Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe)

by Britt Ringel

  Having used the brief respite of his liquid refreshment to mask his irritation at the brash Seshafian fleet commander, Wallace dipped the teabag into the cup to disperse the final bits of annoyance. He took comfort in the thought that he would soon have the opportunity to embarrass the man during the fifty-seven minutes of trial runs their fleets would conduct before Heskan’s unavoidable surrender prior to formal hostilities. “Damien, send this: Your words shall be carefully weighed and considered in an hour, Captain. I trust your ‘no quarter given’ attitude will extend to ‘no quarter asked’ after I force you to yield.”

  Wallace waved casually at his assistant and strategic advisor, Commodore Damien Ladd, who quickly responded, “Sent, Admiral.” The man studied his console for several minutes and then commented, “Strange. There it is again.”

  “What is it?”

  “You instructed me to watch the communications patterns between the Seshafi fleet command ship and the warships and I’ve noticed something unusual.” The man swiped at his console and brought a duplicate image to one of the main wall screens. “Viscount, it appears that Captain Heskan is sending your response to the Seshafi flag ship first and waiting for its response before replying to us.” His eyes clouded in confusion. “It’s happened both times and—” Ladd grew silent as he scanned his monitor. “There. Dioscuri sent a narrow-beam message to its C-Three ship and then, moments later, the command ship issued a fleet-wide order. They’re making way toward us now and splitting into their sections, sir.”

  Wallace scanned the tactical plot. With so few combatants, the Seshafians were dividing their ships into only two sections: a main and vanguard. This was expected. Curiously, it appeared the two sections would be asymmetrical with a heavier main than van.

  “What’s that mean, Admiral?” his advisor asked. “Is Captain Heskan seeking counsel from Nguyen or Tannault? If so, that’s going to hamper his reactions to our fleet movements.”

  “Order our ships into position, Damien.” Wallace brought a hand to his chin as he considered the information. He had scarcely believed his ears when Sade’s Commander Peter Tannault repeated what his brother alleged during the banquet. The Red Admiral’s eyes lit up as he contemplated the greater meanings of his subordinate’s statement. He needed more data. “Send this: Captain Heskan, as is fitting, considering our last encounter, I would be willing to concede my reserve in exchange for both parties waiving possible prize ship rights.”

  His assistant looked at him curiously but dispatched the message. “Sent, Admiral.”

  Wallace understood the confusion. He had just negotiated against himself. Prize ship rights were a collection of agreements in which any aggressing party’s ships that suffered too much damage to make the dive back to their home systems could be taken by the defender as prizes. The severity of losing ships in that manner usually made it one of the first negotiation points insisted upon by the aggressing party. In his latest communication, Wallace had essentially done that negotiating for Heskan, and further, handed him a boon by sweeping his four-ship reserve from the table. Though unusual, the offer was not as bad as it seemed at first glance. Prize ship rights were nearly always negotiated away and Wallace’s reserve, comprised solely of corvettes, would almost certainly not be needed in the skirmish anyway. In return, Heskan would unknowingly provide Wallace with additional, priceless intelligence.

  The Seshafian commander’s reply came five minutes later. During that time, Wallace divided his fleet into the traditional three sections of a corporate battle line. Each section was eight ships strong, led by Saden line ships and backed by at least two brigs. His reserve orbited with Wallace’s C-3 ship, waiting, hoping for the opportunity to join the fray.

  Such opportunity for the tiny ships seemed destined to be unfulfilled with the Seshafian reply. Heskan’s confident voice carried weight but Wallace believed he detected a veil of uncertainty regarding his generous proposal. “Admiral, I accept your offer. Additionally, I would consider withdrawing my entire casus bellum for an agreed period of peace between our corporations no shorter than one year.”

  Chuckles around the command room broke some of the growing tension. During the brief respite, Wallace’s advisor confirmed his findings and reported, “Identical, Viscount. Their C-Three ship bounced your proposal to Dioscuri, waited for a reply and then sent this message to us. What do you think this means?”

