Admiral Invincible (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 7)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “Beware!” the Seer said in a ringing voice, but Bethany held her ground.

  The cowled figure started to drift toward the Princess-Cadet, and Victory Through Bubblegum crouched and turned. Its leg and arm servos whined as it brought its weapons to bear on the Dark Seer.

  “Stand down and cease all movement!” declared the Assault droid in a deep, animalistic sounding voice so loud that Tremblay almost reached up to cover his ears. “I have been authorized to use physical force.”

  “Bubblegum!” cried Bottletop IIV, using the other droid’s name as a protest.

  The Dark Seer hesitated, and then the moment was lost as she settled back.

  “I have seen the Flow, Chairman, and there must be Unity of Purpose or the United Sentient’s Assembly risks violent dissolution of all its designs,” warned the Dark Seer.

  “You resort to threats and school-ground bullying at the first sign that things will not go your way?” Bethany asked coldly, capturing the attention of everyone else in the room including the Seer, “I take it you are the non-human representative from the Empire?”

  “Please, humans,” Bottletop said moving forward as if to somehow wedge his stick thin form between the two of them, “allow me to decompile this data-bus before faulty programming causes irreparable harm!”

  “You have been warned,” the Dark Seer said, her ethereal voice turning cold.

  “You’re not even human, and we all know how much the Empire of Man,” Bethany put particular emphasis on the last word, “prefers not just humanity in general, but also pursues purity of genome. How much are they paying you to sell out your own people—whoever they may be?”

  “How little you truly understand, Princess,” the Dark Seer said her lyrical voice rolling up and down with thinly veiled amusement.

  “Then why don’t you try me and see just how much I do or do not understand?” Bethany shot back matching the amusement in the other’s voice.

  “What a small, short, and self-limiting pattern you possess,” the Dark Seer tittered. “The wavelength is barely worthy of my time or attention even at this critical juncture.”

  “Insults, but no answers to my question,” Bethany sniffed, turning away, “I should have expected no less.”

  “Material wealth means little to me; all I seek is position within the Flow,” she said dismissively to Bethany and the faintest tilt of her upper body—that could charitably be called a bow—before turning and making her stately progress out the door. “If you would rather risk everything on low percentage movements then do what you will, Chairman, and I can assure you my Patrons will do the same.”

  The occupants of the room looked at the Dark Seer as she serenely floated out of the room.

  “Well, that went well,” Bethany said brightly into the growing silence. “Anyone for a spot of tea?”

  Tremblay looked at her nonplused while Bottletop exchanged glances with Bubblegum, his single, mechanical eye blinking rapidly.

  “Perhaps we should work on those communications protocols,” Tremblay suggested trying to steer the conversation back to where it had been before the rival representative interrupted.

  “I have no more time for a social call, and I regret that I must cancel this meeting before getting to work on those protocols,” Bottletop said jerking in place and then starting for the door. “But events have precipitated an early activation of certain protocols and I must go to inform the Assembly—at once!”

  Bethany and Tremblay watched as the flustered and very disconcerted droid Chairman scurried out of the room, his body clanking and clattering as he hurried away.

  “Now that was interesting,” Bethany said still looking at the door.

  “Are you crazy?” Tremblay asked incredulously. “That was dangerous! Bubblegum doesn’t just turn both guns on you and start issuing warnings about how he’s ‘authorized to use force’.”

  Looking over, he saw that her eyes were narrowed. “That’s very best kind of interesting: the dangerous kind,” Bethany observed with the faintest edge of a smile on a face that had never looked more calculating.

  “Saint Murphy save me from Royals and royalists!” Tremblay spat.

  The mocking laughter that spilled out of the Princess-Cadet’s mouth was short and sharp and sent a chill up the Intelligence Officer’s spine.

  “Crazy, every last one of them,” Tremblay muttered, considering himself lucky to have gotten out of their latest meeting in one piece. Any threat that had Bubblegum’s full attention—especially one where the former First Officer didn’t have the first clue as to what the other party brought to the table—was something to be avoided if possible, as far as he was concerned.

