“Is it under control? If so then don’t bother me,” snapped Kermit.
“Can someone keep this ship still! We’re already past the point of no return and if this ship keeps moving I might not be able to recalculate the jump in time and we’re all dead,” snapped the Navigator fingers flying as he desperately tried to recalculate their new jump position.
“I’ll make sure the enemy knows my navigator would like them to stay still so the jump doesn’t kill us instead of them. I’m sure they’ll be highly interested in your opinion,” bellowed Bluetooth.
“Just recalculate the jump, Navigator. Leave the fighting to the professionals,” ordered Kermit.
Bluetooth snorted looking down at the Captain derisively and then the Newton shook again.
“Blast it!” cried Nav.
“Why does it feel like every single ship in the enemy fleet is focused on us?” Bluetooth shouted, glaring at the screen where two dozen Cruisers were facing off against his entire flotilla. Well, his entire flotilla minus the lighter ships that had already jumped out of the star system.
“Probably because they are! Tactical tells me every weapon that can be brought to bear on the Newton is firing directly at us. They’re only using any lasers they can’t shoot at us on the rest of the fleet,” Kermit said viciously, “not that I can’t figure out why they’re aiming at us now that they’ve already destroyed Piebold’s ship.”
Bluetooth glared at him. “Piebold wasn’t destroyed,” Bluetooth shot back.
“No, they just knocked out his engines, destroyed his shield generators, punched a hole in the side of his ship big enough to fly a shuttle through, and then started landing the Marines. There’s still flashes on the hull of that ship and what look like unsuited figures being expelled, along with a blast of atmosphere each time. It’s not hard to tell what’s happening over there, sir. Or what will happen to us if we don’t get out of this system before the rest of that big bloody fleet of theirs gets here.”
“No need to piss with fear, Captain. We followed the rules of war and we’ll be gone long before the enemy can get here besides,” glared Bluetooth.
“Keep telling yourself that because they clearly mean to argue every point you just brought up,” snapped back the Captain, one of his leg’s twitching until he stomped a foot on the deck to quiet it.
“Do I need to find myself a new Captain, Kermit?” demanded Bluetooth.
“Maybe what you need is to run off to another flagship, sir,” shot back the Captain.
The ship rocked again. “Blast it all!” Bluetooth swore as the movement caused him to stumble, breaking the eye lock between the two senior officers on the ship. “Tell the rest of the fleet to fire on those Cruisers,” he ordered.
“The ones that can already are, Sir,” reported the Tactical Officer as the enemy Cruisers continued to punish Bluetooth’s flagship with repeated broadsides as fast as their gun deck could fire.
“Even if we make it out of here alive this ship is going to need some serious repairs,” stated Kermit.
“Focus, Captain,” ordered Bluetooth.
“Aye-aye, sir,” Kermit bit out.
The minutes counted down as the crew of the Flotilla Flagship fought for its life.
Finally, in a flash of light, it disappeared from the star system.
Chapter 31: Bluetooth’s Bitter Pill
“How are we looking after that last battle, Captain?” asked Bluetooth as the ship’s captain strode into the Rear Admiral’s office.
Kermit came to attention and saluted eyes deliberately focusing on the wall behind the Rear Admiral.
“We’ve got one of our main engines back online. We’ll be able to move shortly, Sir,” he said.
“Yes, trying to break that last gravity sump with only one rapidly overheating secondary was more excitement than I care for,” Bluetooth said dryly. “How long until the Newton is combat ready?”
“This ship is ready to fight right now, Sir,” Kermit said with pride, “but if you ask my opinion what we need is reinforcements. We were blindsided by that fleet because it came out of nowhere and we had no idea it was there until they found us and attacked. In short: our patrols weren’t aggressive enough and I’ve added that in my report.”
Bluetooth stilled, his eyes slitting dangerously. “You’re testing my patience, Captain,” he warned.
“Sorry, Sir. I’m just giving my opinion like any captain would when asked,” Kermit said, still standing at attention.
