“And what exactly does that mean?” I asked, feeling a flare of temper at all the meaningless words.
“It means,” she said her smile cutting, “that I am here to render whatever service I can to the ‘legitimate’ governing authority of this Star System.”
I looked at her not really affected by the dig about ‘legitimate authority’ or the potential implication that if she didn’t think we were legitimate she’d help out whoever she thought was but wondering if I needed to respond anyway. After a moment I shrugged.
“Tough talk, Cottonmouth,” I said, flipping a languid hand off to the side and hoping the school yard snake nickname got under her skin. “For someone who is about to enjoy the infamous Montagne hospitality, you’ve got a brass pair on you.”
“Is that a threat?” she demanded, leaning forward intently. “Are you threatening a bonded diplomat?”
“Far from it, dear cousin,” I said smiling falsely. “Did I say ‘infamous?' A slip of the tongue, I’m sure; I meant ‘famous.' Indeed, the ‘famous’ Montagne hospitality will be all yours, just as soon as you and your team can be shuttle over to my Flagship. I am prepared to accept your portfolio at this time.”
Intentness turned to caution and I got the sense that it if hadn’t indicated weakness she would have leaned back in her chair.
“All of my things are on this ship,” she started smoothly but I lifted a hand.
“I insist,” the hint of iron in my voice cut her off. As nice as it had been to spar verbally with my cousin and former childhood tormentor, it was time and past time to remind her who was in charge. I was the one in the Imperial Strike Cruiser and she in the modified merchant ship.
After a momentary hesitation she spread her arms expansively. “I, and my team, am here to keep the lines of communication open and be of whatever service possible,” she said with a nod of resignation.
Her words were music to my ears.
“Whatever service possible,” I said leaning forward with a smile, the potential uses I could put this Tilday-Vekna albatross the Sector Government had sent to either help Jean Luc or tie like a loadstone around my neck, flitting through my brain. “I’m so glad you said that,” I smiled.
“What—” Bethany asked with alarm but I gestured for the com-tech to cut the transmission and she disappeared from the screen.
I watched as the shuttles entered the freighter and continued to watch until they detached from the ship and signaled they had the Representative and her entourage onboard.
I quirked a smile at this particular thought. Bethany had an entourage; the last time she’d come to Tracto it had been entirely by herself. Sure, she’d been a Representative but had brought zero support staff. This time she had an ‘entourage’ and, pretentious as it sounded, it was also an indicator of both her rise in prominence as well as how serious the Assembly took the importance of this system—and of me.
They’d probably been expecting her to deal with Jean Luc when they sent her out initially, a thought which made my blood boil. I took a few calming breaths. Well, instead of the pirate Blood Lord she’d been expecting, she’d just have to deal with Admiral Montagne of the MSP.
“The shuttles are on close approach to the docking bay, Sir,” Laurent prompted, silently reminding me that that if I wanted to get down to the shuttle bay in time to meet and greet my cousin now was the time.
“Thank you, Captain,” I said making sure to meet his eyes to let him know I appreciated his attention to detail, “if you would be so good as to greet the Representative and escort her and her staff to an appropriate set of lodgings that would be great.”
The Flag Captain blinked. “Aye, Admiral,” he said after a pause and then he frowned, “normally the Admiral’s accommodations on a ship this size also double as the diplomatic suite at need.”
I snorted.
“As the Admiral is currently using the Flag Quarters I think other accommodations will be required,” I bared my teeth. “If it’s too much trouble finding the esteemed representative a place to lay her head, just clean out the nearest maintenance locker and put in a cot.”
Laurent covered his coughed with a fist but behind it I could see the hint of a smile on his face. “I’m sure we can manage something better than a spare maintenance closet, Sir,” he said dryly, “besides, whatever the Lady’s accommodations I would think her staff deserve at least the same as the crew.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” I muttered darkly, my mind flitting back to the many functionaries I’d seen hanging around diplomats and ambassadors who’d visited the Royal Palace on Capria, most of whom hadn’t been worth the air they breathed as far as I was now concerned, let alone whatever outrageous salaries they were pulling down. “But I’m not about to tell you how to run your ship. So if you want to give her your quarters or put her up in a spare room in the brig you won’t hear much of a complaint from me.”
“Thank you, sir,” Laurent said, “I’ll see to the matter directly.”
I nodded and turned away.
Laurent started to walk away, already speaking on his com-link as I turned back.
“Oh, and one last thing before you go, Captain,” I said, as if the thought had just occurred to me.
“Yes?” Laurent said curiously.
“Send a message to the Pride of Prometheus and tell Captain Middleton his mission is provisionally approved. Then have the prisoner brought up from the brig to my conference room,” I said with a sense of satisfaction as the pieces started falling into place.
I’d found that an Admiral needed to have plans within plans if he wanted to survive in a universe seemingly determined to bring him down. It was a dog-eat-dog galaxy out here, and having turned both cheeks earlier on in my career—and been slugged in both of them—I had learned to abandon such silly ideologies.
