“You Tracto-ans are slow learners, Captain. You shouldn’t have gotten my dander up; we almost had a genuine Greek tragedy on our hands,” Spalding said sourly, before laying out his terms in a flat, unbending voice.
Chapter Fifty-three: The Investigation
I stood staring out the window at the half-armored bones of the Lucky Clover v2.0, and couldn’t help but remark on just how far along it had come since we’d come into this system more than six months ago.
It would have been nice if the patrols I’d sent out to monitor the borders of 24 and 25 could keep down the Bugs, raiders, and random other threats until the monster ship taking form in the giant construction slip—one I didn’t remember authorizing—could be finished. Druid was a good man and I had every confidence in him, but I was starting to feel a little antsy for some reason.
Maybe it was McKnight and her band of happy hooligans; I’d assigned them a medium transport freighter, that cutter they’d laid claim to in the name of one of their crewmates, and one slightly modified and mostly repaired Harmony Destroyer…
But, no, I’d sent the newly promoted Lieutenant Commander Archibald along with them—ensconced inside the Heavy Cruiser we’d captured in Battle for Elysium—to keep an eye on them and provide a good example.
Their previous Commander, Captain Middleton, had possessed the tendency to run off at the slightest provocation—even abandoning us to our own fates in the face of a massive enemy fleet. Archibald, on the other hand—while also the owner of a dangerously independent streak—possessed almost opposite tendencies, preferring to ignore orders to withdraw while under fire and instead opt to throw himself between the rest of the fleet and danger.
He was also as loyal as the day was long, which I had decided was an incalculably valuable quality to have in subordinate officers. While not in command of the joint Sector 24 mission—technically being on an independent patrol of his own, where he just-so-happened to be alongside McKnight—he was in perfect position to observe and provide assistance while learning the ins and outs of the Sector. I could only hope his good example would rub off of Middleton’s protégé, but even if that outcome failed to materialize, Archibald would soon be capable of providing the very support which McKnight had suggested her group would provide.
No…it wasn’t even Middleton’s survivors that were making me feel a kind of phantom itch I just couldn’t seem to scratch.
Frankly, things were going almost too good to be true—minus a small Tracto-an uprising, of course. We were going on six months now without any major catastrophes. This was longer than I’d ever had without serious trouble in a stretch of time since taking over command of the MSP.
I absently rubbed my fingers over the faint line on my wrist where Medical had reattached the hand, and I grinned wryly as I recalled the battle royal with the Tracto-ans. No one had moved to challenge me—or, rather, this Patrol Fleet—in far too long for my comfort. It made me wonder what was lurking out there in the depths of cold space, waiting for a chance to pounce while we were docked and unprepared.
While I was thinking these deep thought, there was a chime at the door.
I turned as the door swooped open and a balding, half-skin, half-metal forehead pushed its way around the corner of the door entry way and into the room.
“You needed me, Sir?” Spalding asked, looking quickly around the room from one side to the other before quickly settling back on me. He had a strange, off-white color patch of skin over his right cheek.
“Trouble?” I frowned pointing to his face.
Spalding looked surprised and reached up to rub his face. Then he quickly shook his head. “A little mishap down in Engineering while I was on a small welding job; don’t pay it any mind, Sir,” he reported.
I shook my head and then abruptly made my face turn stern and solemn. “I’m not here to talk about Engineering. What is it I’ve been hearing about trouble in the Lancer compartments?” I demanded, abruptly changing the subject and going on the verbal attack. Keeping your opponent off-balance was one of the best ways at getting to the truth.
Realization appeared on his face, and then quickly disappeared until the old Engineer looked at me innocently. “It really is a crying shame, Admiral. A gas leak laid low the entire Lancer crew,” the old Engineer said piously, “but don’t worry, Sir; I’m already on it and I swear that we in Engineering will make sure it never happens again!”
“A gas leak aboard every warship in the Fleet—including my own Flagship?” I retorted in a rising voice. “One or two instances I might have believed, but I lost an entire Lancer contingent on one of the smaller warships!”
“It was the gas leak that took out that crew, but I’m sure I previously filed a report about the series of cracked bulkheads on the Flagship,” Spalding said, still playing dumb. “Stress fractures brought on by prolonged combat and metal fatigue caused a freak accident in the Lancer quarters, Sir. No one could have predicted it would happen, and we’ll make good and sure it never happens again you have my word on that,” Spalding continued to ramble on.
“Listen here, Chief Engineer,” I said stabbing my finger down on the desk to emphasize my point, “nobody plays me for a fool. I know it wasn’t a series of mysterious ‘freak accidents’ that swept through this fleet three days ago. Mass food poisonings, gas leaks, and a freak cascade of fatigued bulkheads giving way at exactly the same time—and it all just so happened to lay low nearly the entire Fleet Lancer Department all at the same time? That’s not an accident—that’s sabotage.”
Spalding stood there blinking as I glared at him.
“Well?” I demanded.
“I’m sorry, Sir,” Spalding said shaking his head, “was there a question in there somewhere…or, what I mean is, could you please repeat it? I’m afraid I didn’t catch it. Had a bad stay at Medical, you know; haven’t felt the same since.”
