Admiral's Fall

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “Montagne is our only hope now. If the Empire captures us Manning won’t be able to set us free, it's only the Little Admiral that…” he trailed off incoherently as the enormity of what each and every man, woman and herm in the room was facing. They were beyond collaborators against the Empire; as far as the Empire was concerned they were an illegal rebel government. Everyone knew how the Empire responded to people they called rebels.

  The death penalty had never been outlawed in the Empire of Man for one very good reason: they believed that traitors to humanity must die.

  “Once again, and as usual, my young colleague is wrong. Montagne is not the only man who can save us here today. There is another,” Isaak said. “I ask the Grand Assembly to empower me to negotiate with the Empire. For all of our sakes,” he said, bowing his head.

  Without a choice, the Grand Assembly empowered the Speaker of the Grand Assembly to negotiate with the Imperial Admiral in order to save their lives.

  Chapter 52: Laying Down the Law

  Admiral Magnus Davenport walked into the Rebellion Assembly escorted by a platoon of Marine jacks.

  “Now wait just a cotton-picking second,” blustered an Assembly security guard, stepping forward and placing a hand on one of the Imperial Marines to stop the entourage, “no weapons in th- EEiieee!” he squealed as he was kneed in the groin and dropped to the ground.

  “Now see here!” exclaimed a Committee head, standing from his seat.

  “Sit down,” barked Admiral Davenport.

  The Committee Head stared at the Imperial Admiral wide-eyed and then immediately sat down with a plop.

  “Let’s be clear: my Fleet stands off this governmental monitor, your handful of guard ships can do nothing to protect you,” said Magnus Davenport, his white cape with a purple stripe around the edges flaring for effect as he came to a foot-stomping halt in the middle of the room. “With a snap of my fingers I can reduce the seat of your Government, your rebellion and all of you along with it, into flaming atoms anytime I desire. So I urge to not test my patience,” said Magnus Davenport in a dire tone.

  When no one spoke, the Imperial Admiral sneered around the room.

  “Who speaks for this rabble of rebels?” he asked impatiently.

  Eyes all around the room turned to look at Isaak, the Speaker and designated Imperial negotiator.

  “Why are you here…I mean what do you want from us, Admiral?” Isaak said, stepping up to his podium and asking without a quaver in his voice.

  “Want? That implies I’m asking something from you. Which couldn’t be further from the truth,” Magnus chuckled, “no, I’m not here because I want something. In truth I want nothing to do with your little squeak ant rebellion or this humble region you have here,” the Imperial Admiral mocked.

  “What do you want to do?” asked Isaak.

  “I’m not here to ask; I’m here to lay down terms,” Admiral Magnus said flatly, “your little rebellion against Imperial authority has cost the Empire, and that means it’s going to cost you—personally, as a group, and as a region—until you pay your debt.”

  Total and fearful silence in the room as the Grand Assembly of the Spine shivered in the face of naked, bare-faced Imperial aggression.

  Admiral Magnus Davenport seeing, he had these weak willed, soft, Confederation fools in the palm of his hand, opened his mouth to lay down a harsh set of terms when an alarm went off in the room. This was followed by the chime of his personal communicator sounding off.

  “What?” he asked, reaching down for his communicator and opening a channel back to his flagship.

  “Sorry to bother you, Sir. But I thought you would want to be informed that a Confederation Fleet has just jumped into the star system. Old Confederation and under the command of an Admiral Charles Thomas,” his Chief of Staff reported tension in her voice.

  Magnus Davenport paused. “This meeting is temporarily in recess.”

  With blank-faced Imperial stoicism, he marched out of the room. But on the inside, silent fury ignited in his belly.

  He had yet to meet a Confederation individual that didn’t seem bound and determined to screw up each and every thing they encountered.

  Due to its very arrival here, he now had no choice but to meet with his nominal ally in suppressing this rebellion.

  “Admiral Davenport, so nice of you to come,” said Charles Thomas, stepping into the briefing room aboard Admiral Magnus Davenport's flagship without a visible qualm.

