Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe) (12 page)

“
Guten
Tag.  Sie send Kommandeur Heskan, oder
?”  The man stood and thrust a
friendly hand out.

Heskan
shook it tepidly.  “I heard my name in there.  Do you speak English, sir?”

“Of
course,
Kommandeur.
  I am Joachim
Müller, your
chief engineer.  It is a pleasure to meet you.”  The man bowed his head
slightly.  “Why, you may ask, is your chief engineer sitting here when he
should be cleaning the power core feed lines?”  The pale man’s eyes narrowed,
his voice adopting a scolding tone as he answered his own question.  “Because
Dame Vernay now owes me a very large favor.”  He smiled while turning his
attention down to his station’s console.  “The
Kommandeur
is
here,” he announced.  A second command was entered into the console and the
docking tube doors opened.  “Please proceed, sir.”

Heskan
walked down the docking tube but could not resist looking backwards at the
strange man. 
What in the hell was that?  I thought Stacy said they didn’t
have time to stop on their way back to Anthe.  Why would she recruit someone
anyway?
  Questions raced through his mind as he passed through the stained
airlock doors and stepped onto the freighter.

He
climbed the metal stairs, recently disinfected by the smell of them, and was
intercepted by Vernay and Truesworth in
Hussy’s
main deck corridor. 
Once again, he turned to the stairwell and pointed down toward the airlock. 
“What… who?”  His face twisted in confusion.  “Stacy, I just passed someone…
who?”  He shook his head.  “I guess I’m a little—”

“Bewildered,
Captain?” Vernay offered with a grin.

“Yeah,
let’s go with that.  Who was that guy?”

“It’s
a long story, Captain.  He sort of came with the ship but he’s working out
nicely.”

“Can
we trust him alone out there?” Heskan asked.

“I
think so.  He’s more likely to run back onto the ship than run away,” she
answered.  “Anyway, I needed to post someone at the watchman’s station.  No
ship leaves that spot unmanned; it would’ve looked suspicious without someone
there.”

Heskan
glanced at the chronometer on his datapad.  He shook his head to bring him back
to the moment.  “Okay, I trust your judgment.”  He turned to Lieutenant
Truesworth.  “Jack, you sure you’re up for this?”  He handed over his
briefcase.

Truesworth
knelt to the deck and opened the case.  He left the equipment inside but took
out a blue and gold
keffiyeh
and
bisht
.  He flashed a
mischievous smile and said, “I’m getting a little cabin fever anyway, Captain. 
A walk will do me some good.”  He closed the case and the three officers walked
toward the sickbay.

“How’s
Vivian doing?” Heskan asked.

Vernay’s voice wavered
slightly.  “Hanging in there.”

*  *  *

Jack
Truesworth walked purposefully down the promenade of the Anthe orbital’s commercial
deck.  The morning rush of people made navigation difficult, as did the
keffiyeh wrapped loosely around
his face that obscured most of his vision.  Complementing the scarf, Truesworth
wore a fine, blue
bisht stitched with gold trim.

It’s
like trying to cross the street in rush hour with a bucket over my head,
he thought irritably. 
Looking around, he realized that he had gone past
The Ruddy Kingfisher
and stopped abruptly.  A man ran into him from behind, knocking the keffiyeh
from his face.

“Oh
my, I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the man apologized.  He quickly bowed humbly as
he explained, “I didn’t expect you to stop like that.”

Truesworth
hastily rewrapped the disguise around his head.  Moments later, he ran toward
the nearest lavatory.

*
 *  *

“Hit!”
the security spook called out in triumph.

Assistant
Secretary Neal ran to the operator’s console.  “Where?”

The
agent typed rapidly on his keyboard and his screen displayed feed from a camera
on the commercial deck.  “Sector 4B, Camera Twenty-five.”  He tapped a key and
the frozen picture zoomed in on a man with a large scarf.  “Ninety seconds
ago.”

Neal
leaned hard on the console’s top as he brought his face near the screen to
study the high-resolution picture.  “That’s Truesworth.  What’s the computer
say?”

