Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe) (3 page)

Brewer’s
head dropped fractionally.

“Expound,
Agent Jennings.”  The words came out quietly, nearly a whisper.

Jennings
swallowed and then admitted, “They kissed passionately once she was freed from
the cargo container, Minister.  I was taken away shortly after that and never
saw her again.”

Brewer
sighed in resignation and said, “You may go now, Agent Jennings.”

Jennings
shot to his feet.  “Thank you, Minister… Mr. Secretary.”

Before
he could pivot toward the door, Fane spoke once again.  “Why did you quit, Agent?”

Jennings
took an unsure step away from the minister, desperately seeking escape.  “I, I
don’t understand, Madam Minister.”

“You
held Commander Heskan in a supinating wristlock,” Fane explained.  “Moreover,
your opponent was prone and could no longer turn over his own arm to prevent fracture
of his wrist and elbow and the dislocation of his shoulder.  Why did you stop?”

Jennings
shifted nervously from foot to foot.  The woman’s exacting description of the
submission hold he used during his fight with Heskan on the Anthe orbital served
only to elicit more dread to her question.  “Madam Minister, Commander Heskan
had an M-41 pressed into me.  He could have easily fired if I continued.”

“It
would not have been fatal… at least not immediately,” Fane persisted.  “And
after applying enough torque to break his arm, he most likely would have
reflexively dropped his weapon after the first shot.”

“But,
but,” Jennings stuttered, “his first shot couldn’t have missed.  The barrel was
pressed
against my side.”

Fane’s
jade eyes met Jennings directly as she pressed, “So defending the Republic was
a less pleasant prospect than coming here today.”

Jennings
hesitated several seconds before finally mumbling, “I don’t know what to say,
Madam Minister.”

“You’ve
already told me everything I needed to hear,” Fane declared ominously.  “You
are dismissed but you will wait in the antechamber, Agent.”

Once
Jennings left the room, Brewer cleared his throat.  “Am I to assume that this
resource will no longer be available?”

Fane
resumed the fractional swaying of her body before answering.  “Yes.”

The
pawn now sacrificed to the cause, Brewer stated hopefully, “I am optimistic
that Garrett Heskan is no longer a threat to the Republic, Minister.”

Fane
inhaled deeply and considered the secretary’s words.  She looked down briefly
at her datapad before saying, “Garrett shares his father’s poor taste in
women.”

The
rare personal rebuke caused Brewer to flinch.  “Madam Minister, Garrett had
plenty of opportunity to leak information about both the Parasites and
Praxidike but hasn’t.  I truly believe that he wants nothing more than to slip
away and quietly live out his life in peace.  Jacob Heskan never meant to hurt
the Republic.  His son doesn’t mean to either.”

“He already
has, Sebastian,” Fane hissed.  “Or don’t you think stealing away a critical
intelligence asset from us was treason?  We could have used that asset to
change the fortunes of war.”

Brewer
shook his head lightly.  “Adira—”

“What
delusion makes you believe using my given name grants you leverage?”

Brewer
smiled softly.  “I’m not seeking leverage, ‘Madam Minister.’  I’m merely trying
to impress the fact that the Republic has lost this war, Adira, with or without
interference from Garrett Heskan.”

Fane
pressed her lips together to form a cruel, thin line as she reflected upon her
companion’s words.  Finally, she stated, “It will be severe.  We will lose…
much.”

Brewer
nodded.  “Most of the disputed zone, probably even some of our systems near New
Roma.”  The General Council had already sent an envoy of peace to the
Commonwealth.  No word had returned on what the price of failure would be for
the Republic.

As
if reading Brewer’s mind, Fane promised, “We have not failed, Sebastian.  One
fails only when one stops trying.”

Brewer
acknowledged the minister’s words with a nod and used them to change tactics. 
“Agreed, Madam Minister.  This is why we should not waste valuable resources on
revenge that might otherwise be allocated toward the Parasite Initiative.”

