Loyalty to the Cause (TCOTU, Book 4) (This Corner of the Universe) (35 page)

Heskan
felt his cheeks erupt in flame.  Unable to look at Vernay he began to walk
swiftly away from the doors.  Vernay reached out to catch Heskan by the right
arm, hooking her own arm into his and matching his pace.  “Don’t forget your
wife… darling,” she teased.

Unable
to escape, Heskan eased his pace and shook his head in resignation. 
Stammering, he offered, “I’m so sorry about that, Stacy.  The admiral said to
bring my wife and I forgot to correct Kyle because the halls wouldn’t end I wasn’t
even sure if we were going in the right direction—”

Vernay’s
whimsical soprano cut him off.  “You’re babbling, dear.”

“Why
would privateers have their spouses on board?  Do many not have a home port and
travel with their families?”  Heskan tried to calm himself and thought of Müller,
who had not seen his son for ten years. 
A privateer is a far cry from a
merchant, but both professions have a nomadic lifestyle.  As long as the
families are put off ship for the battles, I could see the compromise.  Or
maybe they just meet at star systems they contract with.

“Mrs.
Anastacia Marie Heskan…” Vernay whispered dreamily, tormenting him further.

Heskan
closed his mouth and stared quietly into the ballroom.  Trying hard to block
out the events of the last minute, he studied the room and crowd.  The ballroom
was one of the largest compartments he had ever seen on a space station. 
Clever use of wall screens made the impressive room look even larger than it
was.  He also noticed that more than half the crowd was wearing military
uniforms.  Seshafian naval officers wore the same dark blue and gold uniforms
as Cooke.  Officers with commands wore an additional single, gold braid that
started at their epaulettes and looped under their arms.

Spread
among the native uniforms were even more elaborately garbed Saden officers
wearing the gold-trimmed red uniforms that Heskan noted while talking to
Lieutenant Dexter.  To Heskan’s surprise, military attire in the ballroom was
nearly equally distributed between blue and red, with a smattering of other
presumably privateer uniforms complementing them.

Vernay
drew silent, causing Heskan to follow her eyes to a large, intimidating officer
in a red uniform.  If Cooke’s dress jacket had been impressive, this man’s
outer coat bordered on foppish.  Multiple braids of gold looped from atop his
shoulders to under the sleeves of his coat.  The epaulettes not only ended with
the frilly gold common to these uniforms but the rank insignia glittered as if
made from diamonds.  The medals resting on the coat’s chest garishly extended
down to his third button.  The regal man held himself with an air of authority
that would have impressed even a Brevic admiral.

“The
red admiral, is that our leader?” Vernay asked, slightly in awe.

“No,”
Heskan replied, “I think that’s our enemy.”  Heskan caught movement to his
right.  “Here comes our admiral now.”

The
ambrosia that was Cooke’s voice sounded as he approached Heskan.  “Wonderful! 
We are honored by your presence, Captain Heskan.”

Heskan
stole one more look at the “Red Admiral” and then greeted Cooke warmly.  “Thank
you for allowing us to attend, Admiral.”  Heskan glanced to either side of
Cooke.  A lavishly dressed, attractive woman stood, arms interlaced with Cooke,
on his right.  To his left, a uniformed woman hovered just slightly behind him.

Cooke
unhooked his arm and introduced, “First, may I please present my lovely wife,
Camille.”

Camille
Cooke gracefully offered the top of her right hand to Heskan who gently clasped
it and brought it lightly to his lips.  “An honor to meet you, madam.”  As the
woman smiled pleasantly, Heskan thought,
Hey, maybe I’m not completely inept
in social settings after all.

Cooke
waved a hand at the officer to his left.  “This is Admiral Chattersby,
commanding CDS Diomedes.”

The
female officer nodded and shook Heskan’s hand forcefully.

Cooke
appraised Vernay and said, “And this vision of loveliness must be your wife.” 
He reached for her hand while purring, “A great pleasure, my lady.”

Vernay
allowed her hand to be caressed, smiled stunningly but said, “I’m afraid that
this vision of loveliness is only his first officer, Admiral.”

Cooke’s
party stiffened slightly and the baron’s jaw dropped open before he could
reassert his air of authority.  He released her hand and said, “My apologies. 
I would address you by your rank but neither of you have graced this fine
setting with your uniforms.”  He dipped his head slightly.  “Nevertheless, I am
sure they are a sight to behold.”

