Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe) (26 page)

The
four days tunneling to Syrinx were a paradox for Heskan.  As his crew
celebrated their successful escape from the Brevic Republic, he personally held
no such appetite.  Heskan merely felt an empty hollowness to it all.  What he
had hoped would be a triumphant dive from Republic space, instead, became tarnished
in a bittersweet moment that culminated in the knowledge that he could never go
home again.  Worse, he realized that he had not only subjugated himself to
exile but also his entire Brevic crew. 
There will come a time,
Heskan
thought grimly,
when they realize that I haven’t saved them so much as
damned them.

His
dourness was augmented by
Hussy’s
food shortage and increasing
environmental problems.  Their food now came out of squeeze tubes from the
emergency locker. 
Müller
’s rigged electrolysis
system had only kept up with demand in tunnel space with the assistance of the
now exhausted supply of oxygen candles. 
Hussy
had, at most, another twelve
hours of life left inside her.  The additional four days required to tunnel from
Syrinx to the Syntyche system would be a death sentence.  As it was, the entire
crew had been deprived of sleep for the last twenty-four hours.  Doctor
Timoleon recommended against letting crewmembers sleep in such a toxic
atmosphere.  Further, no crewmember was to be alone at any time.

Sitting
ahead of Heskan on the bridge, Lieutenant Selvaggio prepared the ship for
dive.  Heskan vaguely heard the announcement before the ship activated her
tunnel drive to reintegrate into normal space.  The transition seemed gentle
compared to the pounding headaches the crew already suffered due to carbon
dioxide poisoning.  Heskan sat still for some time before finally reacting to
their dive.  The wall screen displayed the uninhabitable M4III star system. 
Only two beacons shared the system with
Hussy
, one emanating from a
science station orbiting the innermost gas giant and the other, a Federation
patrol ship docked to it.

A
full minute passed as Heskan interpreted the data.  With a thick weariness, he
ordered, “Give me an intercept course to the orbital, Diane.  ETA?”  He sat
back in his chair and rubbed his temples to ease the pain.  He had given up
monitoring the environmental status display long ago.

After
a long pause, Selvaggio answered, “A little less than three hours, Captain.”

Heskan
nodded lethargically.  He looked over to Truesworth who was holding his head in
his hands.  “Jack, open a comm channel to that orbital.”  After Truesworth
signaled he was ready, Heskan recorded his message.  “Federation orbital, this
is CSV Hussy, a tramp freighter en route to the Syntyche system.  We have
suffered a catastrophic life support systems failure.  Our carbon dioxide
concentration is eight percent and rising.  We burned our last oxygen candle
hours ago.  Can you assist us?”  Heskan motioned at Truesworth.

“Message
sent,” Truesworth said simply.

Damn,
Heskan cursed as he realized,
I
forgot to tell them my name.

Fifty
minutes later, Truesworth’s communications console beeped loudly at him.  He listlessly
played the message without announcement.

On
screen, a man wearing a light blue lab coat and a concerned expression stated,
“CSV Hussy, this is Doctor Franklin Witt of the Federation orbital, Tilskuer.  You
are cleared to dock immediately.  Our patrol ship, Redoubt, will escort you in
and we have medical assistance standing by.  Captain, do you require assistance
in docking your ship?”

“Diane?”
Heskan asked.

“I
can do it,” Selvaggio insisted weakly.  “But it sure would be nice to take a
nap for the next couple of hours before I try.”

Heskan’s voice filled
with sympathy.  “Sorry, Diane, doctor’s orders.”

*  *  *

It
took two hours and fifty-eight minutes for
Hussy
to crawl to salvation. 
Mooring the freighter to the orbital took nearly twice as long as usual but was
accomplished without incident.  Moments after Selvaggio confirmed a hard dock
with the orbital docking tube,
Hussy’s
single docking bay door was
raised and fresh, clean air began to cycle into the freighter.  Even though it
was too early to feel the effects of the purified air, Heskan swore his
headache was clearing. 
Hussy’s
rancid atmosphere had reached 11% carbon
dioxide but
Müller’s ingenuity with his electrolysis
device had created just enough oxygen to avoid lethality.

