Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe) (25 page)

The
outlander stepped off the ramp of the Seshafian transport that had shuttled him
from the main planet’s orbital to its capital city.  He paused as his feet
touched solid ground and took a purposeful look all around him.  Closing his
eyes, he instinctively noted the number and position of uniformed security and
the locations of egress from the terminal.

“This
way,” a press attendant urged as she approached him.  She swept her hand toward
an archway of sophisticated sniffer arrays.  “Once again, please accept our
sincerest apologies.  We had no idea we sent your news outlet inaccurate
information.”

“One
shouldn’t let the past haunt you, just teach you,” he offered with a curt nod
as he stepped through the sensors and continued toward an official wearing a
customs uniform.  The man held out his hand and swiped an instrument over the
offered datapad.  Moments later, the text on the official’s computer screen
shaded to green, validating the news reporter’s credentials.

The customs official
smiled as he looked up from his screen.  “Welcome to Seshafi, Mr. Jensen.”

*  *  *

The
whine of his taxi’s engines faded as it flew north through the darkening sky.  To
the east, the red sun dipping below the watery horizon made for a spectacular
view of the beach.  A kilometer off the coast, an enormous clipper sliced
through the water on a broad reach.

Heskan
stood at the newly constructed residential landing pad beside his house with
his luggage resting on the cobblestone.  The pad, a ten-meter circle at the
front of his house, still smelled faintly of the gel the builders had used to
secure the stone to its foundation.  Blue lights on the pad dimmed as their
sensors lost the signal of the taxi.  A narrow driveway branched off from the
landing pad to circle near the front doors before following the side of the two-story
structure to an attached carport.  Heskan stared at the house.  His house.

The
Spanish Colonial residence that started as a humble abode had grown with Vernay’s
suggestions.  He did not need a swimming pool but it made sense to have one
since he had already insisted upon a deck with a real grilling station.  The
sauna, built as an attachment to the house at the deck, might rarely be used
but it might be nice after a rigorous workout.  Vernay’s proposal to add an
elaborate exercise room also seemed destined to be a useful one.  He was not exactly
sure what equipment he would buy for the room but, at the minimum, he wanted a
virtual rower. 
I’m going to finish that trip to Dione’s moon,
he
promised himself.  He even knew exactly how far he had left to complete it. 
Maybe
I’ll buy a good Pedi-Sim, too, along with a nice weightlifting machine.

The
equipment would cost a small fortune and Heskan was mindful that his entire
Brevic savings had been spent freeing Isabella, but the money AmyraCorp paid
him during his time as a privateer, including compensation for the loss of
Elathra,
ensured a comfortable retirement.  Samanta De Luca had, essentially, given him
and his crew a starship worth billions of credits in exchange for the life of
her niece.

“I
would have saved her for nothing,” Heskan muttered to himself as he picked up his
bags, slipped the straps over his shoulders and carried them toward the front
door.  His heart still suffered when he thought of Isabella.  It seemed unreal
that he would never see her again but he knew it was truth he would have to
accept.

He
shouldered the weight well and shifted the bags when he reached the front doors. 
Once the house security protocols were set, the doors would open for him
automatically, but this time he fished out his datapad and swiped it over the
panel near the entryway.

He
was entering his new life, on a planet far from where he grew up.  Inside that
newborn life were new people he had met and would yet meet, even as some from his
old life faded into the horizon like a ship slipping away in the sea.  The
doors swung noiselessly open and revealed a large, stone-tiled foyer.  Running
up the right side was a curved staircase ending at a balcony that looked over
the living room on the first floor.  The engineers had designed the supports to
the balcony to form a graceful arch on the ground level.  The dim, natural
light from the setting sun vaguely illuminated an open kitchen past the foyer
and living room.  Adjacent to the kitchen, inside the living room, were
enormous glass windows and wide portals to the outside deck.  The portals could
be set open with weak containment fields keeping out unwanted pests and the
day’s heat.  Tonight, they were closed tight.

