even more distant was a very light asteroid belt and three smaller, uninhabitable dwarf planets.
The commercial traffic in the system was impressive considering the approaching war. Heskan read that hostilities against trade ships were forbidden during corporate wars and freighter captains routinely sailed within 10lm of ongoing battles with little fear of destruction. Once Elathra dove into the system, and after she received “high regards and wishes” on behalf of the Lord Admiral of the Seshafian Navy, Baron Piers H. Cooke, “Komandor” Heskan was requested to make way for Seshafi Major’s main orbital where “proper introductions and salutations could be afforded.”
The courtesies espoused by the orbital controller nearly sent Selvaggio into bouts of laughter as she desperately tried to obtain her docking instructions in the simplest, most concise manner possible. After hard dock was confirmed, Heskan thanked the remainder of his Hollaran transport crew over Elathra’s main channel and bid them a safe return to the Commonwealth. He turned to his left and told Vernay, “She’s your ship. I need to disembark and go find this Lord Admiral.”
Vernay nodded but said, “Captain, I’d like permission to accompany you when we negotiate our contract, sir.”
Heskan rose and moved to the bridge door as he stated, “That’s fine, Stacy, but at the pace these people communicate, I doubt we’ll be doing that any time soon.”
The walk from the bridge to the airlock took longer than the few minutes required on Hussy. In order to dock, Elathra was rolled at a ninety-degree angle in relation to the orbital, making it appear as if the snow rested on her starboard side. The different relative “up” direction between the ship and space station necessitated a zero-gravity docking tube. As Heskan pulled himself along the short tube, he oriented himself in a position where his feet would be on the ground rather than the wall when he crossed into the orbital airlock.
After exiting the airlock, an official identifying himself as Baron Cooke’s “humble and obedient servant” promptly greeted Heskan and proceeded to escort him through a confusing maze of station corridors to a baroquely decorated office occupied by the baron himself. Piers H. Cooke was a man of medium size and average appearance. His brown hair and nondescript facial features could have made him an easily forgettable man; however, his dark blue uniform trimmed with ornate gold braid and frilly epaulettes ensured no such mistake would ever be made. The baron stood upon Heskan’s arrival and walked around his extravagant desk to reach out and shake Heskan’s hand. “Baron Piers Cooke, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Komandor.”
The man’s striking voice was not only blessed with a naturally deep, reassuring baritone but was supported with a well-measured, and practiced, diction that oozed authority. It was a voice people naturally listened to, the voice of a leader, or perhaps a great hero.
Unsure whether he was expected to bow, Heskan merely smiled warmly in return and said, “Garrett Heskan, and my rank is captain. I prefer to use Federation ranks over Hollaran.”
Cooke apologized effusively, “My terrible misunderstanding, please forgive me, Captain. I hope you understand that I just assumed ‘Komandor’ was correct given the company name on the outside of your service file.” The man winked and grinned. “Secure Solutions does have a rather single-minded tendency upon which government they look to for hires, wouldn’t you agree?” The tone and tenor of the baron’s dulcet voice radiated amity.
“Nothing to forgive, Baron—”
“Please, call me Piers in private settings, Admiral when we’re on the clock. The title, baron, is just fons honorum… awarded to me due to my official position as Lord of the Admiralty.” Like most corporations in this region, high-ranking positions within the company came with titles of nobility. AmyraCorp’s CEO, Joshua Covington, carried the honorific title of archduke.
Heskan nodded and improvised, “I’m just Garrett and as far as rank goes, considering that all the corporate systems border Federation territory, it just makes things easier.” Not to mention that many of the Federation and Brevic naval ranks are the same.
“Indeed. Our own navy uses the same rank structure for the same reason.” Cooke gestured toward a side door in the office. “I’ll have one of my adjutants send you the updated order of battle when it’s completed. You can imagine our surprise to find an additional snow available for lease.” Cooke gripped Heskan’s shoulder with comradery. “Not that any of us are complaining, mind you. Secure Solutions’ reputation is outstanding and although I haven’t had the opportunity and great privilege yet to read over your personal file, I am sure we are in a much stronger position with you than without.” The baron’s statement, spoken in his honeyed and affirming tone, made it undeniably true.
“I just hope we don’t disappoint you, Piers.”
Cooke waved a finger in dismissal. “That’s quite impossible, my good sir. However,” he sighed regretfully, “I am afraid I must run. As you well know, I have endless details to attend to for the banquet tonight but I wanted very much to meet, personally, any man who would place his life in harm’s way for AmyraCorp and her people.” He once again shook Heskan’s hand and said earnestly, “Thank you, sir.”
Before Heskan could get a word in, Cooke added, “We also must have this Letter of Intent to Contract signed so you can legally attend the festivities tonight.” The man’s appealing smile reignited as he reached to his desk. “It’d be a damned shame to come all this way and not be able to attend the banquet, eh?”
I have to attend a banquet? “Of course,” Heskan said dryly. “A damned shame.”
From his oak desk, Cooke produced a letter more closely resembling parchment. “This letter merely states our intention to enter into negotiations for hire in good faith. We can handle the details of the actual contract tomorrow, of course.”
