Admiral Invincible (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 7)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Still unhappy, but no longer actively belligerent, Laurent saluted and headed out of the conference room to gather up the personnel we were going to need.

  **************************************************

  Nearly a week of fruitless meetings ensued.

  “Vice Admiral, it’s a pleasure to meet in person,” said Fleet Admiral Preceptor.

  “We’ve met many times before,” I corrected with a crooked smile.

  “Yes, well, I meant privately,” said the Fleet Admiral of the Dark Abyss looking momentarily disconcerted. Then he rallied, “anyway. How do you take our little Council, Vice Admiral?”

  I looked at the other man and decided to let the pointed little dig at my lower rank pass. “The League has fielded a considerable force of warships, especially ships of the wall,” I said with a respectful nod, “I wouldn’t call it a ‘little fleet;’ quite the opposite, in fact.”

  Admiral Preceptor smiled with satisfaction, as if he personally were responsible for the gathering and all the warships himself, rather than just those which his home world had provided for the Grand Fleet.

  “It’s true that this is the greatest gathering of warships in this region of the galaxy—meaning our two humble Sectors, of course—since the time of the old Confederation, if even then!” Preceptor said enthusiastically, “Not even Rim Fleet demonstrated among our worlds in such force, at least not concentrated in one spot like we are!”

  “It’s interesting that you mention the Confederation,” I said smoothly.

  The Fleet Admiral’s face went wooden, “Even if one accepted the Confederation as automatically returning to sole power, now that the Confederated Empire has withdrawn from the area—which is something that has not been determined,” he said pointedly. “Whether the Confederation still exists, it is unclear what interest it could have in these Sectors—Sectors which the Confederation has clearly abandoned,” declared the Admiral.

  “I would think that the fact a Confederation Fleet was formed for the mid-Sectors of the Spine, and then left in place even after the dissolution—not to mention my own presence here, with said fleet—would more than indicate the Confederation hasn’t done anything so simple as wash its hands and abandon this region,” I cut in. “Quite the opposite, I would say.”

  “Yes, well you would say that,” Preceptor grunted.

  My face stiffened.

  “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” the SDF Fleet Admiral said hastily, “you’re here, you’re representing the Confederation, and you’ve brought a small fleet.”

  Internally, I bristled at the almost dismissive ‘small fleet’ comment, but I had to admit that compared to the total numbers of the Grand Fleet assembled here that the MSP was indeed a small force. However, I kept my face smooth and still as I silently swore that, before this war with the Droids was over—assuming we won, of course—the MSP was going to come out of this thing bigger and stronger than ever before. I wasn’t going to be hearing the words ‘your small fleet’ again if I could do anything about it.

  “There’s a lot of fight in the MSP; the last two years have been…” I paused to select the right word but the SDF Fleet Admiral cut in.

  “I in no way mean to denigrate your fleet when I say that many here in our two Sectors want local control of our local forces. It’s nothing against you, or the Confederation, you understand,” the Fleet Admiral of the Dark Abyss flashed a false smile.

  I stared at him for a moment, either he was a poor liar or he wasn’t even trying very hard. Although I suppose I had to give him credit for at least mouthing the words. But calling him on it was, sadly, out of the question.

  “I can understand that position,” I said gravely.

  “Excellent,” Preceptor said leaning forward and rubbing his hands together, “now look, I understand if you still want to make another attempt for the position of Grand Admiral of the Grand Fleet, but if I know my fellow Sector Officers—and I do—they’ll want to appoint someone who is not an outsider. That being the case, I hope you can see your way clear to setting aside your disappointment and throw your support behind a suitable candidate.”

  “A candidate of your choosing I presume, possibly even yourself?” I asked neutrally.

  “Me?” Preceptor tried and failed to look surprised. “While I wouldn’t turn down such an opportunity, it is doubtful such a heavy burden will come my way. As it is, I fear we shall have to settle for a less controversial candidate than you or I, and throw our support behind someone less controversial,” at this the Fleet Admiral looked disgruntled before shrugging it off.