“Lights,”
Heskan said quietly.  The command echoed off the stone floor.  The foyer lights
flared into action providing him with a better view of the vacant interior. 
Everything was pristine.  Tiled floors shone.  Carpet was blindingly white.  Walls
were completely unmarred and empty.

Heskan
stepped into this blank canvas and realized how utterly alone he was.  He was
isolated from Port Crown.  He was isolated from his past, both good and bad. 
He dropped his bags onto the floor and walked through the living room, toward
the back of the house.  “Lights, Kitchen,” he ordered as he went.  He whispered
the command instinctively, unwilling to break the preternatural silence shrouding
the place. 
It’s like a tomb,
he thought morosely. 
Why did I let
Stacy talk me into building two extra bedrooms upstairs?
 
This house is
going to feel so lonely. 
Heskan had wanted privacy but this new feeling of
solitude threatened to overwhelm him.

He
turned the corner to enter the kitchen and nearly bumped into a large bouquet
of flowers resting on the kitchen island.  The burst of color at the room’s
center breathed fresh, vibrant life into the barren house.  There were strains
of plumeria, magnolia and hydrangea along with at least five other species
Heskan did not recognize.  The dazzling array of color and aroma transformed
the sterile house into a warm, welcoming home.

Heskan leaned in close
to smell the magnolias and found a small card nestled in the arrangement.  He
read its face: 

Congratulations, Garrett!  May
the first steps in your new, beautiful home be the first steps in your new,
beautiful life.

–Stacy

*  *  *

Two
days after his return home, Heskan substituted the languid calm of his estate
for the frenetic pace of Port Crown.  He arrived at Joshua Covington’s office at
the same time as Captain Nguyen.  “Welcome back, gentlemen,” Archduke Covington
said with a smile but winced painfully as he rose from behind his desk.

Heskan
moved away from Nguyen and quickly toward the patrician to halve the man’s
journey.  He shook hands while saying, “Thank you, sir.  I assume word from
Nessus beat us home?”

Covington
nodded as he continued on his way to the comfortable couch by the wet bar. 
“Yes, it’s nearly impossible to outrun the information wave, as you know.”  He
reached the couch and rotated slowly in place around his cane.  Once facing
away from the leather-crafted sanctuary, he started the sluggish process of
easing down onto it.

“Then
you’re aware of the outcome,” Nguyen surmised.

“Indeed.”
 Covington grunted slightly as he sat and then issued a sigh of relief.  He
recited the court’s findings by rote.  “The nobility of IaCom shall suffer no
culpability over a murderous act perpetrated by native Seshafians.”  The elder
clasped both hands on top of his cane and sighed, this time, in fatal
acceptance.  “In truth, the court’s opinion is probably more accurate than
not.  Perhaps, even, the judges have done us a favor by denying us a reason to despise
IaCom further.”  He looked thoughtfully at Nguyen and said, “I long for the day
this war will be over so we can put this ugliness to bed and return to more
amiable dealings with our neighbors.”

“We’re
certainly stronger united with them than opposed,” Nguyen agreed.

The
notion of eagerly embracing one’s enemy seemed outlandish to Heskan.  Rather
than highlight his difference of opinion, he changed the subject.  “We were
ambushed on our way to Nessus,” he stated plainly.

“I
heard of that as well; remember who commands Hawk.”  A wry smile emerged from
the CEO.  “I suppose we must do a better job of keeping you in-system, Garrett. 
At least until you’re subpoenaed to Nessus again.”

Captain
Nguyen walked casually to the wet bar while asking, “Archduke, do you really
think that will happen?”

“I
believe it shall depend on the outcome of our upcoming battle.  If we are
victorious, I suspect Wallace will petition Archduke Dunmore to seek a court
rebuke over the manner of how we intend to fight.  Wallace, if left unchecked,
will be forced by honor into seeking absolution from any defeat as some of our
methods will certainly be… unconventional.”

“It’s
necessary, Archduke,” Nguyen stated resolutely.  “We simply don’t have the
warships to match him squarely.  We must adapt to new tactics if we wish to
survive.”

