Admiral's Fall

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Seconds later, he terminated the conference and stalked off to his room.

  “The Speaker had better come through,” he said to no one in particular.

  Glaring murder at the walls, he returned to his room to draft his next report.

  Chapter 34: A Messenger Arrives

  I stood with my hands clasped behind my back as I watched the fast courier transit into Gambit Star System.

  “How long before the delegation arrives, Lisa?” I asked, standing in front of the holo-screen. As I watched, the courier completed its burn and slowed for close approach to Gambit Station.

  “Current ETA is thirty minutes. The courier will dock before them but unless you intend to meet him at the docks it will take a while to go through all the protocols,” she said lightly.

  I grunted an affirmation.

  My Chief of Staff went away for several minutes before returning. She waited silently before making a small noise.

  I continued looking at the screen, pondering the situation.

  “Any idea why they’re here, Admiral?” asked the short, brown-skinned, pixie-faced Lieutenant Commander behind me.

  “No idea on the one hand, and yet on the other hand, Commander…,” I trailed off, shaking my head.

  “Sir?” she asked with concern.

  I pursed my lips still turned away from her. “On the other hand I suspect I know entirely too well what this delegation is here for,” I finally replied.

  “As you say, Sir,” she said, stepping back.

  “As…I say?” I muttered, questioning myself more than anything.

  My dark musings were interrupted when the blast doors leading into station central swept open and a larger than life figure swept into the room.

  “How you doing, Sir? Looking for a little private contemplation perhaps?” asked the Chief Engineer, stomping to a halt beside me.

  “How could you tell?” I asked with a slight curve to the side of my mouth.

  “You sure it was a wise idea to invite that delegation over here to Gambit, Admiral?” asked Spalding, squinting at the part of the holo-screen containing the miniature image of the delegation’s courier ship.

  “It won’t be a problem for long,” I replied.

  “Oh, they’ll be here and gone soon enough,” agreed the old cyborg, “it’s what happens afterward that matters. I realize you sent a Navigator to meet them and purged their DI, but even so all one of them has to do is stick a passive sensor or recorder outside the hull and they’ll be able to triangulate our location.”

  I looked over at Spalding with a wolfish smile. “Who says we’ll still be here when they get around to sending trouble our way?”

  Spalding barked a laugh and clapped me on the shoulder. “I just wasn’t sure if you realized that,” he said happily.

  “Oh, it’ll cost, but now that Commodore Druid is back with those Jump Spindles our options are back to wide open,” I said.

  “Let me run a few more tests, just to be sure before we start any more wild jumps around the Sector,” advised Spalding.

  “You’ve been working on those Spindles for two weeks now and nothing popped up yet has it?” I asked.

  “Well now, that’s true and all but nothing was readin' wrong the last time I warmed them up and tried to jump back here,” Spalding said unhappily.

  It was my turn to clout the old engineer on the shoulder. “Then this is the perfect opportunity for a test run,” I said seriously, “if there’s a problem we’ll find it and hopefully fix it, and if there isn’t then all this worrying will have been for nothing.”

  “But what if we break it?” Spalding exclaimed.

  “At least this way we’ll know where we’re going and can reduce the number of people aboard in the case of a completely disastrous jump,” I advised the older man, “we can have rescue ships waiting on the other side with picked crews ready for trouble.”

  Spalding spluttered, looking like he didn’t know where to start.

  “Better we find out there’s trouble with the Spindles now than during the middle of a battle when our surprise reinforcements surprise us and not the enemy by not showing up,” I said.

  “Well, and I suppose you’re right about that,” Spalding said bleakly, “it’s a sad fact that Murphy likes to pop in to lend a hand or put a spoke in the sprocket at some of the most and least convenient times.”

  “There you go,” I smirked.

  “You look a bit too happy about that, Sir. If’n I may be so bold,” muttered the old Engineer.

  “Did you say something, Chief?” I asked in a slightly too loud voice.