“Ninety-nine
percent confidence, sir.  It’s him.”  He stroked the keyboard again and the
picture unfroze.  Truesworth could be seen wrapping the scarf around his head
while looking guiltily around him.  He then sped off at a breakneck pace.

“Follow
him, where’d he go?” Neal pressed.

The
agent entered more commands and switched cameras, following the fugitive’s
escape.  His route ended at the doors of a lavatory.  “Smart man,” the agent complimented. 
“No cameras in there.”

“Has
he come out?”

The
agent fast-forwarded and throngs of people entered and left the bathroom during
the quickened footage.  After a minute and a half, the recording slowed
automatically to real time and a “Live” status appeared in the upper right of
the screen.  “He’s either still in there or he had a second disguise.”

Neal
pushed off from the console.  “You will go back and examine every person who
left that bathroom.”  He moved quickly to his desk and reached for his datapad.

Although
he had only just returned from
Hussy
, Heskan sat impatiently in his
hotel suite.  He spent this time confirming that two PRESERV-A38 FEUS containers
had been delivered to Bay-44 on the commercial deck.  Heskan had been forced to
compromise by leasing forty-meter equivalent storage containers, as there was
simply nothing else available in Anthe.  He anxiously passed the time reviewing
the container specifications, even though he could now recite them from memory,
when his datapad chirped.  He pressed “Accept” and said nonchalantly, “Heskan
here.”

“Garrett,”
Brewer’s voice came over the speakers, causing Heskan to move the datapad into
view.  The secretary looked agitated.

“Good
morning, Mr. Secretary.  Is something wrong?”

“Truesworth
is on the orbital.  We have facial recognition hits from a camera on the commercial
deck but we’ve lost sight of him.”

Heskan’s
jaw dropped.  “He’s on the orbital?”

“Yes,”
Brewer answered impatiently.  “You will initiate our failsafe immediately.  I’m
sending Neal and ten agents, everyone I can spare, to the confinement facility
to help you move the Hollarans.”  Brewer quickly wiped his face with a
handkerchief.  “You have to get them moved ASAP, Commander.”

Heskan
was up and moving through the door as he replied, “Roger that, sir.  I’ll send
you back Secretary Neal and the agents once they’ve been moved.”

“No,”
Brewer responded.  “I want them to remain with the valuables.”  Heskan’s
stomach tightened but he nodded while the secretary continued.  “Inform me when
the transfer is complete.”  Brewer ended the transmission without waiting for
acknowledgment.

Heskan
was in the hotel lift seconds later.  He had, after all, been waiting for the
call.  After the quick ride down the elevator, he galloped through the lobby past
the strange looks from the early morning custodians.  Outside, he quickened his
pace further.

The
dash to the orbital confinement facility took only five minutes, but even then,
Assistant Secretary Neal had beaten him to his destination.  The four security-police
stationed there during the early morning shift were listening to Neal bellow
instructions as Heskan trotted around the corner.

Neal
turned expectantly toward Heskan and asked, “Exactly how are we going to securely
transfer two hundred and eleven prisoners, Commander?”

“We
don’t have enough magnetic cuffs, so we’ll have to use standard ties, Mr.
Secretary.”  He motioned at the guards.  “You four need to start binding their
hands right now.  We’re taking twenty-five at a time.”

The
four SPs set off in motion, leaving Heskan and Neal alone.  “Mr. Secretary, we
can take the station’s administrative cargo elevator down to the commercial deck
but can you use your authority to have station security clear out the hallways
that lead from the lift all the way to Bay Forty-four?”  Heskan had purposely
arranged to use the bay nearest the lift.  “I’ll brief the agents Secretary
Brewer is sending us.”

Neal nodded curtly
and set to work on his datapad.  Only moments passed before Brewer’s promised
agents arrived.

