Akantha proceeded to give me a withering look, which in her mostly unclad condition was probably not quite as effective as she thought it was.
“I’ve missed you,” I said, pasting on a smile and deciding that I was just going to have to make sure such a conflict never arose. I was the highly acclaimed Tyrant of Cold Space, after all!
“Right, well now that you are finally back home, you can take some time and go down to visit your family in Argos,” I said, my mind racing as I tried to figure out how I was going to get everything that needed doing done with Akantha glaring over my shoulder, ready to gut anyone who looked at her crosswise or me crosswise. That is, so long as she wasn’t angry or upset with me at the time—in which case it would likely be me she was looking to gut.
“Looking to pawn me off already?” Akantha asked coolly.
“Not at all,” I protested vehemently, as only someone caught in the opening maneuvers of an only half thought-out plan can, “I can’t believe you’d say something like that!”
After giving me a look that clearly said she didn’t believe me, Akantha slowly nodded. “I have been away for quite some time,” she finally agreed before her face brightened, “and my people will need me, not just my family in Argos.”
“That’s good,” I said cautiously, despite my initial almost misstep things seemed to be going my way. It felt too easy…something was bound to go wrong.
“This would be the perfect opportunity to spend some time with your sister and mother outside,” she said happily, but there was a certain glint to her eye that I mistrusted.
“Haven’t you just spent the better part of several weeks with them?” I asked, starting to backpedal. Not only did I not trust the look in her eye, but blast it I wanted to spend some time with my mom too. Akantha had already had her for weeks. I mean, she could have my sister for all I cared, but…
My eyes darted back to her face as I recalled the last words out of my sister’s mouth right before I’d passed out. I must have been hit harder than I’d thought, because I had completely forgotten about my Sister’s threat to kill me if I fed my…uncle, to the Bugs.
“Akantha, my family is important to me,” I said, searching for and finding a stern voice to go along with the words.
“Family is always important,” Akantha declared, but as this was coming from a person whose family member had tried to kill me the moment I showed up—and who had failed to shed a single tear for the death of said family member when he had failed—I wasn’t exactly sure we were on the same wavelength here. She could treat the rest of my family—the royal part of my family anyway—just like hers for all I was concerned. I mean, yes, I’d get outraged and stomp around and figure out some way to make her pay if she just started going after them, but that was different from the way I was willing to see my mother treated!
My sister was tentatively in the same spot as my mother—at least for the time being. I would have liked to say firmly in that spot but as the first words I can remember her ever saying to me included a death threat if I did something that I went ahead and did anyway, I felt I had to keep my options open. It killed me a little bit inside but there you go. Life was full of tough choices for the Tyrant of Cold Space.
“Mom’s just a high-end chef,” I made sure to point out, “sure, she raised me and worked in the palace but she’s not really a member of the royal family. I don’t want you to confuse my mother for someone like Cousin Bethany.”
“Your mother is more than just some ‘high-end preparer of food’,” Akantha informed me as if I were somehow at fault for simply relaying what my mother’s job was.
“That’s not what I meant,” I protested, “I’m just saying that—”
“Nonsense; she is a poised, knowledgeable woman with an important position,” she cut me off. “And I am certain she needs to get out of rooms that are nothing more than a series of four walls of varying length inside this metal box and would enjoy a voyage to Argos by way of Messene,” she declared.
I looked at Akantha strangely. Mom was one of a kind and I loved her, but poised and knowledgeable with an important position? That last bit seemed a little much, but then again what did I know? Tracto-ans, being a matriarchal culture in many ways, were still strange to me and they probably had a different way of looking at things and valuing them. Maybe where she came from poisoning was a serious concern, and thus a Chef was a particularly revered position?
“If she wants to go I’m not about to stop her,” I said pursing my lips, “however, I’m not sure she or my sister understand the particular…dangers of mixing with Tracto-an Society.”
“I’m certain a pair of strong, forceful women, like your mother and sister will do just fine,” Akantha declared, “and besides they will be with me. They will be fine.”
“Yeah, and I was with you the last two times as well,” I muttered under my breath, distinctly remembering my previous visits, where each time I had been attacked and almost killed.
“What was that?” Akantha demanded, giving me a piercing look.
“Just recalling my last couple visits,” I replied unrepentantly.
Akantha lifted her brows at this but I was unfazed. Multiple attempts on a persons’ life had a refreshing way of making them immune to marital pressure, so I lifted a single brow in return.
She huffed but chose not to pursue it further—at least, not directly.
“I’d hate to learn that something had happened while I was on the bridge standing next to a Tactical station,” I said, gritting my teeth.
Akantha scowled. “Let us talk about that sister of yours,” she said flatly.
“How about we don’t,” I retorted not wanting to open that particular can of worms right now.
“She wants you dead; that is not something you ignore simply because she’s family,” my wife replied in full-on, Ice Maiden mode.