“I
cannot let him go, Sebastian,” Fane admitted quietly.  “You will end Jacob
Heskan’s line or force me to intervene.”

The
marginal dip in the Secretary of Internal Security’s shoulder would have been
imperceptible to anyone else.  Satisfied, the cruel line of Fane’s mouth
shifted upward.  “Now tell me about the Initiative.”

“It will take some time,
Madam Minister.”

*  *  *

Heskan
had watched the christening of
Dioscuri
, Seshafi’s newest ship of the
line, from Covington’s shuttle the day before.  Now, he was twenty minutes late
for another ceremony, this one a more personal groundbreaking.  When he arrived
at the site, powerful machinery had already burrowed several meters into the
soil.  Augmenting the mechanical clamor were the coordinated efforts of dozens
of men and women working around the location.  Thirty meters from the main
effort, construction transport shuttles ferried material to a staging area.

After
Heskan’s shuttle landed, he remained at the makeshift landing pad while
searching, fruitlessly, for his contact.  In the end, the brawny woman found
him and casually tossed a bright yellow hard hat at him as she approached. 
“You’re late.  I told them to proceed without you, Mr. Heskan.  I hope you
don’t mind.”

Heskan
attempted to catch the hard hat, bobbled it and watched it drop into the nearby
beach grass.  He picked the hat up and donned it.  “It’s okay… is there
anything left for me to do since they’ve started?”

The
project manager shrugged indifferently as she reached Heskan.  “Just pick up
the shovel from storage.  The holo-vid is a close-up of the shovel going into
the earth with the beach and ocean in the background.”  The woman turned to
face the ocean and the wind made her brown hair dance.  The seemingly non-stop
breeze was blowing offshore but it would turn, later, as the land heated. 
“It’s a spectacular view.”  She inhaled deeply.  “And smell that ocean air…”

They
call it the smell of the ocean but it’s actually the smell of the land,
Heskan thought pedantically.

“When
I reviewed the work order, I thought you were crazy for insisting on real
windows along the east side of the house.”  She inhaled deeply a second time. 
“I understand why now and with that breeze, you’ll barely have to run the
cooling unit at all.”

Heskan
had taken Vernay’s advice and decided early upon a Spanish colonial
-
style house that complied with
the stringent building codes on the continent.  That single decision seemed to
be the only constant during the entire planning process.  Originally, he just wanted
a small and simple domicile but with each passing week, Heskan’s “simple” house
design grew in size and complexity as he added more and more features.  His
former first officer only aggravated matters, insisting that Heskan “build the
house he deserved” and encouraging him to have no regrets regarding the
conveniences commonly available to terrestrial homes.  What began as a simple,
three-bedroom house had evolved into a five-bedroom estate, which included a
small courtyard overlooking the ocean.  In many ways, it was not unlike Samanta
De Luca’s plantation house on Hollara, but on a more humble scale.

“If you’ll follow me,
Mr. Heskan,” the manager requested, “we’ll get that shovel.  We’re also going
to have to modify the foundation a bit.  We’re encountering more sand than we
expected and need to use some higher end materials to keep up with code.”

*  *  *

Admiral
Wallace pointed toward the final paragraph of his
casus bellum
draft.  He
had taken an extra day to word it perfectly.  The standard language was
intricately woven into the summary along with the listed requirements necessary
to ensure the cause of war would be expedited to take effect in mere weeks.

IaCom’s
chief operating officer, Duke Alcott Hughes, grinned upon finishing his
review.  “This is fine work, Viscount.”  He casually flicked his index finger
across his datapad, shuffling through the pages of the document until stopping
at the proposed order of battle.  “I see you shall enter Seshafi with a much
more appropriate force this time.”

Wallace
nodded.  “Indeed, sir.  Subtlety is out the airlock now.”

“As
it should have been the first,” Hughes muttered.

