“The enemy battleships are turning, while the Bug Mother-ship is still acting erratically,” reported Eastwood in a carrying voice that cut through what little bridge chatter had existed during the heated exchange up on the main screen.
“The Lady Akantha’s Cruiser is on close approach,” Sensors reported, “estimate she will reach the enemy Battleships about the same time as they come about for another attack run, unless someone changes course or speed.”
I clenched my fist and turned toward Communications.
“Her Ladyship still doesn’t respond to our hails,” the com-tech said, no doubt anticipating my question, “maybe their encryption algorithms were lost, Admiral?”
“Blast it,” I said, frustration welling up at my wife’s determination to have her way and not listen to orders.
“Sir?” asked Communications.
“Send another message, in the clear,” I ground out, “instructing her to consolidate on the Flag!”
“Yes, Sir,” the Communications tech said despairingly.
“Perhaps a personal appeal, even at this late a date…” the Captain advised.
“No!” I hissed. “If she openly defies my authority on a face to face communications channel, then I’ll have no choice but to relieve her of command and incite a potential mutiny among our Lancers—either that, or I’ll appear weak when that’s the absolute worst thing that can happen! I snapped at his raised eyebrow. “Even if our fleet weathers the fall out, there’s no guarantee that anyone on that ship will be able or be willing to follow my orders, to say nothing of the potential damage to my marriage—assuming I still have one after pulling such a stunt.”
“An Admiral who can’t control his own ships in combat will face increased challenges,” Laurent advised, “both outside and inside the fleet. I’ll not speak on the interpersonal relationship.”
“Saint Murphy’s wretched wrench,” I cursed before rounding on the com-tech and demanded, “have you sent that transmission in the open yet?”
“Yes, Admiral, we can’t expect a reply this quickly,” he responded promptly.
“Excellent,” I lied, “now I want you to switch to,” I flicked through my data slate and found an older file, “this encryption key that I’m sending to you.”
“Okay, Sir,” the com-tech sounded confused, but received the file and started entering it, nodded when completed and turned to me, “ready, Admiral.”
“Focus the holo-pick up on me, Comm.’s; it’s time for me to send a message,” I said, the thought of exactly how much what I was going to say was going to get under Akantha’s skin actually causing a smile to tug around on the corners of my mouth. So she wanted to ignore me, did she? Well, I was ready to give her my unconditional support.
“Channel is ready to broadcast….now,” the man said after a moment.
“Good work, my dear,” I said in a congratulatory, yet wholly condescending voice, “continue on course and give those Pirates what for.” I clenched my fist and slashed it through the air for emphasis, “For a moment there I was afraid you hadn’t gotten the battle-plan for this fleet action and would pull back when my Communications Section broadcast the recall. But since you haven’t and this message should reach you right before your attack run, all I can say is,” I produced what I hoped was a hungry, love-struck smile, “thank you from the bottom of my heart for following my lead. You go knock ’em dead, girl!”
Ignoring the looks that suddenly shot my way out of the corner of people’s eyes, I allowed a small smile of satisfaction to grace my face. If that didn’t get under her skin just as much as her ignoring my orders had gotten under mine, then I was a grease monkey’s uncle!
When I glanced up, I could see Captain Laurent leaning over me from the side with a look of disapproval on his face.
I arched an eyebrow at him, and taking this for permission to do so, he spoke with a hint of disappointment in his voice, “I thought you trusted me enough to share all your battle-plans with me.”
“And I have,” I agreed in a low voice.
“And yet your wife has access to a battle plan that I’m only just hearing about now?” he said tightly, but keeping his voice low.
“Indeed,” I said with a wicked smile, “but then, since this whole battle plan is your fault I won’t be chided on the subject. You’ll just have to live with the product of your advice.”
The censure on Laurent’s face would have driven a lesser man to drink as his eyes narrowed. “My advice?” he said in a rising voice.
“You said I needed to make a personal appeal and regain control of this situation or face challenges to my authority,” I reminded him.
“I—” Laurent started hotly and then blinked, “not in so many words!”
“But that was the thrust of your argument,” I reminded him, “which is why my wife is now in sole possession of a battle plan that I gave her, yet which even I have never seen.”
Laurent looked confused.
“I lied,” I clarified, “there is no secret battle plan, but no one else can know that for sure unless my wife decides to speak to me. In which case I’ll simply say that the ‘plan’ calls for deception in the face of the enemy, and that she’s playing to the script.”
Laurent shook his head. “This is a dangerous plan,” he grunted, “I don’t think I approve.”
“Yes, well,” I said, waving away his objections with my hands, “I can’t very well need to regain control of this battle if I never actually lost it, and now my wife is either free to seek my advice or act as she desires—something she was going to do anyway.”
“I don’t think I’d want to be in your shoes when you and her finally meet back up in private,” Laurent said taking a step back, “you reap what you sow in a relationship.”
“I’ll play the ‘I saved your home world’ card and then agree to another family visit,” I said dismissively. “After I kill a few more of her relatives or former suitors, I’m sure we’ll be right as rain,” I said with false confidence. “However, to do that we need to win this battle and that means keeping the rest of this fleet in line.”
