Table of Contents
Prologue
Prologue II:
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
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
● Admiral’s Throne:l
Book 14
Prologue
In a Broken-Down Starship
“Why am I stuck in a broken-down starship, lost somewhere on the rim of known space?” Po’ta asked rhetorically. Uncle just gave him the hairy eyeball and turned back to his console with a grunt. They’d been stranded out here in the middle of nowhere with a cracked main hyper-dish and a hyper-field generator that needed replacement parts.
And they were going nowhere until both were fixed.
“Next time, we ignore the Seer and we go by the most direct path to exactly where we know the guy we need to find is located!” snapped the nephew. “Crossing through imperial space would have been less hazardous than this.”
“The Seer said we wouldn’t find what we needed unless we took the long route,” said his uncle.
“Forget the Seer’s cryptic comments and vague answers, and for once in your lifetime, take a look around. If we’d just ignored the creature, we’d at least have had the chance to present our case. The way things are going, this ship is headed nowhere fast. It doesn’t matter what we were supposed to do, if we don’t live long enough to actually do it!” shouted Po’ta.
“I have faith,” said his uncle.
“I don’t care about the ways of our people, the stalwart ways or the blasted moral code itself! Ye space gods and basic apes, Uncle,” cried Po’ta.
“Yes, of course; the next time I’m speaking with a creature that can read my mind, I’ll be sure to lie to it after it tells me the name of the only person who can save our people from extinction and the only way to get there, Nephew,” yelled Storm.
“There’s never been independent confirmation that those… things, can read your mind!” Po’ta said in a rising voice.
“Well, I know what I know,” Storm said flatly, “what’s the point of asking a thing for its advice if you’re not going to take it? In that case, we might as well have stayed home!”
He took a deep breath. “Just have a little faith, and we’ll get through this. Remember the teachings—”
“Faith-faith-faith-faith-faith!” shouted Po’ta. “It’s not a misguided belief in something greater than ourselves that’s going to get us out of here, Uncle. It’s spare parts for our field generator and a welding droid or auto-welder.”
“You have mistaken me, Po’ta. It’s not the code or our ways that I have faith in. I believe in us. We will make it through this as a family and, together, we will save our people from—” said Uncle Storm passionately, right before he was interrupted by a beep at the communications console. Both males’ eyes widened as they whipped around to stare at the sensor screen.
“Although I’ll happily take any help the supernatural forces of the universe decide to throw our way,” Uncle Storm said fervently.
Po’ta gave him a withering look but was too elated to argue, instead choosing to lunge for the com-console before Storm could claim the seat for himself.
“This is the Midnight Ride out of Under-hiem, Captain Po speaking. Is anyone over there interested in a trade?” he blurted out.
The other side accepted the com request and opened a channel.
Uncle Storm’s hand landed on Po’ta’s shoulder with a heavy force.
“I knew my faith was not misplaced,” he said with a chuckle.
“I want to strangle you so much right now,” said his nephew.
“Come again, Midnight Ride?” exclaimed a voice on the other side of the com-channel.
“Sorry there, friend; the old family dog just peed all over the side of the communications console. I was talking to it,” Po’ta said quickly.
“Not a problem. I know how it is on a family-run ship. You’re out here for long periods of time and need something to keep your mind sane,” the other man said, his voice easing slightly. “Anyway, Captain Po is it? That name Chinese or something?”
Meanwhile, Uncle Storm looked at Po’ta thunderously.
“Or something,” Po’ta agreed wryly, fending off Storm’s hands as the older male tried to lean in and take over communications, “but you’ve got the name right.”
Storm finally turned away in a huff, muttering to himself about a lack of respect in the younger generations of the family.
“I hear that. Lots of oddities out here in the black that a man has to get used to, so we’re up for trade if you are,” the other Captain said after a moment.
“Bring your ship over and send us an umbilical, we’ll get ready for a swap,” said Po’ta.
“Not so fast,” said the other man, “I’ll send a shuttle over first to take a gander, but only because I have a guy married to my cousin I don’t mind risking if you lot are playing dirty. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but well,” he hesitated, the sad fact is, I don’t trust you; you can’t trust anyone nowadays, could be a pirate or a reaver or any fool thing. But before that, why don’t you send me over a list and I’ll send you one back. We’ll see if the other has anything that we’re willing to swap around before we start risking crew and family.” He paused a beat. “We’ll also take credits at a discounted rate of course.”
“An old dog, is it?” Strom rumbled.
“Not now,” Po’ta hissed and then activated his com-device.