  “I believe this means that my seedling inside AmyraCorp is bearing fruit… and if it was correct about this matter, then perhaps it has veracity regarding other matters as well.” Wallace sat up straight and worked furiously at his command console in front of an enormous holographic tank that displayed the tactical plot in three dimensions. “We’re abandoning the battle plan, Damien. I want this for now.” He flashed over fresh orders to his assistant. “Send that over to the van and main immediately and then to the rear twenty-three seconds later. I’ll update as needed.”

  The assistant tactician looked over the new directives with a growing frown.

  * * *

  Heskan’s command echoed over Ajax’s bridge speakers. “Commander Vernay, rotate your section four degrees port and continue burn to point one-four-C. The van will counter-rotate six degrees and maintain speed. Each ship’s target is the enemy opposing her.”

  Commander Vernay and the other Seshafian ship captains scrambled to comply with their fleet commander’s orders during the final moments leading to the latest mock battle pass. Ajax’s sensor section tracked the movements and updated the tactical plot to a daunting display of vector lines interspersed with uncertainty zones. The byzantine overlays on the plot threatened to drive the inexperienced to distraction but Vernay interpreted the data as easily as breathing. Both Seshafian ship sections were crossing at points and speeds that would provide them wonderful raking shots while minimizing the return fire. Just like the battle pass before the present one, Wallace’s rear section reacted far too slowly to position itself for anything better than missile shots from the section’s third-rate.

  “Very nice, Captain,” Ricot complimented. The lieutenant commander waited for his shockseat restraints to loosen and leaned toward Vernay to whisper, “We’d be ripping Wallace up, ma’am. This almost seems too easy.”

  “I agree, Sam. Wallace might be a blowhard with delusions of grandeur but he’s also one of the finest fleet commanders in corporate warfare lore.” Vernay frowned fractionally. “Frankly, the fact that we’re having our way with him makes me more nervous than if he was thrashing us.” Her shoulders slumped as she considered the situation. The fleets had attempted four passes in the last forty-eight minutes. The first pass had been a turkey shoot for the aggressors as Wallace’s sections failed to adapt to Heskan’s condensed fleet formation. The second pass was aborted despite the fact that the run still would have, most likely, given Seshafi the upper hand. However, Heskan had explained that he wanted to practice a “live-fire” evasive maneuver to ensure the entire fleet could respond quickly enough to avoid enemy fire if he found his ships at a severe disadvantage. They had executed the evasive maneuver and emerged from the averted run in good order. The following pass had been their most successful with the most recent, and final, battle pass likewise ending up a one-sided affair. The Saden ships seemed to be reacting much slower than Vernay remembered during the chaotic defense of Seshafi and she could not reconcile the difference between then and now. “Is it the larger ship sections?”

  Ricot shook his head. “Eight ships are considered standard and Admiral Wallace commanded more than that while fighting Unadex.”

  Vernay’s blue eyes narrowed. “He’s up to something. I don’t trust him.”

  Heskan’s voice crackled over the speakers again. “Both sections will form line ahead and come about to three-one-four. Make your speed point one-two-C.”

  “Do it, Vikki,” Vernay ordered. This was it. Each fleet would form its line ahead formation and wait for either a last-minute negotiated settlement or the orders to begi
n the first, real battle pass.

  “Message from Dioscuri, Captain.”

  Vernay accepted the transmission eagerly and Garrett Heskan’s image appeared on the wall screen. It was strange seeing him there rather than just a meter from her. “Commander Vernay, I just wanted to tell you that I know your section’s going to be a great hammer. I’ll give maneuvering orders up until we’re closing but you have final authority over your section’s movements. You’re more than capable and your insight during the final moments will make all the difference on how much damage your section inflicts.”

  Heskan’s confidence was maddening to her. Doesn’t he realize that I’m still alive more as a product of luck than any great skill or insight? It could just as easily be Mike Riedel sitting here than me.

  The fleet commander’s demeanor almost seemed casual. “I’ll set you up as best I can to hit the main but I want you to choose whichever section you think you can hit the hardest. While I’d rather your targets be Saden vessels, it ultimately doesn’t matter which ships you cripple because we’d probably be seeing all of them again in Seshafi. Their corvettes are already out of the fight.” Heskan’s devilish smile only served to irritate her further. “Any questions?”