  Spalding sighed. “No, Sir,” he finally replied.

  “Good man,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder, “I need someone to keep this lash-up moving forward and since you’re the only man who understands those Spindles—mainly because you won’t let anyone else put their mitts on them—you’re it,” I grinned.

  “It’s a joy to be volunteered each and every time, Admiral. That it is,” Spalding said, eyeing me like a cut of meat he was thinking of chopping into portions.

  “I knew I could count on you after the way you left everyone hanging with your latest escapade,” I said seriously.

  Commander Spalding winced. “Well...maybe I deserved that after all,” he grumbled.

  Nodding contentedly, I turned to leave the bridge and set up shop in the conference room. It wouldn’t do to get there late.

  First impressions were key and as I was all but certain the delegation was here to blow sunshine in my face I didn’t want to make it any easier on them. After the way the New Confederation had been jerking me and my fleet around, it wouldn’t have sat well with anyone—including me.

  The station’s steward had just called up, to say the guests had arrived and would be joining us momentarily, when the door to the conference room swept open and a tall blond figure moved into the room.

  “I see you decided to rock the 'sword look' this morning,” I said, taking note of the hilt of the large black sword protruding over her shoulder.

  “I feel as if maybe I’ve been projecting the wrong image lately,” Akantha informed me self-consciously.

  “Not happy projecting a baby-carrying mommy image?” I inquired.

  “I just want to make sure people see the warrior first and the mother second,” said my wife.

  “Being a Hold-Mistress doesn’t preclude beautiful or practical clothing,” I said.

  “But being a battle ready warrior might,” she retorted tersely.

  “Well, as you wish, my dear,” I said, smoothly recognizing a lost cause when I saw her, “I don’t have much time to chat. An important Fleet meeting coming up. But if you’d like to continue this conversation later we could plan to meet up at our quarters after eighteen hundred and call it a date?”

  “That would be nice, Jason,” she said, taking a seat at the table beside me.

  I suppressed a twitch. “Are you sure you want to hang around for this? I can guarantee it’s not going to be very fun,” I offered.

  “I’m good,” she said.

  I nodded and turned slightly to the side.

  Picking up a glass of water, I took a long drink. Placing the glass back on the table, I took a moment to compose myself.

  Akantha’s addition to this gathering, while in retrospect not entirely unexpected, could have serious and far reaching consequences.

  “Would you like to take a moment to consult on strategy before they arrive?” asked my beloved Sword-Bearer.

  “There are only two things they want from us: my fleet and your trillium. Personally I’m disinclined to provide them with either, but considering they sent a delegation all the way out here to meet with us personally they clearly seem to think they’ll prevail over our intractability,” I said after a moment of contemplation. If Akantha was here then she was right: it was important to clarify our position beforehand to keep from working at cross purposes.

  “That being the case, I wouldn’
t be afraid to make them bleed,” I said bleakly.

  “I’d prefer to show them the door and forcefully insist when they tried to tarry,” Akantha glared icily at the door as if she could melt them before they arrived by sheer force of will.

  “While I sympathize with the emotion, we don’t want to close that door prematurely. They can make all the promises they want but right now I’m interested in tangible. I can’t imagine what they think they can offer me, but I’m interested to find out,” I said.

  “How you can so quickly forgive them for their treatment of you is beyond me?” Akantha said, her voice so cold frost seemed to come out of her mouth as she spoke.

  “Let’s not call it forgiveness. Instead let’s think of this as our one chance to get our pound of flesh,” I replied evenly, “the sad fact is the Provisional Grand Assembly did their best to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory and because of that the threat still remains. Their actions do not make this threat any less than it was before; even if the Spineward Sectors Confederation disappeared tomorrow, all that would mean was we would be left to deal with the situation alone.”

  “That has several advantages, many of which I don’t think you have fully considered,” Akantha said giving me hard look.

