Admiral's Revenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “A Central politician told me,” I slammed my fist into the desk, “he flat out TOLD ME, in person, that he hired my Uncle to stop me! The timing of the attack was deliberate, and with Central’s blessing it went down right in the middle of a battle against an overwhelming pirate force!” I roared, the words pouring out of me like molten lava. “If that isn’t trying to stop anyone from dealing with the pirates until the Border is too weak to do anything but acquiesce to Core World demands, then I’ll be a grease monkey’s uncle!”

  Commodore Druid opened his mouth, but this time I beat him to the punch.

  “My wife almost died when she was abandoned on a pirate station, outnumbered something on the order of fifty to one!” I shouted, my hands reaching out into the air and clenching. “Thousands of my crew died because I dared to show the politicians up. Well blast them, and blast you, and blast anyone who tries to stop me when people are dying; no one else in the entire Sector is lifting a finger to help them!” I felt a familiar vein begin to bulge in my forehead, and I suspected that my blood pressure was nearing critical.

  “I’m sorry,” Druid said into the growing silence, meanwhile I took a series of short shallow breaths as I tried to calm down.

  “Your ‘sorry’ can get specked,” I could feel my teeth grate as I spoke the words, “and so can the Rump Assembly. We’re no longer looking for their good regard; we have rightly earned all the legitimacy we need through our deeds, and any future attacks will be taken as an act of war against the Confederation—and be dealt with appropriately.”

  “And what about what’s already in the past?” Druid demanded.

  I leaned back in my chair, because I could feel my vision tunneling, and all I desired to do was lunge over the desk and strangle him.

  “Get out of here, Commodore. Return to your masters,” I said flatly, “you can tell them that anyone guilty of War Crimes will be spaced, but that the rest of you yahoo’s can sleep safe at night; I’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

  Those were fish that I had every intention of frying, and much more quickly than anyone expected. After which, we’d see what could be done about politicians who thought they could hire pirates to do their dirty work for them. However, I didn’t say that; all I did was smile wolfishly and grab the chair to keep from leaping on the most honorable member of the Sector Guard I had encountered to date.

  It was hard, but by no means the hardest thing I had been forced to do over the course of the past two months. That no one was forcing me to do it was probably why it felt so much harder than I was expecting.

  “I joined the Guard to protect not just my world, but every world in this Sector,” Druid said, leaning forward in his chair as if to chase me across the desk.

  It was all I could do to hold my tongue as I held onto my temper with both hands. The focus of my revenge is Jean Luc first, and then Sir Isaac, not this guy, I reminded myself fiercely. “How’s that working out for you? We’ve driven the pirates off from at least four worlds, saved another planet from a genocidal bug attack, destroyed two separate pirate forces in detail, and then went on to take the largest pirate station in the sector as a prize.” I pointedly did not go on to ask what exactly his organization had done while we’d been away doing all this.

  The Commodore looked down, and following his gaze I could see he’d clenched his hands together so hard that all of his fingers had turned white. Apparently, the truth was painful for some.

  When he looked up his eyes burned, and it was only due to a year of constant battles and action that I could hold his gaze with one of my own and give back just as much as—if not more than—he gave me.

  “We did all of that, placing our lives in jeopardy, because it was the right thing to do,” I said grimly. “I’ll sign whatever papers absolving you and your lot of guilt for surrendering. If necessary, we’ll tie you up and ship you back on your own vessels in nothing but your skivvies,” I shrugged to show how little I cared about whatever needed doing. “Alternately, we could swap your six Corvettes for one smashed up Hydra Medium Cruiser and say you fought your way free. It would look good for the cameras back in your homes, and I honestly don’t want to see your sailors and marines penalized for doing the right thing in the face of an overpoweringly superior force.”

  I could hear knuckles popping as Druid stared down at his still clenched fists. Then he looked up at me, and I saw something I truly did not expect. “All right you smug, sanctimonious, self-righteous bastard,” he bit out through gritted teeth, “where do I sign up?”