Wallace
dipped his head.  “With respect, Duke, my plan was perfectly conceived and
would have granted us the entirety of AmyraCorp in a single, painless stroke. 
I could ill-afford to have entered Seshafi with a larger force because Admiral
Cooke would have known that the stakes were higher than they initially
appeared.  My plan, one of the boldest in corporate warfare history, would have
been successful if not for the interference of that damned privateer.”

“Whom
you must deal with directly now,” Hughes reminded Wallace.

The Red
Admiral grumbled.  “Yes.  He has assumed the role of Lord of the Admiralty for
Seshafi with Piers’ death.”

Hughes
snorted.  “What is the status of their grievance regarding Cooke’s death?”

“Mired
in court procedure.”  Wallace raised a knowing eyebrow and added, “For now. 
Our
casus bellum
will be scheduled before the hearing.”

“Are
you not concerned about it?” Hughes asked.

“I
would be,” Wallace confessed but smiled winsomely.  “However, I expect the new
leadership of AmyraCorp to dismiss the suit by the time the hearing comes up.”

Both
men shared a laugh over the remark.  Hughes was reaching for a bottle of
limited edition malt resting upon the sideboard when an assistant dashed into
the corner office.  The aide’s face was a ghostly white as he worked furiously
on his datapad.  “Excuse me, Viscount.  This just came via standata.”

Concern
etched deeply into the naval officer’s brow as he awaited the update and then
set to work to open the document.  The man’s knuckles turned white as he read
the simple contents.

“What?”
asked Hughes, anxiety creeping into his voice at the sight of his colleague’s
rapidly blanching face.

Wallace
looked up.  “We’ve been served notice of war,” he said quietly.

“What!”
Hughes bellowed.  “Who?”  He reached across the desk for the datapad.

“Seshafi
has filed a
casus bellum
against us,” Wallace said unbelievingly.  “It
was filed
sub rosa
five days ago and has been officially entered into
the calendar.”

“
They
are attacking
us
?”  Hughes was incredulous.  “When?”

“In
just under a month,” Wallace answered while skimming the brief legalese.  “This
document barely constitutes a
casus bellum
,” he lamented while waving
his datapad.  “We could easily contest it but that would just play further into
their hands and delay things.”  He slammed the thin instrument onto the desktop.

“This
destroys our timetable,” Hughes spat angrily.  “By law, two parties must resolve
casus belli
in order of filing.”

“I
know,” snapped Wallace but quickly recovered his temper.  “And by the time
we’ve defeated them in Sade, The Courts will hear the Cooke grievance.  If they
prevail in that hearing…  I could be chastised by The Courts.”  Wallace
shuddered slightly at the thought.

“That
mustn’t happen,” Hughes said gravely.  “I will talk with the board at once to
strategize.”

“Do
we have enough influence to push through a favorable verdict?”

“It
all depends on the number of favors each judge owes the board and which members
are willing to call them in.”

“Duke,”
Wallace said defensively, “surely my service to the corporation is worthy
enough for them to shield me.  I’ve spent a lifetime defending IaCom… I would
do anything to protect Sade!”

Hughes
rested a hand upon the Red Admiral’s shoulder.  “Easy, Oliver.  Everything that
can be done, will be done.”  The COO cocked his head to one side.  “Now, you
can defeat this privateer in battle, can’t you?”

“As
you were,” Heskan thundered as he walked down the main aisle of the spacious
auditorium.  To either side of him stood nearly one thousand men and women, the
bulk of Seshafi’s Space Combat Command.  He took the stairs near the front of
the auditorium in pairs and, once on the stage, surveyed the floor for the
markings that would tell him where to stand.  Directional microphones would
broadcast his voice not only to the chiliad of sailors in attendance but to all
members of Seshafi’s tiny navy across the planet.  “Please be seated.”

Heskan
lightly cleared his throat.  Despite the massive audience, easily the largest
he had ever spoken in front of, he was not nervous.  He had given speeches with
higher stakes before.  “Ladies and gentlemen, in twenty-five days we attack Sade.”

