Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe) (22 page)

“How long do we have, Mr. Müller?” Lombardi asked.  She longed for
a military ship with mechanical proxies for photosynthesis.

“Less than a week, I’m afraid.”  Müller shrugged.  “We can extend
our atmosphere with the oxygen candles Hussy has in storage but we must find a
way to scrub our atmosphere of these impurities.”

Heskan admitted that the ship was beginning to smell rank.  The
last five and a half days had been some of the longest of his life.  Originally,
he looked to t-space as a sanctuary but each day brought new and growing
problems to his attention.  The crew was cramped, hungry and restless.  The
ship was bloated and wearing poorly.  He looked at the remaining, failing
canisters before asking, “What would you recommend we do?”

“We must stop for supplies,” Müller stated.  “Even just docking
would allow us to exchange this filthy air.”

“We cannot stop, Mr. Müller,” Lombardi said in frustration.

“Then we’ll be holding our breath soon,
Dame Lombardi,
and not only because of the smell,” Müller prophesied.

“Wait,” she said.  “What about Hussy’s second lifeboat?”

“I’d like to get off this ship too, Izzy, but…”  Heskan smiled
weakly at his feeble attempt at humor.

Lombardi rewarded him with a smile and continued, “I mean, what
kind of life support does it have?”

Müller slapped his head.  “Of course!  The boat uses mechanical
electrolysis and molecular sieves.  It’s not a cure-all but every little bit
helps.”  He rushed to the door.  “I go now.”

Heskan leaned against the bulkhead.  The noise of water falling
over the remaining algae drums was quite soothing.  “Well done, Komandor.”

Lombardi looked demurely at him and admitted, “I had hoped for a
more satisfying reward than that.”

Heskan smiled but remained immobile.  He absentmindedly confessed,
“Maybe we should’ve spaced Jennings.  I’d have both lifeboats.”

“But no soul,” Lombardi said sadly.  After a moment, she smiled warmly
at him.  “No, you did what was just.  Champion of justice, hero of the
Republic, savior of the Hollarans,” she teased as she drew nearer.

Her smile was infectious but he pushed off the bulkhead to move
toward the door.  “I should warn you that my first officer has concerns over
the nature of our relationship.”

“As a woman, I understand her concerns very well,” Lombardi
retorted hastily but quickly softened her stance.  She murmured, “I wonder what
Tolya would have said.”  The cascading water filled the void of silence between
them.  Dark hair curled around her face as she dipped her head humbly.  “It is
possible that she is right.  You have enough responsibilities without me adding
distractions.”  After a moment’s pause, she raised her head and her eyes
flashed playfully as she promised, “But I warn you that you will not escape my
clutches so easily when we reach Hollara.”

The New London space traffic controller in the Bree tunnel point orbital
took a quick sip of his tea.  As expected, the leaves imported from Neso were a
disappointment.  His console chimed and a new symbol flashed into existence on
his pattern control screen.  The ship’s green beacon broadcasted her identity
as a freighter named
MT Perseus
, registered to Hantroll Transportation
Corporation.  He sent an active ping toward the vessel and received a standard
communications request to exit the tunnel point arrival pattern and proceed
toward New London proper.

Before the controller could finish his second sip of tea, they
exchanged standata and after he placed his cup onto its saucer, the controller
granted the freighter’s request and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  Working
arrivals from Bree was taxing but not nearly as exhausting as the departures
station.  The queue to tunnel toward Bree was already a dozen ships deep this
morning.

A warning
in the upper right corner of his screen caught his attention.  He tapped it and
saw a high priority alert appear.  His eyes skipped to the message’s author and
he frantically called over his supervisor.  As the controller waited
impatiently, a second freighter’s beacon flared into life onscreen.  Its beacon
announced it as
CSV Hussy
.

