Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe) (22 page)

After
the desserts were finished, only Vernay remained at the table with Heskan.  The
rest of the party excused themselves to either sample the nightlife outside the
hotel or, in the case of Selvaggio and Truesworth, retire early to their lodgings.

Vernay
clumsily poured the final remnants of the bourbon bottle between their glasses. 
Some of the auburn liquid dribbled onto the table.  Each glass was composed of
a transparent igneous rock that, when placed on top of the table’s beverage
strip circling near its center, regulated the temperature of its contents
according to the drinker’s whim.  Vernay had started her glass near the freezing
point but gradually increased it to room temperature as the flavor of the beverage
became more appealing.

“You’re
gonna do fine, Captain,” she said lazily, reading his mind.

Heskan
stared at his glass, assessing the bourbon’s depth of color.  Unlike the rest
of the table, he had imbibed frugally because of his appointment the next
morning.  “I know.  It’s silly but it’s hard not to think about it,” he
admitted.

She
blew out loudly and gave a haphazard wave.  “IaCom’s lead counsel won’t even be
in the courtroom; they’ll be busy with Wilder.  It sounds to me like you’ll
just stroll on up to the stand, say the holo-log is good and be on your merry
way.”  She carelessly rotated the glass in her hand while watching the liquid
ride up its sides, stopping narrowly before it splashed over the edge.  “Y-you know,
I’m going to watch though, just in case, and I’ll be recording the whole
thing.”

Heskan
slowly brought a hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed tightly between
his eyes.  “What in the world for, Stacy?”

Her
lips curled upward in a sloppy smile.  Lifting the rim of the glass to them,
she knocked her head back and killed off the drink.  With a shudder, she rocked
her entire body forward and brought the glass down hard onto the table.  Golden
hair had fallen forward, hiding a majority of her face until she swiped a hand
at the unruly locks.  “Oh captain, my captain, because you look positively
scrumptious in
Shashafian shervice
dress and I so rarely get to see you
in it.”  She brought a hand up to cover her mouth and giggled.  “Seshafian,”
she enunciated quietly.

Heskan
burst out laughing at the absurdity of her comment.  The sight of his inebriated
and carefree first officer lifted his spirits.  After recovering his composure,
he smiled warmly at his friend and proclaimed, “Commander, I do believe you’re
drunk.”

Vernay
blinked several times at the allegation before answering.  “That would explain
why the table appears to be leaning at such an acute angle.”  She peered into
her empty glass and then looked across the table in a jaunty daze.  “Captain, my
captain, I regret to report that inertial compensators are down.”  The winsome commander
evaporated into another fit of laughter as she blurted, “We’re listing to port.”

Heskan
rolled his eyes but his own smile grew wider.  “Let’s get you out of here.  Can
you stand?”

“Of
course!” Vernay insisted before pushing herself from the table and attempting
to rise.  Her delicate hands clutched for the table’s edge as she teetered.  “Oh
my.  Maybe I should have tried to stand before finishing that last round.”  She
lifted her head to look across at Heskan, nearly losing her balance.  “I think
I’m going to need some help sailing to safe harbor.”

Heskan
came around the table and wrapped a supportive arm around her slim waist.  She
returned the gesture and rested her head against the side of his chest.  Heskan
found the supple warmth of her body upsetting.

Vernay
drew her other hand up to Heskan’s chest and purred, “You smell nice, my Captain.”

The growl
of her voice stirred feelings Heskan thought he had left behind in the
Commonwealth.  He mentally shook himself and made way, silently, for the hotel
hallway that would contain the lifts to their floor.

They
weaved through the restaurant and lobby in their own personal solitudes for
quite some time before Vernay murmured with eyes glazing, “My captain does not
answer; his lips are still and pale.”  She glided her hand up from Heskan’s
chest slowly but stopped when it reached his shoulder, using it as support to better
aid her balance as they staggered into an empty lift.

Heskan
bypassed voice command and slid his free hand up the control panel to the
proper floor.  Once the lift began its ascent, he asked, “What are you quoting? 
I find it difficult to believe anyone could be this spontaneously lyrical after
single-handing nearly a third of a bottle of bourbon that size.”