  I blinked. “Come again?” I asked after a momentary silence, my mouth on autopilot.

  Chapter 3: Signing Up

  “Just tell me what I have to do before I change my mind,” Druid growled.

  I was back footed, and for the first time in this conversation, completely and utterly flabbergasted.

  “You mean to say, you actually want to join this Confederation lash-up we have going on here?” I asked, trying and unable to regain my composure. “This isn’t some kind of trick?”

  “Just give me the papers,” Druid sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right; I joined the Guard to help people, and all we’ve done is run photo ops and attack you lot. That’s not what I signed up for.”

  “You can leave now, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you aren’t punished by your government. Limited as my pull may be,” I said clearly. I was determined to make sure there was no coercion involved here. And besides, I really didn’t want him in my armed forces. The last time I’d kept a former enemy close, I was all but certain he had been the one to stab me in the back—I was, of course, thinking of my erstwhile former First Officer slash Chief of Staff.

  “If you don’t want us, then just say it now,” Druid said angrily, clearly using emotion to cover for anything else he might be feeling, “otherwise, I meant what I said. Just put me on the border where the action is, and let me use that shiny new Corvette for something other than political photo ops.”

  “Us?” I inquired, while my mind was scrambling. Was this all just another trick to swoop in and plant another knife between the ribs while my back was turned?

  “I think I can convince a couple of the other captains, and enough crew, that there’d be more than just my one ship,” he said evenly.

  Despite myself, I leaned back in the chair as my mind started calculating all the angles. “If you agree to do this, then you need to get one thing positively straight,” I said, feeling my face harden at the memory of waking up in the Brig to find I’d almost been killed and a mutiny had taken the ship—my ship.

  “I’m ready, Admiral,” Druid said flatly, “just let me at them, and for the sake of the people…I’m your man.”

  “If you go out there on my orders and then turn your coat, there won’t be a dark enough hole, or enough warships in the wide world, to keep me from tearing you apart,” I promised with a cold glint in my eye, one I knew hadn’t been there before prison and time on death row. “Leave or stay—with my blessing either way—but treachery and betrayal…” I trailed off, deliberately letting the silence be filled with unspoken threats. Let his mind come up with whatever horrible things he thought I was capable of.

  Druid took a shaky breath, and then held out his hand.

  Eying him, I slowly reached out my own hand. Instead of taking his hand, I clasped him on the forearm and elbow like a Tracto-an warrior.

  “What are my orders, Sir?” he asked when I finally stopped staring him in the eyes and let go of his arm.

  A smile slowly grew across my face as I realized I had just come up with the perfect job for this man. It was time to change tacks and see about keeping my friends close and my enemies—or, potential enemies, I thought as I gave him a pointed look—as far away from me as humanly possible.

  “I need your ships to escort the Dungeon Ship, and as many merchant freighters as we can beg, borrow, or hire on a tour of the Border,” I replied.

  “A tour, Admiral?” Drui
d asked, looking more than slightly put out.

  “We’ll send any of your people that don’t want to be here back to Central. Meanwhile, the rest of you will be on a combined Roving Patrol and Recruiting Drive,” I explained with growing satisfaction. This way he could patrol the border like he claimed was all he wanted—and he stayed as physically far away as it was possible from my command while occupying the same Sector.

  “As you order, Admiral Montagne,” Druid replied, inclining his head.

  “Oh, and Druid, as this is an at will organization,”’ I said mildly, “you can keep on the Sector Guard uniforms.” In my own mind, I figured having the Sector Guard show up alongside and in support of my Confederation recruiting drive would not only poke a big fat finger in the eye of Sir Isaac, Rear Admiral Yagar and all the politicians at Central; it would also make it more difficult for the more restive Governors and Magistrates of the Border worlds—those same individuals who hated my guts—to refuse to let their people vote with their feet by joining up.

  From the look in his eyes, and the disquieted expression on his face, I could tell that Commodore Druid was following a significant portion of my thoughts—and he didn’t seem to like them very much.