“First, I’ve already sent word back to the Assembly begging for support. We need ships and trillium. Half of my smaller ships aren’t able to do the extreme scouting operations we need because of fuel limitations. Second, no one asked for your opinion in the first place. Please remember to hold them until asked,” replied Bluetooth.
“I’m gratified you’re taking this situation seriously, Sir,” said Kermit.
“As if I wasn’t from the beginning? Unlike you I am not filled with fear during every engagement. I can keep a level head and, more importantly, follow orders,” said Bluetooth.
“I am unaware of any legal orders which I have failed to follow to the best of my abilities, Rear Admiral,” said Kermit, meeting his eyes and holding them.
Bluetooth grudgingly nodded. “Maybe the problem here is simply that your best isn’t good enough, Captain,” he replied.
“That can be a common failing among senior officers such as myself, Sir,” replied Kermit.
Bluetooth stared at him flintily. “Frankly I’m seeing more initiative out of Costel Iorghu and the Prometheans than I am from you, Captain Kermit,” Bluetooth informed him stonily.
“His ships are slow, but he’s fighting for foreign aid credits from the Assembly to rebuild his home world, Sir,” said Kermit.
“Meaning he’s more motivated than you are, Captain?” Bluetooth said scathingly. “ You think I should bribe you to do your job too, is that it?”
“I don’t need anything from you. But my crew could at least use a kind word for all the hard work they’ve put in. For some reason after your blitzkrieg campaign through most of sector 26 they believe you’ll turn this latest setback around,” said Kermit.
“They have faith in their superiors. Just like I do. The same way you should,” said Bluetooth. “As for a kind word? They’re trained spacers; what they need is a kick in the butt not coddling. We’ll find a way out of this dilemma. All we have to do is fall back until we receive reinforcements. Grand Admiral Manning has more than enough warships to crush the Reclamation Fleet, what little remains of it.”
“They still have more than enough to defeat us. Nineteen Battleships, sir! There’s no way we can take them on and win,” argued Kermit.
“I’ve had enough of your defeatism, Captain. Shut your mouth or spend the rest of the time until we receive reinforcements mouthing off till your heart's content in the brig,” said Bluetooth.
“Aye-aye, Sir,” said the Captain snapping off a salute and then, not waiting to be dismissed, turned to the door and left the room.
Bluetooth slammed a fist down on the table. This was a terrible setback but all they needed to survive was a relief convoy filled with trillium and critically-needed replacement parts and they could fight a delaying action for months if they had to until the Grand Admiral could relieve them.
All the Grand Assembly had to do was what they’d promised and everything would be fine. It might hurt. No that was wrong. It would hurt. Bad. They’d lose all the gains they’d made in Sector 26 even but so long as they had the fuel, Bluetooth’s Flotilla could hold twice its numbers at bay for as long as it needed to.
He clenched his fists.
It was all that wretched pirate Jason Montagne’s fault. If Tracto hadn’t been so cursed greedy and simply supported the Confederation Fleet, instead of demanding an arm and two legs for their fuel, none of this would have happened.
He hated to admit it, but it was long past time the Grand Assembly caved in to the Tyrant's demand
s. After all, what did a little lost reputation matter now, not when they could always turn around and orbitally bombard Tracto into submission after they’d dealt with these blasted Imperials first?
Still ruminating over the greedy actions of the most vile man in the Spineward Sectors, the Rear Admiral composed yet another update and desperate request for reinforcements before filing it off.
Chapter 32: Panic in the Assembly
“Isaak, you assured us your people were up to the task of liberating Sector 26 and securing our voting base without the need to involve the most ruthless tyrant the Spine has ever seen. Your words!” shouted Anton Chat-Hammer, hammering the podium in front of him with both fists. “The fact is we threw him over the side before we’d even properly won the battle! What the blazes were you thinking? I ask you: where are your assurances now?” he demanded stridently. “First Fleet is camped outside of Aegis with no idea of when or if they’ll ever be able to take back that star system, and the Flotilla you decided to send into Sector 26 has just backfired. We can’t afford a war on two fronts—yet that’s exactly what you’ve given us!”