Vernay
looked distantly up at him with azure eyes and hiccupped loudly.  Just when it
seemed obvious to Heskan that she was swimming in a sea of bliss, the haunted
veteran appeared to return.  “An old poem,” she answered quietly.  “I can’t get
it out of my mind.”  Her head wobbled slightly before metered words passed over
ruby lips.  “‘Oh captain, my captain; our fearful trip is done.  The ship has
weather’d every rack; the prize we sought is won.’”

The
lift continued upward, the floors passing between eye blinks.  Heskan readjusted
his grip around Vernay’s narrow waist.  She was leaning heavily into him now and
her small stature kept making his arm ride embarrassingly higher up her torso. 
“That sounds like something we should be shooting for.  What was ‘the prize?’”

Vernay’s
head drooped again, pressing against his side.  Her voice was nearly breathless
when she finally responded.  “The prize was an entire nation on Terra, saved by
that captain through battle.  It mirrors what’s happening to you so closely, it
terrifies me.”  She whispered eerily, “‘
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done; from
fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won.’
”

Heskan
squeezed her waist reassuringly.  “I don’t know.  That’s sounds pretty good to
me.  I’d weather a few, rough seas for victory.”

Vernay
lifted her head a final time, locking sodden eyes onto his.  He was uncertain
whether the disturbing wave that shuddered its way through him was more from
her foreboding words or the mournful appearance of the woman in his arms.

Expression
grim, she finished the verse.  “‘
Exult, O’ shores, and ring, O’ bells. 
But I, with
mournful tread, walk the deck my captain lies, fallen cold and dead.’”

Commander
Joseph Tannault saluted respectfully to the admiral standing in front of him
before wrapping his arms tightly around the man next to the flag officer.  “Peter,
it’s good to see you.”

Peter
Tannault clapped his brother on the back before releasing the embrace.  “You
too, Joseph.  I was worried.  I heard rumors there was trouble during your trip
to Nessus.”

The
Seshafian officer once again faced Admiral Wallace to offer his hand.  “An
honor as always, Viscount.  Thank you for extending this invitation.”

Wallace
grasped the man’s hand and shook firmly.  “Of course, Joseph.  It is a pleasure
to host Peter’s brother, even at this late hour.  Would you care to sit? 
Perhaps a drink?”  He gestured casually to a waiting attendant.

Once
seated, Peter Tannault persisted, “Were the rumors true?  Was there an attack on
your transport?”

His
brother nodded.  “Pirates ambushed our ship.  Thank God we had a brig.”  He
shivered.  “There was no parlay, no ransom demand… they just attacked us out of
the black!”

“Why?”

The
Seshafian commander shook his head.  “I’m not completely sure but I believe it
had something to do with—,” he cast an eye toward Wallace briefly, “—Captain
Heskan’s origin.”

“He
knows, brother.”

The
line of Joseph Tannault’s mouth twisted slightly.  “Well, I suppose it was only
a matter of time.  It’s obvious enough that the man is Brevic by the
dishonorable way he fights.”  A moment later, his head collapsed into his hands
while muttering, “What has become of us?”

Wallace
leaned forward from his chair to grasp the Seshafian’s knee in support.  He spoke
with a warm, comforting voice.  “Joseph, I assure you that I had no part in the
underhanded ambush perpetrated against you.”  He sat back and lectured,
“Unfortunately, when the bed you choose is riddled with lice, you inevitably
rise covered in them.  Further, you must understand that this man has impugned
my honor and I cannot allow that to stand.  I shall, of course, act within the
realm of gentlemanly conduct but I will vanquish this man as honor dictates.”  Wallace’s
brow furrowed sympathetically.  “I regret that I cannot guarantee the safety of
the sailors who willingly stand with him.”

The
younger man’s shoulders slumped at the insinuation and his expression became entreating. 
“Viscount, I beg you to understand.  My oath is to Seshafi and my home
corporation.  It’s not to this outlander.  But…”

Peter
Tannault glanced anxiously at Wallace before wrapping an arm around his
brother’s shoulders.  “Big brother, AmyraCorp has changed.  You haven’t seen it
because they’ve kept you blinded from the truth but if you could see the things
I have from outside the influence of the corporation… your new leader is only a
manifestation of Seshafi’s abandonment of its values.”

“He’s
not my leader.”

“You
answer to him,” the younger Tannault pressed.  “You willingly subjugate
yourself to his authority, and hence, you adopt his values.”

His
brother looked away as the indictment struck true.

“Come
now, Peter,” Wallace eased.  “The military man before us is an honorable one. 
I hold Commander Tannault in the highest regard and it’s not his fault that his
leaders have discarded all we hold sacred out of pure expediency.”

