Admiral's Nemesis Part II

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Chapter 2: Cornwallis Fleet Advances into The Reach

  It had taken longer than expected to reach this point: the day they officially kick-started the campaign. It was a campaign that would spread the name Cornwallis throughout the galaxy.

  That was mainly because his new flagship needed to make a quick stop in the Cornwallis repair yards while the Senator personally continued on to the rally point at the edge of the Overton Expanse. This was done mainly to check for any hidden surprises.

  Charles Cornwallis didn’t want to leave for the Expanse only to find out, say, the main computer would shutdown in the middle of combat for no good reason other than that a member of House Pontifex hadn’t been aboard to input a single specific computer code. Such 'unforeseeable' eventualities were among the reasons why almost the entire computer system for the Mighty Punisher had been ripped out and replaced.

  However, his moment of glory had finally come.

  Seated on the flag bridge of his flagship, the Command Carrier Mighty Punisher, Cornwallis peered into the massive holo-display that dominated the center of the room. He snorted, unable to suppress a feeling of satisfaction at the sight in his holo-display.

  “It was the work of decades in the making, but everything has finally culminated in this grand moment,” he said as the hundreds of warships paraded in squadron formation across the display.

  Years of planning and preliminary work, the manipulation of the Confederation’s Grand Assembly and the Imperial Senate both, had finally paid off. Neither of them had been easy tasks or work suited to the fainthearted.

  At long last, all that stood between him and a Triumvir’s seat now were seven Sectors of the Spine and one moderately sized fleet of Confederation locals. Previously little better than space militia they were now something…more.

  Regardless of success or failure in the Spine, if he could get his hands on a missing Core Fragment then the Resurrection of MAN—the very one reputed to still be hidden in the Spineward Sectors—a Triumvir’s Seat would be his for the taking. If he could pull off a complete coup and pacify the Spine, bringing it into the Empire as three of her newest provinces along with the Fragment…well, at that point even an Emperor’s Chair might not be too much.

  He chuckled darkly at the thought.

  Everything he wanted was within his grasp. Now all he needed to do was reach out and take it.

  “Relay the order to the 2nd Naval Reserve Flotilla and our allies in the,” he grimaced once again at the outrageous name, “Glorious Fleet of Liberation. Proceed to the hyper-limit and prepare to jump on my command.”

  On the outside he projected nothing but professionalism, while on the inside he silently fumed.

  Why the flaming Confederals couldn’t simply accept the designation '1st Volunteer Fleet' and continued to insist on using their more outrageous moniker during routine communications was baffling to him. More than that it was degrading and demeaning and…

  He cut his thoughts short viciously. Some things even a Senator of the Empire had to learn to live with and, in this specific instance, Confederation foibles were one of them.

  “Aye, Praetor,” nodded the Commander at the communications section beginning to relay the instruction.

  “Leading Confederals is like herding cats,” he muttered aloud. How they had managed to expand even as large as they had before stagnating, without imploding or falling apart under the weight of their own incompetence, he would never understand.

  “Praetor?” queried his Naval Chief of Staff. Such an individual was not to be confused with his Civilian Chief of Staff, who helped run his senate office and handle the civilian political side of the massive institution that was Charles Cornwallis' Imperial operation.

  “Just pondering the improbabilities of direct democratic systems of government and finding our own representative system of Imperial government ever so much more satisfying, Chief of Staff,” the Senator dismissed.

  “Very good, Sir,” said the other officer. A Commodore by rank, he’d been taken out of effective retirement in the reserve and brought back to active duty in order to shepherd a slightly rusty new flotilla commander through the daily minutia of military command.

  Or at least that’s what High Command had probably told him. The fact was that the entire galaxy was about to learn that time may have passed but Admiral Charles Cornwallis, now Praetor Cornwallis hadn’t lost so much as a step when it came to defeating the Empire’s enemies in naval combat.