“A message to the Pride with your provisional approval, yes sir,” Laurent said stoically. I ignored the curious look he threw my way but he drew a loud breath, “I’ll have the prisoner sent up from the brig then." This time when he turned away I didn’t stop him.
I just smiled.
Chapter 22: Tremblay-ing at the thought of a New Mission
While Bethany got to experience stewing in whatever quarters Laurent scrounged up for her, and had probably begun to wonder when we would finally meet face to face, I got to recline in the relative luxury of the Phoenix’s conference room.
The Imperials really had it working I decided, not for the first time, since I’d moved onboard. Not only was everything new, they also had all the latest toys and enough technological goodies to make a man used to the old Dreadnaught class like I’d been kicking around the Sector in turn green with envy.
No, Bethany could wait her turn. And if my ignoring her was petty politics 101 (making yourself look important by making your guests wait on you), then it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving woman and I was guilty as charged. No one got to go in front of the media for the entire sector and tear me down without consequence.
In fact having to wait for an audience was going to be the least of her worries very soon. And the best part? Her fate, and the prisoner’s, was going to be in the hands of the Space Gods—and I was going to continue sleeping well at night.
I don’t care what they say; revenge is sweet.
Eventually the door cycled open. The officer being escorted into the room by a pair of Lancers recoiled at the sight of me. But the pair of battle-suited warriors to either side each took an elbow and, rather than be frog-marched to his seat, the officer shrugged off the hands and walked over to take a seat.
“Jason Montagne,” he said evenly, “brought me up to gloat?”
“Why would I need you brought up when at any time I can turn on a screen and see you pacing the confines of your cell, Tremblay?” I asked calmly.
“Playing a circular montage of crewmen and women being tortured was a nice touch, but just about what I would have expected of a Montagne,” Tremblay sneered. “It�
�s a great way to wear down the opposition, I suppose. Before I came to know you in person I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but I know you and this isn’t like you. So what’s changed?”
“Opposition?” I asked lifting an eyebrow. “That seems a little egotistical, even for a dyed-in-the-wool parliamentary sort like you, Raphael,” I gestured with my hands and then my face hardened. “But, be that as it may, there is a reason you’ve been forced to watch those vid-clippings—and it’s not a sudden desire for psychological torture.”
“If not that then what?” he challenged.
“Because those were the images I was forced to watch while stuck in the brig of the Lucky Clover,” I said harshly. “Because what you’ve seen was done by a parliamentary political officer,” my eyes bored into his, “because,” I added, “I believe that somehow, someway, everything that happed during the mutiny is somehow your fault.”
Lieutenant Tremblay, that parliamentary stalwart, swallowed—hard. “You give me a lot of credit,” he finally said in a strangled sounding voice and then fell silent.
It was a silence I allowed to grow until it was beyond uncomfortable. “Saving my life and then helping the Steiner/Heirophant team escape doesn’t absolve you of what you’ve done,” I said into the deathly silence. “I may not have proof of all your crimes, but you and I both know what you’ve done. Besides, what I do have is more enough for me to shove you outside an airlock without a suit and no one would raise so much as a token protest.”
“Then why am I still breathing oxy instead of sucking vacuum?” the Lieutenant asked, his voice trembling before he straightened in his chair, consciously stiffening his spine.
“For some reason that I don’t understand you gave me a chance at life after my Uncle shot me,” I said, even now my mind shying away from giving Jean Luc his true familial title. “So call it a glimmer of doubt, or a moment of temporary insanity, or maybe it’s just because I have a mission in mind and need a man of your…attributes. Take your pick.”
“What kind of mission could you possibly have that you think I could or even would help you with?” Raphael Tremblay looked at me with disbelief. “Moreover, how could you even trust me?”
“I’m glad you asked,” I said with a tight smile, “and the answer is a simple one. I need someone—two someone’s in fact—with the skills to succeed, thus making the mission officially plausible, as well as the talent to stall things for as long as possible. And even more important to me is that they need to be people I won’t lose any sleep over losing. This is your chance at redemption, Tremblay, or at least as close as you’re going to get in this lifetime. Succeed and I listen to the better angels on my shoulder, and after this mission I exile you from the fleet—to return under pain of death if I ever see you again. Fail and, well…if you don’t die carrying out your mission at their hands, I’ll see to it personally—even if I have to spend the rest of your very short life tracking you down.”
“I see. Two questions then,” Tremblay said his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down furiously.
“Shoot,” I said smiling savagely. While I would never send a man on a mission where success was not an option, I was almost hoping he failed. So long as he managed to drag things out it would almost be better for me and the MSP and one thing was for sure. When it came to sowing confusion and discord among his enemies while pretending to be on their side—or at least a semi-willing to help but very helpful cog—there was no one better at it than Intelligence Officer Raphael Tremblay. Or if there was, then I was planning to send her with him.
“Who is this other someone who will be going with me and who are these ‘they’ that you think might kill me,” Tremblay asked and I almost admired the way he didn’t plead, beg for his life, protest his innocence or break down into tears. It almost made me remember the almost good times we used to have before the mutiny that took the Lucky Clover by storm, slaughtered our crew and saw me on trial for my life. Then I scowled at him.