  Chapter 1: Events in Motion tend to Stay in Motion

  “Point of no return reached in T-minus five minutes and counting,” reported Navigator Shepherd.

  “Last chance to back out and figure out a way to save Longshot,” Captain Laurent observed from his position somewhere behind my elbow.

  “I’m afraid Longshot was a loss the moment Captain Archibald decided to take matters into his own hands and head off-script,” I said flatly.

  Laurent looked at me in surprise. “If he hadn’t put his ship between our Flagship and those Droids, it would most likely be the Phoenix we’d be writing off for a total loss,” he reminded me and before his expression changed to one of perturbation. “And that’s assuming the highly unlikely case that the ship was destroyed but we successfully made it off-ship and escaped the firefight.”

  “I’m well aware of our most likely fate should Captain Archibald not have acted as he did,” I informed my Flag Captain coolly. The fact that he’d saved me, the Phoenix, and most likely the majority of our fleet as a result of his rogue actions—and those of his cohorts the Cutter Captains who sacrificed themselves—was the main reason I’d gone back on my word to brig him for going rogue for a second time in close succession to his first such warning.

  Unfortunately I had gone on record threatening dire punishment if he went off book and he’d acknowledged my instructions over the Fleet Com-system, putting me in the unenviable position of throwing a hero and savior of the fleet behind bars and, in effect, deriding the choices of those Captains and crews who had sacrificed themselves to save us all and look like a tyrant. Of course, I could choose to ignore it, thereby appearing to be a weak and indecisive leader whose Officers could do whatever they wanted regardless of what I said.

  It was an unenviable position I was locked into, and the worst part of it was that I was largely to blame. If I’d either been more cunning or issued different orders, this wouldn’t be a problem. But being the Fleet Commander the proverbial buck stopped here with me.

  Oh, sure, I was upset with Archibald and his little cabal going rogue; it reflected poorly on me. But I was mostly upset with the fact that they’d felt the need to do so in the first place. I should have been better, smarter, or a genuinely trained Fleet Commander instead of an essentially self-educated Admiral who’d gone through a number of ancient midshipman’s course material and a lot of on the job training.

  I felt my fist clench as those thoughts streamed through my head.

  “Point Transfer in five…four…three…two…one,” said Officer Shepherd our Navigator and moments later the galaxy moved around us.

  “Point emergence!” reported DuPont from the Helm and just like that we were out and away from Aqua Nova and all its troubles.

  While the rest of the bridge crew went about the process of sweeping the system for hostiles, powering engines, and breaking free of the inertial sump caused by our trip through hyperspace, I nodded and came to a decision. It was wrong to punish the young Officer Archibald for things I mainly blamed myself for—even if he wasn’t entirely undeserving of my attention.

  My mind made up, after a few minutes of consideration about just how best to turn this new decision to my best advantage, I motioned the Captain back over to me.

  “So far the sensor sweeps seem clear, A
dmiral,” Laurent reported in a low voice, “the system looks clean but we’ll keep watching.”

  “That’s not what I wanted to talk about,” I told him, lifting a hand and cutting short that particular line of conversation.

  “Then what can I help you with, sir?” Laurent inquired professionally.

  “Speaking of Lieutenant Archibald…” I said casually.

  “Yes,” the Captain replied neutrally.

  “I’ve been thinking on it and I’ve come to a decision,” I explained.

  The Captain’s face was now a politely blank mask, one that spoke volumes all on its own.

  “And I’ve decided the best way to go forward is to give our intrepid young Commander a new assignment,” I paused in contemplation and then nodded, “and the surviving crew from his destroyer and the lost corvettes as well, now that I think of it.”

  “What assignment would that be…uh, sir,” the ship’s Captain added after a missed beat. Clearly he was less than trustful about my intentions, which caused me to smile. It’s a good thing to be unpredictable, I decided before looking back up.