  Vernay looked at the chronometer. Seven minutes until hostilities could commence; there was no turning back now. Fighting the temptation to suggest a negotiated settlement, Vernay merely returned the handsome fleet commander’s smile and said nervously, “No, sir. Be safe, sir.”

  Heskan simply nodded before terminating the transmission. He was gone, out of her reach. Vernay felt queasy. She looked to her right, seeking reassurance. Chief Brown winked at her.

  * * *

  “He’s actually going to test us,” Ladd uttered with incredulity. “He can’t possibly be deluded enough to think he can win.”

  Wallace declined to comment as he gaped at the holographic tactical plot with elation. During each of the practice runs, he had weathered the disgrace of being bested at every turn. Only his iron-fisted control over the fleet and his impeccable record as a fleet commander had kept his ship captains from inundating the command frequency with protests over their questionable orders. Their exceedingly poor showing, undoubtedly recorded, broadcasted and commented on by every media ship within the system, threatened to tarnish his unimpeachable reputation, but now the deception was over and the payoff looked grand. After enduring the past hour’s degradation for the off-chance that Garrett Heskan might actually be foolish enough to permit a combat pass, Wallace realized his ploy could reap him a rich reward. If so, not only would his ruse cement him as one of the most esteemed fleet commanders in the galaxy but it would also bestow him with his richly deserved revenge.

  “They’re altering course slightly, Admiral,” his assistant noted. “Not veering away, they’re turning toward us.” The man’s face mixed with astonishment and anticipation. “Orders, sir?”

  Wallace’s lips curled into a predatory grin as he sent his battle orders. “Transmit this. Primary target is Dioscuri.”

  (Link to the order of battle; there is a return link after the chart to continue reading.)

  Chapter 8

  Heskan’s concentration threatened to bore holes through Dioscuri’s main wall screen. It has to happen soon, he thought as he willed the tactical plot to update the Saden fleet movements faster than was possible. Both fleets were sailing in standard line ahead formations, concealing their intentions. At present course and speed, Heskan’s vanguard would graze the 5ls perimeter of the GP laser weapons envelope, well ahead of Wallace’s main. Vernay’s main section distantly trailed his own, 62ls behind him. Both sections were sailing at .14c, prepared to adjust to any change in their enemy’s course.

  “Movement!” Cottineau cried out needlessly.

  On the wall screen, heading lines began to swing rapidly for each Saden ship in the vanguard. Course change or speed change, Heskan wondered. Or both? His eyes tracked the distance between his section and the opposing van. We’re seventy-seven light-seconds apart… they started turning over a minute ago. His eyes flickered to the Saden main and rearguard. Both sections seemed to be cruising steadily along. Their van and main are forty-five light-seconds apart. The van will have completed its maneuver before I can see if the other sections are following suit.

  “Stand by, Mike,” Heskan muttered nervously while keeping focus on the tactical plot.

  The answer revealed itself twenty-one seconds later. Each of the eight ships in the Saden vanguard rotated one hundred eighty degrees and touched off its engines. At the scant range of 69ls, the steady burst of light from their drives was easily apparent on Dioscuri’s optical side screen.

  “Blueshift on their main!” Dioscuri’s sensor section commander alerted.

  Heskan felt his stomach tighten as he appraised the new information. The Saden vanguard was slowing down and the section behind it was increasing its velocity. “Give me speed on both sections, Mike,” he ordered. The advantage was tilting out of favor at precisely the wrong time for the Seshafians. Both vanguards would be within missile range in under a minute. Any order Heskan sent to Vernay would take longer than that to reach her. Heskan felt his hand begin to slide toward the button that would transmit evasive maneuver orders to the entire fleet. It wavered over the console. No, we’ve come too far just to give up and with their van and main bunching up, Stacy should be able to isolate their rearguard and batter it. He diverted his hand toward the communication controls and ordered, “Commander Vernay, you’re free to maneuver.” The simple command completed, he looked to his navigator and issued, “Come to course three-zero-zero.” It might be too late to slow down but I can at least open the distance a bit by turning away from them. A dozen seconds later, Heskan felt his eyebrows furrow in reaction to the tactical plot. What’s Wallace doing now?