Lieutenant Vernay called over the bridge’s speakers.  Her voice
sounded resplendent compared to the stupor it had contained just minutes
earlier.  “Captain, there are four doctors on the orbital asking if we need any
medical aid.”

“I’m on the way, Stacy,” Heskan replied before turning to Chief
Brown.  “Chief, I want a one hundred percent head count performed by you and
Doctor Timoleon.  I want to know if everyone is up and moving or if someone
needs assistance, okay?”

Brown rose from the auxiliary control station.  “Aye-aye, sir.”

Heskan looked to his junior lieutenants.  “You two will be all
right if I step away?”

“Yeah,” Truesworth answered.  “The air is getting better already. 
You can smell it.”

Heskan inhaled deeply and pushed himself from the captain’s
chair.  It took several minutes to walk the short distance to the airlock.  As
he approached, the air freshened tangibly.  After several deep breaths, his
head still ached but the pounding diminished.  Vernay was smiling as he wound
his way down the stairs.  The orbital’s chief, Doctor Witt, stood next to her. 
The two were nearly the same height.

“We don’t see many Loggerhead freighters these days.”  Witt
extended his hand toward Heskan.

Inhaling the fresh air again, Heskan shook the man’s hand
gratefully.  “I can’t thank you enough.”

“No
thanks are necessary.  I presume you are Captain…?”

“Heskan,”
he answered without thinking. 
Should I be hiding my identity?  I hate the
idea of lying to a man that just saved my crew.

“Captain
Heskan,” Witt nodded.  “Well, I have my doctors willing to board if you require
additional assistance.”

“I
don’t think that will be necessary,” Heskan said.  “Hussy has a doctor and
we’re conducting a wellness check on the crew.”

“Surely
your doctor has suffered from the same effects as you, Captain,” Witt
persisted.  “Wouldn’t it be wise to have support from my men?”

Heskan
tried to take measure of the man before him. 
I need his help,
he admitted
. 
If we’re going to make it to Syntyche, I’ll need oxygen candles.  He’ll be
aiding Brevic fugitives and although it may not mean much to him personally, it
could have a big impact politically.  It seems wrong to be dishonest with him. 
Heskan again took several cleansing breaths. 
What if he refuses to
help, or worse, insists we return to Republic space?
  He glanced at Vernay
who gave him a barely perceptible nod.

“Doctor,”
Heskan began, “I need to level with you.  We’re carrying people on board that
the Republic desperately wants back.”  Heskan shook his head determinedly. 
“That’s not going to happen and consequently, Hussy’s crew is not on the best
terms with the Brevic government.  In fact, we’re probably public enemy number
one by now.”  Heskan glanced at Vernay and saw the deeply approving eyes of his
first officer.  “I need your help, Doctor.  I have to get my people to Syntyche
and I can’t do it without oxygen candles from you.  However, it wouldn’t be
fair to ask for your aid without warning you who we are.”

“All
I see are people who need help,” Witt replied immediately.  “Take twenty-five
candles; that will get you through to Syntyche.”  He thought briefly before
amending, “Actually, take thirty, just in case.”

Heskan
felt a weight lift from his shoulders.  He wanted to hug the undersized man. 
“Thank you, Doctor.  You’ve saved a lot of lives today.”

“Then
Hippocrates will smile upon me.”  Witt looked between Heskan and Vernay and
asked, “Is there anything else I can offer you?”

“Well,”
Vernay said, “we’re starving but it’s only four more days to Syntyche.  I think
we can make it.”

“Potable
water?  Heat?” the doctor asked.

“Good
enough,” Heskan said.  “Really, I think we just need to stay docked until our
atmosphere clears and then we’ll be on our way.  We’ve troubled you enough and
I’d hate to be docked to you if any Republic ships dive in.”

Witt
laughed at the remark.  “We’ve dealt with ‘Vic bullies before and besides, the
Commonwealth is already giving them a sound thrashing.  I doubt the Republic
has enough moxie left in her to pick yet another fight she can’t win.”