  “As you wish, Sir,” he said finally.

  “Exactly,” I replied, leaning back and steepling my fingers. “Exactly.”

  Chapter 4: Laying down The Law, Taking Stock

  “Officer Laurent, so good of you to meet me here,” I said with a nod. I dared not reveal the depths of my concern over this meeting; the Warrant Officer deserved nothing less than my complete confidence. Even if logic dictated that the former Caprian officer wouldn’t be out of line to hold deep reservations about serving with and under the same man who lost his last ship, I couldn’t let those concerns be revealed. The very fact that I didn’t appear to have confidence in him could in turn lead to a lack of confidence in me. Such might be the case even if he was one hundred percent behind my re-installment and, as I had just thought earlier, whatever he felt towards my person would be more than justified.

  “Admiral,” Laurent returned my nod and then glanced around at the dilapidated duralloy walls and freezing cold airlock before turning his look back on me, “a strange place for a meeting, Sir,” he said, cocking his head at me.

  “I felt the need to stretch my legs,” I dissembled with the kind of grin that said while this was true in and of itself, it wasn’t nearly the whole truth.

  The Warrant Officer gave a knowing lift of a corner of his mouth.

  “What are we really here to talk about, Sir?” he asked with a faint smile. “I assume it’s not just about an old mothballed freighter in Wolf-9’s bone yard or else we’d be having this conversation in the System Commodore’s nicely appointed office.”

  “Much as I cherish the Commodore’s good opinion and continued safe harbor for both myself and our forces in his good regard continues to be critical, there are a few matters…strictly internal to the MSP,” I parsed before adding hastily, “that are best done away from the sight of prying eyes.”

  “I think it’s safe to say that just about anyone who cared to inform themselves is aware that the Admiral is meeting with his former Tactical Officer in an old, long abandoned, freighter,” Laurent said with a smirk.

  I could have suppressed the grimace I was feeling but decided not to do so. Instead I allowed it to flow across my face. For what I was about to ask I needed frank talk, not a guarded discussion that danced around the issues. The last thing I wanted to do was spend the next ten minutes ‘feeling out’ how this officer felt about all issues Montagne, or the setbacks experienced by our little Confederation Fleet.

  “I’ll be frank, Officer,” I flashed a smile, “it’s not that I care who knows I’m meeting with you. It’s more that the walls have ears in our temporary home that is the Wolf-9 Star Base.”

  “Temporary,” Laurent said sucking in a deep breath, “I see, Sir.” He frowned down at the floor in deep contemplation, before lifting his eyes back up to bestow me with a deep and penetrating gaze, “You are sure and certain this isn’t a conversation that should involve the Commodore and his System Officers, Admiral?”

  I could tell from the tone of his voice that he was deeply disturbed at the thought that I might harbor reservations about the leaders and leadership of the Easy Haven contingent.

  “I have every confidence in the professionalism and honor of Commodore LeGodat and, as long as he’s in power, his System Officer as well,” I said firmly, hoping to downplay my concerns. “However, the needs of Wolf-9 are not necessarily the needs of the MSP and as such we must all plan accordingly.”

  “This smacks too much of the kind of sneaking around and backroom deals that have riven our native Caprian service and ridden its SDF into the ground,” Officer Laurent said more than a trifle stiffly, he continued in a professional military voice, his posture stiffening as he stared at the wall behind my shoulder. “Let me ask again for the record, Sir: are you sure that the Commodore and his men should not to be involved in this discussion?”

  I stopped and stared at him, feeling stumped. “I had hoped to keep the nature of this initial get-together informal,” I said after a moment. This wasn’t going quite the way I had hoped.

  “We are all Confederation Officers, Sir,” Laurent said firmly.

  I was something at a loss over how to proceed and then it came to me in a flash—I knew exactly what to do.