  The ships in Wallace’s main began a second rotation but in an unexpected direction. Rather than rotating laterally, each ship turned upward, into the vertical, while still under thrust. As the errant section climbed high into the Z-axis while increasing its speed, Dioscuri’s tactical plot slowly exposed the newly forming danger.

  To Heskan’s left, he heard Cottineau’s command to open fire with Dioscuri’s missile batteries. Their target, the Saden van’s fourth-rate, was undoubtedly replying in kind. A half minute passed before Heskan understood the full peril of the developing situation. During the earlier practice runs, Wallace attempted to pin Heskan’s main between his own main and rearguard sections. The maneuvers had been quickly spotted, poorly executed and easily countered. This time, Wallace had waited until much deeper into the run and his captains were handling their ships with the greater precision they displayed in Seshafi. Worse still, they were now targeting the Seshafian van and Wallace’s use of the vertical axis had delayed Heskan’s recognition of the attempt. As the danger registered, Heskan realized that the overall goal of Wallace’s fleet maneuvers, while less grand than before, was eminently more accomplishable.

  He’s stacking his van and main on top of each other. The van is slowing down to match our speed while his main pushes hard to catch up. Heskan evaluated Dioscuri’s projection for each fleet’s course over the run. His section would pass perilously close to both the enemy’s van and main. We’re going to get smashed unless I act now.

  Heskan opened his mouth to speak but the sensor section commander cut him off. “Enemy missiles! Thirty-four light-seconds out and closing at point four-four-C.”

  Dioscuri shuddered as if reacting to the news. “Second set of missiles away, Captain,” Cottineau informed. The lieutenant commander’s calm was a distinct contrast to the young sensor officer’s outburst.

  Waiting patiently for the reports, Heskan finally ordered, “Helm, roll us thirty degrees starboard and bear down ninety degrees. Give us as much negative Z as possible.”

  The command brought a surprised look from his first officer. “Captain, that orientation will mask most of our weapons.”

  It
was sadly true. Wallace had boxed them into an untenable position. If Heskan continued with his evasive maneuver, Dioscuri would have but a single heavy laser and two GP laser turrets available for self-defense against the approaching waves of missiles. Not maneuvering would pit his undersized vanguard against two, full Saden sections. I tried to get too cute, Heskan cursed his overconfidence. I thought I could skim laser range, inflict a little damage while getting off lightly in return. I should have played pure defense and let Vernay get in the licks for us.

  “We won’t stay like this, Mike,” Heskan explained. “We’ll zero out our plane before the first missiles reach our point defense range… but twenty seconds of escape is better than nothing and we’re too far along in our run for Wallace to react to it.” The look on Cottineau’s face clearly expressed a begrudging acceptance of inevitable defeat. Heskan bit down hard. Does the whole ship feel like I’ve been out-maneuvered, he wondered. Probably… and they’d be right. Feeling the urge to justify their tenuous position, Heskan stated, “We all knew we were going to be the bait. Let’s ride out the storm as best we can.”

  * * *

  Seshafian Commander Joseph Tannault pressed forward against the pressure of his shockseat restraints inside Falcon’s bridge. Their plan was working… sort of. As difficult as the evidence was to believe, it was clear that the Saden fleet’s performance during the trial combat passes had been deliberately poor. The implications boggled Tannault’s mind. Isn’t giving anything but your utmost during war ungentlemanly? Isn’t it a breach in etiquette, he asked himself while shivering involuntarily. It was a bitter pill to swallow. Although Oliver Wallace was Saden, he was also a respected icon in Seshafi and anything but the living legend’s strict adherence to corporate honor and tradition threatened to throw their entire way of war into question. Tannault watched in near disbelief as Wallace’s main thundered away from his section, removing the Saden formation as any threat to his own brig. Is this what the outlanders have forced true heroes to resort to? Cheap talk of honor followed by cheaper parlor tricks in battle?