  “What are you doing here, Admiral Thomas…or should I call you Minority Leader Thomas?” the normally unflappable Davenport looked levelly at the Grand Assemblyman, but was unable to hide the trace of venom in his voice.

  Charles Thomas looked at him quizzically. “You have your Imperial Senators running around commanding fleets. I fail to see why you’re acting surprised when we have our own versions of the same thing,” Charles Thomas dismissed.

  “You are not the Empire,” Davenport said evenly.

  “And thank the space gods for that,” Charles Thomas barked a laugh, “but despite the fact you got here first, you look like I just pissed in your soup. What is it…can’t stand the light of day?”

  “Insulting me won’t get you any mileage, Grand Assemblyman,” Admiral Magnus said flatly.

  “Look, I’m not here to rain on your parade. I know the Empire’s in a tough spot right now and as far as I’m concerned I can help with that,” said the Leader of the Border Integrity Movement.

  “I doubt we would want your help, even if you offered it,” Admiral Magnus dismissed.

  “Don’t be so sure. Imperial honor and prestige are on the line, after all,” said the Confederation Admiral.

  “Is that a threat?” Magnus Davenport stilled, the sense of danger in the room growing by the second.

  For his part, Charles Thomas appeared completely oblivious with the same half-smile still fixed on his face.

  “Don’t be so sure. I happen to know for a fact the Empire is in desperate need of more hulls. Especially after losing so many of them here,” Charles Thomas said with a sly expression on his face.

  “The Empire of Man is never desperate,” the Imperial Admiral said coldly.

  Charles Thomas made a sweeping motion with his hands. “Change the word then and substitute it with a better one, there’s no need to get hung up over it.”

  “We might just need to agree to disagree,” said Magnus.

  “Disagree that you need more ships to prosecute your war—a conflict you’re currently losing?,” riposted the Minority Leader.

  The Imperial Admiral remained silent.

  “Look, you have a region of space that doesn’t want you, has no real value and you can’t use. I, on the other hand, have five fleets laid up in mothballs that my friends on the other side of the aisle are just dying to send to the breakers and get rid of. I’m sure we could work something out…for an appropriate price, of course,” replied the Confederation Politician.

  The Imperial Officer froze as he considered. The Spineward Sectors was a nice future investment in the growth and power of the Empire...on the other hand it required a significant investment. On another hand, the Empire needed more ships.

  “Somehow I doubt your ‘friends’ in the Assembly will agree to any such transaction. Especially considering they wanted to get rid of the Spine in the first place,” said the Imperial Admiral.

  It was Minority Leader’s turn to stiffen. “You just let me deal with my colleagues,” he said eventually.

  “Somehow that doesn’t fill me with confidence in your ability to deliver on any price we agree upon,” Magus Davenport openly sneered.

  Charles Thomas slapped a writ down on the table.

  “What’s that supposed to be?” mocked the Imperial.

  “Careful, pup. I’ve been a spacer since before you were born, and I was commanding fleets while you were still in diapers,” warned Charles Thomas.

  “I highly doubt that last,” said Davenport, ignoring the writ
.

  “You’re right. I might not have much pull in the Grand Assembly at the moment, but I know someone who does,” he thumped a finger down on the writ, “the Speaker for the Grand Assembly.”

  “The Majority Leader, your political mortal enemy, trusts you with the authority to speak in his name? I don’t think so,” smirked Davenport.

  “Take a look,” laughed Charles Thomas, tossing him the writ.

  Magnus Davenport unfurled it and read. He looked back up.

  “I’m here to make a deal,” said the Grand Assemblyman, “you can get confirmation straight from the top before we proceed further.”

  “What's your price?” Magus asked finally.

  Charles Thomas smiled tightly. “The same price it’s always been,” he said honestly, “you can keep the 28th provisional, make it the first new province in a century, and bring home a fleet of warships to make your bones with. Take the win. Declare victory. You’ll be a Senator in no time and since the place is mostly full of Imperials anyway, it’s no big loss for us.”

