Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe) (9 page)

Vernay
had no idea what the engineer had said but recognized sincerity when she heard
it.  She stuck a hand out, which was shaken vigorously by
Müller.  “Lieutenant Stacy Vernay, Mr. Müller.”

“
Guten
Tag,
and please,” Müller added, “call me Joachim, Dame Vernay.”  He spun in
place and began to walk out of the galley.  “I go now to fix the mixture
controls,
ja
?”

*  *  *

Vernay
sent two pilots to assist, and watch over,
Müller and
his repair effort.  She then climbed the stairs just aft of the center cargo
hold.  The top deck of the aged freighter was quite short, consisting only of a
bridge, chartroom, wardroom, navigation compartment and captain’s quarters. 
The bridge superstructure and her twin cargo cranes rose from the main deck
into space, fore and aft, adding further to the antiquated look of a merchant
marine ship.

Vernay walked onto the bridge to find that the front bulkhead
contained archaic twin wall screens set to window mode.  The view was
impressive.  Extending one hundred meters past the bridge and ten meters down,
Hussy’s
hull was a complex jumble of antennae, cargo hatches, stabilizer arrays and
thrusters.  Her yellow-painted forward cargo crane towered above the bridge,
jutting thirty meters over the deck of the ship.  At the apex of the crane, a
small operator’s compartment was a bright contrast to the dark void of space
behind it.

If the view outside the bridge was imposing, the interior of the
bridge itself was an enormous letdown.  Smaller than that of even
Anelace
,
outdated control boards and station panels packed the tiny bridge. The
captain’s console stood less than a meter ahead of her.  The oversized chair was
an obvious replacement that had been crudely bolted to the bare, slightly
rusted, metal deck.  Ahead of the captain’s station, a longer, curved bank of stained
computer consoles split in half for the helm and engineering stations.  The
dust and grime accumulated between the stations made Vernay’s head spin. 
Lieutenant Selvaggio occupied the navigation seat while Ensign Sullivan manned
the engineer’s station.  To Vernay’s right sat Lieutenant Truesworth and the
communications and sensor controls.  Opposite of that station along the port
side of the bridge, a bandaged Chief Brown sat in front of an auxiliary control
station.  The ancillary console could be used in the event a primary station
was inoperable.  A single portal on the right side of the room led to the
captain’s living quarters while a portal opposite provided access to the
freighter’s chartroom.

Lieutenant Selvaggio turned awkwardly in her chair to face
Vernay.  Also a replacement, her seat appeared sloppily welded to the deck.  “Um,
Captain, orbital control wants to know how long our medical emergency is going
to be.  They say our departure clearance expires in fourteen minutes.”

Captain
.  Vernay could not resist
smiling. 
This really is my ship…
 
Captain Vernay
.  She shook off
the revelry.  “We’re ready to cast off, Diane.”

Ten
minutes ago, Vernay had communicated with Ensign Franks, the Brevic military
liaison on the orbital, and secured the medical equipment on Gables’ list.   She
dressed Franks down brutally for the apparent security leak that gave
Hussy
advance warning of Vernay’s mission.  She threatened that even the appearance
of any lack of additional support from Erriapius would result in dire
consequences for Franks and Owens when the second I.S. team arrived in-system
in forty-eight hours.  With a renewed gusto, Franks offered all possible aid
and the requested medical supplies arrived in record time.

When
Truesworth told the orbital security-police to escort
Hussy’s
crew to another
waiting area, the pirate crew’s protests were easily quelled by the brandishing
of multi-rifles.  The junior grade lieutenant’s last act had been to lock the
docking tube closed and set
Hussy’s
airlock to departure status.

Inside
the freighter, the pair of pilots assigned to watch over
Müller had also been tasked with wrapping the body of the
freighter’s former captain and placing him in the aft cargo hold.  Vernay was
undecided as to whether she would simply open the hold to space in transit to
the Narvi tunnel point or wait until the ship was in t-space.  The remainder of
Hussy’s
new crew was busy acquainting themselves to the various jobs of
the freighter: propulsion, operations systems, life support, and so on.  Each
crewmember had been told what general task he or she would be responsible for
but until the specific freighter had been commandeered, no detailed training
could be accomplished.  Individuals across the ship now scrambled to
familiarize themselves with performing the jobs they would fulfill during
Hussy’s
journey.