The
throng in front of Heskan was far too disciplined to break into anxious chatter
but not nearly enough to avoid a wave of hushed gasps.  He looked out at the
young sailors in attendance.  There was shock on their faces along with a
healthy amount of fear but also something else… an understanding that the
matter between the two warring corporations must be resolved.

Off
to the side, backstage, even Lieutenants Selvaggio and Truesworth gasped at the
announcement.  Truesworth cast his head to the left and spoke in a quiet voice
to Vernay, “
We’re
attacking
them
?  That’s crazy!  Stacy, why
aren’t you as shocked as we are?”

Vernay
shrugged lightly with a wry smile.  “What, is this my first day here?”

Oblivious
to the backstage banter, Heskan continued.  “While we are still firming up our order
of battle, we’re going to commence combat exercises in two days with what we
know we’ll have for the attack.”  He looked downward, at the front row of the
auditorium.  Yon Nguyen, recently promoted to captain, sat stoically.  The
Seshafian native had been briefed an hour earlier on the operation that would
commence in a little over three weeks.  Heskan held reservations about Nguyen’s
conservative, nearly antiquated nature but understood that Archduke Covington
promoted Nguyen to captain to act as not only a sounding board for Heskan but
also a brake.  Covington admitted that the ancient conventions and covenants of
corporate warfare were undergoing a transformation with the Sade-Seshafi
conflict, but he also realized that a full-throttled, headlong change of the mores
could result in the decimation of both systems’ navies that either side could
ill afford.  Covington urged Heskan to be creative with his interpretation of
corporate rules but not violate them outright.  As a single-system entity,
Seshafi held little sway over The Courts in the capital system of Nessus and needed
to tread lightly when dealing with the larger sharks in the corporate judicial
system.

Heskan’s
voice echoed through the large chamber.  “In the next twenty-four hours,
Captain Nguyen and I will determine the ship captain list for the pending battle. 
There will be differences from our last action.”  He looked sternly across the
room.  “I place a premium on combat experience and the officers that have proven
themselves will see their names at the top of the list.”  He resisted the urge
to smile as he thought about his crew.  “Some of the names you will recognize. 
Others, you may not.  Ultimately, I know that each of you will perform to your
utmost regardless of who your ship captain is or where she may have hailed
from.”

Heskan
gestured toward Captain Nguyen with a smile.  “I am pleased to announce not
only the promotion of Yon Nguyen to the rank of captain but also his new
position commanding Dioscuri.”  Heartfelt applause spread throughout the room
at the news that Nguyen, one of the few survivors of the old guard, was being
honored with the captaincy of Seshafi’s newest and largest ship of the line. 
After the applause died down, Heskan’s smile grew wider.  “I am also pleased to
announce that our other ship of the line, Ajax, will be captained by Commander
Stacy Vernay.”

Polite
applause filled the chamber this time as Vernay dipped her head and blushed at
the expected announcement.  Truesworth slapped Vernay on the back while
whooping as Selvaggio vigorously shook the young commander’s hand.

Heskan
made sure his voice boomed with confidence.  “I don’t know if any of you have
reviewed the action fought a couple weeks ago—”  Genuine laughter broke out
over the crowd.  With the nonstop media broadcasts, no sentient being in Seshafi
could escape seeing the battle at every turn.

“Commander
Vernay assumed de facto command of my ship when I was forced to lead the
fleet.  Her leadership was instrumental not only in Elathra’s success during
the engagement but to the overall success of the entire battle.  Those of you
lucky enough to serve under her will undoubtedly be in for the ride of your
life.”

Heskan
infused his voice with a healthy dose of assurance.  “This is the first step toward
righting the terrible wrong inflicted upon our navy just one month ago.  Sade
has already been served our
casus bellum
and now, we will take the fight
to them!”

A chorus of cheers
filled the auditorium as Heskan finished, “We will show Admiral Wallace and all
of IaCom the true mettle of the Seshafian navy. We may be small in size but we
are large in heart.”

