Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe) (21 page)

The efficiency of
Hussy’s
light sail was no surprise to Heskan. 
There’s a reason that a lot of freighters
still use light sails today,
he mused. 
We’re cruising at almost a tenth
the speed of light with hardly any tax on our power core.
  “Okay, Diane,
when you’re ready, raise the topsails.  After we’re at speed, call down and
bring those two prospective navigators to your station and teach them
everything they need to know to keep us shipshape.”  He then announced to the
entire bridge, “We’re all strung out from the escape but we’re safe, for now. 
We have almost six days in t-space to recover so let’s make sure we rest and
we’re ready to run when we hit New London.”

*  *  *

As
Envoy-3
made way toward the tunnel to New London, Secretary Brewer was answering to his
superior.  Minister Fane’s winsome face was attractive even in its seventies. 
Framed by impeccably coiffed silver hair, it seemed only natural to Brewer that
such an important position of power had been seized by such a charismatic
figure.  Only her cold, jade eyes hinted at the ruthlessness of the person
behind them.  Fane had not always carried the title, Minister of Intelligence,
but she had always possessed the brutal, cold-blooded nature of a viper.

The
aged woman held up a thin hand to stop Brewer in mid-sentence.  After many
seconds of silence, she cautioned, “Don’t mistake patience for weakness, Sebastian.” 
That was all she said.  It was all she needed to.

“I’ll
stop him, Madam Minister,” Brewer promised.

“You
had better, Mr. Secretary.”  The barest expression of annoyance flickered
across her noble face.  “This… experiment of yours ends now.  I never
understood it and I should never have allowed it.”

“I
understand, Madam Minister,” Brewer said penitently.

“No,
you don’t!” Fane spat in a rare outburst of emotion.  “That entire line is
nothing but traitors to the Republic.  We should have extinguished it long
ago.”

Brewer
nodded regretfully.  “Naturally, you are correct.  I only hoped that…”

“Sebastian,”
the minister said in a gentle tone, “I know, better than anyone, the ties you
have to that family.”  The slim hand reappeared on the screen as slight fingers
tapped near her bejeweled neck.  “I share those bonds with you.”

The
matriarch sighed.  “We go back a long way and even though you created this
problem, I don’t blame you for it.  However, I
will
hold you accountable
for how you choose to solve it.”

Brewer
dared not speak as the cobra on his screen coiled.

“You tell me that my
Republic is in jeopardy, Sebastian.  Either you will excise the tumor or I will
be forced to remove the limb… no matter how ably it’s served me in the past.  I
won’t fall prey to base sentimentality.”

*  *  *

The
solitude of tunnel space allowed routines to form on
Hussy
.  Her galley
was a turnstile of humanity.  The kitchen, which had been designed to serve a thirty-five
person crew in shifts, was now serving six times that many.  Although trash was
easily disposed of and
Hussy’s
water production could keep up with
demand, the volume of hungry crewmembers combined with the limited galley space
resulted in people eating in nearly every compartment of the ship.

Heskan
looked sadly at his meager portion as he walked back toward the bridge.  He was
due to stand watch in twenty minutes but he first needed to have a critical
counseling session with his first officer.  The first two days in tunnel space
had been mercifully quiet.  After the dive, he sent Vernay immediately off the
bridge to get some much-needed sleep.  Heskan had taken the first twelve-hour
watch despite being awake for the previous seventeen hours.  When his watch
ended with the appearance of a refreshed first officer, he had almost staggered
to his cabin to slip into a deep slumber.

As
he slept,
Hussy’s
crew adjusted to the new lifestyle required on the
modest freighter.  Privacy became a distant memory, and twelve-hour shifts were
supplemented with cramped conditions yielding nothing to do but reflect upon
the pangs of hunger in each crewmember’s stomach.  Two holo-players, moved to
the aft and center holds, were the only sources of entertainment.  Throngs of
viewers sat on the cold, scuffed decks to watch sports, movies and news from
Hussy’s
standata.

