Admiral's Revenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Maybe it was time to start laying the foundations of something a little more ambitious. Rubbing his hands together with glee at the thought of what they were going to be able to get done with a pair of up-to-date factories and a full service ship yard, fed by a robotic mining operation…just as soon as his recruiting drive starting funneling the manpower to the Gambit Yards, Spalding cackled to himself as entirely new system designs seemed to dance in his head.

  He had more than a few ideas rolling around in his head that would have never seen the light of day if the Admiral had never come along. Those Montagnes sure know how to get things done, he thought, slamming a fist into his open hand. Not that the little Admiral was forgiven for losing the ship, he scowled before shrugging.

  Taking out his data-slate and jotting down a few of his better ideas, he stopped long enough to shake his head at the stupidity of the engineering world—and the Caprian development yards in particular. Much like Duralloy II, there were any number of things the rest of the sector and galaxy at large could have done already, using pre-existing technology, if only they’d had the guts, the vision, and the drive to get it done!

  “They think the Clover’s naught but another Dreadnaught, but we’ll show ‘em. They thought Duralloy II was a dream, but I set ‘em straight on that count, as well,” he muttered to himself as his fingers flew across the touchscreen of his data pad. “They even thought I was crazy to try the Montagne Maneuver with that old Hydra, but how’d that work out again?” Spalding grinned wickedly after the three-dimensional skeleton of his brainchild was completed and he watched as its image silently rotated on the data pad’s screen. “Well, let’s just see what they say when I show them this!”

  Yep, he thought to himself as his grin spread even wider and he thumbed the power button of the data pad, my sweet Glenda was righter than even she suspected; we’re definitely going to need a bigger space dock!

  Chapter 18: Nervous Jitters

  Lisa Steiner stood in front of the little mirror set into the wall of the little closet that passed as a combined head and comfort room and examined herself critically.

  She suppressed a surge of anxiety by reminding herself that if she didn’t get very many recruits at their upcoming target planet that there were many more inhabited star systems after this one. However, the butterflies in her stomach were not so easily appeased. Taking a few moments to steel herself before going out of her cabin, she finish putting on the last few touches of her understated makeup with a surprisingly steady hand. If one didn’t know it was there, they probably would have missed it. But putting on her war-paint, an almost natural, flesh-toned lip stick and a bit of blush on her cheeks did wonders for her self-confidence.

  “You can do this,” she told herself looking into the mirror, “they picked you because you can do this.”

  Lisa tried to smile, but this particular version of herself didn’t look very convinced. “I don’t have time for you right now,” she told herself sternly, “I have a recruiting drive to prepare for.”

  Turning away from her mirror with a sniff and before she could think twice and stop herself, the newly minted young Warrant marched out of her room with quick strides.

  Stepping out into the hallway, she glared around her with resolve, no one was going to stop her or worse stand there thinking that she couldn’t do the job. Her chin jutted out bullishly.

  Several crew members walked past her without even seeming to notice she was there, and of the few people who actually did glance up at her, she could tell that ‘Lisa Steiner’ and her trials and tribulations were the last thing on their minds—either in a supportive or disbelieving manner.

  She felt the angry resolve she had been using to steel herself slowly deflate, and she wondered why she had been so sure that her personal troubles were the center of the world. Everyone on this ship had an important job to do, she knew that better than most having worked her way up from the bottom rung of the enlisted ladder to the lofty height of a Warrant.

  “It’s not like the long-term survival of the Confederation’s Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet depends on having more Officers and Crew to replace battle losses and grow the Fleet,” she muttered sarcastically, secretly feeling more than a little bit jealous of an Environmental Tech hurrying down the hall. All he had to worry about was keeping the oxygen scrubbers and recyclers running so the crew wouldn’t suffocate. Or maybe even stop a virulent space spore from getting into the ship’s air supply and killing everyone in short order. At least if he messed up his job, things would be over relatively quickly; which was the same with the engineers who ran the fusion generators. If they messed up, then ‘BOOM.’ They didn’t have to see the disappointment in everyone’s eyes if they made a critical mistake.

  Her shoulders slumped. She was just going to have to woman onward and do her best. The system they had just entered was to be their first stop on the recruiting drive and the ship’s files listed its people as fairly diverse and all of them living under an Auto-Democracy, whatever that was. She had tried reading up on the place in the ship’s files during the cruise over here but there wasn’t much to go on. It had the basic planetary terrain and population break down, along with an estimated tech level.

  This particular planet was estimated as slightly below the galactic norm, tech-wise, which was pretty much par for the course in the backwater that was called the Spineward Sectors. But while terrain, population and tech levels were clearly listed, the only reference they had in their sparse files on this star system’s political structure was:

  Political Structure: Planetary Auto-Democracy with local Star System actively participating at Confederation Assembly.

  A small link listed at the end of this description listed the planet’s governmental structure as “quirky.” Quirky?! she boggled. How was she supposed to plan a recruiting drive if she didn’t know the first thing about this planet. Like did ‘Auto’ stand for Autocrat or did having democracy in their title mean something like the ‘People’s Democracy,’ i.e. a socialistic or computer-regulated for fairness resulting in a communistic society with randomly assigned leaders?