*  *  *

ANOTHER BLOODBATH AT

THE TUNNEL POINT?

The words of the tagline on the
wall screen slammed into a collection of digital brigs and line ships, causing
the vessels to explode.  As the screen flared from the explosions, Chase Fuller’s
voiceover narrated animatedly.  “In an IaCom exclusive, my sources have
obtained a copy of Seshafi’s
casus bellum
and I will share the
provocative language of the document with you!”

Archduke
Covington slowly shook his head in disenchantment while Heskan questioned,
“Provocative?  What’s so provocative about our
casus bellum
, Archduke?”

Sitting
next to Heskan, Captain Nguyen simply sighed.

“Nothing
at all, Garrett,” Covington answered.  “It’s just sensationalism on his part.” 
The patrician resumed shaking his head.  “As if sending our lads into combat
were not dramatic enough for him.”  Covington focused again on Fuller’s words
and grunted distastefully.

In
the background, Fuller’s image replaced the onscreen explosion.  He summarized
the ship casualty list from the previous battle before adding, “And which
privateer outfits will dare contract with Seshafi now that we’ve installed a fleet
commander that has shown such callous disregard for loss of life and
property?”  Fuller’s roguish smile widened.  “Already there are rumors which
seem to bear out that privateer companies were reluctant to employ with
Seshafi.  But now?  With a former Hollaran komandor leading the fleet?”  Fuller
shrugged his shoulders.  “Who’s to say that he wouldn’t order his fleet to
total annihilation?  Just consider some of the early results of the battles Hollara
fought against the Brevic Republic.  Entire task forces wiped out by ‘Vic heavies.”

“—and
what kind of psychological damage does that kind of devastation inflict upon a
komandor who witnesses it?” Fuller’s guest interjected.

Fuller
nodded gravely with a deep look of concern.  “Excellent point, Michael.  Could this,
let’s call it traumatic stress disorder for argument’s sake, this trauma be the
reason why Archduke Covington has refused to promote Heskan to rear admiral?”

The
wall screen faded to black, muting out the guest’s response.  Covington entered
a new command into the inlaid keyboard of his desk and the wall screen produced
the latest revision of the Seshafian order of battle.  “I’m quite disappointed
with the tone of reporting by IaCom but I must believe it has more to do with a
clash of personalities rather than corporations.”

“I’m
sorry, Archduke,” Heskan said feebly.

Covington
nodded.  “It’s regrettable but understandable, Garrett.”  He glanced briefly at
Nguyen before adding, “I suppose the media in the Commonwealth is slightly more
focused on portraying current events in a more favorable perspective for the sitting
government than our media is here.”

Heskan
hung his head. 
All this negative press might not be happening if I had
shown more restraint during that interview.
  The entire situation was
vexing for him.  To be discussing problems related to media coverage rather
than preparing for the actual conflict seemed unreal.  Those “unreal” problems had
become very real of late.  Due to the negative coverage and the portrayal of
Heskan as an uncaring leader willing to burn ships and lives unflinchingly,
Seshafi was, once again, having difficulty recruiting privateer ships.  The
ships would not be needed in the immediate skirmish, Heskan knew, but a failure
to be able to supplement their home defense force in the following conflict
would spell the end for AmyraCorp.

“Well,”
Heskan mumbled, “who’s next on the list?”

Covington’s
eyes glanced down to his desktop.  “Catalina’s Iron Brigade.”

“One
of the best outfits in the Federation,” Nguyen stated.  “They’re based in Hiisi
and we have strong ties with them that go back for decades.”

Heskan
looked across the room with questioning eyes.  “Why didn’t they send ships for
Admiral Cooke during the last action?”

Covington
grimaced.  “A rather unfortunate set of circumstances.  You see, they’re small,
like most privateer companies.  They have just two brigs and three snows and
the entire lot was tied up covering the independence parade in the Spinward Sector
Corporate Zone.”