Head
still hung low, the Seshafian mumbled, “Thank you, Viscount.”

“That
said,” Wallace continued, “you always have a choice, Joseph, about how and who you
serve.  There is little difference between a black-hearted ruffian and an
honorable man who pushes his values to the side to serve that ruffian.”

“But
I have nowhere to go…”

Wallace
smiled.  “Untrue, Joseph.  Archduke Dunmore will always welcome men of honor, men
willing to stand up for the old ways.”

Peter
Tannault bounced excitedly next to his brother.  “You could transfer, Joseph! 
We could stand together, fighting for what we believe in and against the man
who would lead your home system into immorality.”

The
Seshafian’s eyes looked hopefully into Wallace’s.  “The archduke would accept
my PCC request?”

Wallace
looked at the man intently.  “I believe so, Joseph.  The archduke and I have
both followed your career.  You would have several, high-level petitioners on
your behalf.”

Tannault
took a moment to consider and nodded to himself.  “Then I formally submit my
request for a permanent change of corporation, Viscount.  Effective
immediately.”  His words picked up speed as his excitement grew.  “I could send
Captain Heskan the notice right now and if you accept me, provisionally, I
could even ride back from Nessus with Peter!”

Wallace
smiled grandly but then regained a more pensive demeanor.  “Perhaps this is too
hasty, Joseph.  I don’t want to pressure you into something you may not be
ready for.  It’s a big decision and a transfer approval is always difficult to
justify.”  The Red Admiral gazed thoughtfully away for a moment.  “Wearing that
blue uniform, perhaps there is some good you could do not only for yourself but
also for IaCom.  Not only would such actions validate your decision internally,
it would demonstrate to all in IaCom your willingness to embrace a new
corporation and the net worth you’d bring.”

“Anything, Viscount.”

*  *  *

Heskan
arrived at the Madison Judicial Complex customarily early.  He paced for thirty
minutes, alone in the waiting room, unable to enjoy the extravagant chamber or
its spectacular view on the window-mode wall screens.

Finally,
a suited man entered the room and broke his spell.  “Captain Heskan, I’m Jason
Morgan, assistant to Mr. Miller.  Do you have any questions about your
testimony?”

Heskan
shook his head.  “No, I can use the exact answer he prepared for me.”

“Great,”
Morgan replied as he gestured for Heskan to follow him.  “If defense counsel cross-examines
you, be sure to wait a second before you answer to give us time to object. 
That’s especially true if they ask you about your time as a privateer.”

Heskan
balked.  “Mr. Miller said they couldn’t ask—”

Morgan
nodded as he interrupted.  “They can’t but that may not stop them from at least
trying.  We’ll object, the archjudge will sustain our objection and then
they’ll say ‘No further questions,’ and that will be it.”

“Okay,”
Heskan replied nervously.  He was certain his answer sounded more like it had
come from a frightened child than a fleet commander.

They
walked down a narrow hallway, past the portal Heskan had been escorted through
on his way to the waiting room.  The legal assistant opened the double doors at
the end of the hall and waited at the threshold.

From
inside the expansive chamber, Heskan heard Miller’s voice.  “AmyraCorp calls
Captain Garrett Heskan.”

He
took that as his cue to enter the sprawling room.  The scene before him was one
of meticulously polished wood and oiled leather.  Heskan saw he had entered the
courtroom through a side entrance.  To his left was an impressive panel of distinguished-looking
judges draped in black gowns and powdered, white wigs.  To his right, a
smattering of attorneys populated two large tables.  Heskan recognized Miller
standing behind the table farthest from him.  A striking, blonde woman was
standing at the opposite table.  The counselors had but a single assistant
standing next to them.

This
boosted Heskan’s spirits greatly. 
If they were going to try anything,
they’d have a lot more people here, orchestrating things.
  Another woman,
garbed in a black, flowing skirt and exquisitely decorated doublet moved to
Heskan and escorted him to a wooden chair at the far side of the judicial bench. 
The bailiff’s gleaming, ceremonial sword hung at her hip and seemed viciously
functional to Heskan.

The
bailiff produced a datapad and handed it to Heskan after he was seated.  Her
words were mechanical, nearly artificial.  “By signing this contract, you swear
your answers will be a full and complete representation of the truth as you
know it.”

