Spineward Sectors 6: Admiral's Spine

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “That is not…exactly what I wanted,” Akantha said, leaning forward, “you see. I was watching a medical documentary and I saw something amazing.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed briefly. “Genetic engineering has been strictly banned and prohibited by both the Confederation and the Empire,” the doctor said strictly.

  “What is your name?” Akantha asked.

  The doctor started. “Anastasia,” she said after a moment.

  Akantha nodded. “I do not know what ‘genetic engineering’ is, but I do not believe it is what I want. You see,” she leaned forward, lowered her voice fractionally, and explained what she had seen on the holo-vid. When she was done, she explained precisely what she wanted the doctor to assist her in doing.

  The doctor stared at her dumbfounded.

  “It’s technically feasible…but the strain on your body would be immense. And a natural birth; are you crazy? I mean, it would have to be natural because, among the many things we do have available here in the fleet, an artificial womb isn’t one of them. Frankly, however, I’m not sure if this is even ethical,” Anastasia exclaimed.

  “You told me I have the right to control what happens with my own body; I have seen it done before on your own documentary,” Akantha declared, “and this is what I want.”

  “There are dangers,” the Doctor said grimly, “I don’t think I can support this.”

  “I will speak to my Protector before I make my final decision, but if you will not support me in this then I will find another midwife who will,” Akantha said coldly.

  Chapter 29: Breaking the News

  “Jason?” Akantha asked, her head pillowed on my arm.

  “Mm-hmm,” I muttered happy to just lay there and bask in the glow of being back with my wife. Even after two weeks of hyperspace jumps as we moved across Sector 25 and entered 24, the novelty of being married again had yet to fade. Not that I hadn’t been married before, but it’s hard to feel married when you’re locked in an eight foot by ten foot room between bouts of torture prior to going on trial for your life.

  “I have something important I want to talk with you about,” she said.

  I groaned and rolled over. “Look, if it’s about the incident on the Midas Touch between those Lancers and the Sundered Warriors, I don’t want to talk about it; there’s nothing really to discuss. There’s bound to be some friction in any organization, but right now it’s being handled at lower levels,” I said, hoping she wasn’t going to keep on digging. But I unexpectedly felt her pause, so I added, “I only want to get involved and bring down the hammer as a last resort.”

  “I…that is, I,” Akantha stopped and started before making a sound of feminine frustration, “this isn’t what I wanted to talk about.”

  “Ah,” I said, realizing I’d just misread the situation and put my foot in it, “what did you want to talk about?”

  She rolled over onto her side and stared at me until I suppressed a groan and followed suit. Now we were staring at each other eye to eye.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked with concern at the strange glint in her eye and overly serious expression on her face. Whatever she was about to talk about, it was serious and she was in a strange, unfortunately less-than-amorous, mood. Of all the rotten luck, I sighed, and we’d just been having such a wonderful time too. I suppressed another urge to groan, “You know, we’re scheduled to hit one of the Core Worlds for this Sector in another day and a half. But I’m sure that whatever we find there we can handle it,” I said seriously, the lie rolling easily and naturally off my tongue so many times after having repeated the same words to myself and others.She looked at me with irritation and placed a finger on my lips.

  Okay, hint received; I needed be silent for a while. I’d once again clearly missed the mark with whatever it was she wanted to talk about.

  “Protector…it’s time,” she said solemnly, as if this were some kind of important declaration instead of a nearly meaningless utterance no man with the standard set of Y-chromosomes could be expected to decipher.

  “Time for what?” I couldn’t help but ask.

  “I’ve been putting a lot of thought into this lately, and we’ve been together almost two years now; if we wait any longer it will only undermine our authority and invite more challenges,” she said solemnly.

  “That doesn’t sound like a good thing…” I said, my heart clenching, not at the threat of immanent madness and mayhem but because this sounded an awfully lot like a break up speech. I couldn’t help myself I had to know, “You’re not breaking up with me are you?” I asked, wondering if I sounded as much like the insecure fool in her ears as I did to mine, yet for all of that still unable to help myself. I’d just gotten her back too! But maybe Tracto-an babes didn’t like it when you got captured by your enemies and, after some ritual togetherness time, they had to cut you loose in order to save face? I didn’t know and I was floundering pretty badly as the silence stretched.

  “What?” she asked sounding confused and then she frowned at me. “Why would I break you…oh, you mean give back the Sword—how could you think such a thing?!”

  Something inside me started to unclench.

  “Even if you were the lowest man on Tracto, what kind of fool do you take me for?” she said hotly. “No woman in her right mind would willingly give back a sword like this,” a gesture to Bandersnatch, her—or, was it ‘my’?—‘Dark Sword of Power,’ which was leaning up against the wall within easy reach of her long, firm arms.

  “Gee…that’s a relief,” I said as soon as it penetrated that, to her, the sword was probably worth more than I was. I received confirmation of my suspicion a few moments later.

  “Far better to encourage someone to challenge in a duel to the death and keep the sword, since you have no heirs of your body as yet,” she scowled at me, as if my not figuring out that the sword was worth more to her than I was had somehow insulted her intelligence.