  “I was thinking to assign Archibald and his surviving officers a few computer simulation projects. The Lucky Clover and Armor Prince each had a set of tactical simulation programs and I was thinking we might have something similar on the Phoenix they could work on,” I said blithely. “I mean, it makes sense since they don’t have anything else to do except pitch in where they can over here.”

  “What kind of simulations were you thinking, sir?” asked the Captain.

  I cocked a smile. “I was thinking it would be nice if they knew how to run a battleship,” I said easily, “both as a command crew and whatever vital positions there are onboard, such as engineering, life support, and so on. I feel it’s important to cross-train our future battleship commanders and I know we’ve had little time to spend on officer improvement given the way we’ve expanded so rapidly. This could be a golden opportunity to develop the next generation.”

  Laurent’s brows raised and he looked at me skeptically. It was as if he wasn’t certain if I was giving him the straight download or just another steaming pile of Montagne misdirection.

  “Future battleship commanders,” he asked with the faintest trace of disbelief, “for ‘ships’ in the plural.”

  Given that I’d just gone from openly considering throwing the man in the brig to arranging a new training program for Archibald and his fellow conspirators—and touting him and them as future Battleship commanders and command teams—I could see that maybe I’d laid in on just a little too thick with that last line.

  “We have to think positive,” I informed him sternly and then a grin started tugging at the corner of my mouth, “besides, other than the Power, we’ve got the Rage stuck in ordinary until we have time to repair and refit her, as well as the battle damaged remains of the Vineyard. And then there’s the Clover, if Spalding ever figures out how to fix her up—which, despite whatever he’s currently saying about her being beyond repair, I’m personally sure he’ll find a way to get back in action before you or I know it.”

  “From crewman to Cutter captain, to Destroyer captain, to Master and Commander of a Battleship,” Laurent coughed. “Pardon me for saying so, Admiral, but I have to say that maybe we ought to consider more seasoned officers for the job now that we have new personnel in the pipeline and a recruiting organization to help fill the ranks. I’m sure we can find a few former SDF officers with ship handling experience.”

  “His loyalty isn’t in question, just his good judgment,” I said dryly, “and given the choice between a loyal man still learning his job or an entirely competent, yet thoroughly unknown quantity, I’ll stick with the man I know.” I then shrugged, “Besides, if he doesn’t work out we can always replace him with one of those former SDF captains you were talking about.”

  Laurent’s eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth but I cut him off.

  “We’ve got one week to get to the meeting at Port LaMere,” I said abruptly. “I want to make it in five days.”

  Laurent looked unhappy at this suggestion, “I know it’s important to meet the Mutual Defense League representatives and help coordinate a response to this invasion, but to get to LaMere in just five days will require us to jump out of concert; we won’t be able to keep the fleet together like we have been,” the Captain said looking dissatisfied.

  “If we show up late to the party then we might as well not have come. At best we’d be sidelined, and at worst they’ll leave without us and we’ll we be trying to play catch up,” I said flatly.

  “We can set up way points to reassemble the fleet periodically and keep the same ship types together,” Laurent sighed, “but if there’s trouble—”

  “Then our Captains should have enough firepower on hand to deal with whatever comes their way, as well as access to long range arrays which can send out distress signals to the rest of the fleet if they run into trouble they can’t handle,” I cut him off before lowering my voice. “Thanks to Middleton and his ship, the Pride of Prometheus, we once again have access to the ComStat network and FTL communications.”

  “For now,” the Flag Captain muttered, “but if we outrun the range of what the Pride has co-opted then we would be back to running in the dark.”

  “Enough,” I said flatly, “this is why we came here. We still have a strike cruiser, a light cruiser, a destroyer, ten corvettes—including three sundered corvettes and their ten remaining gunboats—as well as three functional cutters. The fleet didn’t come all this way just to give one planet reprieve before packing it up. If we’re going to succeed in saving these two Sectors, we have to show up in time for this Fleet of ours to do some good. Aqua Nova was just the first step; it won’t be the last, and if that means we have to take a few risks then that’s what we all signed up for.”

