Admiral's Throne

by Luke Sky Wachter

  I couldn’t believe my gamble hadn’t paid off. I was so sure that with one big push against a set of relatively un-evolved bugs, we could break them. Clearly, I’d been too ambitious and it had just cost the fleet dearly.

  Seeing the number of battleships left behind, I closed my eyes.

  “Instruct Rear Admiral Laurent that if an opportunity presents itself to liberate and rescue those members of the main body who aren’t able to follow, he is to take it without hesitation,” I said.

  “Orders relayed, Sir,” Steiner said in a hushed voice, her face pale as she glanced at the main screen.

  The Lucky Clover turned to cover our retreating force and had just started to follow when, like a leviathan rising from the depths, the bug Mothership appeared, pushing its way through the harvesters that had been giving us such a bad time.

  “Primary target acquired!” shouted Hart.

  My pupils widened and then contracted.

  “Mr. DuPont, belay your previous course correction and get us lined back up on that Mothership,” I said, pounding the armrest of my throne.

  “Aye-aye, Sir,” he replied happily.

  While we were still maneuvering, the Mothership opened fire on our closest warship, a heavy cruiser, knocking down its shields in one broadside, deeply scoring its hull at the same time.

  Worse, half the harvesters within range also targeted the cruiser and began to fire. Within half a minute, the cruiser was shot so full of holes, it was floating lifelessly in cold space, its fusion generators floating around it.

  Relentlessly, the Mothership turned but instead of targeting the closest warship, this time it decided to go after the biggest, largest threat in the area.

  “Enemy Mothership is targeting us!” reported Hart.

  “Mr. DuPont!” I said.

  “I’m moving her as fast as she’ll go,” the helmsman said with frustration.

  The Mothership opened fire, taking our shields down to 25% and then every harvester in the area opened fire.

  “Shields gone! The hull is taking damage,” reported Manblaster.

  “Coming into range for the shot,” reported Weapons.

  “We have major outgassing in three different places on the port and starboard side,” reported Damage Control.

  “Anytime, Weapons,” I urged.

  “Going for target lock,” said the Weaponeer.

  “Hydropontics 4 is damaged. Environmental systems compromised throughout 20% of the ship, unable to reroute,” reported Blythe.

  “Retracting forward, facing firing port!” said the Weaponeer.

  “Send out a crew advisory to avoid the damaged decks or use protective gear and portable oxygen rebreathers or space suits,” said Manblaster.

  All around us, a cloud of missiles and bombs appeared as every bugship launched its payload in all directions.

  “Firing now!” said Weapons, depressing the trigger.

  There was the sound of the HPC spinning up and then the ship suddenly rocked backward.

  From the tip of the Lucky Clover, a rapidly-moving projectile streaked across the screen. Moments later, it struck the Mothership at an angle, punching in one side and tearing out the other, emerging in a spray of atmo and unidentifiable fluids.

  While the Mothership flared its engines and struggled to compensate, every bug harvester in range went crazy, opening fire on us and each other.

  Not to be outdone, the Mothership also opened fire on everything in range of its starboard side but with only about a quarter of its weapons. The rest of the Mothership’s starboard weapons and its entire port side slowly went dark.

  “Scan that Mothership and tell me what just happened?” I ordered.

  But it soon became obvious. The Mothership may still be mostly intact, besides one big gaping hole, but every bugship in Swarm began acting the same way they did when a Mothership died.

  “I can’t be sure, Admiral, but I think we must have hit the Queen,” said Science Officer Jones in disbelief.

  “I’m not an exobiologist, but I think he’s right,” agreed another science officer.

  “It’s an educated guess but it fits all the facts,” Jones said defensively.

  Ignoring their squabble, I looked on with growing elation as the bugs turned on each other like rabid snap-weasels.

  My only complaint was that the majority of my fleet’s heavy warships were in the middle of the hottest patch of bug insanity.

  “Circle up! Order the Wall to resume position and form up again on the flagship,” I snapped.

  With their leader gone and the bugs attacking one another, we finally had a chance to regroup. If we could pick up our limpers before they were entirely overrun and trim down any of the heavy harvesters that looked like it was growing too big for its britches, we might just make it out of this yet without any more serious losses.

  I was optimistic and I knew it.

  Unfortunately, Murphy and several of the harvesters must have known it too, because two more battleships were overrun with bug boarders before we could reach them.

  “Battleships are deploying bucking cables,” reported Hart as we reached the first of our beleaguered battleships and the Clover turned to fire her recharged HPC into the battered Mothership, finishing her off for good.

  “Instruct the cruisers to form a perimeter to keep the lighter bugs off us while the harvesters are busy, and have the battleships prepare boarding parties to help relieve our boarded battleships,” I instructed, feeling relief now that the possibility of the Mothership recovering and taking back control over the Swarm was done for good.

  “Aye-aye, Admiral,” Manblaster said sharply.