  I didn’t, in point of fact, have to agree to anything of the sort. However, much as I hated to admit it, no one here had heard of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet or, if they had, they were only familiar with the pre-withdrawal version under Janeski.

  It was going to be an uphill battle, one I was likely to lose if I went for the top slot. What’s more, even if I managed to secure it, there was no certainty that I would have any real control over anything but a fraction of the main group.

  On the other hand, the almost dismissive way Admiral Preceptor spoke of my chances rubbed me the absolute wrong way.

  “I will throw my support behind whoever is appointed to the top chair, if it becomes necessary,” I said, keeping emotion out of my voice. I also implied, but didn’t outright say, that I would support the man and whatever machinations he had going on. My dog in this race was strictly about beating the droids and, if I wasn’t to be given the top job, then whoever it was—so long as he or she was competent—deserved my support.

  “I think I can work with that, Admiral Montagne,” the Fleet Admiral said, smiling wolfishly.

  I almost sighed; these rustics were so inept when it came to the art of backroom dealing, and it wasn’t lost on me that this particular sentiment was coming from a former palace placeholder—me. He offered me nothing and expected my support without anything to sweeten the pot. Either he took my support on faith, or he really didn’t care what I did and was just going through the motions. Either way, he was a fool—and a greedy one at that.

  Chapter 16: One…more…Time!

  “All in favor of the nomination of Admiral Block, speak up,” called Admiral Preceptor’s aid acting as the official meeting secretary, which was a nice little bit of nepotism I couldn’t help but admire.

  Then a few lackluster supporters raised their voices.

  “All in favor of, Admiral Preceptor,” called the aide.

  This time there were scattered cheers in support. Mine wasn’t one of them.

  “And now, all in favor of High Captain Manning?” the Preceptor’s aide said, sounding unimpressed with the nomination—which, counting the fact that he was Preceptor’s man, wasn’t all that surprising. What was surprising were the loud calls of support that swept the table.

  Almost identical expressions of disappointment and consternation appeared on the faces of Block and Preceptor as Manning stood up at the table, not waiting for the benediction from Preceptor’s aide.

  “I’d like to humbly thank this august body for its faith in me, and assure any who did not support my candidacy that I could care less about what happened leading up to this point. The only thing I’m interested in is fighting Droids,” the High Captain said firmly.

  Preceptor spluttered pausing long enough to look around the table and gauge the support the High Captain seemed to have, before falling back into his chair with a thump.

  Meanwhile, Block glared hatefully at the High Captain. “I don’t recall a vote count,” the Admiral snapped.

  “By all means, we can count the results,” Manning said respectfully, only causing Block to become more and more incensed as the Aide tallied the votes and sourly delivered the inevitable conclusion.

  My mouth quirked as I watched the High Captain consolidate his position gracefully and respectfully, the actions of his own detractors—well, mostly that meant Block—doing more to cement his position with
their ill grace than anything he might have done or said himself.

  Manning looked over at me briefly and flashed a grin, before immediately turning serious again.

  I shook my head ruefully; it was always the quiet ones you had to watch out for. While Block and Preceptor had been playing their games, it appeared that the High Captain had been sewing up his support.

  As he hadn’t approached me, I was left to wonder how he’d done it. Some combination of personal charisma, the negative qualities of his opponents and—I was hoping here—some kind of battle plan. Although I was probably being naïve, and a hefty bit of bribery laced with a few threats were probably mixed in there for good measure.

  “As I was saying,” Manning said, flashing the table a smile, “I am grateful to this body for finding me worthy of this job, and I assure you that as the Grand Admiral of the Mutual Defense League Fleet, I vow to drive the droids from our Sectors or die trying,” by now, his voice had turned grim.

