“Do as I say,” Laurent’s voice cracked like a whip.
I slowly turned around and blinked in surprise. Kneeling before me was the Captain of the ship, and held before him butt first was my hold out blaster pistol.
“What is this?” I said with equal parts dismay and overpowering relief. My legs wobbled as I started to believe I wasn’t about to die.
“I want you to remember there’s still one thing I’m going to do to you after we get done with this,” Laurent said flatly.
“Whatever ‘this’ is,” I said hesitantly, but nodded agreeably all the same. After was good—having an after to have things done to me sounded very nice indeed right at that moment.
“Your servant, my lord Prince,” Laurent said, thrusting the blaster up against my hand, and without thinking I reflexively took it, blinking at him in surprise as I did so.
“No…no!” I said with dawning realization.
“You saved my life and that of my family on the Settler ship, you’ve saved this crew and a million or more people along the Border many times over. I, Cecil Laurent, do herby pledge my service as a retainer to you, Prince Jason. I am your man,” Laurent paused and then looked embarrassed, “I don’t have a knife.”
“There’s no need to cut yourself, fool,” I exclaimed with outrage and immediately felt ashamed. I hadn’t ever even bothered to learn this man’s first name, “I’ve got enough crazy sworn-men running around below decks already! You don’t have to do this; more, I don’t want it!”
“Too bad, your Highness,” Laurent looked up at me, “I mean, my liege; you’re stuck with me for the duration.”
“Oh, get up,” I muttered in disbelief, “up. Up, I said!” I snapped, helping him up to his feet. “I release you from your oath, since there’s no need for this,” I added irritably.
“I refuse to be released, and I meant what I said,” Laurent growled. “This doesn’t mean I don’t still think you’re too hard on our Easy Haven comrades in arms.”
“Space Gods,” I said placing a hand against my forehead in disbelief, “I thought I was dead. You are a cruel, cruel man, Officer.”
“All of that said, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” Cecil Laurent said in a serious voice.
I looked over at him and cocked an eyebrow at him.
I was so relieved at the result of this private meeting that his fist plowing into that very same eyebrow with a punishing overhand right took me completely by surprise and knocked me off my feet.
“That’s for losing our fucking Battleship!” Laurent said as I went crashing over my chair head over heels.
My head ringing, I was still pulling myself up off the floor when my Flag Captain strode toward the ready room’s exit.
“I hope the loyalty tests are over and done with, Sir,” he said before the door ponderously heaved open and he exited back onto the bridge, “they were getting more than a little tedious, if you want the truth.”
The pain in my head was quite at odds with the smile on my face as I slumped into my chair.
Chapter 23: Recruiting Issues
“Thank you for your time, Governor, as well as the chance to put up our shingle in one of your main job emporiums for the past two weeks,” Warrant Officer Lisa Steiner said with a genuine smile.
“Auto-Magistrate, if you will; I’m elected by the people of the Two Stellar Auto-Democracy and have been for the past 62 days and counting,” the current Governor or Magistrate of the Two Stellar binary star system said, puffing his chest out with pride. “Why, between my wife and I, we were Auto-Magistrate and First Receptacle for just over a third of last year! Now that’s a job-creating track record you can take to the bank straight away.”
“Of course, Gov—I mean, Magistrate Binklehoffer,” Steiner said with a nod. “There’s something I’m curious about, if you don’t mind?”
“Of course, anything for a pretty little lady like yourself,” the Auto-Magistrate leered at her in a manner she wouldn’t have expected from a man who had just claimed to be married.
Steiner opened her mouth, but he cut her off before she could speak. “It seems a shame that someone of your nature and caliber went into the military, though. What a waste,” he said wistfully, “you could have been so much more if you’d only stayed at home and focused on a more domestic career path.”
Steiner stiffened at his words. She had heard of the sort of misogynistic attitude some of the more Patriarchal and Matriarchal societies on the fringe of human space got themselves up to their necks in, but this was the first time she had personally encountered this sort of attitude on any planet.