Heskan
nodded and pressed his thumb to the face of the datapad.  The bailiff turned to
present the datapad to the panel of judges.

Heskan
counted eleven judges behind the bench. 
Odd,
he thought. 
Aren’t
there thirteen corporate entities?
  He scanned for clues that might reveal which
corporation each judge represented but their simple, black gowns bore no
evidence of allegiance.  The center archjudge, an elder female easily into her
nineties, inspected the bailiff’s datapad and after a beat, announced, “Your
witness, Counsel.”

The
simple remark spurred the bailiff to her post near the opposite side of the
panel while simultaneously impelling Miller to move from behind his plaintiff’s
table.  The attorney nodded acknowledgment to Heskan as he walked directly to
the front of the bench to stand near the bailiff.  Miller’s distant position
forced Heskan to turn to face the judges in order to see AmyraCorp’s advocate.

“Good
morning, Captain Heskan.  Thank you for appearing today, sir.”  Miller nodded
again before explaining, “I’m standing this far from you so that you’ll speak
loudly enough for the judges to hear your answers.”  The attorney’s trembling
hand brought a datapad up to his face and the man read, “Are the holo-logs of
AV Elathra, the ship you commanded, taken on twelve-twelve dot nine-ninety-five
a true and accurate depiction of the events as they unfolded that day?”

Wow,
he doesn’t beat around the bush,
Heskan thought as he leaned forward in the uncomfortable chair and looked at
the judges scrutinizing his every move.  Heskan cleared his throat, willing his
voice to sound confident.  “Yes.  I have reviewed the logs recorded that day
and they accurately illustrate the events before, during and after the battle
to the best of my recollection.”  After giving his answer, he sat back, pleased
that he had regurgitated the sentence without tripping over any words.

Miller
exhaled a sigh of relief.  “Thank you, Captain.  No further questions, your
Honors.”  He spun to face the opposing counsel with a smile.

The elder
woman behind the bench declared, “Your witness,” while gesturing toward the
defendant’s table.

The blonde
woman rose and thanked the judge while collecting her datapad.  She wore a
dark, long skirt that ended near her ankles.  The fabric nearly shimmered in
its opacity and clung to the curves of her body.  A doublet made from the same
material concealed most of a frilly, ivory shirt.

As
she slinked her way toward her chosen battleground, a spot roughly two meters
directly in front of her witness, Heskan took the opportunity to search the
large crowd for Vernay.  Although it was extremely unlikely his friend could
have answered the morning’s bell given her condition when he had dropped her
off at her room, he instinctively sought out the comfort her presence would offer
him.  Unable to find her face, he abandoned the effort when the shark in front
of him spoke.

“Captain
Heskan, how many Seshafian sailors died on twelve-twelve, last year?”

Heskan
felt his heart leap into his throat. 
What?
  The lump grew larger as he
realized he did not know the answer. 
What’s wrong with me?  How can I not
know how many people died under my command?
 The fleeting thought occurred
to him that Admiral Hayes might not have been able to answer such a question
either.

“Too
many,” he answered.

The predator
before him smiled slightly.  “Be specific, please... if you can.”

Heskan
swallowed.  “I’m ashamed to say I can’t give you a specific answer.  I know one
hundred and five died directly in the conflict and that another thirty-eight
were wounded but I can’t say that I know how many of the wounded recovered.” 
The forced admission made him bite down hard and hate the woman in front of him,
and himself.

“Were
any of the fatalities that you bothered to make yourself aware of a result of
rifle or pistol shot?”

Across
the room, Miller shouted, “Objection, your Honors.  Inflammatory.”

The
aged matriarch behind the bench paused to look down to the surface in front of
her.  The light from the inlaid screen brightened her face.  Ten other judges
also consulted their screens, some typing comments onto them.  After several
beats, the archjudge addressed Miller.  “Overruled.”  She glanced at Miller’s
opposition and cautioned, “You have very little latitude, Counsel.”

The huntress
barely acknowledged the warning.  “Were any shot, Captain?”

What
the hell is going on?
Heskan
wondered. 
They said she wouldn’t question me.
  He let his words turn
bitter.  “Why would they have been?”

Another
slight smile grew from the woman before him.  “Captain Heskan, in this forum, I
ask the questions.  Please answer them.”

“Objection,
your Honors!”

The
central judge looked at Miller patiently before prompting, “Your grounds, Counsel?”