“It was a stressful situation, when my fa—I mean, uncle, died right in front of them and I realize that wasn’t my finest moment,” I allowed, my face coloring at the verbal stumble. “So I’m not prepared to condemn her for a few harsh words. I mean, even if he was a low-down, dirty, no good piece of pirate filth!” by the end of my description of Jean Luc my voice had risen and I could feel myself getting red in the face. I had to take several breaths to calm down.
My Sword-Bearer gave me a level look. “If that is all it was, I might be more sympathetic than I am,” she said, meeting and holding my gaze.
My eyes narrowed but I wasn’t ready to give her the satisfaction of a question on this one…yet.
“Then again, maybe not,” she added honestly, she stopped and took a deep breath, “however…she was talking about killing you before we entered this star system.”
“What?!” I exclaimed, almost more concerned about the fact that Akantha had brought her here if my sister wanted to kill me than I was at the fact that, well…that my sister wanted to kill me! “Why?” I demanded, wondering what kind of life I lived where everyone and their sister wanted me dead.
Akantha’s eyes became hooded and she almost seemed to draw away from me, her eyes looked past me. Then she refocused. “Apparently there is some kind of, I suppose you might call it, ‘governmentally sanctioned death order’ for you,” she finally said.
“Those dastards,” I fumed tossing aside the sheet and getting up to pace, “it would be just like them, too. It’s not enough that I was taken to Central to be tried and executed; they’re trying to get rid of me any way they can—including using my family against me!”
Akantha grimaced and shook her head. “How close are you to this sister of yours?” she asked, bringing her expression under control.
I looked at her closely at this odd behavior and then shrugged it off. My knowledge of the ways of women—and most especially, women of Tracto—was limited. But I decided to answer the question anyway; it’s not like there was any percentage in lying about it.
“Not very,” I admitted, “I guess she must have left sho
rtly after I was born because mom never really talked about her. In fact,” I said feeling perplexed, “I’m not sure if I ever remember mom mentioning her before. She must have told me back when we were young. It was always just her and me while I was growing up,” I blinked, realizing how stupid that sounded. How could I not know if I had a sister or not?
“Then, given her attitude, you will likely be unable to convince her to change her ways before she does something that cannot be ignored,” Akantha said, and when she did so it sounded like she was almost happy at the prospect.
“Blast it, Akantha,” I said, turning to face her, only then realizing I was still in my birthday suit and starting to feel ridiculous.
“First your Cousin, then Jean Luc, and now your sister and your Cousin-Uncle King James,” Akantha shook her head sadly, “what is it that makes you so popular with all the relatives in your life?” she asked in bewilderment. “And how did you survive to adulthood with all of these threats?”
I was stung by that, so I snatched up my trousers off the floor and angrily started to put them back on.
“No one gave two figs for me before I had to take over the Clover. Now that I’m an Admiral—a real Admiral,” I emphasized the fact that my rank was no longer merely an honorific, “they’re coming out of the woodworks, believing I’m some kind of threat to them!”
Akantha nodded in understanding. What exactly she understood, I wasn’t sure. “Although many are damaged, the number of ships you’ve assembled here is quite formidable,” she said slowly, “if I were a spineless schemer in their positions, I would be worried also.”
“What in the world, Akantha?” I snapped, throwing my hands in the air. “You of all people should know that I’m too busy trying to hold this sector together with both hands—not to mention keeping this ugly mug atop my shoulders—to have time to waste pursuing some ancient vendetta!” I said motioning to my no longer horribly scarred head. Then I did a double take, “And ‘spineless schemer?' I know you hate her but, as I recall, dear Cousin Bethany went after you with a pair of hair chop sticks while you were armed with Bandersnatch. Whatever you call that, I doubt the word ‘spineless’ enters the equation!”
Akantha stared down her nose at me, which I was pleased to note took more effort than usual while I was the one standing, and she was sitting on the bed.
“Someday I will kill that woman,” she said, speaking with icy precision.
“Ha!” I gloated, happy that she had no comeback and I’d won that part of the argument anyway.
“Insufferable,” she muttered.
“Oh, that’s rich,” I scoffed back, “you ask why everyone wants to kill me, and then start throwing names about.”
“And to think I actually missed this,” my Ice Maiden in human form said wearily and then added, “missed you.”
I felt myself start to puff up before blurting, “You did?”
She gave me a disgusted look that said if she had, in some brief moment of insanity, felt that way that she didn’t anymore—but I wasn’t buying it.
“I missed you too,” I said with a smile.
“Well I can see clear as clear that you refuse to be proactive about this,” she held up a hand to halt me, but as I didn’t know exactly what she was talking about there was no need. I hadn’t been about to say anything and when she saw that, she just looked irritated with me, “Despite this, I suppose that with your sister’s attitude the problem has a good chance of solving itself,” she said with evident satisfaction at relaying this information.
“If anything happens to my sister…” I said in a low, dangerous voice.
“I cannot guard her from herself each and every moment of every single day. Besides, if she attacks someone I am not going to tell them they cannot defend themselves,” Akantha snarled.
