Yelling at Gants in this case would be like kicking the family dog: not at all productive of anything except your own eventual humiliation, to say nothing of unnecessary cruelty.
“Fine…you win,” she said darkly.
“I thought you’d see it my way. Logic wins out,” I shot back. Although in truth, I’d been just as ready to eject her from the ship and drop-kick her back to Tracto for a while. Right was right and wrong was wrong, and if we wanted to pretend that she’d done what she’d done because I wasn’t strong enough to protect her then fine, we’d play it that way—at least until it either became the truth or things between us went up in smoke.
But either way, we couldn’t keep living in limbo. Either she was my partner or, much like certain Queens of old, she would have to be marginalized and sidelined. From a cold, calculating light I could understand why she had done what she had done, but I would be worse than a fool and chump if I ever allowed it to happen again.
Chapter Thirty-seven: Akantha Enraged; Jason Unmoved
“Where are my children?” Akantha demanded, storming down the corridor with her Life Guard forces, Persus, and those two new—infernally polite and totally unyielding—Armsmen.
“I don’t know, my Mistress,” Persus said, shaking his head and looking ready to kill in her name.
“No idea, Mistress,” added Isis, the current head of her Life Guard.
Akantha turned and glared at the two ‘armsmen.’
“I’m sure they are fine, my Lady,” said one of the Armsmen.
“What is the point of having you in my detail, and another of you assigned to my children, if you cannot even tell me where they are?” she demanded hotly.
The two shared a glance and, with a shrug, the other one held a hand up to his ear and spoke sub-vocally. His throat moved silently but no sounds or betraying lip movements could be detected.
The man nodded and then looked up at her.
“Well?!” she demanded.
He held up a hand. “Right now we are assigned to you and, out of respect for your privacy, we do not relay where you are or what you’re doing so long as it does not impact your safety, my Lady Akantha. So while we can get the other armsmen to violate the privacy of their primaries, the other teams will expect a reciprocal arrangement,” he said calmly, “are you sure you want to do that?”
Akantha made a frustrated sound.
“From your excessive verbiage, I already have a good idea where they are. There is only one man on this ship who would take them out of their room without asking, and he can only be in so many places at once,” she said, neatly sidestepping the issue of allowing the two spies to freely leak her doings to her Protector before marching over into the nearest lift. Stopping, she glared at the pair, “You can either press the button for the right lift or you can follow me around as I go to the very few places he could be.” Again, the Armsmen shared a look and then one of them pressed button for the flag deck.
“I should have known,” Akantha said bitterly.
After arriving on the deck, she stormed over to the ready room where she saw Duncan standing outside the door. He was flanked by a pair of Armsmen and a quad of the new Caprian Marines who had come over to the ship with General Wainwright.
A lot of things had been changing lately, including the makeup of the Lancer division. On the one hand she was happy to see Jason treating things seriously and taking steps to secure their future and the survival of their house. On the other, she wasn’t very happy at all with the ways he was unsubtly—even openly—restricting her freedom.
For now, she had to live with it and it wasn’t like she couldn’t understand his position. It just stuck in her craw that she had no choice but to accept it or go home.
Which only made her all the more irritated as she stepped up to her Protector’s hidey-hole; her children, at the very least, were things no one could take from her.
“My Lady Akantha, it’s good to see you again,” Duncan said, stepping forward with a smile. “What brings you up to the flag deck?”
“I am here for my children and to see my wayward Protector. Step aside, Duncan,” she said, waving an imperious hand.
“I’m sorry Lady Akantha,” Duncan said shaking his head sadly, “but even if I step to the side, the men here,” he waved to the team of armsmen and Marines, “are going to insist on a security scan before asking the Admiral Prince Jason if he’s taking visitors.”
“Really!? I am their Mother! How could I possibly be a security threat to them or anyone in the room?” she demanded as a pair of veins on her temples starting to throb.
“Akantha—” Duncan started, only to be interrupted by another armsman.
“That’s enough, Duncan. We’ll take it from here,” said the man, turning to Akantha. “I’m afraid that’s exactly what an assassin wearing your face would say,” the Armsman said, his expression one of stone. “I’m going to have to ask you to wait.”
“I’m a threat to my own children now? I expected better from you, Duncan,” Akantha said, giving the man a withering look.
Duncan shook his head. “Sorry, I’m no longer in charge of security around here. Soon I won’t even be on duty here at the door, but back attending Elaine as I’d originally intended for my retirement,” he said.
“You’re going to buzz Jason to let him know I’m here, and then you’re going to open that door,” Akantha commanded, summoning her most imperious and commanding affect.
“You’re going to have to wait for the genetic scanner to do its job,” the Armsman said with professional detachment. “I’ve personally had to deal with two Parliamentary chameleon teams,” and then, at her blank stare, he continued to explain, “they’re assassins using advanced technology to change their face, general appearance, and even fingerprint or retinal scans. No assassins will get through on my watch, Ma’am.”
She stared at the armsman in disbelief, and then turned her gaze at the rest of the people obstructing her from seeing the man who had given her a sword, and even barred her from her own children!