Vernay
stepped to the faux-leather captain’s chair to sit down.  A wide gash in the
bottom of the faded, red seat had been sloppily covered with an adhesive. 
Will
I stick to the seat if I sit down?
she wondered.  She risked it.  The seat
did feel a little gummy.  “Diane, are you confident you can pilot this ship to
the tunnel point?”

Selvaggio
looked at Vernay quizzically.  “Navigating is no problem, Captain.  That’s the
same no matter what you’re in.  But…”  Selvaggio turned dramatically to her
panel and placed her right hand on a large dial.  She turned it carelessly back
and forth.  “This?  I have no idea what this does.”

Vernay
felt her heart leap into her throat at her navigator’s recklessness.  She
reached out in alarm when Selvaggio burst out laughing.

“Sorry,
ma’am,” Selvaggio said penitently.  “That’s the fo’c’sle articulating
fore-thruster control.  This piece of crap only has four thruster arrays.”

“How
does she change heading with only four?”

“The
arrays rotate so I still have a full range of motion,” Selvaggio explained as
her face registered distaste.  “But, yeah.  Primitive.”  She pointed to the
drive controls, centered between the helm and engineering stations.  “What, is
this positioned here so the helmsman and engineer can hold hands while
operating the drives?”

“Hey
now,” Truesworth called out from his corner of the bridge.  “Don’t get any
ideas, Diane.”

Vernay
grinned as she reached down to the panel in front of her.  Unlike a navy ship,
Hussy’s
gaudy captain’s chair was positioned behind a control panel.  Consisting mostly
of status displays, the right side of the console also had a communications
suite while the left held a tiny tactical touchscreen for ad hoc navigation
computations.  The myriad of status displays relayed information about not only
the freighter’s status but also its cargo.  There appeared to be a standard
container in the forward cargo hold.  Vernay assumed the green highlight around
the container’s symbol meant it was properly secured. 
I need to find out
what we’re carrying although I think I already know.
  She selected
Hussy’s
main engineering compartment and pressed a comm button.  “Mr.
Müller, is Hussy prepared for open space?”

“
Ja,
Dame Vernay.  My lady is ready.  Auxiliary mixture
controls will be restored shortly.”

“Thank you, Joachim.”  Vernay released the communications button
but saw it was stuck in the depressed position.  She wiggled it until the
button popped up.

“Okay,
Jack,” Vernay said, “if Diane thinks she can push us from the orbital without
any major catastrophes, then inform orbital control we are casting off.  Break
our moors, navigator.  Lateral thrust X plus two-thousand meters.”

“Confirm
pressure status,” Selvaggio said.

“Green,
Lieutenant,” answered Ensign Sullivan next to her.  “Hussy is airtight.”

“Captain,
we are cleared to cast off,” Truesworth confirmed.

“Cast
us off, Diane,” Vernay ordered.

“Acknowledged,”
Selvaggio’s easy reply echoed.  “Breaking the moors.”  A slight tremor rippled
through the freighter.  “We are drifting, Captain.”  The navigator’s deft hands
danced over her panel.  Several of the labels underneath the most commonly used
controls had been worn away with time.  “Bow and stern thrusters aligned…
thrusting to X plus two-K meters.”

Hussy’s
enormous dorsal thrusters on the
front and rear of the ship rotated ninety degrees before firing to push the
freighter away from the orbital.  As the cargo ship moved safely away from the
space station, the thrusters began to rotate once more.