Isaak’s face twitched. “Tread carefully, Chat-Hammer. We still have people out in the field fighting the enemy. With Montagne in the mix anything could have happened,” he warned.
“Or what? We’ll fight a two front war with the better half of our best fleet sitting on the sidelines—where you sent them!” Chat-Hammer ignored that last part of Isaak’s warning as he continued hamming on the speaker. “Or maybe you’ll ensure I never sit on another committee in the Grand Assembly of the Spine? Oh wait, that’s already happened. Get over yourself, esteemed Speaker for the Assembly. What’s important right now isn’t my career and it certainly isn’t your future career if your Flotilla is driven all the way back to the border of 25. What we face here is nothing less than the fate of the Spineward Sectors itself.”
“Can the drama before you get someone killed. What we need here are steady, well-reasoned actions, not the angry decisions of an incensed governing body, Chat-Hammer,” warned Isaak.
“I implore you for once in your life to set aside your ego and your threats, as impossible as that may seem, and do what we should have done from the beginning,” Chat-Hammer said staunchly. “We must restore Montagne to head of the New Confederation Fleet, rescue the Flotilla lead by Bluetooth, and stomp out once and for all the remnants of the Reclamation Fleet. Do what should have been done four months ago, if only we’d still had the Tyrant at our beck and call: free the Spine from the jack boots of the Empire!”
“Montagne’s a greater threat to this Assembly than three Empires. Why can’t you see that,” demanded Isaak stridently.
“I don’t care if you have to get down on bended knee and beg. No price is too high to ensure the freedom of the people and the power of this Assembly! These partisan games must stop!” cried Chat-Hammer.
“Hear-hear!” shouted a large number of representatives.
Isaak Newton’s face turned ugly. “You would have me lick the Tyrant’s boots?” he demanded. “If it weren’t for the Tyrant refusing to sell us his wife’s fuel, my flotilla would have brought the enemy to a decisive battle and finished them before they could have concentrated!”
“Better a muzzled tyrant, a man we can control, than an unbridled force like the Reclamation Fleet that already controls more than two sectors of space! Haven’t you heard the reports of the new members of your own faction from that very Sector?” Chat-Hammer cried in disbelief. “The Empire’s done far worse than Montagne ever dreamed. Sweet Crying Murphy, all you had to do was stroke his ego and Montagne was ready to lay down his life for our people. He’s proven time and time again he’s a battle-loving freak. But instead of stroking his ego and telling him how wonderful he was so that we could develop him into a shield for this Confederation, you kicked him to the curb at the first opportunity. What kind of moron would do that, what kind of person have we put control of this Assembly, Speaker Isaak Newton? Well I ask you,” Chat-Hammer asked, turning to his fellow assemblymen with his palms up, “what have we done?”
“You!” Isaak was outraged.
“I call for a vote. Give Montagne what he wants, pay him off, and free the Spine!” shouted Chat-Hammer.
“Jason Montagne cannot be trusted. Mark my words: he is the bane on this Assembly and will be the death of us all!” yelled the Speaker. “Have any of you failed to notice how as soon as things don’t go Jason Montagne’s way he immediately takes punitive measures. He’s already cut off our trillium,” the Speaker’s face and neck turned red, “we would have already won and been in Sector 27 if it wasn’t for him!”
“The death of you possibly, Newton,” Chat-Hammer mocked, “none of the rest of us attempted to have him executed for trying to protect the Spine! I’m sure that as soon as we end this farce of an investigation into his actions against Cornwallis that the trillium will flow again and, with the proper concessions, shortly after so will the Tyrant’s warships.”
“Hear hear!” Kong Pao showed his support.
“It’s too late, I tell you! He’s a vindictive, petty tyrant just like the rest of his line!” shouted Isaak.
“I call for a vote!” urged Chat-Hammer. “We must restore Montagne to the Admiralty as this fleet’s First Admiral and get his ships back out there before it’s too late.”