After a quick review, Heskan signed the paper using an authentic ink pen. He handed the relic back to Cooke who signed as well. “I prefer these letters of intent be physical so we can post them proudly in the banquet’s program. Other privateers from DAC, Fleet Works and McMillon Group are also attending, by the by. You may know some of their officers.”
“Perhaps,” Heskan answered.
Cooke looked once again at the parchment and moved to the door. “Very well, sir. Kyle will see you back to your ship and provide you with your invitations. Be sure to bring your wife.”
Heskan smiled warmly at the baron as he left. My wife?
Chapter 25
Heskan’s escort, “Kyle,” made it clear that there was no escaping attendance of the ball. Navigating once again through the labyrinth of corridors, Heskan rapidly became lost while attempting to fabricate a suitable explanation to his guide about why he would be unable to attend. As the Seshafian delivered him back to Elathra, the man expounded on the importance of the event even as Heskan tried several arguments to escape it. The ball was a necessary and vital step in each system’s
positioning for the upcoming conflict. Heskan’s absence would indicate reluctance on his and his privateer company’s part to be involved in its resolution. After several delicate attempts to explain, Kyle plainly stated that Heskan’s absence would weaken Cooke’s advantage during negotiations and such a blow would factor into his own contract.
Not wanting to face the evening alone, Heskan requested Vernay’s attendance. As the event neared, Heskan now gazed a final time in his bathroom’s mirror. He wore the same suit he had acquired in Syntyche to dine with Lombardi’s corporate associate.
Heskan and Vernay met at Elathra’s airlock. She was once again stunning in her blue Tourlenni gown. Heskan mumbled his thanks for her company and the pair moved onto the orbital after a nearly embarrassing dinner-gown incident involving the zero-G in the docking tube. As they wandered through the warren of corridors, Heskan resorted to his datapad to guide them to the proper part of the station.
They turned a final corner and walked down the wide hall to the double doors of a ballroom. A man dressed in an immaculate tuxedo took Heskan’s invitations and loudly announced to the room, “Captain Garrett Heskan…” The man briefly looked down again at the invitations and improvised, “…and wife.”
Heskan felt his cheeks erupt in flame. Unable to look at Vernay he began to walk swiftly away from the doors. Vernay reached out to catch Heskan by the right arm, hooking her own arm into his and matching his pace. “Don’t forget your wife… darling,” she teased.
Unable to escape, Heskan eased his pace and shook his head in resignation. Stammering, he offered, “I’m so sorry about that, Stacy. The admiral said to bring my wife and I forgot to correct Kyle because the halls wouldn’t end I wasn’t even sure if we were going in the right direction—”
Vernay’s whimsical soprano cut him off. “You’re babbling, dear.”
“Why would privateers have their spouses on board? Do many not have a home port and travel with their families?” Heskan tried to calm himself and thought of Müller, who had not seen his son for ten years. A privateer is a far cry from a merchant, but both professions have a nomadic lifestyle. As long as the families are put off ship for the battles, I could see the compromise. Or maybe they just meet at star systems they contract with.
“Mrs. Anastacia Marie Heskan…” Vernay whispered dreamily, tormenting him further.
Heskan closed his mouth and stared quietly into the ballroom. Trying hard to block out the events of the last minute, he studied the room and crowd. The ballroom was one of the largest compartments he had ever seen on a space station. Clever use of wall screens made the impressive room look even larger than it was. He also noticed that more than half the crowd was wearing military uniforms. Seshafian naval officers wore the same dark blue and gold uniforms as Cooke. Officers with commands wore an additional single, gold braid that started at their epaulettes and looped under their arms.
Spread among the native uniforms were even more elaborately garbed Saden officers wearing the gold-trimmed red uniforms that Heskan noted while talking to Lieutenant Dexter. To Heskan’s surprise, military attire in the ballroom was nearly equally distributed between blue and red, with a smattering of other presumably privateer uniforms complementing them.
Vernay drew silent, causing Heskan to follow her eyes to a large, intimidating officer in a red uniform. If Cooke’s dress jacket had been impressive, this man’s outer coat bordered on foppish. Multiple braids of gold looped from atop his shoulders to under the sleeves of his coat. The epaulettes not only ended with the frilly gold common to these uniforms but the rank insignia glittered as if made from diamonds. The medals resting on the coat’s chest garishly extended down to his third button. The regal man held himself with an air of authority that would have impressed even a Brevic admiral.
“The red admiral, is that our leader?” Vernay asked, slightly in awe.
“No,” Heskan replied, “I think that’s our enemy.” Heskan caught movement to his right. “Here comes our admiral now.”
The ambrosia that was Cooke’s voice sounded as he approached Heskan. “Wonderful! We are honored by your presence, Captain Heskan.”
Heskan stole one more look at the “Red Admiral” and then greeted Cooke warmly. “Thank you for allowing us to attend, Admiral.” Heskan glanced to either side of Cooke. A lavishly dressed, attractive woman stood, arms interlaced with Cooke, on his right. To his left, a uniformed woman hovered just slightly behind him.