“This
is Commander Stacy Vernay,” Heskan introduced belatedly.

Chattersby
assessed Vernay with a critical eye and said, “You wear a lovely gown but it is
a bit unusual.  To not display your uniform here could suggest that you are an
unwilling participant in these proceedings.”

Heskan
stammered for an excuse but Vernay interjected, “Elathra isn’t our usual ship. 
In our haste to depart to assist in the defense of your star system, we were
forced to make way before all of our gear could be stowed aboard.”  Her eyes
narrowed.  “I assume you would prefer to have our help even as inappropriately
dressed as we may be.”

“Quite
so,” Cooke assured in his deep baritone, playing the role of mediator.  “In
fact, with your ship arriving so late, you must feel like you’ve been thrown
into the deep end of the pool!”  Cooke laughed at his joke and grabbed Heskan
good-naturedly by the shoulder.  “A new ship, very little time left to prepare…
a bit like being tossed into the fire, isn’t that right, Captain?”

Heskan
returned the man’s smile; it was difficult not to.  “We’ve been in this
situation before, Admiral.”

“Of
course,” Cooke affirmed.  “I’m sure in your line of work you and your crew must
learn to adapt quickly if you wish your business dealings to be lucrative.”  He
stepped closer to Heskan and lowered his voice.  “I promise you, Captain, that
I won’t ask much of you.  We do appreciate any support Secure Solutions sends
and I can’t abide corporate admirals who think of their privateer allies as
disposable.”  He cast a sideways glance at the Red Admiral.  “In fact, I will
place your snow in the rearguard where you’re least likely to receive action.  At
any rate, hopefully we can negotiate a peaceful settlement before shots are
even fired.”

“The
captain can hold his own, Admiral.  I assure you,” Vernay promised.

“Indeed,”
Cooke agreed amiably.  “I just want each of you to understand that you are
every bit a part of the Seshafian fleet as the rest of us, Commander.  How long
have you served under your captain?”

Vernay
smiled sweetly.  “Since I was a lieutenant, junior grade.”

Heskan’s
stomach tightened at the mention of a Brevic rank; the equivalent in the
Federation’s navy was called sub-lieutenant.  He glanced nervously at Cooke
but, apparently, the man missed the slip.  Behind Cooke, Heskan saw the Red Admiral
approaching.

The
man was accompanied similarly to Cooke, his wife off his right arm, his leading
admiral to his left.  The wife was suitably dignified, wearing a complementary red
gown that harkened to a bygone era.  Heskan gestured subtly to bring Cooke’s
attention to the advancing trio and stepped slightly back to open the social
circle.  To Heskan’s surprise, Cooke simply turned upon the man’s arrival and
bowed deeply.  “Your Grace,” he said in his liquid baritone, “you honor us with
your company.”

The Red
Admiral returned an equally self-effacing bow and responded, “Always a delight
to bask in the presence of your handsome wife, Piers.”  The man offered a
measured nod toward Admiral Chattersby as he acknowledged her by rank.

“Always
the charming gentleman, Viscount,” Camille Cooke gushed with a sincere smile.

The
Saden leader turned his attention to Heskan and Vernay as he inquired, “And who
are the lady and gentleman standing with you, Piers?”

Cooke
straightened and gestured grandly toward the Red Admiral.  “Captain Heskan, it
is my profound honor to present to you, Lord of the Saden Admiralty, Viscount
Oliver Melatiah Wallace.”  Piers looked apprehensively at Vernay and instructed,
“Address by ‘Admiral’ is sufficient for this occasion.”

Wallace
smiled at Cooke and nodded.  “Indeed, sometimes I think with all of our titles
that we should die of old age referring to ourselves rather than on the field
of battle.”

Heskan
straightened to attention but did not salute.  Instead, he extended a hand
while saying, “I am pleased to meet you, Admiral.”

Wallace
looked curiously at the offered hand before accepting it.  He then reached out
toward Vernay.  “And this entrancing beauty must be your wife, Captain.  I know
not what type of fighter you are on the proving grounds but you are most
assuredly an apt hunter.”  He raised Vernay’s hand, briefly touching his lips
to it.