“All we need to do is divert our trillium reserves to the Flotilla in 26,” Isaak snapped. “Bluetooth can delay things until we’re able to free up the necessary reinforcements from Sector 22. Then if we agree to the Little Admiral’s price the trillium will flow. There’s no need to bring him back. He and his fleet the MSP are like the plague.”
“A plague for you maybe. But the sad fact is we don’t have the trillium to both refuel the Flotilla and continue to restart commerce,” shot back Chat-Hammer.
“The War Fleet needs the fuel, not the merchants. Are you blind?” Isaak demanded furiously.
“No! If the food shipments stop then billions of credits will be lost, entire merchant fleets will go bankrupt, closing their doors permanently and millions of innocent civilians will die of starvation. Elysium’s mines on Urapente can’t come up with the load; we’ve already bought out their entire reserve supply and the Core Worlds of this Sector weren’t built to be entirely self-sufficient, they need those shipments or they’ll starve. The answer is simple. We must pay off the Tyrant,” Chat-Hammer said seriously, “give him what he wants and he’ll drive off the Empire’s forces for us. It’s the only way.”
“I can’t advise against this insanity in any stronger terms,” warned Isaak.
The vote was called despite Speaker Isaak’s furious attempt to block it, and following Chat-Hammer’s call the Grand Assembly propose to immediately reinstate Montagne as First Grand Admiral of the Fleet, placing him back in command of First Fleet and fleet Admiralty.
Chapter 33: Bluetooth in a Bind
Bluetooth looked up and down the holo-conference table before speaking, “Please be seated.”
Heads nodded around the room as holo-emitter adapted to the presence of more captains than the physical room could have held, using a trick of light and holograms to extend the table far beyond what should have been the wall of the room.
“I have brought you all here today for one reason,” Bluetooth said grimly, “the sad fact is we simply don’t have the fuel to continue full combat operations for all of our ships.”
There were intakes of breath around the table.
“As such, and in order to keep those of us at the front in the battle and give the people back home the time they need to resupply us, I have no choice but to order half the lighter units to transfer all their fuel reserves to the larger units and take up a defensive role at the main fleet base in the Sector. They will only keep the bare minimum fuel necessary to get back to Tau Ceti,” Bluetooth said imperiously. “We must hold—and we must have fuel! I will dispatch another courier to the Grand Assembly begging for fuel and relie
f forces to bolster this flotilla. I will also cut orders so that if any of the ships re-tasked to Tau Ceti’s defense run into a resupply convoy that they are to refuel, restock and return to the front with word so that the rest of the Flotilla can fall back, rotating as needed to continue our delaying action,” said Bluetooth.
“But, Rear Admiral, we’ve been requesting resupply and reinforcements for months now. We’ve seen nothing. What if the rest of the Fleet isn’t coming?” asked one of the junior ship commanders, looking ill.
Bluetooth glared at the other officer. “This is not the time for second thoughts and hesitation. The Grand Assembly believes in you, now you have to believe in yourself. We are the tip of the spear and we will win this war, have no doubts, any of you,” Bluetooth said sweeping the table with his gaze, “do you think the tyrant would have hesitated if he were in your place? Or would he have run like a cowardly dog? I put forth to you that immoral blighter would not do so, and if that blighter would stand and fight for our people then how can the men and women of this flotilla do any less?”
He turned and looked at one of the senior captains near his seat at the holo-table.
“Are you a lesser man than the Tyrant of Cold Space?” he demanded harshly.
The senior captain looked taken aback and then his face closed. “No, Sir,” he said firmly.
Bluetooth turned to the next captain. “Is a pirate like the Tyrant a better man than you?” he asked harshly.
“No, Rear Admiral,” that Captain replied.
“Is the Tyrant a better man than anyone in this room? Because if so, tell me now and I’ll give your second in command a chance to prove his or her mettle,” Bluetooth roared.
“No, Sir!” roared the holo-room.
“We hold the line and no one gets through. We are the stone cold defenders of the Confederated way and no one shall pass,” cried Bluetooth, throwing his arms wide.
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