  “This is unbelievable,” I said, starting to sit up in bed as I made ready to leave. The joyfulness of lazing around in bed with a beautiful woman—one who just so happened to also be my wife—appeared to be done and over with.

  “Lay back down; we’re not done talking yet,” she told me, placing a hand on my chest and forcing me back down onto the bed.

  “Look, I’m grateful and all for whatever scheme you have to cut down on the challenges,” I said tightly, “and I suppose I should be happy to know where I rate and all, but where I come from no guy wants to hear that his girl is more into her sword than she is him—that’s just a fact.”

  She looked at me like I was slime under her boot, reverting back into full-blown Ice Maiden mode. Of course, we quickly arrived at a topic which blew my mind—because it had absolutely nothing to do with anything I’d been thinking of up till this point.

  “Enough of this bantering; we have more important things to discuss,” she said icily. “I want to have children.”

  It took me several seconds to grapple with what she’d just said, and a few more for it to make sense. But when it did I flushed, my mouth fell open, and my mind was officially blown.

  “Uh,” I said stupidly.

  “Messene is growing into a real Hold; we conquered the Omicron and now that we’ve been together for two years, it’s time,” she said in a no-nonsense voice. “I need an heir, and it’s time.”

  I coughed, wondering how we’d gone from our usual squabbling straight to having kids.

  “Are you sure that’s the best idea? We’re about to enter a warzone,” I said, mentally flailing about for a lifeline somewhere. In truth we hadn’t so much as once talked about having kids and now, out of the blue, she wanted an heir?! I simply hadn’t considered the subject more than as a fleeting thought fragment until that point.

  “If we decide to do it now, I won’t show for several months,” Akantha said, shrugging off my expressed concerns as if they were nothing, “after that it might limit what I can do, but it will only be a temporary hindran
ce.”

  “It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” I wheezed.

  “You are here, I am here, your mother is here, and we have her blessing on our binding. And despite your capture at the hands of our enemies, you’ve come back stronger than ever. You’ve proven yourself worthy to sire children and I have lands in need; for what reason should we wait?” she said, obviously wondering why I was being less than enthusiastic.

  “Are you sure this is the right time to bring a child into the world? These are uncertain times,” I protested, not sure if I was ready to be a father yet while at the same time wondering how pregnant she had to be before I could insist that she not go out on combat missions. Was it as soon as she knew she was pregnant, or did she have to be showing first? And would she have to be in a combat-free zone with every pregnancy? How would we manage their education; would they go everywhere with us or would they stay back on Tracto? Stone Rhinos are a serious problem…I’d have to install a few plasma cannons on Messene’s walls—

  And just like that my mind stopped; I was already leaping forward to future children beyond the one she was proposing! Sometimes my brain was a curse. I opened mouth to unequivocally say ‘no, this is not a time to be having kids when we’re on the verge of a war,’ when she spoke.

  “Six,” she said simply.

  I looked at her curiously, my previous train of thought derailed. “What?” I asked.

  “At a minimum,” she informed me smugly.

  “I don’t understand what you are saying,” I said slowly and clearly, as if by speaking that way she would be better able to understand my foreign words.

  “Children,” she said irritably.

  “Right…we were talking about children,” I said, a ringing starting in my ears, “and you said six…” I trailed off, unable to believe the ambition of this woman. She talked about having a kid, and before I had even come to grips with the idea as some sort of abstract theory, she had immediately latched on to having at least six of them. “Won’t that keep you busy back home at Messene for a while? Six of them, I mean,” I said, floundering around and looking for the silver lining.

  I mean, having her away from this ship and leaving me free to rampage around the galaxy without having to worry about her leading each and every boarding action was something of a silver lining—

  “Not so,” she said triumphantly and I closed my eyes.

  I wondered how we’d gotten from talking about whether or not we were going to have kids, to arguing about how many and where she was going to have them. Safe back home on Tracto—or at least as safe as her home world got—or out here on a warship with me about to head into a warzone.

  “I’m afraid to even ask,” I said hoarsely and closed my eyes.

  “Your technology is simply amazing,” Akantha said and then started babbling as I tried to come to grips with what she was saying, “in my place men die in battle and women in the birthing chamber, but with your medical skills and healing tanks I now understand that almost every woman survives her fertile years.”

  “Yes, the miracles of modern science,” I said, opening my eyes and wondering if I should mention artificial wombs or not. But even though it was probably in my best interest, I felt I had to give full disclosure, “We even have artificial wombs that can grow a baby if there’s a risk to the woman.”

  Akantha looked faintly repulsed and uneasy. “A real woman carries her own children; I am neither weak nor descended from inferior stock such that I cannot carry my own babes,” she frowned at me.

  “Sorry I even mentioned it,” I said, taking one look in her eyes and beating a hasty retreat.

  “But, on the other hand, I do not wish to suffer through six pregnancies. There are too many things I need and want to do to suffer through that many,” she said, and I felt a sensation of relief.

  “Maybe we need to scale back on the kid ideas until you have a better sense of what you—” I started.