“The ‘they’ are one of the three tribes of droids operating in sectors 23 and 24, the United Sentient’s Assembly, or whatever they call themselves at the moment,” I said flatly. “As for the ‘who’,” this time the smile that crossed my face was one I didn’t want to think too deeply on, “the other someone I’ll be sending you is an expert in surviving tense, potentially deadly, negotiations where neither side expects anything good to come from it. Her name is Assembly Representative Bethany Tilday, my own sweet Vekna Cousin.”
My former First Officer cum Chief of Staff’s mouth opened and closed almost like a fish’s before closing with a click.
I was pleased, for if even a known schemer and Intelligence Officer like Tremblay had been taken by surprise then it was unlikely my enemies would ever suspect I might contemplate such a thing as I proposed to do.
“Let’s forget for a moment that you’re sending a known traitor and Parliamentarian alongside a Royalist diplomat from Central out to do your dirty work, Admiral,” Tremblay said with patented disbelief, “and focus on just what in Hades’ name do you propose that we do?”
“I would have thought a man of your bent would have already figured that out, as I’ve told you once before I am willing to do just about anything to protect my people,” I said with open amusement.
“Yes, of course…but what exactly is the mission?” he stayed mono-focused, ignoring my bout of levity.
“Why, Officer Tremblay,” I grinned, “I want you to make a deal with a droid.”
Chapter 23: The Service I need is one only you can provide
“This is so far beyond outrageous I’m not sure where to begin,” Bethany actually sounded shocked. “I’d say ‘you can’t do this,’ except obviously you can and are about to.”
“You did say you were here to render any service you could to the proper authority of this star system, and at the moment that very much seems to be me,” I said seriously and gestured through the blast doors leading out of the shuttle bay and back into the ship. “Of course if I’m wrong then the person you’ll want to speak with would be my wife, as she is the only other person who could possibly be this hypothetical proper authority you’ve promised to service.”
“Nice, Jason,” Bethany sneered. “But for some reason I’m feeling reluctant to appeal this suicide mission, whatever it turns out to be, before a woman who tried to run me through with a historic artifact the last time we met. I wonder why that is.”
“Well you did stab me in the back with your hair pick trying to kill her, so that’s probably a reasonable position,” I said agreeably. “Just keep your chin up, maintain a stiff upper lip, and I’m sure you’ll do fine. I don’t know a person better able to stand before her enemies and tell them she’s willing and eager to blast them to flinders at the first opportunity she sees and not only survive the experience but show up later with a promotion; I’m sure you’ll do fine,” I finished, suppressing a surge of vindictive satisfaction.
I didn’t mind the satisfaction part that was earned it was the vindictive part that put me off my clover. Or rather, the part that I didn’t really mind being a vindictive person put me off.
“This is insane; you’re sending us out into space without even telling us what we need to prepare ourselves for,” she pleaded, no doubt because she couldn’t effectively argue against something when she had no idea what exactly it was she was going to be doing, “at least let us know what this hypothetical deadly mission is about before we leave?" Behind and off to the side, Officer Tremblay just stood there his eyes scanning down about knee level, looking depressed and downcast. He knew better than to ask.
I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to share anything more than I had to beforehand but it wasn’t like I was going to let her talk me out of it and she was going to be isolated from any means of outside communication from this point out. Besides it would be nice to see the look in her eyes when I told her and got to watch her squirm.
Behind her Tremblay looked up at me for the first time, t
oo smart or at least too familiar with me to want to ask the question himself but now that it was out there unable to help a sick sort of fascination with understanding his impending doom.
So I gestured grandly, as if standing before a media camera on some kind of PR tour instead of about to relay a very truncated briefing to a pair of unwilling operatives.
“It’s quite simple really,” I said in the most self-important way I could, just to see how far I could get under Bethany’s skin.
She made a quickly covered snort and shook her head.
“Sectors 24 and 23 have been invaded, and I mean to do something about it,” I said grandly.
“So?” Bethany said impatiently tapping her foot on the floor.
“By droids,” I clarified and then stopped as I waited for her to catch on.
“Clearly this is supposed to mean something to me, but your brilliance escapes me. Do I look like a ship’s officer or computer technician to you?” she asked, covering a flash of surprise at this information with what looked like genuine impatience. “He might be able to do something—although you’d be a fool to trust him, which I suppose explains things perfectly—but I fail to see what I can do.”
“Hey!” Tremblay said halfheartedly.
I continued to look at Bethany like a not particularly bright student and ignored my erstwhile, traitorous, First Officer’s outburst while looking at her patiently.
“What does this have to do with us, Admiral?” Tremblay asked with dread in his voice, while the two Royals in the room locked eyes and refused to look away from each other.
I looked away, breaking the stare first; it’s not like I had anything to prove to a woman more completely within my power than I ever was inside of hers. Let her stew in her own juices and score the petty points, right now it was all she had.
Spineward Sectors 6: Admiral's Spine Page 21