“You get a lot of trust from me, Spalding ,” I snapped, “mostly because I’ve felt I could count on you and you’ve done a blazing good job ever since I made you Chief Engineer. You’ve saved this Fleet on more than one occasion, and don’t think for a minute I fail to appreciate that. But I’m giving you fair warning that your rope has officially run out. You got me?”
“I take full responsibility for these equipment failures,” Spalding said, coming to attention stiffly with his eyes focused somewhere above my head. “I promise they’re under control and it won’t happen again. You have my word.”
“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” I shouted, enraged that I couldn’t even get a straight answer from one of the few men I relied upon without hesitation, “I’ve half a mind right now to—”
There was a loud beep from my desk console and a red light started flashing—it was the emergency signal.
My blood ran cold and after one last glare, I slapped open the com-link.
“Admiral Montagne here—this had better be good,” I said angrily.
There was a short pause. “You asked to be notified the moment Mrs. Montagne went into labor, Admiral,” said Lieutenant Steiner from the other end of the link, “well, she has—I mean, she is—I mean, I’m reporting in that the doctor was just paged and is on his way to her Station Quarters as we speak. The delivery is about to happen, Sir.”
I froze for a long moment, my mouth half-open.
“Sir…? Are you there,” asked Steiner, sounding concerned.
“I’ll be right down,” I said, snapping back to reality with a blink. Snatching up my jacket and pistol belt, I started for the door before stopping mid-strike. I was going nowhere unarmed. First my family, and now those very people I relied on to have my back, had tried to kill me in quick succession. I couldn’t risk it. I had to go everywhere armed now. In fact, I wasn’t that far from suiting back up in power armor. Only the consideration of the message that would send to all the new recruits in the fleet stayed my hand. But one more incident…
I was halfway out the door when Spalding cleared his thr
oat. “Congratulations, Admiral,” he said with a nod.
I came to an abrupt halt and spun around to look at him. “This conversation isn’t finished,” I warned.
“’Course not, Sir,” he nodded agreeably.
With a disgusted nod of my own, I put Spalding and the continuing Lancer antics behind me. Men had died in whatever had gone down in the ships’ lower decks while I had been in Medical getting myself patched back together.
I wasn’t blind to the fact that it was the very department that had just tried to kill me that had been on the receiving end of this unexpected, entirely-too-deadly, backlash.
Alas, I couldn’t just let it stand or soon I’d have anarchy on my hands. Maybe the next time someone did something that the crewmembers beneath me disapproved of, blood would cover the decks. So despite this act of dubious loyalty—an act which had clearly been in my favor, at least to some extent—I very much needed to make a firm statement against such extralegal actions.
Blast it.
Any which way I turned, I was hemmed in by hidden enemies on one hand and murderous outraged supporters on the other. A pox on all it of it; things were just going to have to wait.
After all, it’s not every day a man became a father—especially eight times over in one sitting. That meant I was just going to have to trust Spalding, and much as I knew I needed to rein things in, the man had never led me wrong…at least, not yet.
****************************************************
“Are you feeling okay?” I asked with concern.
“Aargh!” she shouted breath puffing in and out as she ignored me.
“Do you want me to go get you something?” I asked quickly.
“I’ve been in battle and taken wounds that were less painful than this,” she growled and then clutched her belly and groaned.
“Do feel like you need something for the pain?” I asked with concern, “I can go bring in the doctor.”
“Go sit down, Jason,” she snapped angrily, “and be quiet. I can’t deal with both you and this at the same time,” she said—and then grimaced as another contraction hit.
“That’s it; I’m calling the doctor,” I said standing up.
“This is woman’s work. I don’t need a man in here at a time like this!” Akantha shouted, red-faced as she glared at me, “which brings me back to: why exactly did I let you talk your way into here in the first place?”
I hesitated, feeling torn and somewhere between utterly useless and merely superfluous to the situation’s requirements.
“I said sit down!” she yelled.
“Yes, dear,” I muttered wondering just how long this was supposed to take. She’d been in labor for hours now and we’d still had no sign of progress as far as I could tell. Of course, I wasn’t a baby birthing expert so if what she needed to was for me to sit down and literally do nothing….
I crossed my fingers in my lap and stared down at them, doing my best to let things happen at their own natural pace instead of giving into the urge to do something—anything.
It took me a few seconds to realize I was being stared at.
“Yes?” I asked, looking up to see my wife staring at me.
“I’m still waiting for my answer,” she said irritably after seeing I was once again paying attention to her.
“An answer?” I asked with surprise.
“You’re supposed be reminding me why I let you into the birthing chamber against my better judgment,” she grumbled.
“Because I threatened to tear down the door with my power armor if you didn’t?” I answered reflexively, and then winced as I immediately thought better of plainly stating the truth. I must have been more affected by the fact that I was about to be a father for the first…well, the first several times over in rapid succession, than I’d originally thought, “and because you knew I’d be very concerned and that in my culture it’s not uncommon for husbands to be in the same room during natural birthing.”
