Admiral Invincible (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 7)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “But heartless, soulless, machines, Admiral?” the Operator said with disbelief. “Surely it hasn’t come to that.”

  “Look, son,” I said—even though he was close to my own age, “no plan survives contact with the enemy, and more important than that: you never have everything you would want going into the battle. Even if we had been able to come to Elysium in our full strength, it still wouldn’t have decisively changed the shape of this battle in our favor. But with one of our most powerful ships missing and presumed lost, and others still laid up in dry-dock, this was a road too far. If these people are to be saved then this is the only way to do it.”

  The operator’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, and I could tell that I still hadn’t won them over. A lifetime of anti-machine training wasn’t going to be overcome with one simple speech…even if I had been in the mood to fully overcome it, which I wasn’t.

  “That’ll be all, Operator,” I said abruptly, “the time for discussion is over.”

  A dissatisfied, “Admiral,” was mumbled around the bridge and I turned away.

  Even if they later decided I was a traitor in danger of selling out the human race, they wouldn’t move against me now. Not now. Later, perhaps, and when that happened I would be ready—if it happened.

  “Admiral, I have a droid on the line who says he is our tactical liaison,” Steiner reported several minutes later.

  “The same one as before?” I asked, making a moue with my mouth. The Chairman hadn’t struck me as much of a military droid.

  “No, sir. This one identified itself as,” she paused her brow crinkling, “Tertiary Adjunct to Sub-Processor Seven…whatever that means.”

  I rolled my eyes, “Who can fathom the machine mind, but it sounds like I’ve just been fobbed off onto a functionary.”

  “It could be,” Steiner said neutrally.

  “Well, link him, her, or it to my pad and I’ll talk with him, her, or it,” I said with a sigh.

  “This is Q,” said the small droid that appeared on my screen. My brow wrinkled in confusion; this “Q” appeared to be one of those household, rectangular, floor-sweeping bots—except it had a small double barreled blaster of some kind welded to the top of it.

  “Hello, Q,” I said politely.

  “You are to address me by my work designation: Tertiary Adjunct to Sub-Processor Seven,” the Droid said in a harsh mechanical voice.

  “Riiiight,” I drawled, taken aback by the appearance and response of this hostile little droid, “anyway, I was calling in order to set up a small little joint operation. You see, it seems the other two Droid Tribes in this System are setting up to take out the Forge, and I aim to stop them. You boys are, of course, invited to the party.”

  “The number of errors and inaccuracies in that statement alone are staggering, bio-bag,” Q—or the Tertiary Adjunct, as it preferred to be called—replied with an angry buzz.

  “I’ll take that as agreement to participate, and any failure to support the operation to the fullest extent possible to be a breach of our new, soon-to-be-signed, treaty Alliance. Oh, and if you could have that battleship you captured take up position on our starboard side, that would be wonderful,” I said happily, realizing that, yes indeed, this was clearly a mid-level functionary. “Bio-bag out!”

  I then cut the connection. That was one droid that could lubricate itself with acid for all I cared. Hopefully the rest of the droids would replace it with something more user friendly.

  “Mr. DuPont, take us to the Forge at top speed. And Lieutenant,” I said, turning to the Comm. station, “please be good enough to inform Captain Archibald that there is a rather large battleship that has its engines knocked out, half its shields down, and most of its weaponry destroyed on one broadside, and tell him I would like to see it taken care of by the time I come back. That will be all, Lieutenant.”

  “Sir,” replied the two bridge officers.

  Chapter 61: The Forge

  “Coming up on Forge-space now, Admiral,” DuPont said emotionlessly.

  “Forge-space, Helm?” I asked with a snicker.

  The faintest expression, one that didn’t qualify as a smile, flitted across his face before it returned to its former blank mask.

  “Entering lunar orbit, then, sir,” he corrected himself, but his heart wasn’t really into the banter so I decided to drop it.

  “Still no sign the enemy are reacting to our presence yet, Sensors?” I asked.

