“Good! Say how’s the new headgear workin’ out?” he asked, clapping him on the shoulder and then allowing his hand to rest on the boy’s shoulder. “Any problems with the interface or the hardware? I can always take a look at if you need me to.”
“N-no,” said Shepherd irritably, dropping his shoulder so Spalding’s hand fell off, “an-nd it’s working re-eal goo-oo-ood.”
“Splendid,” the old engineer said with real happiness, then he steeled himself. Now that the pleasantries were over, it was time to address the reason he’d brought up the ale.
Frustrated, the Navigator made a fist and banged the side of his desk and then snapped his mouth shut. The lights of the built in cybernetics on the back of his head started flashing and a synthesized voice issued from the speaker built in the top of the console he was sitting at.
“My voice is still no good,” said the flat, synthesized voice coming out of the console, “but the interface is everything you said it was. I can actually do the high-level calculations again, even without the implant. I turned it off to check and something about the installation itself seems to have helped,” he explained, and at this he clumsily circled his hand over his chest. “The therapy’s helped with moving but I still speak worse than a toddler.”
“Good, good,” the old Engineer said gruffly, “well, I’m here cause those gorilla boys tell me this is as good as it gets without either more time—probably years—or more regen-therapies.”
“No more therapy,” came the flat, synthesized voice, followed with an abrupt movement of his arms and a jerk of the body. The angry expression on the Navigator’s face also gave emphasis to the flat unemotional voice.
“That’s yer choice, Mr. Shepherd,” Spalding said agreeably. “I’d be the last one to tell ye got to go back into the hands of those savages. Better a monkey playin’ around with the back of your head than a board-certified doctor any day of the week! At least the monkey won’t club you over the head so he can cut you open to see what’s wrong with you and then sew you back together,” he said passionately.
From the uneasy expression on the Navigator’s face—and the lack of spoken reply—Spalding figured the boy didn’t entirely agree with him but that was fine with him. After all, wasn’t that the whole bloomin’ point? Each and every man, woman, or genetically-engineered monkey ought to have the right to control their own body without some ham-handed butcher free to carve on him, her, or it anytime he pleased!
It was even worse than taxing a man because he had the temerity to die without paying his death insurance. Or, say, refusing him access to the publicly funded areas like the park or a supermarket just because he missed his latest health insurance payment, and thus might potentially infect the other customers without being able to pay for their care—like he’d heard happened occasionally back in the old Confederation. It was just plum wrong is what it was. ‘Live like a man and die with dignity’ was his motto. Or live like a woman, or creature, or thing, as he knew not everyone was a man.
Why, just taking women for example, there were some that would rather die than be seen outside their homes without their beauty products. A man couldn’t care less about that kind of dreck. The same thing probably went for things and creatures, like the gorilla people. The galaxy was a strange place. Let them thump their chests, eat their bananas, or paint their faces with blush and foundation until they looked like a clown for all he cared.
Freedom! That’s what he wanted or, rather, in this case he wanted medical freedom. He’d never thought he’d see the day someone would tell him he wasn’t free to die yet because there was too much work to do! Flattering as it was, he was going to stridently stick to the principle of freedom of choice!
If a man didn’t make a stand and draw a firm line in the sand, the next thing you’d know everyone would be in the same situation as worlds where you could be legally required to donate blood. On some worlds it was so bad the police would show up, physically restrain you, and literally suck the life blood out of your body until they got their pint of red lager! It was tyranny, plain and simple, and he’d fight it to the day he died—and if they forcibly brought him back because of Universal Medical Health Suppression, where he’d lost his medical rights, why…then he’d keep on fighting!
A man would have no true peace without an honest-to-Murphy separation of hospital and state!
Speaking of which. “Anyway, that brings me back to the reason I’m here today,” the old Engineer said, giving his head a shake and coming back the subject at hand. He reminded himself today wasn’t about him, but about Mr. Shepherd, “Since things aren’t going to be getting’ better in a hurry, and you’ve had time to shrug off whatever those doctors did to you,” he took a deep breath and then jutted his jaw out, “I thought we should return to your original request. Now, I know you might be holding a bit of a grudge against me ,and I’d allow some of that seein’ as you have some call for it. But you’ve been free from the gulag for a while and now that you’ve had time to think things over, if you still want to stick to your guns, well…then I’m here to help. We’ll stand by and support you the entire way and that’s the way of it,” he finished with a firm nod.
Shepherd looked at him as if he were a few marbles short of a half stack.
“Well boy?” Spalding demanded, and then as the younger man continued to look at him he realized something. “Pardon me if I came across as a bit insensitive now. It’s a big decision you’re makin’ here, and I can understand if you don’t trust me because of the whole ‘post-liberation incident.’ But I’m sure we can get someone else if that’s the hold-up.”
Spalding then stopped and waited expectantly. “What are you talking about?” the Navigator finally asked via his console.
Spalding’s eyes bulged. “Why, what did you think we were talkin’ about? I was asking if you were still determined to go ahead with your locker part!” he exclaimed.
For a moment there was sheer and utter incomprehension on the younger man’s face, and then it was as if the light bulb finally went on.
