Admiral Invincible (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 7)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  After returning to my chair, I picked up my data-slate. Zooming out from the area just around my ship, I rapidly scanned for enemy forces.

  My eyes narrowed as I saw that the survivors of this battle were moving to join up with the droid force, which had been chasing the battered remnants of the Grand Fleet’s lighter forces back to Elysium. Four mother ships, 400 gunboats, 18 Harmony warships and 75 fighters—many of them damaged—wasn’t much compared to when the Allied Droid Fleet first arrived in this star system but it was still a force to be reckoned with, or would be once the survivors had regrouped.

  Then the Conformity Motherships and their gunboats turned and broke formation with their Harmony Allies. The Conformity ships kept turning until they eventually settled on a course that would avoid the few remaining system defenders and fixed defenses. It looked like, unless they changed their minds, they were heading for the hyper-limit.

  I felt like cheering, even though the Harmony droids had yet to pull away. Without those Motherships, the droids had just lost their most powerful capital ships.

  “I’m now ready to speak with Admiral Manning,” I said after making sure I knew the current state of affairs inside this system.

  “Putting you through now, Admiral,” said the Com-Lieutenant.

  The image of the Grand Admiral appeared on my hand held. In a way I was surprised to see him, but in a way I wasn’t. It would have been too easy if I was the senior surviving Officer inside this system, after all.

  “Well, if it isn’t the elusive Admiral Montagne,” the Grand Admiral said harshly. “Are you done keeping secrets, or do you have more rabbits to pull out of your hat?”

  “I assure you that I’m fresh out of rabbits,” I said coolly.

  “Why should I believe you?” he snapped.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” I drawled, “perhaps because forces under my command just saved your bacon? Or maybe it’s because I have a transport full of Marine reinforcements ready to come in and help you take back your ships? Dealer’s choice.” The Grand Admiral turned red enough I was afraid he was about ready to burst a blood vessel. “Blast you, Montagne,” he shouted, “if it weren’t for your games, I’d have had nine Battleships instead of eight, and maybe then we wouldn’t have been overwhelmed in the opening engagement!”

  “Then again maybe you would have anyway, and then where would we be? Up the proverbial creek without a paddle, that’s where. Besides, nine isn’t that much more than eight,” I said coldly, “perhaps a little gratitude is in order instead of recriminations for the man who just defeated the Droid Fleet assaulting Elysium?”

  “Every blasted officer thinks he’s the space-gods own gift to fleet combat,” Manning swore at me. “If it wasn’t every Admiral and Captain out for himself from the very beginning, I wouldn’t be locked inside my own bridge and under siege by boarders!”

  “Yeah-yeah,” I yawned, “if you didn’t want the top spot, there were plenty of opportunities to hand the job to someone else. Perhaps even someone who was promised the job if he would only bring his ships and come save Sectors 23 and 24?”

  “Just another dog with a bone, is it, Confederation Admiral?” Manning sneered. “You sound just like Admiral Block. ‘If I can’t have the command, no one should’,” he said in a surprisingly good Block impersonation.

  “At least I’m not trying to blame my subordinates for how the battle turned out,” I growled. “The buck stops at the top, Grand Admiral, and that means you.”

  “Do you have any idea the number of men I’ve lost? I know whose job it was to keep them alive,” Manning said direly. “Three quarters of my crew are dead, so much equipment has been destroyed I don’t know how many months in stardock it’s going to take to get this ship space-worthy again and, as of right now, what’s left of my crew is barricaded inside defensive positions. The droids have the run of my ship, outside of critical, hardened areas—areas which they’re trying to break into this very minute—and my ship isn’t even the worst off in the Fleet! We’ve lost contact with at least three other Battleships, and another blew himself up to keep the droids from taking control of his ship.”

  “I’m sorry for your losses,” I said, the pain of losing men and women who relied upon you to get them back home alive—something I could empathize with. “As I said, we’ve got a troop transport out here and, as soon as it looks safe to do so, we’re going to have it hard dock with your ship and help you start reclaiming your ships.”