  If only the strange, outlying worlds of the sector would list their internal organizational structure more clearly, she would be just fine. Murphy forbid that they should use a perfectly normal monarchy, constitutional monarchy or strict parliamentary system—any three of which she’d have intuitively understood.

  “Oh well, I’ll just have to do my best and the universe will provide,” she told herself firmly, “I just need to have a little faith.”

  Mind made up and resolved to be respectful to others—yet at the same time refuse to take any guff—she threw back her shoulders, lifted her chin and strode down the corridor.

  Rounding the corner, she almost ran into a trio of tough-looking Confederation marines with their heads together. Then realizing one of those ‘marines’ kept going up until his head almost hit the ceiling, she realized it was a pair of marines and one exceptionally tall (for a barely over five foot girl) Tracto-an.

  “Hierophant,” she said with a warm smile, “I didn’t know you were off duty?” He has to be over six and a half feet tall, she thought for the hundredth time as she bent her neck until it felt like it was about to hit her shoulders. This big man had saved her life on the Lucky Clover while they were in hiding on several occasions.

  “Warrant Lisa Steiner,” the Tracto-an said gravely. Not a hint of welcome or even simple emotion in his voice.

  Lisa suppressed a surge of irritation.

  “Who’s your friend, Hierophant?” one of the Marines asked flashing her smile.

  She smiled back with perfunctory politeness before turning back to Hierophant.

  “Did you know I’m leading the recruiting team down to the planet as soon as we set up an agreement with the provincial government, they call it an Auto-Democracy,” she said and then realized she might be babbling she cut herself off. Wow, she thought irritably, I must be more anxious than I thought.
>
  “Yes,” Heirophant said with a nod.

  “Yes…” Lisa said her brow wrinkling but she brushed it off, the man was pretty reticent most of the time he wasn’t losing his temper. The rest of the time, well….Tracto-ans sure had a thing about going on and on in gruesome detail about what they’d do with their enemies—it wasn’t one of their best features.

  Heirophant started to turn away and she suppressed the urge to stomp her foot. Doesn’t he see that I’m nothing more than a bundle of nerves here?she thought with a mental eye roll. Then she grinned, as she reminded herself, Of course not; he’s a man. In her experience they were pretty clueless about some of the most important things.

  “How do I look?” she said impulsively, feeling the need for the boost of a compliment, and at the same time oddly interested in what he would say.

  Hierophant turned back and his assessing gaze seemed to take far too long as he raked her up and down with his eyes. Lisa had to resist the urge to squirm—they were friends and she had asked him, after all.

  “You look like a Warrant Officer,” he said with a decisive nod.

  The former Com-tech’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him dumbfounded for a moment. Behind him his two new marine buddies covered their mouths and laughed; one of them leaned in close to the Tracto-an and whispered something in his ear.

  Heirophant shook him off, his face disapproving and then turned back to her, “Is there anything else?”

  “Well, aren’t you going to wish me luck?” Lisa asked with disbelief and growing anger. Who was this person who failed to see that she was looking as close to a million credits as a girl could in a Confederation uniform?! She had just spent the last half hour getting herself ready until she wouldn’t have been ashamed to stand before the Admiral, the King, and all of Parliament itself! She looked like a Warrant? A Warrant!?!

  “Good luck,” he said with the faintest hint of smile, and Lisa’s eyes bulged.

  “Good day, Heirophant,” she said glaring at him before she turned on her heel and stalked off. She would be taking the lift situated in the opposite direction, she decided angrily. She didn’t need to take the one in the direction he had just come from.

  Anxiety, jitters and stomach butterflies were forgotten in a haze of indignant—and well-justified—anger and it wasn’t until after she’d got up to the bridge, opened a com-link and then finished talking with the Auto-Magistrate that ran this system that she realized she hadn’t been the least bit scared or intimidated to be speaking with someone who literally controlled an entire solar system.

  Covering a laugh with her hands, she realized that maybe that Tracto-an lug had actually done her a favor; not that she’d ever tell him that! ‘You look like a Warrant Officer,’ she scoffed. The nerve!

  Chapter 19: A Meeting To Remember

  “This is insane!” shouted the Minority Owner-on-board the Constructor, New Dream.

  “No, it’s the designs for a Super Battleship,” Spalding disagreed vehemently.

  “This is a complete violation of the Anti-AI Accords, is what it is!” screamed the Minority Owner. “You’ve gone too far this time, Spalding—do you hear me?! Me and my people will have no part of it. We’re done!”

  “It has nothing to do with an improved Distributed Intelligence computer system,” Spalding growled and paused in consideration, “well, nothing more than what we’ve already seen on the Imperial Medium Cruiser, the Victorious Solar Flare!”

  “The utilization of lethal levels of radiation in a mobile weapon platform or warship has been outlawed in the Clean War amendment,” the Minority Owner raged, pounding the desk for emphasis, “what you’ve designed isn’t a warship; it’s a floating death trap! And a mobile anti-matter drive system?! It’ll explode the first time you activate the normal space drive!”