“That sounds real convenient,” I growled, images of my sister thrown into some kind of blasted challenge circle swimming across my vision, “fair warning though: I’m not nearly as tolerant about attacks on others as I am when it comes to myself. Denegan’s fate might be considered merciful after I’m done with them." When I stopped, I realized that my hands were clenched as if around an invisible neck and I quickly lowered them, opening and closing my hands to increase circulation.
“You know…not every Hold-Mistress would be as understanding about what could be considered a threat,” Akantha said, also standing up.
“Do any of them have a battle fleet to back up their outrage?” I asked archly.
“Oooh! Should I be scared?” Akantha mocked me with a fake shiver, clearly unimpressed and maybe even a little contemptuous.
I gave her my best unhinged look, which to my surprise wasn’t as hard as I’d thought it would be, forcing a crack in her mockery for the slightest second. Most people might not have caught it, but then I wasn’t most people.
“So says the man who was captured while positioned in the very seat of his power,” she scoffed, stepping up to me.
My face twisted and although anger and rage flooded through me what she was saying was the gods’ honest truth.
I opened my mouth and then closed it before I said something I couldn’t take back before finally opening it again, when I was more or less sure I wasn’t about to explode into a fit of rage and high dungeon. After all, even if I was stupid enough to ignore my political reality wherein most of my Lancers were Tracto-an, there was the little minor matter that her sword was propped up closer to the bed than the shirt holding my hold-out blaster was. And when it came to my girl, if it came down to a conflict she was certain to go for her sword first and foremost.
“I didn’t exactly come out of that encounter covered in glory, did I?” I said, pursing my lips and trying for a wry tone. “You, on the other hand, purloined a pair of battleships and held our boarding crews together despite losing just about everything. Well done, my Lady,” the words tasted like a bitter pill in my mouth but while I might be guilty of many things, I was determined that failing to give credit where credit was due wasn’t going to be among them.
My Sword-Bearer blinked, looking taken aback at this admission of failure on my part. She had clearly been expecting another sally in our growing fight, not a compliment thrown her way.
“No, you didn’t,” she grunted.
“So, counting your newest capture what is that, three battleships you’ve taken a-prize?” I asked, already knowing the answer and feeling depressed.
“The Parliamentary Power,” she interjected and then nodded, “although I have considering changing the name; I thought it best to wait until after speaking with you.”
“Really?” I said in surprise. It wasn’t often my girl tended to ask my opinion. Normally she just went off half-cocked and did any blasted thing she wanted, regardless of the consequences.
“Unlike with the Phoenix, this ship was originally from your home world,” she said archly. “It is important in cases of civil war not to run roughshod over the sensibilities of your own people.”
My eyes bulged. “Honey,” I said, trying to tread softly but at the same time get my point across as firmly as I knew how, “we aren’t in a civil war.”
Akantha looked at me like I was a struggling student who had just handed in a paper that secured him the failing grade.
“You now have more Caprian-built battleships than your King does, and you refuse to follow his commands or swear fealty,” she held up a forestalling hand. “You also claim to be the highest military authority in this region, answerable to nothing and no one.”
“This is not a civil war I’m leading,” I said explosively, as if by repetition I could convince her. “I’m not claiming the throne of Capria, nor am I refusing to acknowledge civilian authority! It’s just that there is no legitimate civilian authority. Maybe when they vote in a legitimate Assembly in the Spineward Sectors, or the old Confederacy bothers to remember we exist and sends empowered officials along with a war fleet, we can get things back to the way they need to be!”
Akantha shook her head sadly. “In addition you have been repeatedly attacked by both Caprian and Sector authorities with the intent to kill you,” she continued, ignoring my protestations. “How is this not the very definition of a civil war? A powerful military leader with a strong dynastic claim refuses to acknowledge higher authority, and wields the most powerful army in the region,” she scoffed and then added. “Sorry I meant most powerful ‘fleet’.”
“I have never laid claim to the throne,” I spluttered.
“Well perhaps you should have—maybe then we would not be in this mess!” Akantha shouted.
“I don’t want the blasted throne!” I exclaimed truthfully. “Paint a target on my back and return to a planet filled with people who want to kill me? Thanks but no thanks!”
“Pitiful,” she shook her head.
“What!?” I couldn’t believe my ears.
“I never thought I would see the day when you back down because of fear,” she glared at me.
My mind scrambled for balance as well as an argument that would resonate with the Tracto-an Hold-Mistress.
“Honestly, Capria is small beans compared to being an Admiral in the Confederation. What’s control of one war-ravaged Core World compared to dozens or hundreds of worlds all supporting a powerful Fleet organization,” I interjected quickly, trying to frame things in their rosiest, best case, scenario. “Besides, all that being King of Capria would do is paint a target on my back, place me within easy reach of everyone who wants to kill me, and probably make me ineligible to continue as a Confederation Admiral.” I could still see skepticism but the disappointment wasn’t there anymore, so I decided to throw a bone, “A moving target is harder to hit and, if I need a home base, Tracto would be my first choice.”
“Even still,” Akantha said, obviously not yet ready to let it go entirely.
Spineward Sectors 6: Admiral's Spine Page 10
