Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe) (15 page)

Ensign
Gables was dolefully monitoring Vivian May’s respiration.  Over the course of
several hours, it had become labored and sporadic.  Most recently, each breath
seemed to elicit a slight whimper as if May’s body was nearing the finish line
of a long marathon.  She solemnly reached out to hold May’s hand when a tall
man charged into the sickbay.

“What
is the patient’s status?” he demanded.  The Hollaran rushed to May’s side and
began cutting away the bandage around her torso.

“Who
in the hell are you?” Gables replied, flabbergasted.

Doctor
Timoleon finished cutting and pulled up the messy bandage to peer at the ugly wound. 
He stuck a finger inside the swollen, ragged injury while pressing firmly on
May’s abdomen with his other hand.  Finally, he answered, “I am the doctor; you
are my assistant.  Now that the pleasantries are over would you care to do your
job and help me transfer her to the E-O table?”

“It
doesn’t work,” Gables despaired.  The auto-doc table’s software was corrupted
and a search for replacement software had proved fruitless.

Timoleon
rolled his eyes in exaggerated vexation.  He snorted, “Like I would trust that
machine to operate even if it were functional.  I just need the scanner inside
it.”  He looked over to Gables.  “Break open those shiver-sticks too.  Start
categorizing the instruments on the operating tray.  Please tell me at least the
sterilization basin works in this medical bay.”

Gables
just stood there, mouth agape.

Timoleon
snapped his fingers impatiently.  “Nurse, either assist me or go find someone
who can!  If I do not relieve the pressure against her diaphragm, this woman is
going to die soon.”

The statement
rocketed Gables into action.  She scrambled to the opposite side of May’s bed
and prepared to move her friend.

*  *  *

The
door to
Envoy-3’s
only shuttle opened and Brewer stepped out into the morning
air.  The typical chill from Pallene’s thirteen-hour nights enveloped the man,
but soon the sliver of light on the horizon that was Anthe’s red-hued sun would
have its turn and heat the surface well past one hundred ten degrees
Fahrenheit.  The extreme temperatures between night and day made for a violent
global weather pattern.

The gusting,
offshore breeze ruffled Brewer’s grey hair.  Two bodyguards escorted him from
the landing pad on top of the capital’s administration and policy building into
an awaiting elevator.  When the elevator reopened its doors, Brewer stomped to
a nearby office on the top floor.  The office was small, especially for one
whose title was Secretary of Internal Security, but it would serve well enough in
its primary purpose of protection.  Brewer felt safely hidden now, far away
from his luxurious Emissary-class sloop that remained precariously close to
Kite’s
weaponry.  He sat in the faux-leather chair and flashed a comm request.  He had
several moments to consider the morning’s events before his request went through.

“Mr.
Secretary,” Neal started, “the agents and I are on Kite and I’ve taken command
of the ship per the Emergency Powers Act.  Still no word on the intruders here
though.”

“Good,”
Brewer said.  “Send your agents to Engineering.  That is your priority.  The
section must remain under your control, Mr. Neal.”  Brewer consulted the
console inlaid into the desk.  “You should receive nineteen more agents from
the surface in about fifteen minutes.  You’ll get another thirteen about a half
hour after that.  Once you have enough to keep Engineering, you can send out
patrols to track Kite’s intruders down.  Have you sent men to Truesworth’s
quarters yet?”

“Not
yet.  I didn’t want to be ambushed,” Neal confided.  “The fire alert was
cancelled when the atmosphere was evacuated though.”

Brewer
nodded.  “Overly cautious and we can only hope your timidity won’t have any
dire consequences for you.  I believe that it was most likely a diversion
anyway.  Of course, once you have enough agents to send in force, you will have
to secure that room.”

“Why
would they start a fire, Mr. Secretary?”

“There
are several possibilities,” Brewer answered, but failed to present them.  “I
sent Agent Jennings to help Commander Heskan watch over the Hollarans.  Agent
Dunn is in charge of the orbital search for Truesworth now.”