  “No, sir!” the Sensors operator who’d taken temporary command of her truncated department said enthusiastically. “There’s no way they haven’t seen us, but they’re still ignoring us.”

  I nodded, and I could see why they were waiting until the last minute to respond. With the Motherships to the fore and the Harmony Destroyers and Cruiser working up and down the little corridor of space they’d opened to keep it clear of semi-mobile defense turrets, they were almost through. All that remained was a heavily-damaged orbital fort and a pair of defense turrets.

  It was going to be close.

  “Are the droids still keeping position with us?” I asked.

  “Aye, sir!” the Sensors operator said happily and I noticed that after saying that she slapped what looked like a…third patch onto her neck. While everyone else was tired, worn and battle shocked my newest, temporary, Sensors Officer was still riled up—clearly a result of stim use, which would have drawn a comment from me under different circumstances.

  “Take us in, Helmsman,” I ordered.

  “How fast you want us to go, Admiral?” asked DuPont.

  “Full speed ahead for a high-speed pass; we need to get there before they have a chance to destroy the orbital processor,” I said decisively.

  DuPont nodded and we went hurtling toward the enemy droids.

  “Admiral, I’m receiving a signal from the droid mega-ship. It’s Q, sir, and he wants to talk,” said Lieutenant Steiner.

  “The functionary can wait,” I said dismissively and then turned to another department. “What is the status on the fleet of our droid allies?”

  “Droid super ship is slowing down, but the rest of their armed vessels, except for a few fighters, are continuing along with us,” reported the Assistant Tactical Officer, an ensign previously from Third Shift.

  “Then we’ll continue to ignore them,” I decided.

  But within half a minute, I got another report.

  “Allied Battleship and escorts have halved their speed, Admiral,” the Sensor Operator reported cheerfully, her hands jittering back and forth as she turned and spoke to me. With to my eyes a fourth stim patch on her neck.

  “Take it easy on the stims; no more for at least two hours, Sensors and that’s and order,” I said.

  “Admiral,” the woman acknowledged, temporarily subdued.

  “Allied warships continue to slow,” reported Tactical.

  “Please connect me to the Tertiary Adjunct, Lieutenant,” I said to Steiner.

  “Here you go, Admiral,” said the Com-Officer.

  “This is Q,” said the little dirt-sweeper droid which appeared on my hand held screen.

  “Ah, Q, my good friend; what seems to be the problem?” I asked heartily.

  “My designation is Tertiary Adjunct to Sub-processor Seven,” the little sweeper droid said irritably.

  “Was there a reason you called?” I asked pleasantly.

  “You have yet to upload a copy of your battle plan for review by the War Department of the United Sentient Assembly. You will provide a copy for download immediately,” said the Droid.

  “A copy, old bean?” I said hamming it up for the camera. “I’m afraid the only copy rests in here,” I tapped the side of my head with a finger, “however, it’s not too complicated so I’ll give you the gist of it: we make a high-speed pass on the enemy droid fleet and then, after passing, we come about and play it by ear!”

  “A fool’s plan…why am I even surprised?” said Q.

  “We need to hang together, or at
this point we shall surely hang separately,” I said with a crazy grin, “but fear not. My track record while in command is pretty good—in fact, the only time I’ve lost was through treachery, not fleet maneuvers, and even then we still technically won the battle. I assure you that you’re in good hands, my mechanical friend.”

  “Are all biologicals as rash and impulsive as you?” the little droid asked with what sounded like genuine curiosity.

  “I’m afraid it seems to be a family trait,” I replied with a shrug, “but I do seem to do rather good in the clutch. Still, mum’s the word and quick’s the action.”

  “Your so-called plan is dubious at best; in fact, I would say it is hardly much of plan at all,” retorted Q. “How can I justify risking United Sentient Assembly assets on this?”

  “As I don’t know of an encryption system that wasn’t made to be broken, I cannot risk releasing any more of my plan over a comm. channel like this. I hope you understand. That is also why I hereby order you to bring your fleet back into position with my new Flagship and await new movement orders. I’ll let you know what you need to know, when you need to know it.”

