Last Measure of Devotion (TCOTU, Book 5) (This Corner of the Universe) Read online

  Last Measure of Devotion

  By Britt Ringel

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  LAST MEASURE OF DEVOTION

  Copyright © 2015 by Britt Ringel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  K—My Love, Always

  Author’s Acknowledgments

  Hey, the final book!

  Thank you to my wife for her time and devotion to this series and for her patience that allowed its creation. None of this would have been possible without her.

  I’ve thanked my beta readers with each book and, of course, I want to thank them again. For most of them, science fiction really isn’t “their thing,” but that never stopped them from being so supportive of my efforts. Mom, thank you for your grammar and composition knowledge and for editing this even when it’s hard to read. Carol, thanks for your meticulous eye and unending patience with me. Derek, thank you for giving me clearer insight into what most of my readers are probably thinking when I try to get too cute. Law, thank you for speaking out on behalf of the characters I might overlook or gloss over.

  I want to thank Universe Sandbox Creators for their great tool for building star systems. I’ve posted several systems important to the TCOTU universe on my website and the fact that these computer developers support self-published science fiction authors is fantastic. Incidentally, they are coming out with a Universe Sandbox Creators 2. It’s available in early release.

  All-silhouettes dot com was a terrific discovery for me to keep orders of battle straight. Thank you guys for your generosity.

  For this final book in the original TCOTU series, we decided to commission a series of book covers. The covers for all five books are the work of the talented Mr. Nathan Fisher, found on http://www.scifibookcoverdesigner.com/

  Finally, I want to acknowledge the poet Vernay is quoting in Chapter 16, Walt Whitman.

  For more maps, layouts and information regarding the books in the TCOTU series, please visit http://www.thiscorneroftheuniverse.com.

  Contents

  Corporate Systems Map

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Epilogue

  Thank you for your loyalty

  Battle of Sade – Orders of Battle

  Battle of Seshafi – Orders of Battle

  Corporate Systems Map

  Prologue

  The studio’s artificial illumination brightened and immediately washed out the yellow-orange light from Seshafi’s star shining through the window-mode wall screens. The program’s director waved his hand downward as he instructed, “Softer,” and the blinding, white light dimmed to a more suitable level.

  From behind his enormous desk, Chase Fuller shot an annoyed look at a nearby monitor and frowned. “Shine!” he blurted loudly. “I’m still getting shine!” Fuller’s attendant scampered to his desk and quickly dabbed a powder brush at the offending bright spot near his nose.

  “Thirty seconds,” the director warned while offering his star supplication in the form of a sympathetic nod.

  Fuller irritably shooed away his attendant and scowled. “Doug, I want the makeup problem fixed before tomorrow’s show,” he decreed while carefully adjusting strands of hair at his forehead. “These makeup technicians all need to be fired.” He lightly tugged at the blonde locks again before gesturing in frustration. “And my hair! How am I expected to continue—”

  “Ten seconds.”

  Fuller’s pout metastasized into a dark glower as the seconds counted down.

  “Four, three, two…”

  Still seated behind the large desk, the man transformed from sulking curmudgeon into dashing daredevil at the final second.

  “And we’re back!” Fuller announced energetically with a wide, brilliant smile. He held his pose, showing just the right amount of gleaming teeth for several seconds before his countenance became that of a wise scholar. “As everyone knows, it was just nine days ago that our navy valiantly protected our very way of life passed down from our hallowed founders.” A minor but perceptible tremor passed through the man although his blue eyes remained locked onto Camera One. “You’ve undoubtedly seen the amazing footage but I think the heroic actions of our navy merit another look.” Fuller spun to his left precisely twenty centimeters to hit his mark exactly. His adept shift allowed his eyes to engage Camera Three before the director could signal to switch the live feed to it. The media man’s stoic face now wore a “thousand yard stare” common to a war veteran. His cobalt eyes conveyed the perfect mixture of despondency, disassociation and coldness of a battle weary soldier. He had sported this expression countless times before, mostly in front of a mirror, perfecting it.

  To the stage’s far side, shielded from camera view, Garrett Heskan watched Fuller’s outline in the large monitor facing him. The dashing image of the host faded, replaced by an all too familiar one. The video feed showed a Seshafian war correspondent reporting breathlessly from Admiral Cooke’s command, control and communications ship. The woman’s right hand swept up to her ear to adjust her earbud as she spoke what would be her final words.

  “We’re moments away from the first hostile pass and Viscount Wallace has still refused to concede any points in the Saden casus bellum despite the overwhelming superiority of Seshafi maneuvering during the pre-runs.” She looked quickly over her shoulder toward Admiral Cooke. “We’re less than a minute from hostilities but let’s see if we can get a quick word from Baron Cooke.” The playback of the recording slowed as she turned. A garbled shout was the only precursor to the flash of light that would exterminate all life on the bridge. The glow started at the screen’s right but needed only two frames to cause complete whiteout.