  “I need my Officers to feel they are able to have frank discussions with me, especially when we’re alone,” I said nodding approvingly, and then pulled out a finger length audio recording device and handed it to him, “as you can see for yourself, that device had not been activated.”

  Laurent his brows wrinkling, relaxed slightly from his ridged military stance and looked down at the recorder, adjusting it in his hands. After a moment he looked back up and gave me a nod.

  “It is, Sir,” he said sounding perplexed for the first time this meeting.

  “I need to be able to have private discussions with my officers, whenever and wherever I feel the need. However,” I continued, raising a hand to cut him off when he opened his mouth to interrupt, “in this specific and unique instance, if you feel the need share the entire contents of this conversation with the Commodore, I will not stop you.”

  The Warrant Officer hesitated and then closed his eyes. Opening them he nodded firmly and, holding the recorder in front of him where I could see it, he activated the device before slipping it into his pocket.

  “Has the Easy Haven contingent of the Confederation Fleet, or their Commanding Officer or Officers, done anything to earn your concern and thus a desire for a private meeting in this mothballed freighter, Admiral?” Laurent asked evenly.

  “The most difficult question first, I see,” I said, scowling at the Lucky Clover’s former Tactical Officer. “Very well then,” I answered just, matching my own tone and posture to the other man’s stiff affect, “as a man in whom I have confidence, I will share to you again, in confidence,” I said, ignoring the fact that he was live taping my answer—I also ignored the way his mouth tightened with anger at my deliberate choice of words, “the fact that I do have such concerns about the Confederation Forces in Easy Haven.”

  Laurent’s mouth fell open and he jerked as if stung.

  “What do you mean, Admiral?” he said looking like a man who’d just swallowed something foul tasting. “Surely you can’t doubt the Loyalty of the very men and women who broke you free from captivity and freed you!”

  He didn’t say it, but I could tell that he was wondering if the reputed Montagne paranoia regarding our enemies had attacked and taken over my brain.

  This time it was my mouth that tightened in response, and again I allowed the emotion to show instead of trying to hide it behind some courtier’s mask. I knew that if I was to carry the day in this conversation and regain the trust of this particular officer nothing less would suffice in this, very much private, conversa
tion.

  “Their loyalty…no,” I said reluctantly. If I did question their loyalty, this whole thing would have been much easier on some levels—although infinitely harder on others. “Not to the Confederation. However, their solidarity and unity of purpose with us, their brothers and sisters in the MSP? I fear that is exactly where I have my…doubts.”

  “How can you say that?” Laurent demanded.

  “Let’s look at the facts,” I said smoothly, and I could tell from the other officer’s reaction that I’d been perhaps a bit too smooth in my delivery. I gave a mental shrug, knowing that you win some and you lose some.

  “Yes, let’s do,” Laurent said in a low voice, “they broke us out of that cursed dungeon ship, stood by us in the face of Druid’s squadron, and then escorted us to safety here. Where exactly is it that their loyalty to us has come into question?”

  “Let’s look at the facts,” I repeated, growing concerned that I’d made a mistake when I decided to broach this subject with Laurent.

  “You already said that!” Laurent remarked.

  “Alright then,” I said fighting for control of my voice, “I was onboard that Dungeon ship for several months,” Laurent all but rolled his eyes at me so with my next word my voice cracked like a whip, “were you?”

  “Of course, Sir,” Laurent said, stiffening to attention.

  “In all that time, did Captain McCruise contact you? Because I can assure you that despite being a prisoner onboard her ship no one—not one person,” I said hotly,” came to speak with me about a possible breakout even once, Warrant Officer Laurent!”’

  “Operational security, Sir,” Laurent bit out the words, “I’m sure you’ve come across the term by now.”

  Holding onto temper with both hands I stared at him until he started to squirm. “That’s not an answer to my question, Warrant Officer,” I said in a low, dangerous voice.

  “In that case, no, Sir; no one came to speak with me,” Laurent said with stiff professionalism, “not prior to the ship’s crew coming to break me and the other boys out,” he said with emphasis.