  “Talk’s cheap!” snapped Admiral Block, looking every bit the sore loser as he lost his temper.

  “Admiral Block,” Preceptor’s voice cracked like a whip, causing the other man to hesitate and then sullenly back down. The SDF Fleet Admiral now turned to Manning, “I think what my colleague is trying to say is that we need more than rhetoric; we need a battle plan. If you are the man to execute such a plan then of course I am willing to abide by the combined wisdom of this council. Let us all just remember the heavy burden taken by the High Captain,” he now swept the table as if trying to rally support. “As the leader of this Fleet, it is now his duty and he must rise above even his loyalty to his home world as he thinks of the good of us all.”

  “Thank you, Admiral Preceptor,” the High Captain said with a nod that didn’t show any angst at the way the Preceptor was trying to undercut him by appearing to take the moral high ground, “but in a way, Admiral Block is right,” he nodded to the other man, who looked even more put out that the object of his anger was now actively praising him, “as are you. Talk without action is cheap, and no Fleet Commander can expect men and officers to follow him if he cannot put aside petty partisan concerns.”

  At first, Preceptor looked taken aback, and then I saw the precise moment the dig about petty partisanship struck home because he flushed with anger.

  “Which is why I have been floating around an idea for the past few days, one which I believe is our best chance at victory. I believe so strongly in this plan that I had begun the process of setting it into place even before my confirmation,” Manning said firmly.

  “Unacceptable!” declared Preceptor, looking like he’d scented blood.

  “You would have undercut whoever was elected! Bad form, High Captain, bad form,” repeated the formerly jovial and now rather upset looking Commodore.

  Manning spread his arms, trying to calm the situation but no one was listening; there were just too many axes to grind at the moment.

  So I stood up—it was past time I entered the fray anyway.

  “Why don’t we all just calm down and listen to the man? At least give him the chance to explain himself,” I shouted and, when no one seemed to listen, I pulled out my blaster and fired several rounds into the ceiling. After the first meeting, I’d acquired a sensor resistant sheathing material so I could bring the hold-out weapon into the meeting, and I was now very glad I had done so. “Silence!” I thundered, and then looked over at the High Captain as officers reflexively ducked or dove under the table for cover.

  “Thank you, Admiral,” High Captain Manning said, his eyes tracking my blaster for an overly long moment. I could also feel the eyes every officer in the room as they stared at me with growing anger.

  Seeing the doors start to cycle open, I calmly put the blaster on the table and sat back down, nodding my head to the Captain even as the ship’s marines burst through the door and stormed into the room.

  “As I was saying,” Manning said forcefully, ignoring the armed guards, “we’re not going to win by chasing the Droids hither thither and yon. We have to make them come to us…and I know just the place to do this,” he bared his teeth.

  “Which of our worlds will have to bear the brunt of this attack, and pay the price of your arrogant plan, Manning?” Block spat.

  The High Captain looked down at him coolly. “My home world of Elysium,” Captain Manning, Grand Admiral of the MDL Fleet replied simply.

  You could have heard a pin drop, so quiet did the room go. And though it was hard to tell with a man whose skin was as dark as a black hole, I think Admiral Block paled at the tactical blunder he’d just made.

  “I have leaked information to the droids such that should ensure they concentrate and arrive in Elysium sooner, rather than later. As we all know, our mines on the penal moon of Urapente provides the majority of Trillium for Sector 23. Elysium is not only a heavily populated and industrialized Core World, we are also the only provider of hyper-drive fuel in this part of the galaxy. Too juicy a prize for the Droids to avoid forever, and sooner or later they will arrive to take what is ours, and I don’t just mean in the spoiling, sneak attacks and raids that have plagued all the worlds of our two great Sectors. Which is why I say ‘let them come now,’ while we are strong and united rather than later after we are weakened and bled of strength,” the High Captain orated.