“Not a problem,” Po’ta replied. “Just so you know, in addition to a hold full of reconditioned machinery, I’ve got a case of used blaster technology you might be interested in. Old imperial rifles, pistols and such, good tech if a little long in the tooth but like you say, you can never be too careful out here in the dark,” he said without missing a beat.
There was a pause.
“My cousin will be in armor,” the other voice said cautiously.
“I thought you were sending the husband?” Po’ta replied with a grin. Yes, he thought silently, we’re not some old unarmed freighter, easy pickings for anyone with a mind for it.
“Cousin-in-law and he doesn’t shoot nearly as well as she does, so make sur
e to send him back to us in one piece,” the other man corrected with a chuckle, “either which way, send me your manifest and I’ll see if we can’t get down to some serious haggling.”
“Not a problem,” said Po’ta, triggering the file to send.
When an answering beep showed they had a matching file from the other ship, he turned away with a sigh.
“A dog!” growled his uncle.
“Well you sound just like one,” snorted Po’ta.
Storm punched him in the arm.
“Ow!” he exclaimed, jerking away and rubbing his arm.
“Not as old as I look,” his uncle sounded self-satisfied. “You’d do well to remember that not just any old male gets to make it on the Elders’ Council!”
The console chimed again.
“Looks like we can make a trade,” said the other Captain.
“Send over your cousin’s husband,” said Po’ta.
Prologue II:
Davenport Seeds the Spine
Two weeks after taking Speaker Isaak into custody
“Isn’t this a direct and deliberate violation of the Dictates of Man?” the Commander asked with distaste.
Admiral Magnus Davenport’s lip curled and he looked down his nose at the other man.
“I am not in the habit of being questioned by junior officers,” he said strictly, before continuing in a more moderate voice. “However, this time and only this once, I will answer the question.”
“In primus,” he lifted a finger, “technically speaking, it is only the use and utilization of bugs or other biological weapons of mass destruction on ‘imperial’ ships, citizens, and followers of man, or those planets under the protection of the Empire, that is a crime. None of which happen to apply to the inhabitants of the Spine,” he said flatly. “The days of the Confederated Empire are long past and once this war is over, the old Confederation will either have to get its act together or find itself relegated to the trash bin of history.”
The Commander looked at him levelly.
“Even if it doesn’t break the letter of the law, it still violates the spirit,” he replied evenly.
Davenport’s eyes turned red.
“The spirit in which those laws were handed down to us was to protect humanity and the empire from the rampant use of weapons of mass destruction. Not to shield the users of bio-tech weapons after they have successfully carried out an attack of their own and killed an imperial senator, possibly setting back the agenda of the empire by years, if not decades or centuries, Commander!” he said angrily.
“What about the rumors going around that Praetor Cornwallis died by the hands of the very weapons he himself attempted to set loose on the helpless civilians of the Spineward Sectors?” pointed out the Commander.
“None of that’s been confirmed,” Admiral Magnus dismissed, “for all you and I know, it’s all only a smoke screen to cover the actions of a rogue military and a government that we, unfortunately, can’t move against while still actively engaged in a war with the Gorgons. Not with the old Confederation breathing down our necks at the same time anyway,” he said harshly.
“And not while that same old Confederation is preparing to hand over three previously retired battle fleets in exchange for clear title to the Spine, Sir?” asked the Commander.
Davenport looked at him coldly.
“Sorry, Sir,” the Commander said, face blanking, “you’re right, of course; we’re not in the business of covering for WMD violators and it doesn’t technically violate the dictates.”
“Exactly. The Spineward Sectors wants to play games?” asked Magnus, his voice turning cold, “well I am prepared to show them that we in the Empire are past masters at playing games.”
Before returning to the Empire, the fleet train of 5th Fleet split up and made stops at dozens of worlds throughout the Spine.
First, imperial warships arrived to scout the area and then much larger transport ships appeared several AU beyond each system’s hyperlimit to avoid detection and began to release their cargos near a series of pre-staged asteroids, comets or other interstellar bodies that had been identified as containing sufficient biomass for future operations.
Hours and sometimes days after the imperials jumped away, the cargo began to stir and then wake up. The first thing it did was move toward the nearest identifiable source of biomass.
Then once that was completed, they began to build and reproduce. When every last scrap of biomass had been converted, the newly-built bugships turned toward the life-giving radiation of the nearest star.
All over the seven sectors of the Spine, bug Swarms began to move on their carefully-selected target worlds.