“It’s your funeral,” Laurent advised me and then added hastily, “I mean, on an interpersonal level. On the fleet level, you’ll just need to sell it.”
“Now that last is something I can most definitely do,” I said with relief.
Chapter 65: The Phoenix feels her fury
“That insufferable little man,” Akantha growled, and then let loose a string of profanity in her native tongue. “First he ignores me, and then he seeks to steal my glory! If he wasn’t my sworn Protector whose sword I bear, I would, I—”
“Warfare and battle are his purview, Hold Mistress,” Hecate reminded her.
“Not when a man attempts to speak for his Mistress,” Akantha snapped, “but I know his mind, and he will not succeed! Continue on our attack run; we shall tear these Star Bandits and Sky Demons limb from limb.”
“Subterfuge during battle is not only allowed; it’s encouraged,” Isis said breaking into the conversation. “Besides, he is not saying he speaks for you, only that you are following his battle-plan—a plan he may have actually left for us and we never picked up due to our hasty arrival here.”
Akantha turned on the two Tracto-an women scornfully.
“If such a plan exists—which, knowing my Protector, I highly doubt—we are most certainly not following it,” she said firmly and then sniffed contemptuously. “But when I seek advice from my traitorous ‘Life’ Guard, be assured that I will ask for it.”
Akantha rounded on the helm. “We continue as planned! I will deal with ‘him’ later!”
Chapter 66: Always in Control
“Commodore,” exclaimed the Navigator, “our best estimates place the oncoming Cruiser, this Furious Phoenix, on our starboard side at the exact same time as we intersect the Mother-ship on our next attack run.”
“Excellent news,” Jean Luc said, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction.
“Sir?” the Navigator asked looking confused.
“Navigation,” Jean Luc ordered, “contact Main Engineering and instruct them to ready the ship for The Maneuver on my mark,” he said with a savage smile. “It’s time we once again taught the Pipsqueak, along with his Confederation lackeys and ignoramus barbarians, why I am the true Tyrant of Cold Space and he is the former inhabitant of a Dungeon ship. It seems the last lesson I taught him at the Omicron didn’t stick.”
“It will be as you command, my Commodore Prince,” acknowledged the Navigator.”
“Always,” Jean Luc agreed. “Now, someone apprise Gunnery that we’re going to be coming to a rather rapid stop, and then get me the Vineyard; it’s time for a little coordination.”
Chapter 67: Seeing Red
“The Lady has managed to maneuver the Phoenix to place the enemy battleships between her and the Mother-ship for the better part of her firing pass,” Eastwood reported, sounding rather pleased with the independent actions of my erstwhile wife. And since she was now technically following my ‘battle plan’—the one titled ‘let Akantha do whatever she wants, or you’ll lose control of your fleet at some point down the road’—I could do nothing but smile, like this was the happiest news in the whole wide galaxy. “At least, so long as both she and they stay on course,” Eastwood added belatedly.
“Excellent news,” I said, even though smiling while my wife threw herself at several times her fighting weight, I manfully clung to my PR training and refused to let my deep concern shine through.
There was a stir in the Tactical Section. “Enemy Battleships are increasing separation and slowing down to increase time on target,” Eastwood reported, “the Phoenix is slowing down to compensate.”
“A problem?” I asked, once again on the edge of my seat.
“The Pirates are trying to shake her, but the Phoenix is a Medium Cruiser; she has the legs to keep up, and she won’t be shaken. She just has to increase her deceleration burn, and there’s nothing they can do about it. Nothing except continue with their attack run, or break off,” Eastwood reported, sounding confident.
“Should we be concerned?” I asked, speaking not as an Admiral but as a worried husband seeking reassurance.
“The Pirates can turn broadside on and try to force her off; running will just give her an up-the-kilt shot at their engines,” Laurent said confidently, “but if they turn, then the Phoenix can simply rejoin us. The consolidated fighting power of a Battleship and a pair of Medium Cruisers, along with the rest of our little squadron and the rest of hers, is nothing to sneeze at. Especially with the pirate fleet scattered like this and engaged in a dozen little brushfire fights with the smaller Bug ships.”
“The smart play would seem to be to pull off the Mother-ship until they can deal with us,” I observed, the tightness in my chest not abating very much with these assurances. Uncle Jean Luc was wily, and my wife was…shall we say, ‘headstrong?’ She might charge a pair of Battleships just to make a point and I wouldn’t put anything past Jean Luc—up to and including being arrogant enough to fight off Bugs and a Confederation Cruiser at the same time. In short, he reminded me too much of a more confident, more skilled version of myself, along with the ego to match…and that had me worried.
“What are you up to, Jean Luc?” I whispered to myself, trying to figure out why he hadn’t broken off already. If I could see it and my men could see it, then what was I missing? “It’s got to be a trap,” I said out loud.
Laurent looked over at me with concern. “Those Battleships are just Battleships, just like your Uncle is just a man—not a Battle Saint or God,” he said stoically, “there’s no need to start jumping at shadows. Physics doesn’t lie, and there’s nothing mystical about this battle. In the end it will come down to battleships and broadsides just like it always does; we just have to stay on our game and let the Bugs wear them down a little longer. Then the stacks will be level, and we’ll be in the game on even footing.”