“You do not want to make an enemy out of me,” Akantha warned icily.
“That’s your prerogative, Lady,” the Armsman said coolly.
“Fine…do your scans,” she fumed.
Moments later, they brought out the genetic scanner and pressed it against the side of her neck. There was a slight sting.
“You would be wise to warn me about that,” she said, stopping her instinctive grab for Bandersnatch.
“Sorry,” the Armsman said unsympathetically, and there was a short pause. “I’m sorry, Lady. But it seems the genetic scanner is down on the fritz. You can wait while we get another scanner or you can come back another time,” said the Armsman.
Akantha shouted with frustration and grabbed the hilt of her sword.
“Lady Akantha, you’re getting agitated. Please take a step back to cool down and reflect. Attacking us will not end well for you,” the Armsman, said thrusting his arm out with his palm facing her.
“Get out of my way!” she yelled.
“Please calm down, Ma’am,” he said dispassionately, unclipping a stun rod and holding it down by his side. “I’m asking you to step back for our mutual safety and think hard before doing something you’ll regret.”
She blasted hot breaths in and out of her nostrils as her fingers trembled around Bandersnatch’s hilt. But after a few seconds of staring down the stone-faced, stun rod-wielding warrior, she released her grip on the ancient weapon. “You can tell Jason I won’t forget this!” Akantha snarled before turning on her heel and storming back to the lift.
****************************************************
There was a chime at the door.
“What is it?” I asked activating the com-panel.
“The Lady Akantha has decided to depart the deck upon discovering the genetic scanner was malfunctioning. I’m afraid she’s now out of sorts, blaming both us and you for the delay,” said Lead Armsman D’Argen
t.
“Good work, Lead Armsman,” I said gratefully, “it will be good for my wife to rediscover that I am not among the list of people who have to jump when she says ‘frog’.”
“As you say, Prince Jason,” said the Armsman in a respectful voice that totally failed to hide the hint of censure he wished to convey.
“Don’t worry that I am acting out of mere petty malice. Or rather, not only out of petty malice. I can’t help wanting to yank her chain a bit now and again, but ultimately the Hold Mistress is a woman who needs to be reminded just who and what I am—both when it comes to this Fleet and my children.”
“That’d be above my pay grade, Highness,” said the Lead Armsman.
“You just keep doing what you’re doing and let me know if there are any threats. That will be all, D’Argent,” I said.
“My Lord,” he said before cutting the channel.
I turned back to pick up one of my daughters, who was waving her hands and legs while lying on the floor.
“Who’s a good girl? Who’s daddy’s girl? Yes, yes you are, aren’t you!” I cooed, picking her up and swooping her around in a circle before holding her close.
Five kids were in the room along with their attendants, and I was determined to spend at least five minutes every day with each of the little tykes. Boy, girl, or something in-between, they were mine. Mine and hers, but definitely mine and no one—not even my wife—got to tell me otherwise. It was the one thing I wouldn’t allow.
They say you can try and kill a person, but don’t try to come between a man and his family unless he’s already dead. And I heartily subscribed to that sentiment. Never having had a father myself, I was bound to make mistakes so that just made me doubly determined to be the best father I could. That started with making sure the little ones knew that I would always be there for them if they needed me.
Chapter Thirty-eight: Opening Maneuvers and Rushing to the Fray
Grand Fleet of Sector 25
Current Strength: (163)
11 Battleships
31 Cruisers
66 Destroyers 45 Corvettes
10 Cutters
I looked around the Rage and silently counted ships. It looked like we were all there.
I’d made the decision to leave all of the MSP’s and its allies’ moderately damaged ships at Easy Haven for continued repairs, along with the Messene’s Shield. I’d also left the fleet support train, just on general principles. Not only did the warships still need some work, but I didn’t want to totally strip the Starbase of all protection. Basically, there was no need for a bunch of freighters and damaged ships where I was going. Maybe I’d come to regret every little bit of firepower left at Wolf-9, but I was calling this the right play.
Before the battle with Task Force 3, I’d had 119 warships total, four of which were Battleships in what I’d then been calling the Coalition Fleet. Now, even after battle casualties—but thanks entirely to the reinforcements itching to join the Grand Fleet and go out to smash the Reclamationists—I had 163, eleven of which were Battleships.
That was a 37% increase in total ship hulls, and nearly three times the number of top-end Battleship firepower than we’d had during our last engagement. If tripling our top-end combat units and increasing the fleet as a whole by a third wasn’t enough during our next engagement, I figured a few battered Cruisers and Destroyers—nine in total that I was leaving behind for repairs—weren’t going to make the difference.
Even though they could have fought because they were only moderately damaged, I figured that totally uncovering Wolf-9 just wasn’t worth it.
In the last battle, I’d gone from 119 functional warships down to only 76 survivors. 17 of them were deemed so badly damaged I’d ordered them sent directly back to Tracto as an escort for our captures rather than risk taking them to Easy Haven.