  His eyes drilled into the Imperial Admiral’s, and he let the pointed silence hang before drawing a breath and finishing.

  “I want the Spineward Sectors,” Thomas said.

  It was the same man, but a very different Imperial Admiral that strode back into the halls of the New Confederation Assembly.

  “Admiral, have you settled your disagreements with the Old Confederation?” Speaker Isaak asked as soon as Magnus Davenport, once again escorted by a platoon of Marine jacks strode back into the Grand Assembly Hall like he owned it.

  Magnus Davenport looked at him like he was a bug and didn’t reply.

  Isaak Newton’s smile turned brittle but he also remained silent.

  The room breathed a sigh of relief when Admiral Magnus broke eye contact and the moment finally passed.

  “An Imperial Senator has been slain in your region of space while trying to save you from the sort of marauders that have turned your Sectors into a cesspit,” Magnus Davenport said coldly. “And yet despite this and your open rebellion against the Empire, I am prepared to be lenient. Some would say too lenient.”

  “What can we do to show our loyalty to the Empire?” Isaak Newton asked smoothly.

  Magnus Davenport looked at him and spat on the floor.

  “You’re a dog, and putting dogs like you in charge of your little rebellion…it’s no wonder you lost,” he mocked.

  “As they say, every dog has his day, Admiral. As a public servant I can only hope that today is my day and offer my services as I strive to become Man’s best and most loyal friend in the Spineward Sectors,” Isaak said unflappably.

  “As if we would ever need or want friends like you,” Magnus Davenport shook his head derisively.

  The Speaker’s eyes widened and he looked closely at the Imperial Admiral. “Tell us your terms, Admiral. I think you’ll find us quite motivated to reach a deal,” said the Governor of Sector 25.

  “After consulting with the Minority Leader of the Confederation, I am prepared to be generous with the terms,” said Magnus Davenport.

  Every politician in the New Confederation hung on his every word almost as if their lives depended on it. Which, as far as most of them were concerned, they very much did.

  “It is the determination of the Empire, after all due consultation with our Confederation Allies, that it is in the best interests of your Sectors that the Spine determine its own fate. As such it is agreed the Spine will be granted autonomous home rule after a plebiscite to determine if each individual Sector wishes to remain with the Empire or return to the Old Confederation,” said the Admiral.

  “I don’t understand,” said Isaak, looking like a man desperately searching for the catch.

  “Whether you remain with us or return to Confederation fold will be up the Sectors individually,” declared the Admiral.

  Everyone looked at him, stunned at the revelation and a hopeful feeling began to swell in the room.

  “However, before that can be achieved there are several requirements,” Admiral Magnus said stoically. “In exchange for home rule and local regional autonomy, the Spineward Sectors Rebellion must officially disband in favor of a new regional authority elected by the people.”

  “That seems more than reasonable,” Speaker Isaak quickly agreed, even though in agreeing he was basically agreeing to give up all his power. Political power could come and go, but he had only one life.

  “Before its dissolution, this body must agree to take certain actions,” continued the Admiral, “the individual known as Admiral Jason Montagne of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, the Governor of Harpoon, so-called Ruler of Gambit and Protector of Messene of Tracto, is to be declared a war criminal. He is to be stripped of his rank by this body and exiled from the Spine on pain of death.”

  “You don’t want us to hand him over to you directly?” asked Isaak.

  “As if you have that capability,” the Imperial Admiral mocked.

  Isaak stiffened.

  “Jason Montagne’s citizenship in the Spine is to be formally revoked by this body, and by his home world of Capria, and you will recognize the Empire’s authority to deal with this war criminal however we see fit,” said Admiral Magnus before pointedly adding, “there may be collateral damage. Finally, the Empire requires as token of your remorse a single warship from each world in the Spine and a 1 million credit tax per inhabited world to cover the costs accrued by your rebellious activities,” the Imperial Admiral then fell silent.

  There was an extended silence.

  “Are there any questions?” asked Magnus Davenport.

  Isaak exchanged looks with his policy adviser before turning back to the Imperial Admiral. “That’s it?” he asked with surprise.