*  *  *

Heskan shivered slightly to shake off the effects of
Hussy’s
transition to n-space.  The wall screen displayed the New London star system in
all her glory, a binary system hosting a G6V star and an M4VI subdwarf. 
Neither the nine planets, with their countless moons, nor the thin asteroid
belt was of any concern to Heskan.  His awareness focused solely on the
system’s tunnel points.  Seven of New London’s tunnel points, including the one
Hussy
had just used, belonged to Type A tunnels.  All of them except the
one to Bree granted passage to minor, or even lifeless, systems.  New London’s
eighth tunnel point, a Type B, offered instantaneous access to the important
provincial system of Carme.  Heskan focused his attention on that single tunnel
point and cursed.

The Carme tunnel point beacon was red.

“What’s that mean?” Selvaggio fretted.

Heskan ignored the question and searched the other tunnel points. 
The rest were green.  “Options?” he asked.

“We’re cleared to exit the pattern, Captain,” Truesworth said.

“Where are we heading, sir?” Selvaggio asked.

Think, Garrett
.  Heskan noticed the Bristol tunnel point that eventually led to
Carme, but added four days to their escape. 
We can’t do that.  We have to
move forward.
  He searched desperately for the answer. 
It’s between the
Bianca and Chelsea tunnel points,
he decided.  Chelsea would involve
several transits through dead systems while Bianca required but two.  A single
freighter traveled ahead of
Hussy
toward Bianca.

“Set course for Bianca, Diane,” Heskan ordered.  “Are you sure you
can pilot this crate under sail in n-space?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then push our conventional drives hard; fuel be damned.  I want
at least point one-seven-C,” Heskan demanded.  “We
have
to clear this
system.”

Vernay called out from his left.  “Captain, I have the military
ships isolated.”  She worked the auxiliary station control panel causing the
commercial traffic on the system plot to wink out.  All that remained were the
beacons of twelve system defense ships, nine black space vessels and an entire
squadron of fighters.

Heskan stared at the screen, interpreting the information.  The
fighters were training near the primary planet and were of no concern.  There
were also several fast ships and cutters operating around New London proper and
her twin space stations.  Much farther from the planet, a patrol craft and
corvette held vigil near the Carme tunnel point.  The three other tunnel points
leading “northward” to minor systems had either a single patrol craft or cutter
stationed nearby while, to the “south,” a lone cutter orbited the isolated Chelsea
tunnel point like an outcast orphan.  Heskan crossed his fingers while turning
attention to the Bianca tunnel point.  He felt his stomach drop as he saw the
beacon of a corvette cruising lazily near it.  Closer to
Hussy
, another
patrol craft monitored the active traffic patterns to and from Bree with a larger
corvette rapidly approaching.

“That is a lot of law enforcement,” Lombardi summarized from
behind Heskan.  “Where is that task group headed?”  She pointed at the Carme
tunnel point and then again at a point halfway between Carme and Bianca.  “What
is that symbol?”

The crenulated square symbol baffled Heskan briefly until he
understood what he was seeing.  “That’s a defense citadel, Komandor.”  The
vector line drawn behind it had fooled him.  “I’ve never seen one move before. 
It’s being towed toward the Carme tunnel point.”

The remaining nine beacons of black space ships further portended ill
tidings.  Vernay focused and zoomed the system plot near the Carme tunnel point
and the cluster of beacons separated.  The collection of ships included a heavy
carrier, a command cruiser, two heavy cruisers, two light cruisers, a pair of
destroyers and a lone frigate.  The task group was proceeding in
Hussy’s
general direction at .14
c
.

“That seems a little slow,” Vernay remarked as she focused the
plot tighter on the group.  Individual ship names began to appear on the
display next to their icons.  The carrier symbol bore the name
Avenger
.

“Well, I’ll be,” Heskan mumbled.  “I wonder what she’s doing here.”

“Replenishing her fighter wing?” Vernay speculated.

Heskan looked hard at the group’s course and speed and then his
own.  “Diane, is point one-seven-C the best Hussy’s got?”

Selvaggio nodded.  “Yes, sir.  She’s old.”