  “You believe communications have already been compromised? That is hardly reassuring,” the droid Q replied with a ‘beep-boop’ sound.

  “I assure you, you’re in good hands; that I have everything under control,” I lied without skipping a beat. “Bio-bag out.” I cut the connection. I refused to continue going round and round with the machine.

  “I’m not sure that’s the best way to get our new…allies to follow your orders,” Steiner said worriedly, and then added a belated, “sir.”

  “Either they’re there when we need them or I have no use for them. Being machines, it’s best if I find that out now, rather than later,” I said evenly.

  “Two minutes until contact,” reported Assistant Tactical.

  I blinked and swayed on my feet.

  “Are you unwell?” Akantha asked, stepping up beside me quickly.

  My stomach suddenly felt like an empty ache inside me. “I can’t remember the last time I ate something, and I’ve had some Quick and Surgical Heal since then, which always makes me hungry,” I replied, feeling slightly dizzy.

  “I will have a servant get something,” she said sweeping away.

  “A servant…of course,” I muttered and then rallied, forcing the dizziness back down.

  “Enemy Motherships are coming about, while Harmony is accelerating to join them before we reach them,” reported Assistant Tactical.

  “Do you want me to slow down?” asked DuPont.

  “Keep going,” I instructed.

  “Motherships are turned and charging their anti-matter weaponry!” cried the over-stimmed Sensor Officer.

  “Hold,” I said in a rising voice.

  “Harmony warships are not joining the Motherships; they’re making a run for it! They’re entering the weapons range of the Forge’s defensive station now. It looks like they’re making a run for the trillium processing station.”

  “Allied Battleship is turning to present her broadside!” yelled the Sensor Officer, pumping her fist in the air multiple times.

  “Droid Motherships are firing,” reported Assistant Tactical.

  On the screen, I could see the entire Mothership fire at once.

  “Allied Battleship is taking heavy fire,” reported Assistant Tactical, as the rest of us released a pent-up breath that it wasn’t us the Droids had fired on and waited to find out the damage toll. “Shields weakening…no, their starboard shields down or destroyed and I’m seeing multiple rents in the hull armor. She’s out-gassing from three separate locations, Admiral.”

  The Conformity Fleet had struck her hard, but moments later the Sentient Assembly Battleship returned fire.

  Turbo-lasers and heavy lasers smashed into a pair of Conformity Motherships, followed by an explosion.

  “One Mothership is experiencing multiple internal explosions; another just ejected its fusion generators and lost power,” reported Tactical.

  “Allied Battleship is beginning to roll,” said Sensors, “Motherships are charging their lasers.”

  “Coming even with enemy warships in fifteen seconds!” exclaimed DuPont.

  “This is going to be close,” I muttered, staring intently at the screen.

  “Targeting lasers; we’ve just been painted!” reported the Assistant Tactical Officer.

  “Make sure the gunners know to fire as soon as they have an enemy in their sights—we’re not going to have much time,” I said but I was too late, by the time I’d finished speaking we were already drawing even with the enemy.

  “Fire!” ordered the Assistant Tactical Officer.

  “We’ve been hit; shields down to 50% on the port side and 68% to starboard,” reported the Shield Operator as we took a handful of hits. Thankfully, only a third of the droid Motherships were able to bring their weapons to bear by the time they were ready to fire.

  On the screen gunnery on the port side opened fire, our broadside smashing into another pair of Motherships, sending one spinning out of control while the front of the other was smashed. Its engines were still working but it was essentially out of the fight, as there was nothing it could return fire with any longer except maybe a light laser or two mounted on a few still-attached gunboats.

  Speaking of which, my eyes sharpened as I looked for the boats. Normally they swarmed on us pretty rapidly as soon as we showed up but this time nothing.

  “What’s the status of these Motherships’ gunboats?” I demanded still not seeing any.