Cooke unhooked his arm and introduced, “First, may I please present my lovely wife, Camille.”
Camille Cooke gracefully offered the top of her right hand to Heskan who gently clasped it and brought it lightly to his lips. “An honor to meet you, madam.” As the woman smiled pleasantly, Heskan thought, Hey, maybe I’m not completely inept in social settings after all.
Cooke waved a hand at the officer to his left. “This is Admiral Chattersby, commanding CDS Diomedes.”
The female officer nodded and shook Heskan’s hand forcefully.
Cooke appraised Vernay and said, “And this vision of loveliness must be your wife.” He reached for her hand while purring, “A great pleasure, my lady.”
Vernay allowed her hand to be caressed, smiled stunningly but said, “I’m afraid that this vision of loveliness is only his first officer, Admiral.”
Cooke’s party stiffened slightly and the baron’s jaw dropped open before he could reassert his air of authority. He released her hand and said, “My apologies. I would address you by your rank but neither of you have graced this fine setting with your uniforms.” He dipped his head slightly. “Nevertheless, I am sure they are a sight to behold.”
“This is Commander Stacy Vernay,” Heskan introduced belatedly.
Chattersby assessed Vernay with a critical eye and said, “You wear a lovely gown but it is a bit unusual. To not display your uniform here could suggest that you are an unwilling participant in these proceedings.”
Heskan stammered for an excuse but Vernay interjected, “Elathra isn’t our usual ship. In our haste to depart to assist in the defense of your star system, we were forced to make way before all of our gear could be stowed aboard.” Her eyes narrowed. “I assume you would prefer to have our help even as inappropriately dressed as we may be.”
“Quite so,” Cooke assured in his deep baritone, playing the role of mediator. “In fact, with your ship arriving so late, you must feel like you’ve been thrown into the deep end of the pool!” Cooke laughed at his joke and grabbed Heskan good-naturedly by the shoulder. “A new ship, very little time left to prepare… a bit like being tossed into the fire, isn’t that right, Captain?”
Heskan returned the man’s smile; it was difficult not to. “We’ve been in this situation before, Admiral.”
“Of course,” Cooke affirmed. “I’m sure in your line of work you and your crew must learn to adapt quickly if you wish your business dealings to be lucrative.” He stepped closer to Heskan and lowered his voice. “I promise you, Captain, that I won’t ask much of you. We do appreciate any support Secure Solutions sends and I can’t abide corporate admirals who think of their privateer allies as disposable.” He cast a sideways glance at the Red Admiral. “In fact, I will place your snow in the rearguard where you’re least likely to receive action. At any rate, hopefully we can negotiate a peaceful settlement before shots are even fired.”
“The captain can hold his own, Admiral. I assure you,” Vernay promised.
“Indeed,” Cooke agreed amiably. “I just want each of you to understand that you are every bit a part of the Seshafian fleet as the rest of us, Commander. How long have you served under your captain?”
Vernay smiled sweetly. “Since I was a lieutenant, junior grade.”
Heskan’s stomach tightened at the mention of a Brevic rank; the equivalent in the Federation’s navy was called sub-lieutenant. He glanced nervously at Cooke but, apparently, the man missed the slip. Behind Cooke, Heskan saw the Red Admiral approaching.
The man w
as accompanied similarly to Cooke, his wife off his right arm, his leading admiral to his left. The wife was suitably dignified, wearing a complementary red gown that harkened to a bygone era. Heskan gestured subtly to bring Cooke’s attention to the advancing trio and stepped slightly back to open the social circle. To Heskan’s surprise, Cooke simply turned upon the man’s arrival and bowed deeply. “Your Grace,” he said in his liquid baritone, “you honor us with your company.”
The Red Admiral returned an equally self-effacing bow and responded, “Always a delight to bask in the presence of your handsome wife, Piers.” The man offered a measured nod toward Admiral Chattersby as he acknowledged her by rank.
“Always the charming gentleman, Viscount,” Camille Cooke gushed with a sincere smile.
The Saden leader turned his attention to Heskan and Vernay as he inquired, “And who are the lady and gentleman standing with you, Piers?”
Cooke straightened and gestured grandly toward the Red Admiral. “Captain Heskan, it is my profound honor to present to you, Lord of the Saden Admiralty, Viscount Oliver Melatiah Wallace.” Piers looked apprehensively at Vernay and instructed, “Address by ‘Admiral’ is sufficient for this occasion.”
Wallace smiled at Cooke and nodded. “Indeed, sometimes I think with all of our titles that we should die of old age referring to ourselves rather than on the field of battle.”
Heskan straightened to attention but did not salute. Instead, he extended a hand while saying, “I am pleased to meet you, Admiral.”
Wallace looked curiously at the offered hand before accepting it. He then reached out toward Vernay. “And this entrancing beauty must be your wife, Captain. I know not what type of fighter you are on the proving grounds but you are most assuredly an apt hunter.” He raised Vernay’s hand, briefly touching his lips to it.