“Oh, really?” she asked evenly. “And exactly what kind of career would that be…?” she paused, not wishing to offend the man even if she really did want to offend him, “in your opinion, of course; a homemaker, perhaps? Or do I seem more the ‘barefoot wife and baby-maker’?”
“And ruin your figure?” the Auto-Magistrate looked at her with what seemed to be genuine shock, “how absurd.”
Lisa gaped at him unable to believe how self-centered and misogynistic he appeared.
“No, with your face and figure I would have recommended you stay out of the military and go into modeling,” he said, frowning down at her severely. “Marriage and children should be the last thing on your mind, young woman. You have lots of years ahead of you. Why, to think of the complete and utter waste,” he looked down at her suspiciously, “what world did you say you came from? It sounds like you might be suffering under a particularly patriarchal régime back home. Little woman, let me assure you that if you’ve been pressed into military service, the Auto-Democracy takes any and all immigrants fleeing Patriarchal or Matriarchal oppression. We’ll even grant you a new citizenship—”
“What?” Lisa spluttered unable to believe what she was hearing, “Citizenship, modeling, oppression! What are you talking about?” she was now thoroughly confused and starting to wonder if she’d just inserted her foot into her mouth.
“Why, a career in politics…whatever else did you think I was talking about?” the Auto-Magistrate said frowning down at her skeptically, as if she were a not particularly bright specimen that had somehow wandered under his microscope.
“First it’s modeling and breaking my military service, and now it’s politics?!” she said, unable to believe what she was hearing.
“Well of course, all politics really are is an organized popularity contests, after all,” he said condescendingly. “Equal parts acting and planet-wide beauty pageant! Don’t they teach you anything about the democratic process and equality of the sexes back in whatever patriarchal hellhole you came from? Acting and modeling are one of the two surefire, prime career paths to political power—a decorated military or police service record coming in a close second, mind you! Have to show how personally tough you are on crime. You know, what with pirates and such being the plague they are nowadays, it really gets the daily voters all fired up!” the Auto-Magistrate paused. “You know, if you’d only just work on your acting a little harder, you’d have the perfect trifecta. Why, give me two months and the right publicity budget, and I’d have you elected to a People’s Tribune. After that, who knows; you might even be the next Auto-Magistrate by the end of the year!”
“What are you talking about?” Lisa blurted, wide-eyed and unable to believe her ears.
“Why, running for the top political office in the Two Stellar Auto-Democracy of course! With a body and figure like yours and your military record, you’d practically be a shoe in,” the Auto-Magistrate said eagerly, “what do you think? At least tell me you’ll think about it,” he pleaded.
“I’m sorry, Governor,” Lisa Steiner said firmly.
“Auto-Magistrate, please,” the System Governor corrected her.
“I think you’ve misunderstood me entirely,” she said in the same firm voice as before, “but I’m here on a Confederation recruiting mission, not to leave military service, renounce my citizenship, and somehow parlay
a modeling career into political office!” Boy, had she ever got her signals mixed up when he said ‘leave the military for a domestic career.’ That would teach her to judge a book by its leering cover! “Honestly, I don’t know how you got the slightest idea I was interested in anything of the sort!”
“What have you done?” the Auto-Magistrate said with disbelief. “Why, you managed to recruit over fifteen hundred well-educated members of our most restless demographic! Not only that, you convinced them to permanently abridge their civil liberties for the duration of their military service, and perhaps even beyond if they happen to learn any military secrets during the course of their newfound duties. Young lady,” he said as he leaned down conspiratorially, “if you can get those types to do that, what couldn’t you do in the political arena? Our world is desperate for change it can believe in, and—”
“Not just no, but Hades no, Auto-Governor,” Lisa replied, backing away hastily. She was suddenly aware of the quad of plain-clothes palace guard types standing behind the politician—a man who more and more seemed like some kind of mentally unstable lunatic. She was also intensely grateful that Hierophant had decided to tag along with her today, for her last tour of the job fair.