  I felt a chill go up and down my spine. “Let’s not be hasty. It does us no damage to hear them out,” I said as calmly as I was able.

  “Be careful, Jason,” she warned, “if you dance too long with your enemies the odds of them slipping a knife into you when you least expect it increases.”

  “I don’t necessarily disagree with you, I just don’t see a viable alternative,” I said stiffly.

  “I do. But I think even now you’re not yet ready to see it,” said Akantha who, in a split second, seemed to morph into the Hold-Mistress of Messene before just as suddenly turning back into my wife.

  The chill from before was nothing compared to the flash of trepidation I felt at seeing that transformation.

  Uneasily pushing it aside, I sat there staring at the door. I feared I knew exactly what Akantha was suggesting and it just wasn’t in me. I’d lived too long under my ancestors shadow to willingly join them in a long unbroken chain of Montagne tyranny and oppression.

  Of course…given the way things were going, I might be added to their ranks by the voting public no matter what I did.

  Which raised an interesting question: had all of my ancestors deserved the bad rap they’d received and if not just how many of them had bucked the mold only to be later tarred with the anti-royalist brush?

  With those thoughts weighing heavily on my mind I sat and waited for the delegation to arrive.

  Minutes later a small group of assemblymen and what passed for high new Confederation officials were escorted into the room.

  First in the room was a pair of Grand Assembly Guards, not a sight designed to bring back good memories, but it was the figure that followed immediately after that grabbed my attention and held it.

  The robed Asian figure stepped forward and cupped his hands. “Admiral Montagne, it is gratifying to see you in such good health—especially after the latest round of terrible events,” he said.

  “I wish I could share your enthusiasm, Grand Assemblyman Kong,” I said and nodded a terse greeting.

  “Surely we have more in common, even now with our many disagreements, than we have differences,” the former Sector Judge said with a slight frown.

  I drew back. “Our many disagreements?” I asked shortly.

  “Perhaps I misspoke. As you see, I, and my fellow delegates, are representing the Grand Assembly in clearing up this terrible mess that our leaders, many of them in the very assembly itself, have placed us in, Admiral,” said Grand Assemblyman Kong Pao.

  “Why does it feel like every time I see you, you are cleaning up yet another mess for the Grand Assembly, Judge Kong?” I asked with a piercing look.

  The pair of Grand Assemblymen sitting beside the Sector Judge shifted in their seats but remained silent.

  “We each do what we can to help keep the Spine safe in our own way, Grand Admiral,” Kong Pao sighed heavily.

  “I’m a 'Grand Admiral' no longer, Representative Kong,” I said with a shrug, “and that’s a good thing. The Grand Assembly and the Spine deserve someone they can trust wholeheartedly with the position.”

  There were long faces on the other side of the conference after I spoke.

  One of the other delegates coughed, breaking the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room following my last statement.

  “You have no reason to trust us right now. I understand that. In our defense, we heard the Confederated Fleet was defeated with Charles Cornwallis dead and were swayed by the thought of an easy victory. I disagreed but was outvoted,” Kong Pao sighed.

  “I’m sure the Assembly knew what it was doing, after all you guys direct the affairs of seven Sectors of space,” I said with a shrug, “still, bygones are bygones and I no longer work for the Spineward Confederation Assembly.”

  I paused just long enough to make a point, but too short for the Sector Judge to speak.

  “Which brings us back to your reason for coming here. To what do I owe this visit? Here to buy some trillium perhaps?” I asked with an emotionless smile.

  Judge Kong winced. “Trillium is one of the things I came here to discuss, yes,” he said, taking a breath.

  “By all means,” I said, standing and gesturing toward my wife. “If that’s what you’re here for, I’ll leave you in the experienced hands of my Sword-Bearer.”

  I turned to go and Kong Pao clenched his fists. “Please wait. Trillium is certainly an important part of our mission here but it is not the only thing we wish to speak on,” he said.