  “I don’t know exactly what to make of you, Admiral Jason Montagne,” Manning said, shaking his head as a brief flash of battle-weariness showed itself on his rugged features.

  “Oh?” I asked lifting a brow.

  “Yes. I’m not sure if your run straight through the middle of that Droid task force parked just outside the range of my battleship, back when its lasers still worked anyway, was an inspired maneuver or an act of utter folly that only succeeded through sheer chance,” he said quite seriously.

  “If it looks crazy but it succeeds, is it crazy?” I smiled crookedly.

  “In this case, yes,” the Grand Admiral snorted, “but your point, generally, is well taken.” There was the sound of an explosion in the background.

  “Well if that is about all, I think I need to get back to the chore of running my Fleet. An Admiral’s work is never done and it sounds like you’re having a few issues over there yourself,” I said with a nod. “The sooner I can get you those reinforcements to help clean up those droids, the better off you’ll be.”

  “Every hand that can hold a blaster pistol will be appreciated,” Manning said grimly after checking in with someone off-screen.

  “We’re a little light on the ground over here right now,” I said smoothly. “But don’t worry; the professionals will be on their way shortly.”

  Manning narrowed his eyes.

  That’s right, Grand Admiral, I’m not about to run on over there and get a bunch of my people killed just so you can explore the notion of putting your people on my nice, new battleship, I thought.

  “I notice you’ve captured a number of new ships,” the Grand Admiral said pointedly.

  “All new ships were seized from non-human forces within non-hab zone areas,” I said with a smile. That had been a point I’d made sure to cover during the Grand Fleet meetings: the area around the Forge was declared a non-habitation zone precisely so that my people wouldn’t have to worry about any pesky Elysium salvage laws.

  “That’s a lot of firepower,” the Grand Admiral remarked neutrally.

  “Why, so it is,” I said baring my teeth, silently daring the man to press the issue. “Fortunately, it was seized by the ships of the Tracto SDF. No doubt they’ll be quickly seconded into the Confederation’s Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet for the duration of the current emergency after we return home. Don’t worry, Grand Admiral, they’ll be put to good use.”

  I could all but see the unhappiness in the Grand Admiral’s face. The Grand Fleet had a total of eight battleships, which was everything they could scrape together from two Sectors for the common defense. Yet here I’d already captured two and, to an outside observer, the one run by the droids might look like it was part of my fleet. So, counting the Parliamentary Power, I was sitting with four battleships in my private fleet when Elysium only had one—heavily-damaged—and the Grand Fleet only had four of the original eight.

  I would have been nervous, too, and keeping a weather eye on the situation if this had gone down in my back yard. But ultimately there was nothing he could do about it so long as I wasn’t stupid enough to let his men on my ships and under our skin—and if I kept out of range of their fixed defense. So while he and the Elysium High Command might not like it, they were going to have to live with it.

  “I hope you’re willing to put all your forces to use for the common good, now that they’re all finally here,” Manning said flatly. “Just make sure you exercise every caution while maneuvering those new ships around.”

  “Of course,”
I said smiling wolfishly. I got the subtext. I was expected to use my shiny new toys to help defend his world, but there were no promises regarding ownership of my new ships if I went and did anything stupid. “It’s good to see that there is tangible gratitude for our efforts on your behalf.”

  Manning didn’t reply, but then there was little he could say while he was still locked within the bridge of a crippled ship with a hostile boarding force onboard. Right then he needed me a lot more than I needed him.

  It was hardly the type of response I would have hoped for, but it was the sort I’d come to expect.

  “I need to go; there are battleships to rescue,” I said, glad to give the little verbal jab regarding multiple battleships. Sometimes you need to be in a person’s face about what they owe you for saving their bacon.

  “Just remember that these ships belong to the world or system that sent them here,” Manning warned me sharply. “We need and appreciate all the help we can get, but I just want to make sure we’re clear on that point.”