Chief
Brown had augmented the ship’s two sonic showers with simple buckets of water
to assist with personal hygiene.  Doctor Timoleon had lectured Heskan that
while sanitary waste was easily jettisoned, the crew’s cleanliness was
paramount and could rapidly become a health issue.

Heskan
was still eating from his tray as he walked onto the bridge.  Lieutenant Vernay
was sitting, dutifully, at the captain’s station.  A Hollaran sensorman, with
no real responsibilities in tunnel space, was playing a card game on his
console.  A more attentive engineer sat next to Lieutenant Selvaggio, who
looked to be deeply engrossed in the indicators on her sailing board.  During the
first hours in t-space, she had told Heskan that sailing was both thrilling and
boring at the same time.  The subtle adjustments required with each passing
compression wave in t-space seemed unending.  Modifying even a single smartline
helped shape the ship’s sails into the best configuration given the size and
strength of the current compression wave.  These adjustments, by themselves,
were so minor that their corrections bordered on the inane.  However, a
careless hand on the smartlines could rapidly twist the sails, causing damage
to the physical masts or even the entire ship.  Selvaggio had compared it to
riding a horse.  The docile creature usually suffered the rider without
complaint but there was always the knowledge that the tremendous beast could
break free at any moment.  Heskan took Selvaggio at her word, having never seen
a live horse in person before much less ridden one.

“Diane…” 
Heskan’s voice broke the silence.  “Can you watch the bridge from your station,
please?  I need to speak with Stacy for a moment.”

Selvaggio
replied in the affirmative while a curious Vernay rose from the squeaking
captain’s chair and moved toward the chartroom.  Once Heskan was inside and
seated, disappointment washed over him as he realized his plate was already empty. 
He pushed it aside and looked at Vernay silently. 
There’s no reason to beat
around the bush about this,
Heskan thought. 
May as well just say it.

“Stacy,
I’ve felt an undeniable friction between you and Isabella.”

Vernay
stiffened at the words but looked away guiltily.  “We’ve never seen eye to eye,
sir.  She’s a Hollaran komandor and I haven’t forgotten that.”

The
statement sounded like a vague accusation to Heskan.  “I thought you two
settled your differences.”

Vernay
nodded noncommittally.  “That was before…”  Vernay closed her mouth and stared
at the tabletop before finishing, “…all of this.  I understand why we’re doing
what we’re doing.  I agree completely with your actions and you know I have
your back, sir.  Just…”  She struggled for words.

Heskan
had never seen this person he had come to rely on at such a loss before.  Stacy
Vernay spoke distillate truths in the simplest terms.  “Just what?” he prodded.

Vernay
sighed audibly.  “Look… Garrett.  Seeing a dark side to the Republic doesn’t
change what the Hollarans are.  Komandor Lombardi was trying to kill us four
months ago.”

“That’s
the nature of war,” Heskan protested.

She nodded
her head in frustration.  “I know that, but my point is just because the
Republic has hurt us doesn’t mean the Hollarans won’t.”  Vernay glanced upward
at Heskan before looking away.  “It’s my job to protect the ship, Captain. 
That means protecting you even when you think you may not need it.”

Heskan
carefully parsed her words
.  Is she talking about my relationship with
Isabella? 
He thought about the Hollaran woman.  The exhilaration he felt
when she was near him on the bridge or brushed casually past him in
Hussy’s
corridors was indisputable.  It was both maddening and a blessing that real privacy
was impossible on the ship. 
Stacy can practically read my mind at times so I
guess her concern only makes sense.  If Stacy Vernay is one thing, it’s loyal. 
Does she think Lombardi is playing me for a fool?
  Heskan nodded with
acceptance.  “I hear you, Stacy.  If you’re worried about me, personally, I
appreciate your concern.”  He smiled self-consciously.  “From your perspective,
I can understand the, uh, apprehension.”  He felt his cheeks begin to flush.  “I’m
a big boy, though, and it hurts me when there’s such tension between my
closest, most trusted friend and… well, her.”

The
junior officer seemed unable to look at him directly.  “I promise I’ll do my
best to reduce the strain between her and me.”  She stifled a dramatic yawn. 
“Anything else, Captain?”

