Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe) (17 page)

The
unanticipated courtesy choked Covington’s voice.  “Of course!  Captain, please.
 Welcome aboard!  We’re honored to have all of you with us.” 
Stop gushing,
Clayton!
  Only after his internal rebuke did he realize he was still
holding his salute.  He dropped his hand and jutted it toward Heskan. 
Gooseflesh broke out over his arms as they shook hands.

Covington
noticed coy smiles emanating from Heskan’s command team.  They were not
expressions of superiority but more akin to amusement.  “If you would allow me
to personally escort your party to your quarters, sir.  Then, once you’re
settled, perhaps we could have the honor of giving you a tour of Hawk.” 
Covington smiled unabashedly.  “I know my crew is anxious to meet you all.”

“That
sounds great, Clayton.  I’ve been very impressed with Hawk’s performance and
I’d love to meet the people behind it.”

Clayton turned and
quickly motioned to several able spacemen.  “We’ll get your bags stowed, sir. 
Now, if you and your party would please follow me.”

*  *  *

“All
sections report ready.  We can get under way, Captain.” 
Hawk’s
first
officer disconnected the communications channel with a practiced gesture before
turning to his captain.

Covington
sighed with relief.  “Thank you, Scott.”  The tour of
Hawk
had gone off without
a hitch.  The chief, who already insisted on running a tight ship, saw to it
that every compartment was spotless, and the gleam from not only
Hawk
but
also her crew had impressed the dignitaries.  During the tour, Heskan and his
officers had been fulsome with their compliments and Covington had held no
doubts as to their sincerity.

He
had grown up used to receiving praise and acclamations from both juniors and
superiors but always wondered whether the commendations resulted from his
natural abilities or his family ties.  However, feedback from the former
Hollarans had always been unequivocally based on performance.  Whether Heskan
was his line section leader or his fleet commander, the candid assessments from
the man were equal parts sage teachings and brutal honesty.  There was never a
question where a ship captain stood with him.  While many high-ranking officers
in the Seshafian navy carefully calculated and parsed their words before the
gentry of AmyraCorp, the Hollarans found their own virtue in speaking frankly
and openly about matters of war.

Maybe
they’re more measured when it comes to their politics,
Covington wondered,
but when
it comes to conflict, these people say what needs to be said.  I guess that’s a
necessity considering the nature of their enemy.
  The Hollaran-Brevic War
appeared to be ending and to the relief of every Seshafian, the right side had
emerged victorious.  In the beginning, there had been real fear that the
Republic’s aggression could alter the balance of power between the two
governments, or worse, draw the Federation into the war.  That had been
avoided. 
Sometimes,
Covington reflected,
the good guys do finish
first.
  He glanced casually at
Hawk’s
system plot.  “ETA to the
tunnel point?”

The
navigator consulted his console briefly.  “Five hours, twenty-one minutes until
dive, Captain.”

Covington
shifted in his chair restlessly.  He wanted nothing more than to run down to
Hawk’s
lounge in the hope that one of the Hollarans was there, but he did not want to push
his duties onto a subordinate in order to “hobnob” with the celebrities on board
his ship. 
There will be plenty of time to be around them, Clayton.  If you
want to impress them, just do your job.

“But
that would strip you of your honor,” Tannault replied above the din inside
Hawk’s
mess.  Captain Nguyen nodded in support over his plate while the younger
Seshafians looked eagerly across the table to the newcomer.  They had been sailing
for twelve days now and the lunchtime table discussions on
Hawk
had
become epic.

Commander
Vernay smiled in understanding but countered, “Your idealism is admirable,
Joseph, but ultimately, it could kill those serving under you.  Your duty to
those men and women outweighs your personal reputation.”

“I
should think they would willingly die for their idealism,” Tannault ventured. 
He looked pointedly at Nguyen before adding, “After all, isn’t that the greatest
threat of war?  The threat of succumbing to baser instincts and losing your honor?” 
More nods of acknowledgment filtered around the table.

Vernay
shivered and offered vaguely, “There are threats coreward of us far greater
than oneself, Joseph.”

“Surely
the ultimate defeat is losing yourself, Commander?”

Vernay
assessed her companions and sighed.  “I appreciate what you’re saying and it’s
easy to agree with you sitting here, but when you’re fighting not only for your
life but the lives of everyone around you, you begin to realize that concepts
like honor take a backseat to survival.”

“It’s
the losing yourself argument all over again,” Tannault said casually as he
waved his hand.

Vernay
shook her head.  “I’m not talking about the survival of your identity, Joseph. 
I’m talking about the survival of your comrades, the citizens of your state;
their children.”  She exhaled with a growing frustration and dropped her
silverware to her plate.  “Look.  Honor and virtue are ideals we should all
hold ourselves to but it gets more complicated when you realize that
maintaining your own, personal honor may mean sacrificing millions or even trillions
of lives.”

“IaCom
would never do something like that,” Nguyen insisted.

“There’s
not even a billion people on the Twins,” Tannault dismissed.

