Admiral's Nemesis Part II
Page 60
The handful of Imperial warships still fit for duty turned and ran for the hyper limit, hotly pursued for at least a short distance before they were either shot down or the Spineward Sectors warships had gone too far and they were called back to the fleet.
While Druid and his command team were working on mop up operations, I had Lieutenant Commander Steiner open a com-channel to the rest of this star system.
“Greeting from the Spine. I am Admiral Jason Montagne of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet—and in the name of the Spineward Sectors which you have invaded, which I have a duty to protect—I hereby order you to surrender or flee this system,” I intoned. “Cornwallis is dead. Your fleet is gutted,” I didn’t dare mention the fact that there were still over four hundred Confederation warships fit for duty and still had no idea if the Senator had escaped or not, “and what I have done once I can do again.” Lisa Steiner motioned towards me, indicating I had someone on the other end who wanted to speak with me, “Montagne out.”
As I watched, Confederation warships all throughout the star system turned in their ones and their two’s and fled toward the hyper limit, starting with the survivors of my mine field both Confederation and Imperial.
Then the group of 100+ Confederation warships that had sat out the last round of battles performed a sedate turn and made for the hyper limit.
More and more ships began to leave until it was like a flood-burst dam, with them veritably stumbling over each other to leave the star system.
“Admiral,” said Lisa.
“What is it, Chief of Staff?” I asked.
“I have some officers on the line. Apparently they want to surrender,” she said.
I double blinked. Who would be stupid enough to surrender when they had a perfectly good star ship I wondered?
“I believe their ships are damaged and they hope to discuss terms,” she said.
Meanwhile, over in the councils of the Glorious Fleet, accusations and recriminations flew.
“Admiral Beecher, I implore you join with us. With your forces we’ll have enough to take this system by force,” said Front Admiral Featherby.
“Do you take me for a fool?” snapped Vice Admiral Beecher. “Front Admiral Loader is dead; the locals have some kind of super weapon and all that would happen is we lose more ships. It would be suicide.”
“Sir,” Featherby said respectfully, “it wasn’t a super weapon, it was a mine field. I have to tell you, even now, that if we stand united we have the power to defeat the locals.”
“This batch of rebels maybe…but we certainly won’t have the ships or the mandate to completely conquer the rest of the Spine,” said the Vice Admiral bitterly. “No, Front Admiral, your call to set aside partisan differences and unite behind your banner is naïve at best, and actively seeking to aid the enemy at worst.”
“How could calling for us to unite in common cause, to win a battle, a secret way of aiding the enemy? I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Featherby said urgently.
“Don’t take me for a fool. Your blatant power grab won’t succeed. We’re too wise for that,”’ said Beecher before cutting the channel.
“Should we proceed with the attack on the locals anyway?” asked Fritters. “We have more than one hundred and twenty warships, relatively undamaged, while the enemy started out with that number.”
“And get our people killed to no effect?” asked Featherby before shaking his head.
“Then what was that before?” asked the Commodore, arching a brow.
“One last attempt to unite the fleet. It failed. There’s just too much suspicion right now and I’m not ready to sacrifice the last few professionals in the fleet just so we can turn around and give it over to the Empire later,” the Front Admiral said dourly.
Chapter 64: Victory?
The Imperial Fleet was crushed, defeated by trickery, and the Glorious Fleet was already scattering. Yes they’d been defeated by me, but ultimately they had beaten themselves because, as far as I could tell, they still had the power to win this battle and possibly the war.
“Once again our victory has been pyrrhic,” I said after the last of the Glorious Fleet chose to flee rather than finish the fight.
“I don’t know if I would say that, Sir,” Commodore Druid replied, “well over half of our warships are still fit for active combat operations. The last time you fought the Empire our losses were much worse, comparatively.
“That’s not what I wanted to hear,” I grumped.
“Sometimes the truth hurts especially when you want to wallow instead,” said the Commodore.
“Well if this is victory I think it’s time someone else had a go at the chair. I don’t seem to be doing a very good job of it,” I sighed.
“We’re both still here. There’s not much more you can ask,” Druid said dismissively, “believe me, I know a thing or two about losing everything in your command and this isn’t like that.”
“Now I’m just going to have to figure out what to do about all these prisoners of war,” I sighed before groaning, “not to mention the inevitable war crimes tribunal.”
Honestly, I was worn out. I'd been riding a wave of adrenaline-fueled battle-readiness for what felt like months, and I needed some time to get my head squared away.
But, against all odds, we'd done it. We'd stood tall in the face of the enemy—one which sought to subjugate our home worlds and uproot much, if not all, of what we valued in our little corner of the galaxy—and we had emerged victorious.
If this is what victory feels like, I thought silently as I surveyed the bridge, my eye snagged on the damage reports streaming in from across the fleet, then I'd hate to actually lose one of these fights.
“You're right,” I nodded absently before realizing, even if just for a moment, that the next words to come out of my mouth were actually true. My mouth curled in a fierce grin as I declared, “We actually did it—we won!”
For that blessed moment, I felt a measure of elation that seemed to buoy my flagging spirits.
Then I groaned a second time, rubbing my eyes wearily as I muttered, “Prisoners and war crimes trials...here we go—again.”
The End