“You, yo-ou” he said suddenly looking agitated and speaking aloud again.
“Look, we could really use your help around here,” Spalding said passionately. “And, personally, I was hoping you could maybe pull double duty as both Navigator and Helmsman if you’d be so obliged. You know how hard it is to keep things compartmentalized; the more people involved, the more chance something gets out that shouldn’t have. But if you’re bound and determined to go then I’m the last man that’s try to stop you, and—”
First a laser pointer, then a data-slate, followed by the flask of ale he’d brought to try and help cheer the man up, hit him in the chest and face.
“Now, see here,” growled the old Engineer, “this is hardly—”
“Out!” cried Shepherd, his hands reaching for something else to throw and Spalding took a cautious step back.
“I have people just waitin’ on the word, so you need to let us know,” he started, again trying for a more soothing voice.
“Now!” cried the Navigator. “I’m not g-g-going to kill my-se-elf. I never wa-s. That’s crazy, you o-old fool!”
“Well, I never,” Spalding said with genuine outrage. “Do you have the foggiest idea how much time I’ve spent on this-all because you swore you’d rather die?!”
“Aargh!” howled Shepherd.
“Does this mean you’re planning to stick around and help with the Clover?” he asked hopefully, now that the young idiot had finally made his position clear.
“Eat space worms,” the synthesized voice came back out from the console, and was quickly followed by a leg brace that had been propped up alongside the front of the console.
“I’m going to take that as a firm ‘yes’,” Spalding said quickly as he beat a hasty retreat back out the door. After all, the boy had been working on the navigation for the new Clover the whole time—even though he had clearly been less than honest about his desire to self-terminate.
>
Still, the lad wasn’t a liar as far as the old man could tell. It was probably just that some people weren’t able to be honest with themselves about some things, and he’d been in a stressful situation. He could understand since it’s not that he’d intended to deceive anyone; he’d just been under a lot of pressure while experiencing an unhealthy dose of despair.
Why, it reminded Spalding of the first time the Caprian SDF had tried to retire him…
Moving swiftly, he was out the door before anything else could be thrown at him. He’d probably better let everyone know the party was off.
Chapter Thirty-six: Repercussions
I was with Gants, going over the new duties the Armory Team would be taking on. Basically we were turning everything that wasn’t already in the hands of newly combined Lancer/Marine detachment over to the new Confederation sleeper-run security department.
Aside from my ‘close-in’ protective detail being handled exclusively by D’Argent and his fellow armsmen, I had decided that the security system aboard my ship needed a total reformation. Gants and his people were loyal—some might say to a fault—so I had decided to assign some of the more sensitive areas to them.
Anyways, it was then that the entrance to my office chimed and a visibly frustrated Akantha came charging through the door.
“What are you doing, Jason?” she demanded the moment she was in the room.
“Whatever do you mean…dear?” I asked with false surprise. I might not have known which of the several things I’d set into motion had succeeded in riling her up, but then I’d gone into this thing with the intention of making genuine changes. As they say: you can’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs.
“You know full well what I mean,” Akantha fumed. “I can hardly turn around outside our quarters without running into an armed escort.”
“Ah,” I said with a nod of understanding.
“That is all you have to say? I can hardly go down to the mess hall without a squad of Marines following me everywhere I go!” she reiterated, apparently caught off-guard at my nonplussed response.
“Look, I may be a little slow on the uptake—and a male to boot,” I said with a hint of condescension, “but when my wife finally gets around to telling me about a problem, I settle it. Admittedly, it might take me a while to get everything lined up but once the pieces are all in place there’s no more reason to wait. I’m sorry if the adjustment period is a little more problematic than you’d hoped.”’
“’I’d hoped’?” Akantha grunted, flattening her features into a mask. “What exactly do you think you are doing in my name now?”
“Everything I do is for you, the children, and the helpless citizens of the Spineward Sectors,” I said piously.
Akantha just gave me a look and started tapping her toes on the floor. It was probably time to stop playing around and start handing out a few answers, however palatable—or unpalatable—they might turn out to be.
“After my latest bout of unpleasantness with your countrymen—forgive me; with the warriors recruited from all those new polities of Tracto—I decided something needed to be done,” I explained and then waved it away as if of minor importance. “However, it was only after speaking with my wife and hearing how she feared for her life—and for the lives of our then-unborn children—that things crystallized and I realized I needed to set aside my pride. So I spoke with Duncan.”
Akantha instantly frowned. “Other than hearing you speak about me in the third person, set aside your pride, and decided to speak with your mother’s paramour, I am still waiting for an answer as to why I can’t turn around in this ship without stumbling over someone,” Akantha said.
“That’s exactly why you’re seeing an enhanced security presence,” I said with satisfaction. “The answer to your question is this: I have decided that never again will you have to live in fear of other people while you are on my ship,” I paused, my eyes boring into hers as the unspoken subtext clearly dawned on her. “I simply won’t have it.”
Akantha grimaced, “I have my own personal guard force plus your Life Guards. I think I am adequately protected.”