Nguyen’s
base acknowledgment surprised Heskan.  Over the last half-year, the Seshafian
had proven reliable but chained to scriptures of the old corporate ways.  To
hear Seshafi’s second highest ranking naval official admit that AmyraCorp could
only win if she turned to innovative tactics gave Heskan hope that all in the
star system might embrace them. 
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Garrett. 
We have to win first.

Covington
exhaled remorsefully.  “I, unfortunately, agree with you, Yon.”  The man’s sad
eyes stared into the distance.  “I suppose this is how the founders felt almost
a century ago when corporate warfare evolved into what it is now.”  The
friendly smile returned but only slowly.  “Well, times change and you either
move forward or you move backward.  There is no third direction.”  He lifted
his cane from the floor slightly and thrust it toward Heskan.  “At least we
still have our best hope for success available to us.  That was quite a nasty
surprise Sade threw at us in Nessus and certainly unconventional as well.”  He
shrugged and reflected, “I guess, in a sense, they started down the path of
changing corporate methodology and we’re both merely adapting as best we can to
the shift.”

Nguyen
poured a dark liquid into a glass and added chilled, stone cubes with tongs.  The
stones would keep the liquid cool without diluting its flavor.  Heskan took a
seat next to the archduke.  He looked around Covington’s office and was amazed
by the orderliness of it all.  For a man who ran a star system, his desk was
remarkably clear.  On a wall screen, a byzantine spreadsheet extended along three
axes.  Heskan felt the archduke’s hand clasp over his knee.

“I
owe you an apology, Garrett.”

“What?”
Heskan asked blankly.

Covington
shook his head while lowering his eyes.  “If I had followed my instincts, none
of that nonsense against you at Nessus would have happened.  I’m afraid I
weakly succumbed to the Board’s request to withhold promotion to admiral when
placing you atop our fleet.”  The man’s jawline tensed for a moment before he
continued.  “It was foolish of us to deny you that but events were moving so
quickly… too quickly… and by refusing you, an outlander, a noble title, it gave
us comfort that, maybe, things weren’t hurtling completely out of control.”

“Archduke,”
Heskan began, “titles and ranks never mattered to me.”

Covington
held up a wrinkled hand.  His thin, withered fingers stopped Heskan’s
protestations.  “They matter to us and I’m righting my wrong now.  I shan’t
direct you to perform miracles while simultaneously undercutting your ability
to accomplish them.  I’ve already directed your secretary to clear your
schedule tomorrow for your promotion ceremony.  The morning will be occupied
with the rehearsal, and more importantly, a crash course in customs and
courtesies that follow the title of baron.”

Heskan
felt his face flush with embarrassment.  “Archduke, you don’t have to do this.”

“Yes,
I do, Garrett,” Covington explained.  “If not for you, then for me.  I refuse
to have my fleet commander enter negotiations with the enemy at such a
disadvantage.  Next time you face Wallace, you’ll both be admirals.”

Heskan
tried to think of a stalling tactic, anything that would delay the needless
complication to an already hectic three weeks.  He failed. 
It makes a lot
of sense, Garrett.  I’d insist that my fleet commander have equal footing with
my enemy too. 
Heskan dipped a shoulder in the face of futile resistance.  The
CEO’s logic was inescapable.
  I guess there’s a reason this man has risen to
manage an entire corporation
.  “Well, thank you, sir.  I’ll do my best not
to let you down.”

“Do
your duty,” Covington instructed.  “That is all AmyraCorp can ask of her sailors.”

“I
can promise that,” Heskan swore.

Covington
nodded at the words.  He briefly looked away as if uncomfortable before
stating, “I feel like a cad to bring this up now but I must.  Garrett, your duties
are firmly lashed to the battle bridge of the command, control and communications
ship.  Seshafi can’t afford to have her admiral anywhere else.”  The CEO looked
compassionately at Heskan.  “I understand your Brevic mores assert that you
lead from the front, and I respect them, but, my friend, you are now also Seshafian
and I firmly believe in my heart that every Seshafian’s fate is tied to yours.”