  Over the next fifteen minutes, we retraced our path, fought off the disoriented harvesters and placed our heavily damaged, engine disabled or nearly destroyed warships on the other side of our formation as far away from danger as possible. The damage was heavy with more or less 25% of the Wall destroyed or damaged to the point of being completely disabled and another fourth damaged sufficiently that they needed time in the shipyard.

  Ten battleships so badly damaged, they were facing the wrecker or already destroyed already, and another twelve heavy cruisers. Something of the order of forty thousand officers and crew killed or MIA. It was too much.

  The only consolation was that we had accomplished our mission and had taken out the guiding force keeping the Swarm together.

  Slicing through the outer edges of the Swarm, Rear Admiral Laurent brought his destroyers and corvettes in, clearing out the remaining light units around us and providing a screening force as we limped out of range.

  In exchange, twenty-two of our heavy warships we had destroyed, five times our numbers and the Mothership. It was too much. More than we would have lost if we’d intercepted them at the edge of the star system and not two days away from Tracto, but we’d done it.

  We might have to go in and finish off another harvester, but even though more than half of the Swarm remained, its biggest combat potential had just been cut in half. We were going to take more losses but we could do this.

  After leaving the Swarm behind, we focused all our efforts on clearing the bugs from the hulls and interiors of our battleships and cruisers. We were successful in varying levels; the bugs were gone but another ten warships were rendered non-operational and we had to remove the surviving crew from their ships and scram the fusion generators.

  Only time and a full shipyard would tell if they could be placed back in action or if we were all better off scrapping them and using the metal and components to build or rebuild another ship.

  After forming a convoy of all our heavily-damaged ships and assigning an escort detail, the limpers were sent back to tract.

  Despite our damage and slow movement, the Lucky Clover stayed with the main fleet maintaining position between the Swarm and Tracto.

  After immediate repairs were completed and our ships cleared of bug boarders, it was time t
o return to the grim business of peeling the rest of this swarm like an onion.

  Because of how deep they’d come into the system and the bug’s near fatal attraction to life giving worlds and all its rich biomass, hundreds of smaller bugs based around a core of harvesters survived long enough to reach our orbital defenses.

  They didn’t last there in orbit for very long.

  Chapter 60

  The Storm Has Passed

  “You did it, Jason,” Akantha said with shining eyes.

  “Then why do I feel like I failed?” I said, staring out the porthole on the observation deck at the lines of crippled warships parked outside Belter Station.

  “Our losses were bad. But we were victorious. You protected us. You protected our family and our planet. We were victorious in the battle, Tracto was not turned into a barren wasteland of rock and bones. That is worth something. More than you are giving yourself credit for, Husband,” she said.

  I glared out the porthole for a minute.

  “You’re right and someday, it’s going to feel that way. I know that in my head but it doesn’t help right now,” I said clenching my teeth.

  Then I forced all of that down and turned to my wife.

  “It’s been months of war and even the best of men come back from that with demons. Don’t think I fail to feel that too,” Akantha said. “But really and truly we did it. You did it, Protector. Never forget that,” she said fiercely.

  “I won’t,” I said and turned back to the porthole and the damaged ships. I almost imagined I could see the MSP and King’s Own personnel inside those ships, men and women who had expected better of their Admiral and King, some of whom survived to leave their ship but others who ended up paying the ultimate price.

  The bug incursion had slowed and most of the high-intensity combat operations had finally passed. It was a tough call but I’d dispatched a group of volunteers under Rear Admirals Druid and Laurent who were willing to return to help the capital of Sector 26 and anyone else in the minor worlds who needed our assistance.

  The Spindles no longer left with the expeditionary body would remain and return to Tracto between uses. Laurent or Druid could call back for a pick-up at need but for now, all usages of the Spindles would be strictly limited. We didn’t need another repeat of that last jump.

  Hopefully, the spindles could finish repairing themselves.

  Meanwhile our best analysts, engineers and yard workers estimated it was going to take months of work to put the fleet back into fighting trim.

  But the tactical department had run the numbers and concurred that barring an upsurge in bugs, roughly half the fleet would be needed for future bug suppression campaigns but the rest could be taken back home to rest, refit and repair.

  Which was good considering I refused to leave our homeworlds at the mercy of more stealth destroyers; I had ordered a defense force stationed near critical infrastructure at all times and placed our star system sensor networks on high alert.

  Working in conjunction with the Confederation flotillas, they should be able to handle any future bug attacks but at this point, I couldn’t risk the Empire launching another spoiling raid.

  Yes, I was now sure it was the Empire. Intelligence recovered from one of the raider shuttles that had been hit and left behind during the raid on Tracto showed an advanced technology that only the Empire or old Confederation could produce.

  Druid, Laurent and Kling were assigned as Task Force Commanders and Fleet Commanders in all but name to take my place, and to stop the bugs cold and continue to appropriate our payments.

  I expected lots of people to drag their feet and not pay now that the danger appeared to be passing and knowing the mood I was in, I knew I wasn’t the person who should be dealing with short-sighted politicians.