“No,
get some sleep,” Heskan replied.  “I’m glad we had this talk.”

“I’m glad you’re
glad, sir.”

*  *  *

Ensign
Gables shuffled down one of
Hussy’s
corridors.  “…They said I had a grade
two hematoma on my coccyx,” she said loudly as she carried buckets of water
with each hand.  “The doctors wanted to know which upperclassmen were abusing
me.  They wouldn’t believe me when I told them no one was.”

Podporucznik
Marynarki Tomas Denu smiled as he walked behind the ensign carrying his own
load of water.  “What changed their minds?”

Gables
stepped over the doorsill of the forward cargo hold, careful not to slosh the
buckets.  She said with a laugh, “I just took them back to the dorm and let
them watch firsthand how hard we lowerclassmen were slamming our backsides
against the halls to let the upperclassmen pass.”  She looked back to her
companion with a smile.

“So,
your Officer Training School was a bad experience?” he asked.

“Oh,
no!” Gables replied quickly.  “Well,” she said after further consideration, “it
was the greatest thing in the world that you’d never want to do again.”

The
pair laughed together before Gables turned to face forward and walked into a
barricade of muscle and sinew.

“Pardon
me,” Starzy Sierzant Vidic apologized before recognizing who had walked into
him.  His eyes narrowed considerably before moving from Gables to Denu.  Vidic
launched into a verbal barrage in a language she did not understand before
marching past Gables and into the forward hold.  Denu replied tersely back at
him and then looked at his fellow water carrier.  “Wow, he hates you,” he said
simply.

“What’d
he say?” Gables asked, feeling lack of sleep and food stirring her ire.

“Uh,
I would prefer not to say.”

Gables
dropped her buckets, the water splashing from them as she raced back into the
hold.  “Hey!” she screamed.  Conversations in the entire compartment ceased
instantly.  Every person, save one, had frozen.

Gables,
red-faced, screamed louder, “You!  Sierzant!”  She stomped over to him. 
Finally, he turned to face her.  He was a mountain in comparison.  “What’s your
damned problem, Vidic?” she spat.  She knew everyone was staring at her but she
did not care.  The pressure inside
Hussy
had been slowly building over
the last four days in tunnel space and it felt good to relieve some of it.

The
mountain erupted.  “You are the problem!  You casually discussed your
destruction of my home world over lunch on Kite and now
you
are somehow
the injured party?”  Vidic towered over the ensign as he ranted.  “And now I
have to live in this sardine can knowing that you’re in here with me.”  He
pointed at her while boldly proclaiming, “This ship is not big enough for the
two of us, ‘Vic.”

Gables dared to raise
a hand to the giant and pushed off him while roaring, “Damn straight it isn’t
and do you know why I’m in this can?”  She rose to her tiptoes and shouted,
“I’m here because I
didn’t
fire on your planet!”  A finger jab to
Vidic’s broad chest punctuated her sentence before she turned and stalked out
of the hold.  She tromped through the spilled water past Denu and said, “I’m
gonna go get a mop.”

*  *  *

In
an isolated aft compartment, Heskan and Lombardi stared at a two-meter long
cylinder covered in brown and yellow algae.

“It’s
completely dead,”
Müller said.  He ran a hand over the
structure and then shook off the water.  “It will take ten days to regrow it,
if I can regrow it.”

The rotating drum powered by cascading water was an essential part
of
Hussy’s
life support system.  Without the six large cylinders that
housed the algae used to convert carbon dioxide into oxygen,
Hussy’s
atmosphere would grow increasingly toxic.

Heskan and Lombardi exchanged a look of dread.  “What killed it?” he
asked.

“Impurities,
Kapitän.  Ammonia, acetone, methane… people all produce these and our filters
are overwhelmed.  My ship can’t support this many people,”
Müller bemoaned.  He walked to a second cylinder and pointed
out the brown patches.  “They’re all suffering from extreme stress and now that
one’s failed completely, the others will die even faster.”