“Whatever
he has planned has to happen soon,” Neal speculated.

“I
agree although it’s possible that the fire on Kite was accidental.  It makes little
sense to have alerted us to his influence there.”  Optimism ebbed into Brewer’s
voice.  “Catching him on an orbital camera was also a stroke of luck so,
perhaps, his plan is falling apart.  Stay vigilant and report back to me upon
any change.”

Brewer
ended the transmission. 
Kite
now seemed secure and calamity averted. 
The revelation of how vulnerable the space station was to the destroyer’s
battery had panicked Brewer, but now, with that catastrophe looking less
likely, his usual self-assurance was returning.  Truesworth had been nearly as
much of a thorn in his side as Lombardi.  Fortunately, his capture was imminent
and Brewer looked forward to turning the page on this unfortunate chapter in
his career.  He had deflected the responsibility for Truesworth’s escape
downward but the renegade’s mystifying ability to elude arrest was making Brewer
appear weak to the Minister of Intelligence and the General Council itself.

Soon
though, Truesworth and his pack would be out of the picture and Brewer would be
sailing back to Bree with Komandor Isabella Lombardi-De Luca as his prize.  Before
all hell had broken loose this morning, he had received a report finally
revealing the komandor’s identity.  Once her academy records had been unlocked,
tracing her application to her home world had been simple.  Cross-referencing
the address had hit upon a match to one of the De Luca family’s plantations on Hollara.
 Analysts were still evaluating the data for accuracy but Brewer knew the
information was true.  A connection to his Hollaran intelligence counterpart was
the only way the wildcat could have known his real identity.

He
smiled slightly as he reveled in the knowledge that their next meeting would
crush her soul.  The smile broadened when he thought of the rewards he would
reap when he delivered her, broken and submissive, to the General Council.

He
tapped on his datapad and began to compose the line of questioning for her next
interrogation.

Aft
of the bridge, a short walk down
Hussy’s
top deck led to the ship’s
wardroom.  The room was a vestigial reminder of the freighter’s advanced age. 
No inlaid computer screens resided in the compartment’s battered conference
table and the walls were a chipped and faded gunmetal grey.  The room’s only
decorations were several alloy cabinets lining the walls, storing items that
belonged to the former officers of the pirate freighter.  Heskan looked
anxiously at the people seated around the simple, metal table secured to the
deck with rivets.

Despite
the almost overwhelming urge to stay on the bridge and watch their agonizingly
slow progress toward the Titan tunnel point, Heskan called the meeting to
discuss the group’s escape strategy.  Over the past weeks he had thought only
loosely about what they would do beyond Anthe; perhaps subconsciously he believed
it would not be needed.  Now, on the run and looking at the three curious and
expectant faces around the table, Heskan regretted his lack of optimism.

“What
are the exact numbers we have among the Hollarans?” he asked.

Lombardi,
still garbed in an orange prisoner’s uniform, answered, “Including four
marines, one hundred and ninety-nine personnel from Phoenix and twelve
survivors originally from Vaettir.”  The marines, led by Starzy Sierzant Nilis
Vidic, were now safeguarding Agent Jennings.  “A total of only two hundred and
eleven souls,” she added bitterly.

“How
many started on Phoenix?”

Lombardi’s
shoulders slumped in despair.  “I had five hundred thirty-five when I first
dove into Anthe.” 
Phoenix
originally had over seven hundred crewmembers
but the fighting at Sponde, Helike and Kale in addition to the flight through
Parasite space had reduced that number significantly.

Vernay’s
jaw dropped.  “How did only less than half escape?”

Kapitan
Marco Romano,
Phoenix’s
former chief engineer, gestured at his bandaged right
leg.  “The same reason I have a limp.”  Resentment cut deeply into his words. 
“Your shock troopers gained control of the major access points in Phoenix and
shot anyone trying to abandon the ship.”

Lombardi
reached over to Romano and softly gripped his wrist.  “Easy, Marco,” she
soothed.  “Heskan’s people warned us about the boarding attempt; they were not
his
troopers.”