Her face started to harden as another contraction seemed to hit, and as soon as that one left another one almost immediately followed. A pair of Tracto-an women came quickly to her side to attend her.
After that, things started happening rapidly. One of the women eventually tried to shoo me out of the room, but I wasn’t going anywhere and made that as clear as I could without exacerbating Akantha’s situation.
When the first head crowned, all I could do was stare in horror at the unnatural contortion the female body was forced through in order to give birth.
But when the cord was cut and that first bundle of joy had been cleaned, wrapped, and finally placed in my disbelieving hands, an indescribable feeling came over me. Amid the disbelief was the immediate and all-consuming terror that I held a fragile human life in my hands, and I profoundly realized in that moment that I had absolutely no training to keep me from dropping it—her, I realized with a quick check—and I was faced with the realization that I was now a father.
Freezing completely, I clutched at her as carefully as I could since I was afraid that any movement could presage disaster. At least, I did so until she was whisked out of my grasp and right before my disbelieving eyes and another tightly-wrapped bundle was placed in my hands.
I was a father, and I couldn’t believe it. It didn’t seem real. Oh, I was married and I knew that these were my babies but being a father was even more terrifying than being an Admiral. As the Vice Admiral of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet I could, at least in theory, resign or run away, abandoning my fleet and all the responsibility that had been thrust upon me.
However, while the rank of Admiral—much like electoral popularity—could come and go, the title ‘Dad’ was one you were stuck with for the rest of your life. You could run from it, but you couldn’t hide.
It was more fear-inspiring than a whole fleet of enemy ships. I wasn’t a child any more—I was a father. It was mind blowing, it was awe inspiring, it was…
I was filled with a new sort of determination. Before, I’d fought for the betterment of the ‘people’ for the lives of my friends and crew…but as of this very moment, I realized I had a new calling that was, in many ways, even more important.
Those other people—my crew, for example—all had someone else out there who could pick up the slack. People like presidents, dictators, or other military commanders. But, other than Akantha, I really couldn’t trust anyone else to look after the best interests of another ‘foul misbegotten spawn of House Montagne,’ as the tabloid headlines had used to put it back when I was on Capria.
After the third little baby came out and I was starting to wonder if they were all going to be girls, the medical scanner placed on the table next to Akantha started to beep.
“Something feels wrong,” Akantha panted.
The attendants felt her stomach.
“The next baby feels like it’s in breech, my Mistress,” said Isis, “we’ll have to try and turn it.”
“Do what you have to,” Akantha said as the scanner started to beep more and more stridently.
“Medical Alert! Fetal heart rate has begun to slow to dangerous levels. Emergency medical intervention required,” the tablet stated before beginning to repeat the message again.
“My Lady…I can’t turn it,” said the other attendant after several manipulations of her abdomen—manipulations which appeared to take place both within and without my wife’s body.
“Medical Alert!” the scanner started to wail.
Someone started pounding on the door outside the room—probably the medical crash team I’d stationed outside in the hall for emergencies.
“No,” Akantha cried, “I am woman enough to bear my own babes without the knife!”
“My Lady, you are carrying too many babes; you need to bring in the Starborn Healer or you will lose the one in breech,” said Isis with cold certainty, “and that may lead to the loss of the others as well.”
“Ahhh!” Akantha groaned but then nodded to Isis before looking over at me fe
ar and the need for reassurance in her eyes.
“They’ll take good care of you and the babies,” I hastily assured her, “I’ve got the best doctors in the Fleet standing by outside.”
“I managed three by myself,” she said, the corner of her mouth lifting weakly and reaching for me, “some women don’t even manage that.”
“Hush,” I said hurrying to the bed and grabbing hold of her hand while Isis ran over to the door and removed the emergency lock, “you have nothing to prove to anyone.”
“I’m sorry…” Akantha said thickly, “I’m sorry that I didn’t stand by your side during the challenges.”
I stiffened and instinctively tried to pull back. Squeezing my hand in a death grip, she refused to let go.
As the crash team rushed into the room and started maneuvering her onto the hover stretcher, I started down at her.
“Why didn’t you?” I asked the words pulled from me, “why did you help…him instead?”
“It will never happen again,” she declared still refusing to release me as she transferred to the stretcher and we started toward the door, “till death do us part.”
Even with all the hubbub and confusion, I still noted how she didn’t quite answer my question. But at that time, and in that place, I wasn’t able to find it in me to argue.
“Go,” I said, giving her a nod and touching her hand.
Reluctantly, she let go and then the hover-stretcher continued down the corridor as fast as the ship’s medical attendants could move it.
I wanted to believe her words. But even more, I wanted the little babies inside her body to survive, to grow, and to thrive.
“Stay safe,” I quietly prayed to whoever might have been listening as she disappeared beyond the blast doors at the end of the corridor.
Chapter Fifty-four: Hot on the Promethean Border
The Prometheus Fire rocked as a pair of medium laser bolts slammed through the shields, striking the boat bay doors and causing a massive out-gassing before the blast doors kicked in and automatically sealed off the affected area.
Admiral's Challenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 8) Page 39