  “You wound me, Grand Admiral,” I grunted, “but don’t worry: I understand you completely. Although I feel I should point out that since the MSP—I mean, Tracto SDF, doesn’t have the manpower right now; we’re using Sturgeon Grenadiers to help recover your ships.”

  “I’ll make sure to speak with them,” the Grand Admiral said with a nod, “on behalf of Elysium, I would like to tender my sincerest thanks.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said, pleased and slightly uncomfortable at receiving such unguarded gratitude.

  “There is something I need to ask you about, though,” the Grand Admiral said, taking a deep breath.

  My stomach tightened. Here it comes, I thought. Whatever it was, he wanted to be sure I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

  “I’ve heard some disturbing rumors floating around about you’ve been cutting deals, and even openly working side by side with, one of the Droid fleets—even after they attacked Elysium, my home world. It sounds so farfetched that it borders on the absurd, I know, but still I wanted to bring it to your attention,” he said.

  “It’s strange how these rumors get started,” I said smoothly, putting a look of concern on my face. But while I was playing the clueless officer on the outside, on the inside I was seething. The battle was not yet entirely over. We’d just saved their hides and, after all that, I was accused of making deals with machines and selling out the human race to save my skin?!

  “There are some who are afraid that if you give a machine an inch they’ll destroy your entire civilization and enslave you,” Manning said flintily. “They tend to be paranoid, I’ll admit, and I’m not saying I agree with them—but I’ll not say I disagree either. Just for the record: you are not working for, or with, any Droid forces?”

  Part of me wanted to shove what I’d done in their faces, but the wiser part ground that first part into the dust and made the smart move.

  “I’m offended by the very notion that you would ask the Saviors of Elysium if they were in open collusion with the Harmony or Conformity Factions,” I said in a rising voice. It was always best to lie and misdirect using the truth, “but, just for the record, let me assure you that I am not now, nor have I ever been, the flunky or subordinate of some machine—nor have I ever betrayed humanity for any reason whatsoever!”

  “’Saviors,’ is it?” Manning ground out.

  “What else would you call the heroes who continued to fight when all others fled or fell? Who put themselves on the line for billions of lives, who saved each and every single citizen of Elysium and the greater Sectors of the Spine it is a part of,” I said, drawing myself up to my full height. “Such craven, shortsighted, greedy, jealous individuals as would accuse us of wrongdoing ought to be horsewhipped! In fact, I would consider it a small repayment of what we have done here today if the government of Elysium would see to it that was done!”

  “I think the Grand Fleet, of which you were a part, had something to do with saving this Star System,” Manning said shortly, “and I am certain that Elysium’s government will not be whipping anyone of any stripe whatsoever!”

  “Well, there are always those who lack the ability to express their gratitude,” I said disinterestedly, as if such individuals and governments were unworthy of my attention.

  Manning ground his teeth. “For the record: you have made no deals with any Droids, and there are no Droid ships operating with your forces?” Manning snapped. “Be aware that if there are, Elysium understands the necessity of deception and will gladly help you destroy any Droids who might have…snuck onto any of the ships with you—during combat, of course.”

  I laughed darkly. So they knew I was operating with the USA droids, or at least strongly suspected it and were willing to give me an out. All I had to do was stab my newest allies in the back.

  Paranoid as I am, I immediately suspected a leak.

  “No, Grand Admiral, I can honestly say that neither I nor the Confederation Fleet has made any deals with any Droids, even such as might for some inexplicable reason try to save the humans of Elysium from their more fanatical counterparts,” I assured him, speaking solidly from both sides of my mouth. After all, such deals had been made by my wife acting on behalf of her home world, Tracto—I was merely obligated to abide by them. “So your offers of assistance will not be needed.”

  “Then I will bid you good day,” Manning said.

  “Bye, now,” I said and cut the channel. For several long minutes I brooded. Eventually word would leak out about my deal with the droids of the USA. It was inevitable, with so many members of my own fleet being aware, not to mention the fact Akantha had given them an asteroid somewhere in Tracto.