  Chapter 3: The Official War Plan

  “Commodore Druid, welcome to my office,” I stood up with a smile as the other officer entered the room.

  The former Sector Guardsman nodded, his eyes sweeping around the room. His gaze fell on a figure in a hover-chair and hesitated before moving back to me.

  “Admiral Montagne and…Commodore,” Druid said, exchanging a nod with Kling—the man in the medically-enhanced hover chair.

  “It’s good to see you, Druid,” Kling said shortly, “but don’t mind me. I’m on indefinite medical leave until they regrow the lower half of my body and figure out how to regenerate a section of damaged brain tissue. I’ve got the easy job here,” he snickered wryly.

  “Brain damage?” Druid looked taken aback.

  “It’s mostly confined to the motor cortex,” I interjected with a frown, “so it in no way impairs the Commodore’s mental facilities.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply—” Commodore Druid said with embarrassment, but I cut him off with a hand gesture.

  “I wouldn’t have wanted to include a mentally impaired person in a strategy meeting either…unless, possibly, that person was Commander Spalding because even brain damage never seemed to slow that old man down,” I said dryly. “You can rest assured that Kling is right as rain for the conversation we’re about to have.”

  “My space career might be finished,” Kling said quietly, “but I believe I can still help in some ways. What those are, I’m not entirely sure yet. So, when the Admiral requested my presence, I came.” He took a shallow, jerking breath, his face contorting slightly as he spoke. “But if you must know, the doctors say massive blood loss caused severe oxygen deprivation, which damaged portions of my brain before they could get me out of the pod and into a regeneration tank. Some of that was recoverable but the rest wasn’t, and when you throw in no small amount of blunt trauma to the head along the way to the tank,” his lips made a hard line as he paused for a shallow breath, “not that I’m blaming my officers for banging me around when they were saving my life.”

  “You have my condolences,” said Commodore Druid seriously.

  “It’s not like my life is over,” Kling said wryly, “at least this way I get to look forward to more time at home with the family. I did sign up for the Tracto-an SDF originally, and that was only after the colonist thing seemed to have fallen through.”

  “I would think that since your mental capacity is still intact, they’ll be able to regrow the damaged portions of your brain without any issues,” said Druid looking at him seriously.

  “Of course,” Kling agreed easily, “followed by years of therapy as I literally relearn how to use my body. Of course, there’s always a chance that something will grow wrong since apparently you can’t just put in a new motor cortex; you have to remove portions of damaged sections in order to regrow it first. For now, I’m considering all my options,” he replied.

  “We’ve got a good medical team and the best facilities in the region,” said Druid.

  “We’ll spare no expense fixing you up, Commodore,” I told Kling seriously, “Doctor Presbyter is personally reviewing your case at my request.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” he replied.

  There was a moment of silence.

  “So…not to say that talking about my medical rehabilitation isn’t the most important thing in the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, but I’m sure you didn’t call us all the way over here just to talk about my war wounds,” Commodore Kling flashed a smile. “What did you r
eally want to talk about, Sir?”

  Druid also looked over at me curiously.

  “I’ll get right to it then,” I said seriously and the other two straightened in their chairs, “it’s obvious that only time will tell how long we have before the invasion occurs. But there’s no doubt in my mind it's coming.”

  Kling’s eyes tightened as he went into deep thought. “Another war then,” he murmured almost inaudibly.

  “We’re sure there’s no possibility it’s a hoax then?” asked Commodore Druid.

  “No one in this room—or this galaxy for that matter—would be more pleased than I if the Imperial Navy didn’t invade. But I’m not paid the big bucks to assume everything’s going to turn out sunshine and lollipops. Which is why you two are here,” I informed them, “I need someone to help me game out the situation and strategize. Congratulations; you’ve been picked.”

  “Strategy,” Kling looked intrigued, and more than a little surprised.

  Druid, on the other hand, looked uneasy—an expression that disappeared behind his normal professional demeanor almost as quickly as it arrived.