“Yeah, all in,” I laughed, but I was unappeased by the Captain’s words of comfort. What was he up to? Physics is physics and your Uncle is not a god, I mimicked the words silently, my mouth moving along with my inner voice. I didn’t think he was a god, by Saint Murphy…but deep down, I knew he had some kind of cunning scheme that I was missing.
I shook my head, thinking that maybe I was going about this all wrong. Instead of trying to think like my Uncle—a man smarter about battles than me—maybe I should try to imagine what I’d do if I had access to the Lucky Clover? My face started to screw up as I began tried to think. I couldn’t think like a man smarter than myself, but I was no slouch when it came to cunning plans and sneak attacks. It didn’t mean they always worked out…sometimes my grasp of the technology and physics was a little tenuous. and I tried to do things that were impossible. Like defeating a swarm of pirate Cutters without a single weapon, or sneaking up on the Omicron using the Montagne Maneuv—
My eyes snapped over to the main screen and I blanched. The pirates, with an even greater distance between their two Battleships and a slower rate of acceleration, were seemingly continuing their attack run. From the lines projected on the main screen, my wife was still set to pin the pirate Battleships between herself and the Bugs. Falling into such an obvious trap didn’t sound like the maniacal genius of warfare that was my bloodthirsty Pirate Uncle at all.
“The Montagne Maneuver,” I blurted out.
Laurent looked over at me in surprise.
“What would happen if my Uncle tried to use the Maneuver right now?” I demanded.
“What? That’s impos—” Laurent turned pale, “maybe with the right last-minute maneuvering to clear her projected course and avoid a collision, he might be able to put the Phoenix between his two Battleships—at least temporarily.”
“It’s a trap!” I yelled, turning to my Communications Section hard enough that my neck popped. “Tell Akantha she’s about to be pinned between the two Battleships by the Montagne Maneuver!”
“Yes, Sir,” the com-tech said, quickly turning to speak into his headset, but when he turned back he had a look of deep concern on his face.
“Blast!” cried Laurent.
“What?” I yelled my head whipping back around fast enough to cause whiplash, “what’s happening—”
The Icon of the Vineyard put its rear toward the Mother-ship and went to full burn deceleration, while the shields of the Lucky Clover flared a brilliant white just before she stopped dead in space.
“It’s too late,” I cursed, pounding my fist on my inadequate little Command Chair. I kept pounding until the pain in my hand started not just to hurt, but to sting like maybe I’d damaged something. My wife had just been mouse-trapped, and just like on the Omicron, the hunter had become the hunted. “It’s too late,” I repeated, feeling stunned. If I’d only been a touch quicker figuring out my dreaded uncle’s plan, my wife wouldn’t be trapped between a pair of Battleships. If only I wasn’t so stupid—if only he wasn’t so blasted competent!
In all the stories you learned as a kid, the bullies were really just weak and shiftless morons who crumpled at the first sign of real resistance. But my experiences with my family—both back on Capria, as well as out here—should have been my first clue. Royal Caprian bullies were to be feared because they were strong-willed and determined to crush, torture and abuse their foes.
Unlike the bullies of fairy tales, fighting back only seemed to encourage this variety, and standing up for yourself only lead to battles to the death—both figurative and literal. It was almost like something on the genetic level was different.
This, like everything else that had happened, was entirely my fault…and Akantha was about to pay the price.
Chapter 68: The Phoenix In Flames
“We’re getting an emergency message from the Armor Prince, my Lady,” Isis reported sounding concerned.
“If it is not from my Protector, then I do not wish to hear it,” Akantha said scornfully.
>
“But Mistress—” Isis started only to be cut off.
“Power spike,” cried a Sensor operator.
“Where?” Akantha demanded. Meaningless attempts to control her through communication long talker devices flew out of her head at the urgency she heard in the operator’s voice.
“I’m reading a shield flare and massive deceleration,” reported the Sensor operator.
“The Clover,” Gants said pointing at the main-screen, “it looks like she stopped. She just…stopped!”
“Why is that important?” Akantha demanded, knowing that things were always speeding up and slowing down in space.
“No, it just stopped—you can’t do that,” cried Gants. “It’s not possible!”
“The Montagne Maneuver,” Akantha said, her eyes widening. She lunged out of her chair, “Helm, emergency turn; put our broadside to those Battleships,” she screamed as the Furious Phoenix rapidly approached the now fully stopped Lucky Clover. “Hecate, tell Gunnery to attack; we have fallen into a pincer.”
“Shields at maximum, my Lady,” reported the Shield Operator.
“Not for long, I think,” Gants said despairingly.
The Hold Mistress of Messene scowled, “Enough defeatism, we will triumph ye—”
Akantha was cut off midsentence as the ship suddenly rocked beneath her, and she had to grab the rail in front of her command chair to keep from falling.
“Fire!” Hecate shouted down to Gunnery.
Admiral's Revenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 44