After
several failed attempts, Vernay changed the wall screens from window mode to display
the system status of Erriapius.  A Brevic patrol craft was in orbit near the station. 
Two others were in transit between the primary planet and the Narvi tunnel
point.  The system’s sole corvette was orbiting with the tunnel point.  Vernay
zoomed the display to center on
Hussy
and provide a 5
lm
(light-minute)
view around her.  She would eventually scale back the display, but for now the
traffic congestion around the orbital warranted a more focused view.

“Make
way for the Narvi tunnel point,” Vernay ordered.

“Aye-aye,
Captain.”  Selvaggio worked her console before adding, “I’m just using the
Allison CTs, ma’am.  I’d like a little more time to look over the sail
controls.”

Hussy’s
twin Allison CT-B20 drives were
ancestors of the ubiquitous T-22 drive used across the Republic.  Their “C”
designation labeled them as civilian-equivalent drives.  The venerable B20 variation
was no longer in official production but the -20 line series of drives were so
successful that maintenance and repair was still not difficult to obtain.

Hussy’s
navigator took one last look at
her panel before announcing, “Green departure code from the orbital beacon,
Captain.  Course laid in.  Bringing us up to point one-five-C.”

Nine
days until we reach Anthe,
Vernay thought with more than a little anxiety. 
I hope Garrett is ready for
us.

The
animosity between Agent Jennings and Commander Heskan had only increased over
the last two weeks.  Each day that Truesworth’s renegades continued to elude
authorities brought an increasing amount of hellfire upon Jennings from
Secretary Brewer.  In contrast, Brewer had nurtured his relationship with
Heskan over the same period and, as one toy was pushed aside in favor of a new
one, Jennings’ growing resentment was tangible.

To
make matters worse for the agent, “Truesworth” was now openly taunting Internal
Security, and especially Jennings, in two additional missives Heskan “received.” 
The latest message divulged that Jennings’ gambit to blanket his agents across
the entire planet had been a poor one.

Brewer’s
gnarled fingers pressed hard onto the top of his oak desk as he spoke.  “Why
would you spread your forces so thin to look in such insignificant areas of Pallene?” 
The secretary pointed down at Heskan’s datapad in front of him.  “This message
was sent from the restaurant across the street from the capital building!  He
is
laughing
at you, Aaron!  With good cause!”

Jennings
seethed but remained silent.

Brewer’s
tone of scathing invective transformed rapidly into that of a caring father.  “Garrett,
I believe you are correct.  This latest correspondence suggests that this
madman’s endgame is rapidly approaching.  Agent Jennings’ underestimation of
this lunatic has allowed him unfettered, and seemingly ethereal, access on the
planet’s surface but the man grows tired of taunting us.  Soon, he will act.”

“He
never used his datapad, Mr. Secretary… none of them did,” Jennings protested. 
“We’ve searched and searched.  We’ve checked close to a petabyte of security
footage with facial recognition software.  This man and his accomplices may as
well be invisible!”  The I.S. field supervisor lamented while raising flustered
hands into the air.  “I’ve followed standard procedures but nothing has
worked.”

“Your
incompetence is directly responsible for our predicament,” Brewer admonished as
heat returned to his voice.  “Your strict adherence to
procedure
when
what was truly required was inspired thinking has pushed us to the brink of
disaster.”  Cold, almost alien eyes narrowed at Jennings as Brewer menaced,
“What if this man accomplishes his objectives?  How many good citizens will die
because of your failures?  How will you explain to the General Council your
allowance for this
amateur
to operate with impunity?”  Brewer shook his
head in disgust before adding with a touch of concern, “And I will not be with
you, Agent Jennings.  I will be explaining to Madam Fane why I granted an
obviously incompetent agent operational control over the matter.”

Jennings
opened his mouth, thought better of his response and closed it.  He shifted
uncomfortably in his seat as Brewer glared wordlessly at him.  After an
excruciating period of silence, Jennings finally said, “I haven’t failed yet. 
Truesworth hasn’t moved against us or the Hollarans thus far.”

Heskan
could not resist the opportunity to throw grease onto the fire.  “By the grace
of God…”

Hands
morphed into fists and daggers flew from Jennings’ eyes as the security agent shot
to his feet.