“Auto-Magistrate!” he exclaimed. “Not Governor.”
“How exactly are your political offices selected, Sir?” Steiner said as she slowly backed away, wondering if she needed to fear for her personal safety and hoping that a few diverting questions might let her escape unscathed. Oh, how she wished she hadn’t made that barefoot, homemaker crack! If only she could have controlled herself, she wouldn’t have given this man the opening to start harassing her.
“We have a planetary Distributed Intelligence network that tallies the votes. One sentient means one fully enfranchised and completely equal vote, regardless of gender,” the Auto-Magistrate replied, standing up straighter and going into what sounded like a campaign stump speech. “An electronic voter ballot is sent out daily to each and every sentient on this planet to select tomorrow’s office holder!”
Steiner stared at him with horror, “How could that even work?!”
“Little lady,” the politician started condescendingly, and Steiner’s hand held com-unit beeped.
“Sorry, Governor—I mean, Auto-Magistrate!” she said hurriedly as she placed the com-unit to her hear and turned away, “I’ve got to take this!” She hadn’t even finished her last sentence before she was walking away at the fastest pace she could manage.
“Just a minute,” she hissed, “whoever this is, you are a life saver—I’ll get back to you in one; I’ve got an over eager politician on my six,” she spoke into the hand held anxiously. Fortunately, with Hierophant at her shoulder she didn’t feel so afraid that she had to start running in fear for her life.
“But! Wait!” the Auto-Magistrate cried out from behind her, “My polling indicates I could be in trouble. My campaign management professionals say I need you on the ticket!”
Shaking her head in sheer, abject bewilderment, she broke out into a jog.
“Let’s get out of here, Hierophant,” she shook her head vigorously, “before we get elected!”
“Politics…a fate worse than death,” Hierophant deadpanned from right behind her, his massive, Tracto-an legs barely moving at more than a steady walk to stay at her side.
Steiner’s gait broke and she had to stutter-step to keep from stumbling. “Did you just make a joke?” she gaped at him. The gunnery rating shrugged at her, and his face had the usual Tracto-an, enigmatic, faintly superior look she was used to seeing, “you did make a joke, and for the first time, too! This calls for a celebration—fizz-waters on me when we get back to the ship,” she grinned.
“Please, you could be the first candidate in twenty years to hold officer for the mandatory 180 days in order to make a constitutional amendment,” the Auto-Magistrate all but screamed after her, “this planet’s fate could rest in your hands!”
“The shuttle’s this way,” Hierophant said placing hand on her upper arm when she started to turn the wrong way and Steiner was never so grateful for the overgrown Tracto-an, former Lancer in her entire time she’d known him more than she was that day.
She flashed him a grateful smile and then remembered the com-unit in her hand and blanched. She quickly raised it to her ear.
“Steiner here,” she said breathlessly.
“If your dance calendar is finally clear,” the voice on the other end of the line said sarcastically, and this time she recognized the voice as belonging to the Captain of the Dungeon ship.
“Sorry, Sir, a little problem with the locals,” Steiner said as stoutly as she could managed.
“Head back to the ship on the next shuttle;, we’ve finally reached capacity, so it’s time to head out to the rendezvous coordinates,” the Captain said strictly.
“We’re almost to the shuttle now, Sir,” Steiner replied, unconsciously bracing to attention, “I’ll send the recall instruction to the recruiting booth and get the last of the recruits onboard the shuttle right away, Captain,” she finished fervently.
“See that you do,” he snapped, and then with what sounded like a snap of his fingers, the channel went to dead air.
Chapter 24: More Bug Scouts
I was in the middle of another bull session with the top officers on the Flagship when the red alert siren sounded.