*  *  *

Twenty
minutes later, Heskan had to admit that the prisoner transfer was proceeding
like clockwork.  At the start, he split the agents into two sets of four to
transfer each group of prisoners prepared by the confinement facility guards,
while keeping two agents inside the cargo bay to ensure the Hollarans remained
docile.  By now, everyone involved in the operation was armed.  Even Heskan had
strapped on a sidearm.  It had been a long time since he felt the weight of an
M-41 pistol on his hip.  Neal had cleared the transfer route with customary
Brevic efficiency and even taken a step further by placing every accessway
other than the proper ones along the route on lockout, making it impossible for
the Hollarans to escape.

A
party of agents tasked with transfer duty rushed into the confinement control
room.  Neal pointed down the hall toward the holding cells.  “There are thirty-six
in this group.  We don’t have time to do a separate group of eleven.”  The
aging man hiked up his gun belt to ease his sagging pants.  “Commander Heskan
is going with you.  I’m escorting the last group, the group with their
komandor.”

Heskan
and the agents jogged down the hall.  A confinement guard slid open the holding
cell door and began shepherding the bound Hollarans out of the enclosure. 
Heskan swore he saw several Hollarans bristle as they spied him.  All of the
prisoners wore simple orange short-sleeve tops with loose fitting pants.  Without
their uniforms and accompanying nametags, Heskan recognized none of them.  He
did note that one man was limping on his right leg, which was further hindered
by having his hands bound behind him with thick, flexible cord.

The
man passed by Heskan and muttered, “What have you done with Komandor Lombardi,
‘Vic?”

“No
talking!” bellowed a confinement guard and continued pushing prisoners down the
hall.

“Quick
march,” yelled an I.S. agent prodding slow-goers forward with his multi-rifle.

The
march to the cargo bay could not go fast enough for the I.S. agents. 
Regardless of how briskly a prisoner walked, he was harassed into moving
quicker.  Often, a prisoner would stumble when shoved forward by an agent’s
hand or a rifle’s muzzle.  For the agents, the pressure to relocate all the
Hollarans on Brewer’s deadline was extreme.  Each agent’s sense of urgency fed
off the others until the captors sacrificed safety for expediency.  For Heskan,
the transfer felt excruciating for an entirely different reason.  He worried
that a Hollaran would take the chaos of the situation as a sign to attempt an
ill-conceived escape.

Heskan’s
group reached the cargo bay and he began to hope that his worst fears would go
unrealized.  The several groups of prisoners coalesced into one, large group
and Heskan immediately began to order his agents to split them between the twin
cargo containers.

Despite
the blank austerity inside the PRESERV-A38 FEUS containers, the Bureau of
Internal Security had paid a fortune for them.  PRESERV containers were built
specially for the short-range shipment of live animals between planets and star
systems.  Between the empty interior of the cargo bin and its hardened exterior
resided sophisticated equipment that regulated the internal environment to
provide a habitable living space for livestock.  Days earlier, Heskan secured
one container through normal channels.  He appropriated a second PRESERV
container, however, by diverting one originally rented by an intra-system
freighter.  The cost to secure the second container had been predictably outrageous.

Expressions
mixed between confusion and outrage passed through the Hollarans as they were herded
into the two containers.  Each container was roughly forty meters long by sixteen
meters wide.  Life support was operating inside them and Heskan was anxiously
watching the displays on one of the cargo units when the last prisoner group
entered the bay.  They quickly joined the back of the two lines and shuffled
forward like cattle.  Heskan was trying to estimate how long each container’s
life support could hold out when he heard audible gasps around him.

Komandor
Lombardi marched defiantly into the cargo bay, hands bound behind her arched
back.  Her ashen skin was a mockery of its natural, olive hue but the woman
proudly held her head up as Neal urged her toward the end of a line.  Brevic
captors met the excited greetings from her crew with harsh admonitions for
silence.

Heskan
could not take his eyes off the Hollaran komandor.  He scanned her face as she
marched haughtily past him, her dark eyes never wavering from his own but
remaining unreadable.  Then she was gone, swallowed whole by a PRESERV cargo
container.  An agent rolled down the internal alloy gate and warned loudly, “If
any of you get the notion to escape, consider that you’ll be facing over a
dozen Brevic rifles the next time we open these doors.”