“Still,”
Vernay insisted, “there has to be more of you.”

“There
could be,” Lombardi admitted.  “Our lifeboats were picked up by ‘Vic ships before
we could make an accurate count.  It is possible that some of my people were
taken to Pallene instead of the orbital.”

“Isabella,”
Heskan started regretfully.

“I
know,” she cut him off and closed her eyes.  Her head dipped as she muttered, “We
cannot help them.  We would not even know where to look.”

Heskan
watched the Hollaran’s eyes remain closed in introspection. 
She already
blames herself for leaving her parents and later her uncle to die while she escaped. 
Heskan’s voice took on a positive tone.  “If there are more Hollaran
prisoners, we can hope that they will be exchanged when this war is over.” 
Lombardi finally met his gaze and he stared hard into her brown eyes, urging
his voice to sound reassuring.  “They
will
return to the Commonwealth,
Komandor.” 
Time to change the subject.
  “What about medical personnel?”

Vernay
responded.  “Just that full komandor doctor made it.”

Romano
confirmed with a nod.  “Komandor Timoleon ordered all of his personnel to
evacuate when the initial abandon ship order went out.  He stayed at his post because
he expected casualties although none came.  When the fighting reached the medical
section, he finally ran for a lifeboat.”

Lombardi
picked up the story.  “He apparently ran right through the middle of a
firefight completely unscathed.”

Heskan
chuckled at the mental imagery and said, “It’s always been said that God loves
medics.”

“Ultimately,
Captain,” Vernay summarized, “we have more than enough crew to operate Hussy. 
In fact, we have too many but we expected that.  Chief Brown says that life
support won’t be able to accommodate all of us for long.”  She moved her
datapad closer to Heskan and pointed at the charts.  “We’re keeping the PRESERV
containers’ life support machinery running until depleted and the doors open to
buy us some additional time.  We’re also doubling up in the crew’s quarters and
the aft and center holds are taking the overflow but it’s still incredibly
tight.”

“What
about the forward hold, Stacy?”

“We’re
using it too but it has a cargo container in it so it’s already crowded.” 
Vernay grimaced and stated, “Of course, the container is filled with euphoria.”

Lombardi
arched an eyebrow as she smirked.  “Starting a new career, Lieutenant?”

Vernay
ignored her.  “I almost dumped the container in t-space, Captain, but I’m
worried we’re going to need it.”

This
time, Heskan smirked as he quipped, “I know things look bad now but drugs are
never the answer, Stacy.”

Vernay
flashed a quick smile but then became serious.  “Captain, we’re running from
the government, this ship is falling apart around us, our life support will
last about two weeks and we only have food for thirty-five people for about a
month.”  Silence pervaded the room after the chilling statement of facts. 
Vernay finally added, “We’re also dead broke.”

“Stacy,
you’re not suggesting—”

“No,”
Vernay headed him off.  “We aren’t drug dealers but that cargo is a resource
and we’re desperately short of them.  We don’t need the extra space bad enough
to jettison it yet.”

“She
has a point, Garrett,” Lombardi admitted.

Vernay
bristled at the support.

“You’re
right, we’re not drug dealers,” Heskan insisted.  “I want it jettisoned in
t-space.”  He looked decisively at his first officer for a beat before saying,
“Next on the agenda is the route I intend to take.”  He unrolled a map he had
taken from
Hussy’s
chartroom.  After placing his finger on the Anthe
system he explained, “We’re going to dive to Titan in a little under three
hours.  A corvette is going to pass close by us but it hasn’t done anything out
of the ordinary so I don’t think we’ve been made yet.”  His finger traced the
tunnel to the Titan system.  “In Titan, we head to Bree.”

Groans
escaped the onlookers.

“The
Obsidian Planet,” Romano hissed.

“We’re
not going to Bree itself, Kapitan, but we have to pass through the system. 
It’s the gateway to the south.”  Heskan fingered the chart from Titan to Bree
and then moved down toward a district system.  “From Bree we tunnel to New
London.”