  “There is debris consistent with a large number of gunboats destroyed in this area, Admiral,” reported Sensors with a grin.

  It felt too easy…until I remembered this task force had been attacking the defenses of the Forge and breaking through them before we arrived. They hadn’t just been sitting there doing nothing and that was before these Motherships were diverted from their attack on the Grand Fleet Battleships.

  “Is there no way we can transfer enough gunners to get the starboard broadside back in action?” I asked as we went blitzing past the main fleet of Motherships outside the Forge.

  I bared my teeth in a smile as I noticed the Sentient Assembly Battleship finish its roll and, thanks to the fact that the Motherships had fired upon us instead of them when we passed, the Droids were able to fire unopposed into the eight remaining Conformity warships…well, nine if you counted the one with engines but no ability to fire back, but I wasn’t counting it. Right then, all I was interested in were enemy combatants that could fight back.

  Our Droid allies opened fire once again, but I didn’t have time to watch the enemy damage reports start rolling in.

  “It’s going to be close Admiral,” DuPont said tightly. “What’s going to be close, Mr. DuPont?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure if we’re going to reach the Harmony squadron before they can get their weapons in range of the orbital processing station,” clarified my longtime Helmsman.

  “Harmony Squadron firing on the last orbital fort between them and the moon, Admiral!” said the Assistant Tactical Officer.

  My head moved so fast I was worried about whiplash. On the screen, I could see the Harmony Cruiser and accompanying Destroyers forgo the bobbing and weaving they were so famous for and simply unleash everything they had at the damaged and beleaguered fort.

  “Forge fort is taking heavy fire,” reported Assistant Tactical, “and she’s returning fire.”

  The high-stakes drama played out, with us too far away to be able to do anything but watch. At first the shields of the fort held out against the attack but, weakened by previous attacks, they soon buckled and droid laser fire rocked the station.

  But while the Harmony Squadron tore holes in the Forge defensive station, that station was far from silent. A dozen turbo-lasers speared a Harmony Destroyer, destroying the rear half of the warship and totally crippling its engines, with more lasers and still-functional shields coming to
bear as the station slowly rotated in space.

  I held my breath as a second Destroyer came under fire. Its shields weakened immediately, and the Destroyer attempted a desperate jink to place the Cruiser between it and the station. Its run for cover was in vain, however, because moments later its shields collapsed. A split second later, turbo-lasers hammered its hull and there was a massive series of explosions which saw the ship’s primary hull shatter beneath her armor and bend the vessel nearly forty five degrees.

  “It looks like their drive core was too damaged and it exploded before clearing the ship,” reported the temporary Sensor Officer. “That Destroyer is totally gone.”

  While an exaggeration—there was still the better part of two thirds of that particular Destroyer still floating in what were now three separate pieces—it wasn’t much of one.

  Finally, as the two remaining Harmony warships streaked past, the defense station opened fire on the cruiser. For several long, nail-biting seconds, the turbo’s sought out the cruiser as it took evasive action. Then, finally, the station’s gunners found their target and the cruiser’s shields flared.

  “Enemy cruiser’s shields are taking damage!” exclaimed the Assistant Tactical Officer with almost as much eagerness as I was feeling. “Her shields are spotting; we’re seeing punch through, sir! The enemy hull is taking damage.”

  With hope-filled eyes, I held my breath as the cruiser rocked to the side, its weaker heavy lasers slamming into the Forge fort in a vastly weaker return volley. Once, twice, and a third time the fort’s turbo-lasers punched through the hull of the Harmony warships. But even though the cruiser lost one of its secondary engines, its starboard shield generator and one of its fusion cores in the exchange, the orbital fort wasn’t able to stop them. Along with its accompanying cruiser, it blasted back out of the Defense Station’s range almost as quickly as it had entered it.

  “Blast!” exclaimed the Assistant Tactical Officer as the pair of harmony warships made it through.

  “Control, Tactical,” I reminded the Officer.