  The scene shifted. On the studio’s monitor, Heskan now watched a bridge crew on another familiar ship, fully secured in their shocksuits, focused utterly on their combat tasks. Heskan recognized the bridge as belonging to a Colossus-class snow but was unsure which of the Hollaran-purchased ships it was. Over the bridge’s main speakers, Heskan heard his own voice.

  “It won’t have to, Commander. All ship captains execute immediate one-hundred and eighty degree rotation. Make your speed point-two-five-C, continue line ahead formation. My section is now the van.”

  “What?” the Seshafian ship captain in the recording exclaimed incredulously.

  His first officer turned to him, her high-pitched voice conveying extreme doubt. “Cap
tain, that privateer can’t be serious. He can’t match against a ship of the line; he’ll lose his snow!”

  Lieutenant Clayton Covington turned to face the woman, inadvertently providing one of the best soundbites of the entire battle. The handsome young man’s face contained equal parts fear and determination. “He may damned well lose the entire section but we’re going to follow him and save Seshafi, Jill.”

  That’s obviously Ravana’s bridge, Heskan thought as he connected the dots. A smile began to curl his lips as he heard Covington’s now famous line. I should have known they would play that holo-log excerpt. Not only does it portray Seshafian resolve during the darkest time of the battle but it also originates from the only son of the corporate system’s CEO. It was the perfect piece of propaganda that also just happened to be true. Still, Heskan reflected, I noticed that the media is conveniently not playing the complaints from the other ship captains who fought that day.

  During Heskan’s internal musings, additional scenes played over the monitor: Covington’s request to Heskan about fighting with corporate honor, Heskan’s own fierce message to Wallace about no surrender and, of course, the highlights of the actual combat passes. Each scene played out from various angles and perspectives taken from military holo-logs and specialized media ships. The visceral combat passes were painted on the monitor in such high definition that genuine gasps of excitement laced with horror escaped from the live studio audience. The quality and quantity of media coverage ensured no detail was spared. Even the audio blurb of Vernay’s quip about “Honor” before “Fame” near the end of the skirmish had made the montage, replayed from the perspective of Lieutenant Baldwin’s corvette. After several minutes, the final scene was delivered in the form of Admiral Wallace’s assistant signaling surrender as a voiceover to the historic footage of Viscount Wallace’s C-3 ship striking its lights for the first time during its service.

  Thunderous applause erupted in the studio as the final scene faded away. Fuller grinned broadly and brought his hands bashfully to his lips as though the adulation was his. “Indeed!” he said behind another brilliant smile. He held the expression briefly but then parted his lips fractionally because he knew this made his dimples more prominent. After much of the ovation slowed, he announced over the fading roar, “And today, in an IaCom exclusive, Chase Fuller proudly presents to you, Captain Garrett Heskan!”

  The applause regained its strength as Fuller rose from his chair and joined the revelry. Heskan felt a gentle prod from behind but discovered his feet were rooted to the ground. His stomach threatened revolt in support of his feet. My God, I don’t want to do this. Over the last week, he successfully evaded the media with the substantial assistance of Archduke Joshua Covington and a hectic work schedule. However, Covington had warned Heskan that eventually he would have to face the prying eyes of the media or risk incurring its wrath. Covington explained that victorious fleet commanders were expected, as a matter of tradition and law, to grant interviews. Even privateer contracts had such clauses woven into them and now, as a regular Seshafian naval officer, it was simply part of Heskan’s duty.

  Despite Heskan’s seeming acquiescence to Seshafian practice, he and Covington played it skillfully by awarding the first interview to Chase Fuller, the star of IaCom’s media outlet in the Seshafian system. Although counterintuitive on its face to appear on their enemy’s channel first, Heskan was beginning to understand how interwoven business interests in the corporate systems were and how incestuous the AmyraCorp-IaCom relationship was in particular.

  A second, less gentle prod unrooted his feet from the floor. By Heskan’s third step onstage, he felt as if he were walking almost normally. His eyes darted to the eager studio audience. The sight of the hero-privateer turned Seshafian spurred an even greater display of approval. Ahead of Heskan waited the warm, outstretched arms of Chase Fuller, beckoning him closer.

  “Thank you… thank you,” Fuller continued as he gestured Heskan to a luxurious chair. After a final, gracious nod to the quieting crowd, Fuller humbly regarded Heskan. “Captain Heskan, thank you for granting me this exclusive interview.”

  Heskan felt his cheeks burning bright red. “Thank you for having me, Mr. Fuller—”

  “Please, Captain, call me Chase.”

  Heskan nearly replied in kind but remembered Covington’s warning of Fuller. “Thank you for having me, Chase.”

  Fuller eased back into his chair. “So, Komandor—er, Captain, how does it feel to be a Seshafian?”

  “It’s an honor, Chase,” Heskan stated as rehearsed. “In my heart I’ve wanted nothing more than a place to settle down. I’m both privileged and thrilled to be able to call Seshafi home and I know my crew feels the same.”