  “Was there a reason you excluded Commodores Laurent and Acting Commodore Hammer from this meeting?” asked my top Battleship squadron commander.

  “Excluded?” I allowed, letting a hint of bewilderment show on my face. From the expression on the other two men’s faces they weren’t exactly buying it, so I shrugged, “Commodore Laurent is out on maneuvers so it wasn’t convenient to call him in.”

  I paused, trying figure out the best way to say the next part and finally decided when in doubt truth was the best way to go. It was harder to trip yourself up that way later.

  “As for acting Commodore Hammer…to be honest, she’s still not entirely happy with the notion of doing battle with an Imperial Navy, especially one that has elements of the Confederation Fleet within it, and her reservations aren't just because she seems sure we’ll lose,” I said finally. “Taking her concerns into consideration, I thought it best not to put anymore strain than necessary on the Acting Commodore’s principles. At least,” I expounded, “not without greater need than we have here today, strategizing for the future. That’s not to say she’ll be kept in the dark indefinitely. Hammer will be involved if and when the time is right.”

  Druid nodded and Kling looked like he understood.

  “To be clear: nothing we say in here needs to be considered a secret that has to be kept from her at all costs if she’s determined to help out,” I continued determinedly. “I want it understood she’s not here out of consideration for her principles.”

  “Understood completely, Sir,” said Kling.

  Druid frowned at the end of the explanation but eventually signaled his understanding. “There is one thing I am curious about, Sir,” Druid said taking a slow breath.

  I lifted a brow.

  “Have you reached a decision yet regarding the Spineward Confederation’s offer?” he asked with visible hesitation.

  I scowled. “I am still undecided,” I said bluntly, and they proceeded to look skeptical to the point that they must thought I was lying. Unhappy at being silently called out on the subject, I reluctantly continued, “Look, that’s the truth. I haven’t. That’s in no small part why you two are here.”

  At this, the other two men straightened.

  I drummed my fingers on the edge of the table in consideration. “The way I see it is if I refuse to play ball with those backstabbers in the Assembly, I’m pretty sure I know, more or less, how this next war will play out,” I said finally.

  The other two men looked surprised. “How so, Sir?” asked Druid.

  I turned and pulled up a star map on the wall screen. “The Confederation in the Spine will bleed the Empire for a while until, eventually, the Confederated Empire, or in this case I suppose just the Empire and the Confederation’s overwhelming advantage will be proven. At that point it will be every man for himself as the rats jump off the sinking ship that is the Spineward Confederation, and who can make a deal will do so as fast as possible while anyone who can’t will fight to the bitter end. Or run till the bitter end for some of them.”

  “That seems rather cynical,” Commodore Kling observed. From his facial features and tone of voice I couldn’t tell if he approved of my analysis.

  “Either way, they’ll come for us sooner rather than later; no campaign to suppress the Spine can succeed while we’re free pieces on the board. At that point the die will be cast, we’d just have to hope the rest of the Sectors blunted their fleet hard enough we have a fighting chance. Ultimately doing nothing looks like a long shot to me,” I said, paused, then added, “not that I’m fully convinced it isn’t our best bet...even now.”

  “I might quibble with a few of the particulars I imagine you used to game it out, but let’s say I agree with you...” Kling said after a moment’s thought.

  “Say you do,” I nodded. “Also, for the sake of argument, let’s say I accepted the appointment to Grand Admiral. How does this impact the war effort, both at home and for the Spineward Sectors as a whole? What are we looking at?”

  “That’s easy,” Druid muttered, “mass defections in the patrol fleet and gaping holes atop the chain of command, as well as among the petty officers, which will have sweeping effects on our line of battle until we can fill them with people who aren’t turned off by going to war with the Confederation.”

  I glared. “I’m well aware of the trade-offs. If we reject the New Government’s proposal we’ll reduce the risk of mass defections, from our cryo-Confederals in particular, but other fleet members as well, at least for the time being. But our chances of victory go right into the toilet and we’d be stuck looking at a hit and run strategy to try and even the odds,” I rebuked.