  “Control of my own body,” Akantha declared, talking over me, “that is why I spoke with your doctors. I have been studying your medical records—specifically the holo-vids—and I found the solution to this problem, and it is ‘control of your own body’.”

  I was lost by now, but sure and certain that wherever this conversation was going I wasn’t going to like it.

  “Did you know that your people have even found out a way to pick and choose whether you have a baby boy or a baby girl?” she asked with wonder in her voice.

  “Yeah, I kind of did,” I said, falling back onto the bed with a thump.

  “But that is beside the main point,” she said, tracing a finger along the contours of my chest, “what I’ve decided is that since it’s possible for one of your women to have as many children as they wish in one pregnancy, that I shall take advantage of this miracle,” Akantha declared happily. “And since I must have an heir and will need to get pregnant anyway, I might as well get it all over with at one time and spare myself the pain and suffering. I think six is the perfect number. Don’t you?”

  All of a sudden the lights in our room started flashing and the red alert siren sounded. The ship was under attack—or at least had sighted hostiles!

  “Oh, Space Gods,” I muttered, jumping out of bed and grabbing for my uniform. A very put-out looking Tracto-an wife left behind me as I staggered, half-dressed out the door.

  I had never been so happy to beat a hasty retreat—let alone to run half-naked toward a battle.

  Chapter 30: Close Encounters of the Droid Kind

  “Unidentified vessels are now on an intercept course, Captain,” the Tactical Officer reported as I strode into the room.

  “ETA in 25 minutes, Sir,” snapped Mr. Shepherd in Navigation while Laurent strode back and forth pacing.

  Making a bee-line for the command chair, I failed to do anything foolish like interrupt while an emergency was going on, and quickly plopped myself down in the seat.

  “Mass reading is confirmed as high for a ship of that size,” said Lieutenant Abignal, the ship’s new science officer, rising tension in his voice, “it’s fourteen to fifteen percent over standard, Captain.” “This is what we’ve come for, boys and girls; so steady as she goes and mind your stations,” Laurent said, his face emotionless.

  Around me the bridge was filled with tension. Voices were low and there was an uncommon level of activity as fingers and elbows moved rapidly in front of work stations and consoles.

  The bridge arrangement might be different, and require a smaller number of personnel to run it than a Caprian battleship, but I found that my experiences in those larger ships translated over to this one. At least it did when it came to reading a bridge crew, most of whom I was already familiar with at least in passing.

  So it was a little bit of a stacked deck, but then that’s the only kind you want to be dealing with when it comes to potentially hostile encounters. It was a hard, cruel world out there in the blackness of cold space.

  “Do you want to deploy the Fleet in attack formation, or move further away from the hyper-limit and maintain spacing, sir?” Officer Laurent prompted from a station beside, and behind, my elbow.

  My eyes flashed over to the main screen, taking in the fact that there only seemed to be one enemy ship—if enemy it was—and then back over to the Flag Captain.

  “What size is the contact, Captain?” I asked, smoothly answering his question with one of my own. I needed to know how big she was before I made any decisions.

  “Cruiser-sized, Admiral,” he answered promptly, then added a qualifier, “that, or a freighter on the smaller size, although the mass readings indicate that’s unlikely.”

  I thought I knew what he was talking about with the mass readings but gave him a look and motioned for him to elaborate anyway.

  “A mass to size ratio like this generally indicates a high metallic content, or an ice ship hauling extra hydro in all its internals. But in most cases ice ships are used only in certain areas for specific purposes and their hu
ll types are easily identifiable. Since this is not one of them, that suggests it’s a droid ship,” he explained, filling the silence while I had the chance to ponder my next move.

  “Thank you, Captain,” I said formally and then, with a last glance at the screen, I shot him a piercing look, “relay the orders to the rest of the fleet. All ships are to set course toward the unidentified ship and take up station around us in Attack Formation One. The fleet is to proceed at flank speed.”

  “Yes, sir,” Laurent said with just a hint of eagerness as he turned to relay the orders to communications for the rest of the ships before doing likewise to our own Tactical section.

  I sat there and stared at the screen as the small constellation of ships around the Furious Phoenix broke up into three different squadrons, each taking up a different position relative to the Flagship until it looked like the Strike Cruiser was the dot in the middle of a triangle of wedge-shaped formations.

  The fleet consisted of five cutters, ten corvettes—three of those belonging to the Sundered, the same as had gone to Capria with Akantha and their accompanying gunboats—along with two destroyers and a single light cruiser that no one had been sure would be able to make the journey with us until two days before departure.

  Although the damage the cruiser had taken in the battle for Tracto hadn’t been insignificant, but because of the atrocious level of maintenance to its internal systems its return to service in time for the campaign had been highly questionable.

  As it was, the engineers had had concerns about releasing her for service but I’d firmly overridden them. We were going to need all the firepower we could get. I only wished we’d been able to bring the Parliamentary Power up to fighting trim in time, but unfortunately that was not to be. The ship had been plagued with trouble from the moment I’d laid eyes on her and despite all my many and loudly espoused wishes, it would be up to the Power’s new Commander to get her ready for the campaign.