“You
misunderstand her meaning,” Heskan interjected from the table’s end while
placing his datapad on its surface.  He had been listening to the conversation
while replying to the latest building summary for his house.  Construction was
nearing completion and for an additional price, the contractor was offering a
wide variety of style-appropriate furniture.  The dizzying choices proved to be
a tedious but necessary task.  Heskan currently did not even own a bed.  “She’s
not talking about Sade, Captain.”

Nguyen
looked skeptically at Heskan.  “Even the Brev… even the major powers don’t take
life on that scale.”

Vernay
flinched slightly as Heskan cautioned, “There’s more out there than the three
major powers, Yon.”

The
senior Seshafian’s expression twisted in momentary confusion.  “The Chetellx
haven’t shown any interest in conquest.  In fact, they’ve barely shown any interest
in humanity at all.”

“We’re
not even sure if they have warships,” Tannault added.

“Yeah,
they don’t want anything to do with us,” Lieutenant Mark Hall agreed.  “We’re too
changeable.”  He made air quotes as he spoke the final word.

“What’s
that supposed to mean?” Vernay asked.

Hall’s
eyes brightened considerably at the topic.  “I watched a recording of the final
conference between them and the Federation six years ago.  We asked them if
they wanted to trade goods with us, have cultural exchanges and so forth.  The
leader of the Chetellx delegation clicked away with its assistants before the automated
translator stated, ‘The colony did not seek contact with humans because you are
much changeable.’”  Hall shrugged lightly and explained, “It was only the third
meeting between us so computer translations were pretty bad.  The Federation
delegation asked what that meant but the thing clicked away for nearly a minute
without any of it being accurately translated.  Finally, the Chetellx just gave
the chemical formula for nitrogen triiodide.”

“What’s
that?” Covington asked.

“N-I-Three
is an inorganic compound and a highly unstable explosive,” Hall expounded.  “I
didn’t know what it was either until I watched the video.  Anyway, the chair of
the delegation thought the Chetellx meant that humans are too volatile or
dangerous.  It was the last meaningful meeting we had with them so we never got
a chance to find out.”

News
of the alien race was a scarcity in the Republic.  “That’s the last time we met
with the Chetellx?” Heskan asked.

Hall
dipped his head.  “Basically, sir.  The Federation still sees them every one
hundred and eleven days at Pwenet.  The Chetellx dive in there at precisely the
same interval and repeat the exact same thing each time.”

“What
do they say?”

“It’s
like some sort of ritual where the Chetellx reaffirm the border between themselves
and humanity.”  Hall stabbed a piece of synthetic meat with his fork.  “Then
they tunnel out.”  He popped the food into his mouth.

“If
only the ‘Vics were as respectful of national boundaries,” Tannault said
off-handedly.

The
table shared robust laughter with some exceptions.

“Well,
I still believe,” Tannault said with a growing volume, “that I’d rather keep my
honor intact than trade it for something as fleeting as a victory.”

Vernay
snorted lightly.  “Lose a war and see if you feel the same way.”

Covington’s
datapad chimed loudly to preempt any response.

“Captain,
Lieutenant Ivers here, sir.”

“What
is it, Scott?”

“We’ve
moved up in the queue to dive to Nyx, Captain.”

“We’re
in a queue?” Selvaggio questioned.  “In Enyo?”

Covington
looked across the table and nodded.  “Just by coincidence, ma’am.”  He addressed
her formally despite equaling her rank.  “Ship traffic from Enyo’s main orbital
is arriving at the Nyx tunnel point at the same time we are.  There’s nothing after
that.”  Covington pressed a forefinger to his datapad.  “Okay, thank you.”  He
began to raise his finger but stopped.  “What happened, Scott?  Why’d we move
up?”

“Hold
on, Captain,” Ivers responded.  After a beat, the answer came.  “The ship ahead
of us is a salvage ship designated Darlane Salvage One-One.  It’s sailing with
a disabled freighter under its restraint and it looks like they need to
rearrange their load before they dive.”

“They’re
adjusting their load after disembarking?” Nguyen asked rhetorically.  “That’s strange.”

Selvaggio
dipped her head.  “That implies that they sailed with an unbalanced load on
their way to the tunnel point.  I’d hate to be the cargo master of that ship. 
Still, it’s better to take a look and be safe than sorry.”

“I
remember how obsessive the tug crew was before our dive on our last corvette,”
Truesworth reminisced.

Covington
looked down to his datapad.  “How soon, Scott?”

“Twenty-one
minutes, sir,” he replied. “We now have the number one spot.  It’s Hawk, then
the Darlane salvage vessel and Mirific.”

Vernay’s
head jerked instantly toward Selvaggio.

“Then
four days in t-space,” Covington mumbled to himself.

Selvaggio
returned Vernay’s anxious look.

“But
just three instant jumps after that,” Tannault added.  He looked at Covington
and asked, “When’s the last time you’ve been to Nessus?”