  Fuller leaned toward Heskan and smiled conspiratorially. “Is Seshafi very different from the Commonwealth?”

  Heskan forced his own smile but shook his head. “You know the articles regarding the confidentiality of privateering prevent me from answering that.”

  Fuller’s smile grew wider as he pointed good-naturedly at Heskan and chuckled. “You can’t blame me for reaching for the next headline now can you, Captain? I was just hoping that you might feel comfortable enough with Seshafi to tell us a little about your past.” Fuller beamed at Heskan even as the media man’s eyes bore deeply into his guest. He let the silence grow to uncomfortable levels before pointing toward the monitor that Heskan used to observe the replay of the battle. “Captain Heskan—may I call you Garrett? Garrett, the battle we just watched is unlike anything in recent history. One has to go all the way back to the early corporate battles to find its rival.” Fuller cast a practiced gaze upward as he pretended to think. “The battle between Fasecare and Halatron in Nine Twenty-five comes to mind.” He casually twirled his hand as he said, “The level of intensity, the ferocity of your battle is… unrivaled in the modern era. In fact, McMillon Group is considering lodging a complaint against Secure Solutions for undue levels of hostility.”

  Heskan looked impassively at the media man, expecting more. Seconds ticked by as the silence grew once again well past Heskan’s comfort level. Six-one-thousand, seven-one-thousand, he counted to himself, fighting the natural urge to fill the void.

  Finally, Fuller added, “What do you think about that?”

  “That’s the first I’ve heard of it. I’m not sure what to think, Chase.”

  “But you can understand their position, right, Garrett? I mean, the level of hostility you exuded.” Fuller’s voice became a throaty baritone. “The sheer animalism exhibited on the battlefield… was it really necessary to destroy Captain Harrist’s brig?”

  “Unless you’ve been in battle—”

  Fuller spoke over Heskan’s response. “And end her life?”

  The added phrase made Heskan clench his teeth briefly. “Look, Chase—”

  An overpowering sneeze echoed through the studio, earning the director’s glare at the offender. From off-stage, Stacy Vernay raised both hands upward and shrugged her shoulders apologetically.

  Heskan used the distraction to blow out a cleansing breath as he recalled Covington’s warning from earlier in the day. We need Seshafi’s media on our side, even those paid by the enemy. The thought sobered Heskan immediately. “As I was about to say, Chase, the loss of any sailor or marine is always a tragedy. But she took the same oath that I did.” He smiled darkly at his next words. “I know you haven’t taken that oath so you may not understand what it means to be prepared to die in the defense of something. But Gael Harrist did and she honored not only her privateer outfit but IaCom and AmyraCorp with her sacrifice.” Heskan turned his head toward the audience and spoke with clear conviction. “Just as Admiral Cooke and all the sons and daughters of Seshafi did that day.” He let his gaze linger over the audience before returning his attention to Fuller. “Are you implying that Admiral Cooke’s sacrifice didn’t merit a ferocious response?”

  Applause threatened to drown out Fuller’s reply. The media veteran nodded
appreciatively toward the audience even as Heskan detected a cold glimmer in his eyes. Once the clapping abated, Fuller backtracked, “Of course not, Garrett. Please believe me when I say that I am your biggest fan and I think the conduct of Secure Solutions was above reproach. Although, I’d be remiss if I didn’t point out that even we in the media boldly assume risks that place our lives in jeopardy.” Fuller cast his eyes downward and shook his head sadly. “I understand that you, Captain, may have forgotten our loss but Anna Dunn was an amazing war correspondent and every Seshafian will miss her.” He paused just long enough to give silent memorial without taking the focus entirely away from himself. “You know, I was scheduled to be on Baron Cooke’s ship that day but had to drop out due to an illness. Even from my sick bed, I had to be restrained by two orderlies to prevent me from pursuing my sacred journalistic oath.” He shuddered but then brazenly looked out into the audience while boasting, “Just one of the many arrows of death that I’ve avoided while providing my viewers with the best possible coverage.”

  Fuller returned his gaze to Heskan. “I didn’t mean to upset you with the news from McMillon, Captain. I’d just be negligent in my own duties if I didn’t mention the potential of a grievance from your victims against your privateer parent company.”

  “Former company,” Heskan corrected.

  Fuller smiled widely. “Of course.” He looked at the top of his desk, ostensibly to check his datapad. “You are most certainly a full Seshafian now, every bit one as each of us.” His eyebrows shot up as if something struck him. “This obviously means that you will allow the media on your bridge from now on, yes?”

  Heskan cringed visibly but forced a smile. “I’ll be delighted to have you on the C-Three ship although it appears that I cannot guarantee your safety considering IaCom’s—, how did you phrase it? The animalism displayed by IaCom’s actions against our fleet commander’s ship.”

  “Is AmyraCorp planning recourse for that, Garrett?” Fuller asked with wide, innocent eyes.