“Can you yaw the ship to face that task group so we can get a look
at it with the fixed optics?”

Selvaggio reached across her panel and activated
Hussy’s
port forward thruster.  Truesworth fiddled with his controls.  Fifteen seconds
later, he said, “Good enough, Diane.  One second, Captain.” 

The wall screen blinked and revealed a close-up of the destroyed
bow of a heavy cruiser.  A trio of craters had transformed the smooth lines of
her hull into a pitted, misshapen skeletal stem.  The perspective from
Hussy’s
forward optical retreated to show a second, severely damaged light cruiser. 
Behind the smashed cruisers was the surreal image of three-quarters of a
frigate.

Stunned silence spread across
Hussy’s
bridge.  The picture
moved back further and then located its target.  It zoomed quickly upon
Avenger
. 
The heavy carrier looked as if something had taken a gigantic bite from its starboard
side.  The damage was so extensive, Heskan could see into the shambles of the three
internal launch bays running down her side and the majority of the hangar
deck.  No containment fields covered the devastation, just hundreds of meters of
sprawling ship compartments opened to the brutal climate of space.

“My God,” Heskan heard someone whisper and realized it was his own
voice.  Astonished, he could not force himself to look away from the carnage. 
All of the ships of the task group save one heavy cruiser bore damage ranging
from moderate to catastrophic.  His disbelieving eyes returned to
Avenger
,
the pride of Third Fleet. 
We’re losing this war.
  The realization
struck at his core.  The red navigation beacon near the Carme tunnel point now made
sense.  A random thought entered his mind and he looked again at the command
cruiser. 
Not Crusader,
Heskan saw. 
Was she involved in that fight
and if so, did she survive?
  He looked over to a profoundly disheartened
Vernay and wondered if she was asking the same, terrible question.  Heskan
tried to speak but could not muster any words.  Instead, he watched with full
sympathy as
Crusader’s
overdue first officer stared straight ahead, sightless. 
All of the bridge was mesmerized, seemingly ensorcelled by the defeated fleet
and its larger meaning.

He glanced tentatively over his shoulder.  Lombardi stood dispassionately,
keenly aware of the shift in the winds. 
She has to be thrilled to see this,
Heskan thought acridly. 
It’s just another step toward victory for the
Commonwealth, and here I am, delivering one of their own komandors back to
them.  Am I a traitor? 
He tried to rein in his emotions as he
rationalized. 
They gave you no choice, Garrett.  Better a traitor to your
government than to your soul.
  He cleared his throat.  “Diane, face us back
toward our direction of travel, please.”

The
onscreen tragedy faded, replaced by the sterile system plot.

*  *  *

Lieutenant Duncan Pittman had only been a full lieutenant for ten
months but had served aboard
BRS Hasta
for over twice that period.  The
Ranseur-class corvette was just one of the handful of fast ships regulating the
New London system but drew more than its fair share of commerce patrol.  The
ship currently cruised 20
lm
from the Bree tunnel point, intent on relieving
the patrol craft that had been on duty for four days.

“I want sprint speed to the tunnel point immediately!” Pittman
heard his captain command.  He looked up to see Lieutenant Chandler Brooks
hurriedly waving his first officer to the captain’s station.  “Dunc, look at
this.”

Brooks watched Pittman react as he read the alert message from the
Bureau of Internal Security.  “What do you think, Duncan?”

Shock was evident in the first officer’s face.  “I think we need
to get to the tunnel point immediately.”  The first officer reread the message
before asking, “Is this real, Captain?  Maybe it’s an exercise?”

Brooks shook his head.  “That’s what I wondered too.  Especially
since it’s coming from a Navy commander but I’ve authenticated it.  He’s
attached to a special Internal Security task force.”

“How will we play this, sir?”

Brooks scratched his chin as he considered.  “Well, we can’t blow
the cover of that I.S. agent.  The message is very clear about that.”  He
underlined the relevant lines of the message with a finger.