“Captain,
can I speak with you?” Vernay asked Heskan in a hushed tone.

“Two
years ago,” Covington answered Tannault.  “Dad took me with him during the
annual earnings call.  The planet is a madhouse that time of year.”

“I
can imagine,” Hall said before turning to Heskan.  “Have you been to Nessus,
Captain?”

Vernay
stood up from the mess table and took Heskan by the arm.  “Captain, I need a
word.”  Rather than wait for his answer, she began to pull his arm.  The sight
would have been comical if not for the desperation in Vernay’s expression.

Heskan
smiled at the interruption and excused himself.  As the bantam officer dragged
him away from the group, he asked impatiently, “What is it, Stacy?”

After
Vernay had hauled him a sufficient distance, she turned to him.  Concern etched
through her face.  “Captain, I’ve heard that name before.”

“Whose
name before?”

“Not
who, what,” she said.  “Mirific.  That’s one of the freighters I was supposed
to hijack in Erriapius.”

Heskan’s
eyebrows arched upward.  “What?  Are you sure?”

“Audrey
Jones, Cry of the Sea, Hour Prince, Hussy, Life Remorah, Mirific, Tovas Proud—”

“Okay,
okay,” Heskan said as he held his hands up.  “What does this mean?”

Vernay
shrugged apprehensively.  “I don’t know.  It could be a coincidence…”

“But
you doubt it,” Heskan finished.  After a brief glare at the far bulkhead, he stated,
“I doubt it, too.  What are the chances a Roberts Clan ship just happens to be
in the same Federation system as us waiting at the same tunnel point we’re
headed to.”

Vernay
glanced nervously around Heskan, back to the mess table.  Selvaggio was
whispering something into Truesworth’s ear.  “What do we say?  What can we
say?  How can we tell them anything without tipping them off as to who we
really are?”

Heskan
swore under his breath.  “Archduke Covington was very clear about not having
our identities exposed.  He’s worried about us and about the unpredictable effect
that exposing the head of his navy as a former Brevic officer could have.”

“But,
if Mirific is an armed Q-ship, we could be sailing into a trap.”

Heskan
silently weighed his options.  After his deliberation, he announced, “We have
to say something.”

Heskan walked the
short distance back to the table.  The discussion, having turned to the nightlife
on Nessus, died upon his return.  He looked grimly at Covington.  “Captain, I
think we need to go to Hawk’s bridge.”

*  *  *

Lieutenant
Scott Ivers’ surprised expression increased exponentially as more and more
brass walked into his compartment.  “Captain on the bridge,” he announced belatedly
while hopping out of
Hawk’s
command chair.  “Something wrong, sir?”

“I
don’t know yet, Scott,” Covington replied.  He looked back to the group
following him.  “Captain Heskan, if you don’t mind, sir, what’s this about?”

Truesworth
snaked his way across the bridge to
Hawk’s
sensor console.  The baffled SENS
officer merely withdrew her hands from her station as Truesworth began to input
commands into her panel.

“It
might be nothing, Clayton,” Heskan admitted.  “However, the freighter that’s
attached to that salvage ship might be something other than what it appears to
be.”

“What’s
that mean?” Ivers asked from his first officer’s chair.

“It
means,” Vernay said as she approached him, “that we need to get a better look
at that freighter.  Jack, check the standata and run a background check on the
salvage ship too.”

Ivers’
expression twisted into a mixture of confusion and annoyance.  Heskan was
empathetic to the situation. 
We’ve charged in here like we own the place. 
We can’t just take over the ship.
  “Captain Covington,” Heskan called him
by the honorific to reassert the junior officer’s authority.  “May I recommend
we get an optical up on those ships?”

Covington
began to gesture as Truesworth responded.  “Coming up now, Captain.”  He turned
to face Vernay.  “Commander, Hawk’s standata doesn’t have much on that salvage
ship.”

Hawk’s
main wall screen divided into
the system plot on the left and the zoomed-in optical of the salvage ship on
the right. 
Darlane Salvage One-One
was oriented away from
Hawk,
making
for an obstructed view of the freighter attached to it.  The recovery vessel
possessed two, massive arms that jutted forward, away from her center mass. 
Between those twin extensions rested the mostly hidden freighter,
Mirific
.

“Damn,”
Vernay cursed.  “We can’t see her.”

“What
do you think that freighter is, Captain?” Covington asked curiously.

“The
restraining bonds between them seem secure,” Selvaggio noted.  “Mirific
wouldn’t be able to break them herself.  The salvage ship would have to
collapse the fields first.”

Vernay,
standing next to Ivers, played with the controls on the first officer’s station
before giving up completely.  “Jack, can you use the tunnel point station’s
optics?  They’ll have a better view.”

From
behind Heskan, Tannault muttered irritably in a loud whisper, “Who’s Hawk’s
captain again?”

Covington
shot the Seshafian commander a nasty look as Heskan winced at the implication.

“It’ll
take us at least a couple minutes to get something, ma’am,” Truesworth stated.