  Kling, Druid and Laurent would just have to handle things for a while. I needed a break and some family time. Not a sudden urge to pull out and leave a star system to the bugs when some star system leader started acting up.

  “You’re right, Akantha. What I need now is time,” I said.

  “Take as much time as you need. You’ve been too busy helping others. It’s time we took care of ourselves and took a break in the action,” she said.

  I nodded, eyes hooded and then escorted my sword-bearer back to our quarters.

  ***

  After dividing into a 1st and 2nd Fleet and shoring up the defenses in Tracto and Capria, I grabbed Commodore Spalding. I had a few hard questions that needed answering about those strange intruders that appeared on our ship during the last bad jump.

  More importantly, it was time for a long-delayed meeting.

  The Empire thought it could attack my home, destroy my transportation system and destroy everything I’d worked for down to the bedrock? It was time they learned that when pushed, I would push back.

  Chapter 61

  The Kids

  A week later, after taking some time to decompress and visit with the children, I was back from another fishing expedition at the beach and catching up on the latest reports from the Kingdom when Akantha came in.

  “I was hoping I’d catch you in,” she said.

  I turned, lifting an eyebrow.

  “I have some news that I think, or at least I hope, will cheer you up,” she said with a gleam in her eye.

  “Oh,” I said, running my eyes up and down her figure.

  She flushed.

  “Not that!” she said defensively.

  I couldn’t disguise my disappointment.

  “Men,” she said rolling her eyes.

  I wrinkled my brow.

  “If it’s not the obvious then… what?” I asked.

  “Obvious, my foot,” she sniffed and then turned serious.

  “Enough of that nonsense,” she said brusquely, “Thanks to my various sources, I have located a person of great interest to us,” she said.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Who?” I asked.

  “Your wayward King and Cousin, James Vekna, just so happens to be hiding out on a pleasure world on the other side of the Overton Expanse inside the border of the old Confederation. And it just so happens we have agents moving into place right now to deal with him,” she said with vicious satisfaction.

  “Just have to give the word and he’ll trouble us no more,” she said.

  For a moment, my better angels urged me to spare my murderous cousin and at least attempt to bring him back home for trial.

  But then I leaned over and pulled up the intelligence report from Royal Intelligence showing their investigation had determined with 95% certainty Cousin James had ordered the hit on my mother and Duncan.

  “Do it,” I said giving her a nod.

  Some problems, we were better off not having.

  ***

  A thousand light years away, a direct-action team comprised entirely of women received the go signal.

  “The Operation has been approved. We are to proceed with target elimination. No need to attempt a capture,” said the Senior Sister in charge of the group.

  “The will of the sisterhood be done,” intoned the black-clad members of the special direct-action team.

  Then, silent and swift as a sword, the team moved into the luxury resort, drifting completely unnoticed through the already compromised security system until they reached the beach’s Presidential Suite.

  Fifteen minutes later, they departed the resort, operation successful. With them, they carried a picnic-container-sized cold storage unit.

  For proof of mission success, in dynastic disputes, the last thing you wanted was a series of imposters claiming to be the now-deceased former claimant showing up to contest the succession.

  ***

  While my wife’s hired killers were hunting down my cousin, I was busy spending some quality time with the kids. We’d been super busy lately and our sons in particular were beginning to act out.

  As I was slowly learning with children, the most
important thing was giving them time with you. It wasn’t toys or gifts or anything like that, what they needed was you, something I was more than happy to provide.

  While I was playing with the kids, I decided now was the time to arrange a meeting with the Stalwart. They’d been waiting for far too long.

  Chapter 62

  The Omicron

  I looked around the Omicron with fresh eyes. It had been quite a while since I personally stepped foot on the space station and the changes were both sweeping and, at the same time, it felt like nothing had really changed.

  Oh, it was nicer, cleaner at least, but the same seedy characters lurked in its halls. Or if not exactly the same seedy characters, then new seedy characters had arrived to replace the old.

  “The more things change, the more they stay the same,” I said eyeing a band of Tractoan mercenaries as they rubbed shoulders with mutants, genetic freaks and uplifts from beyond the Rim without a seeming care in the galaxy.

  Of course, the Tractoans didn’t have the same cultural baggage a son of Capria came onboard with. If this was a plus or a minus was yet to be seen.

  “This way, Sir,” said the Tractoan servant sent to escort me to the Command Center.

  “Lead on,” I said as my guards closed in around me.

  The trip to the Command Center was uneventful and securing a conference room even less so. I guessed being the owner sometimes paid off with more than mutinies and the occasional death match.

  “Did you need anything, Sir?” asked Spalding, sticking his head into the room.

  “Bring me the Stalwart,” I said.

  “Aye-aye, right on it, Sir,” he said.

  While I waited, I reflected how returning to the Omicron was like rewinding history back to a more desperate, naïve time. Back to when a young foolish Admiral and Caprian Prince had thought that simply by saving the helpless people of the Spine, things would change for the better.