Chapter 1
Gone Fishing
Two years after exile from the Spineward Sectors…
For the hundredth time today, I cast my line into the sea and slowly reeled it back in.
This was the life. Mornings and evenings spent with Akantha and the children, well at least when she wasn’t holding court. A five-year backlog for a newly-created queendom will do that to a woman. I’d know. I’d been dragged into enough courtly functions, mostly against my will, that I’d practically become an expert I thought with a grimace. On the plus side, attending Messene’s court and practically being strong-armed into learning the local dialect were distractions enough from the main reason I was no longer riding a starship and fighting the good fight.
On one hand, it was liberating to have all the free time and no longer be fighting for my life. On the other, the people of the Spine no longer seemed to care that they didn’t need one Jason Montagne or his Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet out on patrol, protecting the space ways from pirates, bugs and stray warlords. In short no one missed me and if I was being honest, that was a bigger blow to my ego than I’d expected.
Which was still fine, if it continued to give me more family time and the first chance I’d had in years to enjoy myself, it just… stung.
Closing my eyes, I leaned into the wind and felt the cool, stiff breeze on my face. Well, okay, maybe bracing or even downright chilly would have been better words, but with the sun warm on my face and the thick thermal jacket and shades I’d wisely come equipped with, it would do.
Cast and reel, reel and cast, then rinse and repeat before doing it all over again in one endless series of repetitive motions, all taking place as I thought of absolutely nothing at all. This was the life. The brass ring I’d fought for all those years ago… No one’s life at risk, except my own, and no one to berate me for not doing enough for them as I focused on properly casting the hook and line where it needed to go and on the movements of my body as I reeled it back in, nothing more and nothing less.
Pure bliss. The brass ring, whatever you called it, was all mine. No lives rested on my decisions, save those of the sea creatures I was hunting and since they liked to snack on hapless tourists and snatch wayward children straight off the beach, given half a chance, I couldn’t care less about them. Looking at it a certain way, I wasn’t taking the day to play hooky and go fishing, rather I was performing a lifesaving public service!
A legend in my own mind or at least so I kept telling myself… well, when I was thinking of anything at all, which I most decidedly was not, I firmly reminded myself as I drew the rod back over my shoulder and prepared to cast.
Taking a deep breath, the stiff sea breeze heavy with the scent of salt filled my nose, and the only cares I had were those the world threw at me and the ones I chose for myself. Nothing more but certainly nothing less.
A man couldn’t ask for more.
A loud zing sounded as something took the bait and ran, dragging the line from my reel away with it, sidled up to my moment of Zen, rubbed its head against my legs like an insistent cat and called for action.
I smiled.
There was a breach as a giant creature broke the surface of the sea, throwing
itself in the air.
The distant roar that accompanied this rose above the general clamor of sea waves hitting the large spur of rock I was perched atop, and the entire ocean seemed to go crazy.
Breaking out of the salty sea water, the sea monster on the end of my line screamed defiance and within less than a second, entire hunting pods or family groups—I wasn’t entirely sure which it was and didn’t really care enough to find out—of giant sea monsters went crazy.
Something a little less than one hundred of the monsters jumped and writhed on the surface of the water, attacking anything and everything in sight, if it got too close or just in easy reach of each other.
Riding the fishing pole with my entire body mass, I simultaneously worked the reel for all I was worth as I tried to fight the giant twenty-foot-long sea monster on the other end of line to a standstill. Below me, there was the sound of a loud crashing and one of the multi-tentacled sea monsters threw itself at the base of cliff beneath me and… promptly bounced off the force fields I’d had installed to keep them from collapsing the rocky ledge, or even worse, climbing up to get me.
Just another day on the sunny beach of Messene City, I smirked.
Leaning back as my two-ton test line continued to zing-zing-zing away from me, I forced the tip of my fishing pole up as I walked back. One. Two. Three steps, and the back of my legs hit the chair.
“I’m going to haul this one in. See if I don’t!” I cheered as another sea monster took aim at the creature I’d just hooked and, as if turning on a dime, now my monster was running back toward me. Now, instead of taking the line faster than I could reel it back in, I had the opposite problem and it was all I could do to take the line back in before it snagged on something else!
“Yee-ha!” I screamed, thumb guiding the line as I reeled the slack in and tried to guide my monster away from a third sea-monster leaving a V-shape in its wake as it charged toward my catch with sideways pulls on my pole.
I jerked and tugged on the reel, and for a moment, it looked like I still had a chance at landing the thing when the other monster put on a burst of speed and slammed into its side.
Admiral's Throne Page 1