Nguyen
muttered under his breath, “Damned ‘Vics cost us our most supportive privateer
company the last time around.”

Heskan
noticed Covington’s flinching reaction to Nguyen’s words.  Curiously, the
slight against his home did not bother Heskan in the least. 
Six months ago,
I would have defended Brevic honor at all costs
, he reflected. 
What
does this say about me?
 
Have I truly turned my back on the Republic?
 
The wrenching in his gut whenever he thought about a Brevic defeat at the hands
of the Commonwealth suggested otherwise
.  I still love my Republic, but,
maybe now I can look at it without rose-colored glasses.

“The
Iron Brigade has strong relations with the Eris system too, Yon,” Covington
mediated.  “They were honor-bound to assist them.  You can’t fault the Republic
entirely for their presence there.”  Covington and Heskan had held an in-depth
meeting in which Heskan explained the exact circumstances of his crew’s flight
from the Republic.  Unsurprisingly, Covington accepted the tale in stride and
merely remarked at the end about the great need to keep their Brevic identities
a secret for as long as possible.  Additionally, Covington insisted that a
further discussion be held with the counsel of AmyraCorp’s security heads. 
Seshafi could hardly afford to have her newest and best hope for victory fall
to an ill-timed and unexpected Brevic reprisal.  There had not been time yet to
bring Nguyen into the small circle that knew the truth.

Heskan
shrugged a shoulder.  “I don’t know, Archduke.  The Republic’s attitude toward
corporate freedom isn’t at all understated and corporate systems that border
the Republic have good reasons to beef up their defenses during their independence
holidays.”

“Do
you think the Republic would actually invade one of those systems, Garrett?”

Heskan
shook his head in the negative but sighed.  “I think the Republic currently has
its hands full with other, more pressing matters, Archduke.”

“But
back to the matter at hand, Garrett,” Nguyen stated.  “The Iron Brigade is
sympathetic to us so let’s try our best not to change that.”

The
pointed barb was enough to stiffen Heskan’s spine.  Initially, he had conducted
standard negotiations with privateer companies without support from Covington or
Nguyen.  Fleet commanders had always solicited privateer assistance and
conducted such talks without the presence of corporate officers.  However, when
company after company either outright refused to hold discussions with the
newly installed Seshafian fleet commander or walked away from negotiations
without coming to a successful agreement, the long-standing policy changed. 
Heskan believed he had been careful not to let any innate Brevic prejudices
against privateers surface during the ill-fated meetings but his reputation,
bolstered by Fuller’s infuriating hit-pieces, had obviously preceded him.  As
Seshafi faced the growing and terrifying prospect of having to enter a conflict
without privateer support, Covington intervened and suggested that the
remaining negotiations be administered with his and Nguyen’s presence. 
This
is why you don’t rely on mercenaries,
Vernay had exclaimed to Heskan in
confidence.  He grumbled in silent agreement as he reviewed the summary of the Iron
Brigade on his datapad.

“Well,
let’s bring Commander McDaniel in,” Covington said after entering commands at
his desktop.

Minutes
later, the chamber door opened.

A
generous description would have called Commander Frankfort McDaniel “sturdy” or
“stout.”  Nearly as wide as he was tall, the barrel-chested man rumbled into
the office with an easy smile on his face and an odd Hardee hat atop his head. 
Foregoing the usual bicorne popular to so many privateer navies, the robust
man’s hat brim was pinned to the left side with a brass device and wrapped with
a midnight blue cord around its base.  The Seshafian men stood to greet him and
Heskan saw the short man’s arms were nearly as thick as Heskan’s own legs.  The
word “mountain” was hardly befitting for the privateer commander as he was
lucky to nick the bottom of 1.6 meters.  Heskan heard friendly greetings
exchanged between the other men in the office as he continued to gape at the
mammoth proportions of the ship captain in front of him.  Finally, he heard
Covington’s voice announce, “And this gentlemen here is Captain Garrett Heskan,
Seshafi’s youngest ever fleet commander.”