  Magnus Davenport cocked his head. “I was ordered to finish this quickly and restore order by any means necessary. Consider this the carrot—I assure you that you will not like the stick,” said the Imperial Admiral.

  “I-I don’t know what to say. Thank you!” said Isaak Newton.

  “I will leave now so that you may continue your deliberations. When I return, I will expect to hear great news,” said Admiral Magnus Davenport.

  Speaker Isaak Newton waited until the Imperials had left the room before turning to his fellow politicians.

  “Much as it pains me to strip any man of his rightful patrimony as a citizen of these great Sectors, it is an undeniable fact that Jason Montagne Vekna is a known war criminal. His great and heroic deeds of the past only make what we must do all the harder, but there is no denying his many crimes,” the Speaker said sorrowfully. “I call for a vote. Who will second the motion and agree to the Admiral’s terms?” Speaker Isaak finished righteously. “With one vote we will save all of our lives while the Spineward Sectors will simultaneously achieve its greatest desire: home rule and local regional autonomy at the low cost of one war criminal Grand Admiral. Who’s with me?!”

  There was a moment of dead silence.

  And then utter pandemonium broke out.

  “The man’s a Droid lover who's turned against his own people, using anti-matter and bio-weapons like the Bugs on other humans. I say a vote against Admiral Montagne is a vote against the machines,” screeched Assemblywoman Kern before breaking out in chanting slogans. “Man not machine! Man not machine! Man not Machine!” she chanted passionately.

  “Are we really so certain the war is lost?” demanded Minority Leader Chat-hammer. “Admiral Davenport’s own actions tell us the Empire can’t afford a war on two fronts. If we just stay strong—”

  He was immediately booed down by Isaak’s partisans in Sectors 21, 22, 25 and 26.

  “You’re going to get us all killed, boy,” cried the Assemblyman from Aegis, “did you hear what they said? They’re offering a plebiscite! Aegis could be free. I say let Montagne burn—if necessary I’ll light the match. The man’s a Droid-loving war criminal, straight up. We’re better off without him!”

  Sapphira of Tra
cto strode grimly onto the floor of the Assembly before taking the podium. “While I have no problem with voting to disband this shameful Assembly,” she said eyes like agates as she looked at the other delegates, “let me be clear: a vote against the Protector of Messene is a vote against Tracto, its people, its holds—and its trillium deposits.”

  “Forget Tracto! We can ship in all the trillium we need from the Confederation,” sneered one member.

  “Tracto doesn’t even have a vote. Why are we listening to this voteless wonder?” demanded the Representative from New Pacifica.

  “I’m not sure if such an action as this vote is entirely legal. A majority of unelected representatives that the Empire themselves label rebels, and who don’t even have delegates from a majority of the Sectors and worlds it claims to represent, stripping a man of his citizenship and declaring him criminal without a trial?” Kong Pao said unhappily. “This is a clear violation of the Confederation charter and the protections for individual liberties codified therein.”

  “This is a treaty situation, and as the Judge well knows any foreign treaty immediately trumps even the most sacred rights in our charter,” Isaak said quickly. “Don’t let judicial activism sway you from what is right. Who’s with me? I call for a vote.”

  With a vote almost strictly along partisan lines, except for the complete betrayal of Sector 23 who were incensed about the Droids in his fleet and a reluctant Kong Pao, the Grand Assembly of the New Confederation—in what could very well be its last action ever—voted to strip Admiral Montagne of his rights and throw him under the bus.

  Isaak smiled with satisfaction as Jason became the public scapegoat, a man who will not even have to die or go into prison, to lose all he has worked his entire life for.

  “This assembly is a farce and an outrage,” Sapphira declared with icy humor before Tracto storms out of the Assembly, “if you expect our warships or space fuel in the future, don’t bother.”

  “Leave now and who knows what might happen to you. A family member of the Exile, Jason Montagne, might have some protection as a part of this body but if you leave it who knows what the Imperials might do?” Speaker Isaak mocked.