  I paused and then with a flinty look at the Representative resumed my seat. “Let’s have it then,” I said flatly.

  “I see you are still bitter from your treatment by my colleagues. Quite rightfully so, I might add,” he said when I started to bridle.

  “Colleagues? Last time I checked a Grand Admiral could only be fired from his job by the Grand Assembly, of which you are a member. So stop dancing around the subject. I gave you the opportunity to let the things of the past stay there but you clearly had no interest. That’s fine. What do you want, Grand Assemblyman?” I said, locking eyes with the Sector Judge. “Just tell me so I can say no and walk away from here with both our dignities intact.”

  He was the first to look away. “You feel ill done, I get that. But now is not the time for petty grievances, nor is it for fully deserved ones either. The Spineward Sectors faces a peril not seen in the entire history of this region. I am asking you to set aside your differences with us and come back. We need you. Both for your trillium, your leadership and, yes, for the very large number of warships you have at your beck and call,” said Kong Pao.

  “You don’t want much do you, Judge?” I asked with a derisive sniff.

  “I probably deserved that, Jason,” he allowed, “but we literally have nowhere else to turn.”

  “Is that because you chopped off the hand that fed you? Or because you’re all idiots who wouldn’t know how to win a war if somebody drew you a diagram? I was out there fighting the good fight, Pao!” I said with heavy and ironic emphasis on his given name. “We were winning! Do you understand that? Winning! Cornwallis was dead and his fleet shattered; all we needed was too follow through and instead you cast me aside like yesterday’s dirty shoes.”

  “I have already admitted we did you wrong but—” started the Judge.

  “No! No 'buts.' You didn’t just cast me aside, you kicked this entire fleet to the curb. After that why should we trust a thing you tell us?” I asked, angry beyond measure.

  He held up a pair of open hands in surrender. “No 'buts' then,” he said calmly, “what is it you want from me?”

  “Me?! I don’t want anything from you. Go home, Judge,” I shot back.

  “I can’t do that, Admiral.”

  “And just why not? You cl
early don’t need me. Otherwise the Assembly wouldn’t have cut off its nose to spite its face. So what exactly is it you want from me?” I said, leaning forward and thumping the table.

  “You have already heard me, you just rightfully don’t want to listen: we need you, Jason Montagne. You are our only hope,” he said, this time refusing to look away.

  I was the first one to look away this time, and it irritated me beyond measure. “No. The answer is no,” I said, a fist turning into a flat hand that I put on the table for support as I leaned forward for emphasis.

  “We can make it worth your while, Grand Admiral,” he said, fully composed despite my fit of high dungeon.

  “Never use that rank with me again. That Grand Admiral was fired with charges brought up against him—he won’t be coming back,” I informed the other man coldly.

  Apparently this was too much for the other representatives. “What is this?” one asked, leaning forward and looking at his fellow delegates before turning back to me. “This is a good deal we’re offering, Admiral. The best deal you’re ever going to find. All charges will be dropped, you’ll be paid a significant sum, and your previous rank will be restored. Why are you fighting this so hard? Is your ego more important than the safety and security of billions of citizens?”

  “Who are you?” I asked, my eyes pinning the other man to his seat like laser beams.

  He puffed up slightly. “My name is Donald Christmas, Grand Assemblyman of Carlito’s Reef and Dotson’s World,” he said proudly.

  I nodded and then turned back to Kong Pao, “Muzzle your dog. I don’t want to hear him speak unless it’s to say something I haven’t already heard or don’t already know.”

  “Christmas, please let me do the speaking for now,” said Kong Pao placed a hand on his fellow delegate’s shoulder.

  His fellow assemblyman shook him off. “Tyrant, just who do you think you are?” asked Grand Assemblyman Donald Christmas. “I’m a duly elected representative of the people!”

  “When did you stand for election?” I asked, and when he went to speak I added, “And I’m asking about to the Grand Assembly, not whatever local dog catcher office you stood for back home.”