  “Even so, it’s a point that needed hearing,” Druid said mulishly.

  “It’s even worse than that,” interjected Kling, causing Druid and I to look over at him. “Honestly, unless everyone in this room is ready to start singing the Imperial anthem—which I, for one, am not, having seen how they operate—when we finally do start to fight them we run the risk of mass defections anyway. Even if we decide to run a completely defensive campaign there will still be those who refuse to honor their oath to fight against an internal enemy of the Confederation, and outright refuse to fight—or even stoop to sabotage.”

  Druid looked surprised but I just nodded grimly, having already thought of that.

  “That fleet is made up of both the Imperial Navy and Confederation Fleet,” Kling said heavily, “even worse, but at some point we won’t just be firing on the Imperial Navy. That doesn’t matter much to us but for our cryo-crewmates that may be the sticking point. They won’t want to fire on Old Confederation ships even in a strictly defensive operation since the Old Confederation officially condoned this action. Meaning it’s technically mutiny for them to fire on this invasion fleet even at that point, if we’re still singing the national anthem and claiming we’re all loyal sons and daughters of the Confederation.”

  “Blast it,” Druid swore.

  “My thoughts exactly,” I said dryly, “but not to put too fine a point on it. I’d like to get back to looking at our tactics and strategy if we link up with this New Confederation fleet. We need to stay focused on what we can do and not get lost worrying over things out of our control.”

  “So long as you remember to put enough Tracto-an Lancers aboard each of our ships, that shouldn’t be an insurmountable problem,” Druid pointed out, almost as if merely saying it pained him.

  “A good point,” I agreed.

  There was a temporary silence as we all contemplated the lengths we might have to go to in the future.

  “At the point when you accept the top military slot, you’re essentially acknowledging you’re taking over the war effort,” Druid said unsteadily

  “Just like we did for the Reclamation Fleet Invasion? What a crock. We all know how well that worked out,” Kling said bitterly.

&n
bsp; “Yes. Just like how great things were when we were called down to lead the defense against the Droid Invasion of Sector 24,” I sneered.

  “If you’re in this for the accolades and big rewards, think again. We might as well all go home right now if that’s the case. No one will thank us for a job well done after this is over and, honestly, the very the same people that would rather go into a state of rebellion or make their own government before giving us a fair deal are in charge of running this one,” I added bitterly.

  “That seems pretty cynical—and this from a guy stuck to a hover-chair,” observed Commodore Kling neutrally.

  “I would love nothing more than to be proven completely, utterly and dramatically wrong, but you all know what they say about old dogs and their tricks…” I retorted, still mad at the thought of letting Governor Isaak go.

  “Speaking of the Imperial Invasion—or 'annexation,' as they’re probably thinking about it,” coughed Commodore Druid blatantly changing the subject, “I don’t see that they have any choice but to aim for three major targets if they want to conquer the Spine. First is the local Sector Capitol. Crush that and there’s nothing to stop the Imperial Fleet from entering the rest of the Spine. Second is our new Grand Assembly,” he continued grimly, “cut off the head and the serpent dies. There will be no organized resistance above the individual sector level and maybe not even that that once the new Spineward Assembly goes.”

  “Remember Sector 26 has only recently been contested by the Sector Guard, or whatever we’re calling them today and sectors 27 and 28 are in all probability still under Reclamation Fleet control thus automatic allies of the Grand Fleet of Liberation. Third, and lastly, the MSP is the only other multi-sector organization in the Spine other than the new Grand Assembly. That may change as the new Confederation grows and spreads its wings, but for now we’re it,” said Druid.

  “So the goal of the Glorious Fleet will be to decapitate the local Sector 25 fleet and leadership, capture or kill the new Grand Assembly, and then crush us. Does that about sum it up?” I asked.