Cooke
interposed quickly to eliminate the misunderstanding before Vernay could
speak.  “Commander Vernay is the captain’s first officer.”  Upon seeing the
confusion on Wallace’s face, he added, “There was some difficulty with their
uniforms, Admiral.”

“You
must feel naked, then,” Wallace declared to Heskan.  The wives present blushed
slightly before they burst out in laughter at the audacity of the admiral’s
words.  Wallace looked to Vernay and dipped his head.  “My apologies for the gauche
remark, that was poorly phrased.”  He turned to the woman on his left as he
introduced, “I present the admiral that will lead Sade’s main section, Admiral
Salene Lane.”

Heskan
exchanged greetings and pleasantries with the winsome Saden admiral only briefly
before Vernay stretched up onto the balls of her feet to whisper mischievously
into Heskan’s ear.  “Remember, she is the enemy.”  He resisted the urge to
elbow her gently before returning his attention to the party.  Cooke and
Wallace had taken on a less formal air.

“And
how has Christabel found prep-school, Piers?” Wallace asked.

“Regrettably,
he struggles with the math,” Cooke confessed.  “I worry about his admittance to
the academy next year.”

Lines
grew around Wallace’s mouth as he smiled coyly and offered, “Perhaps I can
assist with his admission.  Several who sit on the board have served under me in
the past.  It’s the least I can do.”

Cooke
began to answer when raucous laughter from a group of officers drowned him
out.  Two commanders in the group, one Seshafian and the other Saden, were
slapping each other on the backs.  The men then hugged each other fiercely
before resuming their conversation at a more appropriate volume.

Heskan
shook his head in disbelief.  “With all this goodwill, it’s difficult to
believe that you are enemies, Admiral.”

Cooke
nodded sympathetically.  “Difficult from a privateer’s perspective, per chance,
but there should be comity between those men. After all, they
are
brothers.”

Vernay’s
jaw dropped open.  After several moments, she asked loudly, “Brothers?  How can
they be on opposing sides?”

Wallace
grimaced at Vernay’s volume but answered, “Peter Tannault was transferred to
the Saden Navy as a lieutenant during a time when there was a glut of company
grade officers in the Seshafian Navy.  We were happy to accept such a fine,
young gentleman and he was eager to join a navy that could offer him the
opportunities his talents merited.”

“So
he’s a traitor,” Vernay stated darkly.  Her assertion elicited gasps from everyone
but Heskan.

Wallace
shook his head distastefully, the tone of his voice becoming that of a teacher
attempting to simplify a misunderstood concept for a student.  “You must watch
your remarks, Commander.  Such accusations could result in severe
unpleasantness.”  He brought a stern hand forward and pointed as he cautioned,
“I understand you are a privateer but you must realize there is accountability
for every person’s words in our culture.  Those men are no more ‘traitors’ than
Piers was when we fought together in Nine Seventy-Seven.”

Cooke
gave Vernay a reassuring pat on the shoulder.  “I understand our ways may seem
odd to Hollarans.  Your enemies are bloodthirsty and without honor.”  He looked
gaily around the ballroom as he spoke.  “Please understand that this is an
exciting time for us, Commander, especially for our junior officers.  Many of
them have never experienced combat.  And our skirmish,” he looked genially at
Wallace, “if it comes down to that, will help hone the future admirals of our
navies.”

Wallace
agreed cordially, “Indeed, and speaking of such, I have received the updated order
of battle, Piers.  I thank you.  Priscilla the Guardian must have smiled upon
you to have received an extra snow for your fleet.”  The man’s last statement
sounded sour.

Cooke
rumbled agreement as Heskan thought to the document being discussed.  Cooke’s aide
had delivered the order of battle to him less than half an hour ago, giving
Heskan only a minimal chance to review it.  The notice seemed to be a logistical
account of every ship designated eligible to participate in the looming
battle.  Both Heskan and Vernay were dumbstruck over the notion of providing
such critical information as ship type and commander to the enemy. 
Additionally, Heskan noticed that while Seshafi possessed several cutters and
patrol craft, no ship massing smaller than a corvette had been earmarked for
battle.  Afraid to ask why and risk yet another social blunder, he assumed that
using such small ships was “unsporting” or some other such thing.  During battles
with the Commonwealth, even the Republic dreaded pitting system defense ships
against Hollaran back space ships that out-massed them by a hundred to one. 
It’s
just simple murder when we do,
Heskan thought as a chill ran down his
spine.