  It wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ but of ‘when.’ And when they did, I fully expected a backlash of some kind. The human race had an inherent, kneejerk reaction to anything that smacked of machine intelligence, and the Sectors here had firsthand experience.

  In a lot of ways, removing the threat to me and mine that was posed by the mere existence of the USA Droids, by way of a surprise attack, held a lot of appeal. On the other hand, it wasn’t in me to simply betray someone—anyone, even if they weren’t made of flesh and blood—just because they were politically inconvenient. That’s something my bloodthirsty Montagne ancestors might have done, but it was something I rejected absolutely.

  Which left me stuck between a rock and a hard place, but then, what was new? In fact—

  “Admiral, new movement on the Harmony Fleet!” reported the Sensors Officer.

  My head craned around; here was the moment of truth. Where would the Droids strike next?

  I watched as the Sensor department slowly narrowed down the Harmony Fleet’s course. When it finally came up on the screen, I blinked.

  “Is that right?” I demanded.

  “Yes, sir,” Sensors said with a smile.

  “You’re absolutely sure?” I demanded.

  “I can’t know that they won’t change their minds—and their course—but as of right now, Admiral, those droids are most definitely on a course to leave Elysium Star System,” Sensors said triumphantly in a tremulous voice. “We’ve won!”

  The bridge broke out into a ragged cheer at the news.

  “Enough of that, now,” I said, trying to fight a smile. The sense of relief everyone else was feeling was shared by me as well, I assure you. “However, we don’t know for sure that this isn’t a trick of some kind. It will take the droid hours and hours just to get to the hyper limit. Anything could happen within that time frame, so let’s keep sharp.”

  The bridge groaned at that last.

  “That said, I don’t see any reason we can start letting a few people get some sleep,” I said with a weary grin, “we’ve got enough ships here to shoot down the few gunboats that try to launch off the Battleships and cause us trouble. They can’t seem to coordinate enough to give us any trouble, so…let’s get some rest. I want at least one person from each department awake and on duty at all times, bu
t the rest of you can feel free to find, and use, the captain’s ready room to get some rest.”

  Once again, the bridge cheered.

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Steiner said.

  “We did it…we really did it,” DuPont sounded stunned, “we won!”

  I didn’t trust our apparent good fortune, personally—although I was more than willing to sleep in my command chair for the next several hours. But, thankfully, the Harmony Fleet never changed course. They must have had enough, because no sooner had they crossed the hyper limit than they point transferred out of the system.

  I conferred with Commodore Druid, Captain Archibald, and the other ship commanders of my Fleet and instructed them to finish securing any prize ships in their areas and make them ready for the long trip home. I then issued a standing order to capture as many gunboats as possible—intact specimens, preferably, such as those from the boarded Grand Fleet battleships—for study, and to have them loaded into, or onto, anywhere they would fit.

  I wasn’t sure how many we could get our hands on, but everyone else was using them for target practice so I didn’t think we’d have to fight for them.

  When word came back that the first Battleship, that belonging to Admiral Manning, had been cleared and the Sturgeon Grenadiers were moving onto the next Battleship, with reinforcements expected via civilian freighter from Elysium Prime to help finish the job, I finally let myself stagger into the ready room and crash.

  There was still a lot of cleanup and work to be done before we could leave, but unless the Droids came back with a new fleet, it was safe to say we’d won.

  We had saved Sectors 23 and 24. It was a great feeling to know that the fighting was over, at least for us. We could finally go home and be done with all of this fate of the Spineward Sectors business. It would be nice to just have to deal with local Sector 25 politics and feuding. I never thought I’d say that, but there it was.

  It was going to be good to be home and be able to rest with no more galaxy-shuddering threats to deal with. I might even consider sitting on one of Tracto’s ocean-monster-infested beaches for a while. Just to take it easy and relax, even in sub-zero temperatures and surrounded by wildlife that warranted a handy blaster rifle nearby, would be a welcome respite from all we’d endured.