Bursting through the slowly opening door as soon as the gap was large enough to squeeze through, I arrived at the Command chair just in time to hear the Sensor Officer announce, “We’ve just picked up a squadron of Bug ships, First Officer! We can tentatively identifying them as Scout Marauders, course and bearing fifteen degrees above what would be the ellipsis if we were still in-system. The group’s point of origin appears to be the same as the previous Harvester battle group!” he declared.
“Any sign of additional Bug Units?” Eastwood growled, sounding excited at the prospect of action.
I turned my face away and rolled my eyes before looking back at the screen. I wasn’t against a little action, but the man sounded a little overeager to me and not in the kind of professional, ‘let’s go blow them to kingdom come’ way I was used, to either. What makes this newest First Officer tick, I wondered as I looked at him with narrowed eyes.
Perhaps I was letting my well-learned distrust of First Officers in general rule my perception of the other man, but after Tremblay I was suspicious of anyone who would voluntarily accept such a position. What game was he playing other than the obvious – spying for LeGodat—trope that everyone and their sister could see. This one would bear further watching.
Almost as if he could hear me, Eastwood looked up with his brow winkling when he caught me staring. But before he said anything, something in Tactical diverted his attention.
“I have a request for orders from the Red Herring Squadron, Admiral,” a deep voice coming from the side said breaking me out of my contemplations.
I looked over and did a double-take, a faint moue of distaste forming when I saw that instead of the usual, cute Communications Operator I was expecting, I got a face full of craggy skin covered with a white-streaked beard.
Forcing my features back under control and a more appropriate ‘I’m a serious Officer, to be taken seriously’ expression back onto my face, I blinked at him as my mind raced to come up with an answer.
“Well, Operator,” I said, playing for time before my resolve hardened. This Heavy Cruiser wasn’t the only ship here, and more importantly, I was the Admiral of this fleet! I decided that it was time to get out there and lead, “Instruct the Cutter squadron to swing wide and prepare to execute a flanking maneuver on these Bug Scouts.” I hesitated as I envisioned every captain in the squadron maneuvering independently and getting in everyone’s way, “And instruct them they are to move in formation around Captain Archibald’s ship until they make contact with the enemy. Then they are to do their best to cause chaos and destruction while staying clear of our big guns!”
The old Communication’s Operator looked at me for a moment nonplussed, as if he was expecting something more than what I’d just given him. Then he gave a strange little shake of his upper body and turned back to his console to relay my instructions. I looked at him with irritation; if he was expecting more from his Admiral then he should have signed up with a different operation.
Dismissing him and his expectations—something I’d never had to worry about back when I’d still had the crew of the Clover—I turned back to look at the main-screen. On it, the Cutters were just starting to move, but McCruise’s Heavy Destroyer and our Corvettes were just sitting there.
So as soon as the Com-Operator had finished relaying my instructions to the Cutter force, I turned back to the Com-Operator.
“Operator,” I said, catching the older man’s attention, “please update Captain McCruise with the orders just given to the Herrings and, with my compliments, direct her to take her Heavy Destroyer and our three Corvettes to advance on the other flank of the Bug Scouts.” I pulled out a data slate and updated it with the plot of the current tactical situation and started tapping some projected changes into it.
The Captain of the Gift came up beside me, stopped to look out at the bridge to observe how everything was proceeding, and then turned to me while I was still working on my data-slate.
He cleared his throat. “Any orders for the Flagship, Admiral?” he asked quietly.
I ignored him for a second until I’d finished the last of the modifications I’d made, and then showed him the data-slate.
“I want the Flagship to charge straight down the middle of their formation,” I said, pointing out what I wanted done, “but if we detect a force of larger ships then we’ll adjust to slightly up and over the Scouts and then, depending on how many of them there are, we’ll either head straight down the middle with both broadsides firing, or cut one of the corners and try to only fight one Harvester at a time.”
Admiral's Revenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 20