  “Yes, yes; one big, climactic battle for control of the Sectors and, with Elysium on the line, you sure know how to put your money where your mouth is,” Fleet Admiral Preceptor said, sounding as if he were grudgingly admiring the proverbial brass balls of the High Captain to propose bringing down the entire might of the Droid Tribes upon his home world. “But how sure can you be that the droids will cooperate with your little scheme?”

  “I can assure you that if Elysium Intelligence says they can bring the combined might of the droids down on our heads in short order, then it can be done. And by ‘our,’ I mean my home planet of Elysium,” the High Captain said in a voice that didn’t allow for doubt. “First we will lure them into Elysium, then they will go for the trillium mines. And when they do, we will be waiting with not just this fleet, but all the fixed defenses of a powerful Core World at our back. We can’t lose, because if we do then this fight was hopeless before we even started! I say the time is now and the place is right here, Elysium!” he declared, thumping the table.

  The room cheered—I think more in relief of having the divisive issue of who would be in command resolved and having heard a genuine battle plan than anything else, but that could have just been my own personal bias. I was just about to the end of my rope with all the endless meetings as it was.

  “Now, after setting up our order of battle, the next matter is—” High Captain Manning started.

  “Salvage Rights,” declared Admiral Block, “I want anything my ships capture to be indisputably ours!”

  “Now, salvage rights seem a little premature at this juncture,” Manning said slowly as angry grumblings started amongst the smaller ship commands along the wall.

  “Then, of course, there’s the Confederation angle to consider,” Preceptor inserted smoothly into the conversation.

  All eyes turned towards me, prompting me to lift an eyebrow. This was something I’d looked into but hadn’t intended to bring up in the meeting since it’s generally better to keep a few things in your back pocket for later on. I gave the Fleet Admiral of the Dark Abyss a level look, silently considering the idea of payback before looking away to meet the new Grand Admiral’s gaze.

  “It’s true that, technically, Confederation Fleets have primacy on salvage rights in any battle they are invited to participate in,” I replied to the room at large.

  “Sector 23 was never a signatory member of your Patrol Fleet,” growled Admiral Block. “My understanding is that 24, 25, and 26 are signatory members of the Multi-Sector Fleet but 23 was never invited and never signed on. So I move that any and all Confederation claims to salvage—especially owing to the Confederation’s small fleet size—sh
ould be considered null and void!”

  “Oh really?” I demanded, locking eyes with Block. “You don’t even bother to pretend to ask me what I would do, you prefer just to cut right to trying to freeze me out. Where exactly is your world located, Block!?”

  “Whichever Sector my world resides in is entirely beside the point,” flared Block. “Confederation overreach, and a man who brings a Strike Cruiser and tries to dictate to a meeting of Battleship Commanders is exactly what we’re talking about here!”

  Pandemonium erupted, with furious recriminations against Block and the Core World-controlled Battleships—laced with some vitriol sent my way about a penny ante operator trying to pull a Confederated fast one.

  “You sent the Judge for me! With the ComStat network down I didn’t even know what was going on down here,” I declared indignantly at Block, thumping the table for emphasis, “let alone whatever nefarious scheme you’re trying to pin on me.”

  “You mean the Judge from Harmony,” sneered Block.

  “Only if you’re referring to Sector Judge Kong Pao, not whatever minor provincial magistrate you’re used to referring to,” I fired back. I couldn’t let myself be seen as backing down on this issue, not from Block anyway, or I and my fleet would be seen as pushovers.

  “To set this matter to rest, I propose we elect Archibald Manning the Fourth, from Elysium, as the Sector Military Commander of both Sectors 23 and 24. I have a proxy from my home world for just such an occasion, as I suspect many of you do,” cut in Fleet Admiral Preceptor, trying to appear to be some sort of peacemaker working from some hypothetical middle ground. But he didn’t fool me; throw a grenade into the middle of the room and then helping to clean up the wounds you just made doesn’t make you anything other than an opportunist.