Heskan
and Vernay cringed, causing Witt to arch an eyebrow in curiosity.  “You two are
both Brevic,” he surmised.  “I thought the freighter was corporate-controlled.”

“A
little bit of everything is on board,” Heskan answered vaguely.  “Probably the
less you know, the better, Doctor.”

“As
you wish, Captain,” Witt agreed.  “You are welcome to remain moored to us as
long as you want.  You are also cleared to cast off when ready.”  He pointed a
thumb toward the docking tube behind him.  “I’ll have Peter bring you the
oxygen candles and some extra food.  Please don’t hesitate to contact me if you
require any further assistance.”  He shook Heskan’s hand again and then bowed
with a charming smile to Vernay while saying, “It was a pleasure to meet you, miss.”

Moments
later, Heskan and Vernay watched the little man’s withdrawal down the docking
tube.

“Dammit,”
Heskan cursed.  “I didn’t offer him any compensation.”  He looked at Vernay blankly.

Sapphire blue eyes
appraised him.  “I don’t think he would have accepted anyway.”  She looked
toward the retreating man’s back.  “I think we’ve consorted with devils for so
long we may have forgotten that there are also angels.”

*  *  *

Hussy
entered the Syntyche star system
ninety-seven hours after casting off from Syrinx’s science station.  Although
hungry and cramped, the crew’s attitude proved jovial in t-space, buoyed by a
proper atmosphere and the knowledge that this was their last tunnel of
privation.  The small freighter wavered slightly before adjusting to normal
space 42
lm
from the system’s primary planet, Tuxevi.  While Syntyche’s
star, a G3V, could have been Sol’s brother, Tuxevi could merely pass as Terra’s
distant cousin.

Ship
beacons painted themselves on the system plot.  Freighters and transports
crisscrossed the busy shipping lanes between three of Syntyche’s tunnel
points.  Ore extractors dotted the perimeter of an asteroid belt with modest
veins of promethium.  No defense fortresses stood watch over the tunnel points;
such massive constructions were far too expensive to build and maintain for the
value they provided to a corporate system.  Syntyche’s only tangible defense
was in the form of eight system defense ships varying in size from corvettes
and cutters to more impressive brigs.

As with
the three major governments of humanity, the ships defending corporate star
systems were easily divided into categories based on size and propulsion.  The
smallest ships, patrol craft, were typically fast, agile ships crewed by less
than ten.  These ships were simply shepherds and traffic police.  Larger and
more capable military cutters performed similar duties but with slightly more attitude. 
The big brothers of these smaller ships were classified as fast ships, the
sharks of the system defense force.  Agile, moderately armed and flexible
enough to perform routine police activity as well as actual system defense
against corporate antagonists, fast ships themselves were divided into two
categories: corvettes and snows.  Essentially identical in size and function, corvettes
lacked tunnel drive capabilities while snows were more expensive but
tunnel-capable.  Finally, perched at the top of the standard corporate defense food
chain were brigs.  These ships, still smaller than the standard frigates used
so frequently by the three major governments, possessed a superb mix of speed,
size and weaponry while being economical to operate.  There were additional,
more powerful classes of corporate defense ships, razees and ships of the line,
but they spent most of their lives in dormant orbits around major corporate
worlds, unleashed only during times of war.

Syntyche’s
largest brig also happened to be the ship nearest to
Hussy
, just 25
lm
away.  Forty-three minutes after Selvaggio re-rigged
Hussy’s
sails to
head in-system, the brig’s message reached the freighter.

“Welcome
to the Syntyche system, CSV Hussy.  This is Captain Holt of the corporate
defense ship, Gremlin.  We are moving to intercept you.  Do not deviate from
your present course.  Upon our rendezvous, you will transfer your system
transit fee to the Syntyche Shipping and Commerce Account and heave to for
ship’s inspection.  A reminder, our docking fees have increased to fifteen
hundred credits per ten thousand tonnes.  Holt out.”

Selvaggio
cast a worried look to Lombardi, who merely smiled.  “Komandor, Syntyche
charges system transit fees?”