“Adequate? Firstly, I refuse to settle for ‘adequate’ when it comes to my wife. Second, I have to say that as far as I am concerned, they were not adequate enough or any number of things would have gone differently during the troubles back at Gambit.”
She clenched her teeth. “Yes, I was worried. I have already apologized as much as I know how for what happened. However, we need to get past that, Jason,” she said firmly.
“I wholeheartedly agree, thus the increase in security. This is how we get past the past, Akantha,” I said even more firmly.
“So I am to be punished, is that it?” she asked with a sigh.
“If that’s how you choose to look at it, I can’t stop you. However, remember that you were the one who told me you had to isolate yourself and the children—from me, no less—out of fear for their lives,” I glared at her. “Just who do you think I am? My own wife feared for her life and for our children’s lives while within the heart of my fleet—the very center of my power? If you think I’m going to allow that to pass as a man, as a flag officer, and as a Prince then frankly my dear you’re insane.”
Akantha turned to glare off at the wall before turning back to me after several seconds. “I can understand that,” she said grudgingly, and for a quick moment something in her face softened before disappearing so quickly it was as if it had never been. “But I must ask: what if I refuse? What then? I am a Hold Mistress—the highest authority among my people. If I command you as my Protector, will you obey?”
I steepled my fingers and stared at them for a long moment. “Who am I?” I asked.
“Enough games, Jason!” she snapped right back.
“I asked you a question: WHO AM I!?” I thundered, standing up and smashing my fist into the table a little harder than I should have.
“I do not answer to you, Protector!” she spat back.
“Exactly. I am your Protector! Or has that’s somehow changed?” I demanded.
“Of course it has not,” she snapped back.
“Well then there’s your answer in a nutshell; as your Protector I am seeing to your protection. You have told your Protector that your safety was compromised and he is seeing to the matter. End of discussion,” I said coldly.
She gritted her teeth. “And if I say I am just fine the way I am?” Akantha asked with a challenging jut to her jaw.
“You mean, what would I say if you refused the protection of your Protector?” I retorted, meeting her challenge and returning it twofold. I cocked my head as if considering the rhetorical question seriously and then looked at her, “Then I would tell you that, in my considered opinion, I could no longer guarantee your safety and you would be shipped back home to Tracto on the first available ship.”
Akantha stiffened with surprise. “You can’t send me home…you need me here too much!” she protested.
“Need you? Absolutely. But no one in this fleet is indispensible—including me. What I need is you onboard and collaborating with me to make this thing work. But if you’re not adequately protected then there’s no point in increasing the risk factor,” I said unwaveringly. “You’ve proven you can do just as much good on your own as you can helping ride herd on our Lancer division or helping out with grand strategy.”
“I will not be pushed aside when the largest battle I have ever heard of is on the horizon,” she said indignantly.
“Good,” I said with a smile and then gestured to D’Argent, who nodded to two men and a third who had been standing off to the side. “These two will be your new best friends. They’re fully trained Royal Armsmen from Capria who have sworn personal loyalty to me. They will insert themselves into your security, upgrade it as necessary, and then stick to you like glue.”
Akantha looked over at the two new men and blinked before turning back to me with her eyes narrowing.
“You’ve r
epeatedly said we need to move beyond the past. Well, this is the way, my Sword Bearer,” I said evenly, and we engaged in a silent test of wills for what seemed like ten minutes before she finally caved.
“Fine…I will take your minders,” she eyed them for a moment, “I might even force myself to like it. What about him?” she asked, pointing to the third.
“Right,” I nodded in acknowledgment, and then motioned for Gants to stand up. He did so—albeit with an audible gulp.
“Right, Sir,” he acknowledged, stepping over to the armsman while shooting uneasy looks between me and my beloved Sword Bearer.
Akantha lifted a brow—an irritating trait she’d picked up from me.
“This young armsman is an Aspirant in the final phase of his training. He, along with the head of our Armory Team, will be taking over the general security of our children. All of our children,” I said, crossing my arms and giving her the stink eye. I was still rather less than reconciled to this whole ‘non-joint custody of our children while still married’ business, and I needed to take some ground back on that particular front. This was how I figured I could best do that.
“What?!” Akantha shrieked.
“After consulting with my new security detail and listening to your tales of your relationship with Persus, I decided that each of the children needs their own personal bodyguard. Sooner or later it was going to happen, so I thought ‘why not sooner?’ For now, the children are within our security, but as your unilateral decision to send three of our babies down to Tracto without consultation has shown, there are times they’ll need their own guards. This will get a jump on that,” I explained.
Akantha opened her mouth angrily and then glanced at Gants, hesitating before turning and giving me a withering look. She glanced at Gants a second time and then seemed to sigh.
I smiled complacently at the sight of this. Getting mad at me and being worried about her security detail being ‘taken over’ were valid concerns. But placing Gants in charge of the kids’ detail? You could argue about his competence but never his goodwill or loyalty. I seriously doubted that once he was placed in charge he would let anyone—even me or Akantha—harm the children placed in his care. You’d have to kill him first.
Admiral's War Part One Page 24