Those kind of losses were more than I could easily tolerate, and I was leery of sending out ships that were at less than their best—especially while the enemy was still crouching in the shadows.
That’s why while I had arrived at Easy Haven with 52 warships, right now I had 43 on the move.
Also, while 43 out of 163 wasn’t exactly the ratio I’d have hoped for with this new fleet in terms of veterans versus newcomers—especially when several of the ostensible veterans belonged to the Sector Guard—I didn’t think throwing another 9 into the mix were going to greatly impact things one way or the other.
All of which was a longwinded way of saying: I really was leading a coalition fleet this time around, even if it was called a Grand Fleet with me as its titular head. Even so, I was unsure of our victory in the upcoming battle.
Counting the new battleships, I no longer had the strength to wag the dog and thus this new lash-up was feeling an awful lot like leadership by committee—something I was not at all comfortable with.
“Immediate area is clear of enemy contacts, Admiral,” reported Captain Hammer, her image popping up on my left side in the screen embedded into the left arm of my Admiral’s Throne. “Your order, Sir?”
“We’ve established a com handshake with every warship in the fleet?” I asked, giving Hammer a nod showing that I heard her while turning and directing my question to the Comm. Section.
“Reading them loud and clear, Sir. They’re all here,” Steiner said with a nod.
“Message to…” I wrinkled my nose with displeasure, “the sub-commanders: I want our sensors lit off, and at the first sign of the incoming convoy they are to notify me at once and wait for orders. They are not—I repeat: not—to exercise their own initiative and advance on the enemy unless they are already within weapons range.”
“Aye, Sir,” Hammer said.
I hadn’t particularly wanted to assign squadron commands based upon which Star System they came from, or who they were on friendly terms with—in fact, I’d tried to integrate them directly into our existing coalition force structure—but, sadly, that had gone over like a house on fire. In other words, the idea had sent them literally screaming in the opposite hypothetical direction as fast as they could proverbially run.
Lacking the power to enforce the desired change, I’d been forced to concede on the point and appoint the two top officers with the most combat power as my sub-formation commanders.
Admiral Silverback had his three battleships, and roughly a third of the fleet—including, of course, all of the smaller Aegis warships. Rear Admiral Dark Matter had the other third, along with a few of his home world’s close allies.
In a way it was refreshing to see that the SDF’s of Sector 25 were as distrustful of one another as they were of me and the MSP. I really could have done without the vindication if it meant a smoothly operating command structure, though.
Unfortunately, we had what you get when you throw a bunch of officers and ships from different provincial systems and traditions together without giving them enough time to learn how to work together.
In a way it was probably for the best that we kept everyone together with the people they already knew, and in most cases, could trust given our time constraints. A few group simulator runs couldn’t overcome a lifetime of rivalry in just a few days; I had accepted that, but I didn’t have to like it very much. Fortunately, liking it wasn’t in the job description.
“Rear Admiral Dark Matter reports Sub-Formation 3’s ready and waiting for orders, Admiral,” reported Steiner.
“Good to hear,” I replied.
A beat later she held a hand to her ear. “Admiral Silverback is reporting in. He says, and I quote, ‘his sub-formation is ready for action and ready to be impressed by Confederation leadership’,” she reported.
I could see shoulders tense on the bridge at this dig against not just me, but everyone present.
“Of course he is,” I drawled to ease the tension before it could form, “inform the good Admiral he has my compliments, and if he can show us the discipline Aegis is famous for by holding Sub-Formation 2 in place he can color me impressed.”<
br />
Captain Hammer snorted. “Good one, Sir,” she muttered to me out of the side of her mouth, in a voice so low it was barely picked up by the microphone.
“I aim to please, Captain. Well…to please everyone except Admiral Silverback, perhaps,” I said with a smirk.
We shared a look of mutual understanding. “I’m sure he’ll let you know the moment he is less than pleased,” she replied.
“Captain, I’m shocked,” I said in mock dismay, putting on my face a look of gross exaggeration as I spoke. “To say such a thing about a superior officer is either bang-on or an example of such gross disrespect and failure to respect a superior officer that I’ll have no choice but to—”
“I have a reply from Admiral Silverback for you, Admiral Montagne,” Lieutenant Steiner interrupted.
“Bang-on with the timing, Lieutenant,” I said, hiding a smile as I looked at the Captain while I spoke before turning back to the Comm. station. “Please ignore the message and store it in a file somewhere.”
Hammer snorted. “Good thing I’m not in the same organization—and that Confederation ranks are above those of provincial defense forces then, Sir,” the Captain said, her hands clasped firmly behind her back.
“You aren’t going to listen to it, Sir? The message, I mean,” Steiner said with surprise.
I flipped a languid hand. “I’m certain I know what it says. Since you’ve already listened to it, I have no doubt you’ll bring it to my attention if it’s something other than the man venting his spleen,” I replied with a winning smile. “In fact, hold all personal calls until further notice.”
“Aye…aye,” she said with a conflicted expression on her face. To me it looked like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to laugh or scold me and in the end decided to do neither.
Admiral's War Part One Page 25