  “Aye aye, Admiral,” Laurent said.

  “And Laurent,” I said as the other man turned away.

  “Admiral?” he asked turning back.

  “Set up a meeting. I want key staff present, including department heads and ship captains. It’s time to talk strategy. I want to arrive at Port LaMere with a plan on how to defeat these droids and a rough idea of what our contributions should be. Make it happen as soon as you can without cutting into our travel time,” I ordered.

  My Flag Captain nodded slowly, “I’ll see to it.”

  Chapter 2: The Druid Abides

  “Omicron Station this is the Power, a Confederation Battleship, requesting docking clearance at your earliest convenience,” Commodore Druid’s Communications Officer drawled into his microphone pickup.

  There was a brief silence followed by a startled squawk.

  “Hello the Battleship, this is Shift Supervisor Toldrin. Can you say again your last?” Omicron Communications said speaking rapidly.

  The corner of Druid’s mouth quirked as the Comm. Officer for the Battleship happily repeated his message.

  “One of the advantages of transferring in relatively close, eh Captain?” asked his Executive Officer.

  “It never hurts to have a good navigator in your crew,” the Commodore said magnanimously.

  “Permission granted, Battleship,” Shift Supervisor Toldrin said. “I’m relaying your docking instructions and approach path now.”

  “Thank you, Tower,” Communications Officer Hendricks drawled before turning off the transmission before turning to the Commodore. “Instruction received from the Omicron, sir.”

  “Relay to the helm,” he ordered and then looked over to the helm, “follow the approach path, Mr. Sneider; there’s no need to alarm the Station.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” the Lieutenant, whose job it was to drive the ship, replied.

  The bridge of the battleship hummed with human energy all around him. It still wasn’t anything close to the professional, well-oiled machine he was used to wielding on his Flagship, but despite a few rough edges he fully expected to see it turned into one in time.

>   The only question was: would he and they have enough time to achieve that potential?

  A new transmission came in from the Station. “Sir, we’re being hailed by the Marine Commander,” said Lieutenant Hendricks.”

  “Put him through, Coms,” Druid said with a nod.

  “This is Colonel Wainwright, temporary Commandant of Omicron Station. Who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” asked the gravelly voice that came over the link.

  Druid glanced over at his Com-Officer.

  “Voice print is a match,” the Comm. Officer said giving the Commodore a nod.

  Druid smiled. “This is Commodore Druid, Master and Commander of the Power,” he said as the image of a powerfully built, grizzled Marine officer appeared on his screen. “We’re just passing through to take on consumables and perform a short ‘wave the flag’ operation to hopefully discourage any undesirable elements hanging around this region of space, before continuing on with our current mission.”

  There was a pause and the other man frowned at him.

  “It’s your current mission I want to speak with you about,” growled the Marine Commander. “If you’ll agree to come to my office for a short conference as soon as your ship docks, I’ll have my Marines standing by to transfer supplies and hurry you on your way. I have a short proposal for you.”

  Druid scratched the side of his head right in front of his right ear and then down his cheek. “I’ll come,” he said finally, “but I’m not sure if I’ll be able to accommodate you.”

  “All I want is five minutes of your time,” Wainwright said with a tight smile.

  “Then I’ll see you when I get there,” Druid said with a shrug.

  The Marine Colonel nodded before cutting the connection.

  “I wonder what he wants,” said Lieutenant Commander Slater, his new executive officer. He had been the XO’s on one of the other corvettes in Druid’s Squadron of warships…well, his former squadron, as the Commodore now commanded only one ship.

  But what a ship! Normally it took years for a Corvette Commander—even a Commodore Squadron Commander—to rise to the command chair of a Battleship.