  “That’s why we’ve gone old school with the drive design,” Spalding snapped, “and the AI Accords are about AI’s, not weapon systems. The Clean War amendments their own selves were only signed by the Confederated Empire after the Union Treaty—which is itself, need I remind you, defunct!”

  “Yes,” the Minority Owner said with angry sarcasm, throwing his hands in the air for dramatic emphasis, “igniting a series of nukes on the back end of your ship to produce propulsion is old technology. In fact, it’s so old—and absurdly ineffective—that no one in their right would even consider using it!”

  “If we go with normal space drives, we’d have to link them into the grav-system and the minute fluctuations would explode the anti-mater,” Spalding snapped, jumping to his feet and glaring at the Minority Owner, “this way we can isolate the grav-plates from the normal space drive. We not only cut down on the power utilization, but we can reinforce the plates over the Anti-matter storage area so that we don’t experience a chain reaction! I’ve run the numbers and it’s perfectly safe!”

  “Anti-matter on board a ship isn’t safe, it’s lunacy! And it’s never been successfully tested in a warship. Every test platform ever designed has exploded during pre-crewed trials; that’s not the definition of safe technology, Mr. Spalding. Anti-matter’s been outlawed for a reason,” the Minority Owner’s voice dripped with scorn.

  “Only because they tried to utilize modern drive technology,” Spalding said mulishly.

  “You’re calling nearly a thousand year old drive technology modern?” the Minority owner said with disbelief. “The basic technology predates the AI’s, and do you know why the AI’s adopted it and we use it still?” he asked rhetorically. “Because it works; blowing up the stern of a warship the very moment you need it doesn’t!”

  “Reinforced and hardened Duralloy II, purpose built for the job, can handle the kind of energy produced,” Spalding said, jutting out his jaw. “It makes the technology feasible to get up close enough to the speed of modern drives.”

  “Sure, bring up the one thing—the only one thing—that you’ve actually succeeded at finding, not creating on your own. Oh no,” sneered the Minority Owner, “but the only thing you’ve ‘found’ to try and back up your position is the tech you are championing. Not only was it old it was left in the graveyard of useless technology, it’s dangerous, deadly, and completely ineffective compared to current technology.”

  “It will work,” Spalding insisted, stomping his foot and matching the Owner glare for glare.

  “My people won’t have any part of building a ship that violates the AI accords, the Clean War amendments, and will irradiate its own crew just by running it, regardless of whatever archaic, technological brain fart you want to use to propel the ship,” the Minority Owner said with ringing finality. “The radiation produced just by operating your proposed ship is bad enough, but when you actually fire your hypothetical primary weapon? Assuming you don’t blow up from a matter/anti-matter explosion like every ship before you…no, we won’t do it.”

  “Then pack it up, you useless dillydally,” Spalding said coldly. All around them, the members of the so called Space Committee straightened in their seats and began to collectively look concerned about something other than the Chief Engineer’s proposed new ship design.

  “Nice bluff,” laughed the owner of the Constructor, “but you haven’t got the men, you haven’t got the facilities, and you haven’t got the guts to get rid of us.”

  “Oh, really?” Spalding said, giving him the gimlet eye before tossing a challenging look around the table before once again locking eyes with the minority owner. “Here,” he reached into a pocket on his work utilities and placed a data chip on the table with a resounding click, “are yer new marching orders. I’ll only need around a hundred of your personnel to stay and help out with the yards, but don’t worry—the Confederation will replace them,” he said with a toothy smile. “And no one will have to work on anything that goes against their precious principles.”

  “What is this?” the Minority Owner asked with sudden stillness.

  “Your services at Gambit Station are no longer required,” Spalding sai
d in a patient voice, as if speaking to a small child. “We have two factories, a refinery, one small mining operation and a growing shipyard.”

  “Robots can’t replace men, unless all the cybernetic implants and metal rubbing against your brain’s gone to what’s left of your sanity and you’re planning to violate the AI accords further by making droids. You simply won’t have the man power to keep what you have running, let alone grow enough to build a warship if we leave,” the Owner said dismissively.

  “Not droids,” Spalding agreed, “a recruiting drive.”

  “What?!” the Owner said bolting out of his seat.

  “And most of the people on that list are construction workers who would have willingly stayed with us if you’d been willing to void their contracts. Not that you have to worry about that, since the Admiral’s already voided their contracts using his power under the declaration of martial law in this system that I’ve also placed in this chip,” he said, tapping the chip and flicking it with just enough force that it skittered all the way over the table to stop in front of the minority owner-on-board. “That gives me the power to retain their services for the duration.”

  “You can’t do this; it’s chaos out there,” the Owner declared, “sending us out unescorted is the same as signing our death sentences!”

  “I’m sorry if your moral objections have suddenly changed along with the new circumstances,” Spalding said evenly, “but don’t worry; the fifty Lancers I’m sending over to help garrison your ship will also be accompanying you, and I’m sure we can scrounge up a warship or two as an escort. I’m sure these Sundered people I’ve been hearing about would be more than willing to give you a gunship escort. Fortunately, I happen to have a fast courier ship to arrange for them to meet you at your new destination.”