“Of course I’ll make a hash of it,” I muttered. “I have no actual training in space force operations.” Then another thought came to me and I jumped out of the chair. “I could be thrown in jail just for taking real command of the fleet. I might even be charged with treason against the planetary parliament!” I exclaimed, pacing back and forth. “They never actually meant for me to command this fleet. You’re supposed to do that.” I finished, unable to stop myself from glaring at the Imperial Admiral accusingly. “That is your job, Admiral.” I flared as only someone already facing the prospect of an unpleasant execution can.
Turning his back, the Imperial Admiral activated the forward view screen. “That was my job,” the Admiral corrected me with military precision. “I’ve since been reassigned by the Triumvir. You can either do your duty and take command of this fleet or else let someone else do it for you. Whatever happens to the fleet from the point I step out this ship’s airlock is no longer any of my concern.” He gestured to the main view screen and one of the many Imperial Technicians assigned to the flag ship shunted a sensor feed through to the screen. On it an Imperial Carrier appeared, and according to the estimated course shown on the screen, the carrier was due to dock with our aging battleship within the hour.
“The Imperial Command Carrier, Invictus Rising, will be docking with us shortly. At that time I will transfer both my flag and all Imperial personnel currently onboard this ship to Invictus Rising. Any other personnel who chose to sign on with the Empire of Man’s space fleet prior to undock will also transfer to Invictus Rising. After that this ship and its remaining personnel will be exclusively under your orders.”
Unable to think of any protest I could utter that would convince an Imperial Admiral to disobey the direct order of an Imperial Triumvir, I slumped back in my chair, overwhelmed by the enormity of what was happening. The entire Spine Ward sectors of confederate space were being abandoned in favor of protecting the Empire’s Provinces along the war front.
Careful to make no sudden motions which might upset the Imperial Jacks stationed in the room, I watched dully as the Imperial Command Carrier came closer and closer. My mind numb, all I could manage was to stare at the screen. Not only was the sector my planet was located in being stripped of protection, but on a more personal level I was in deep, deep trouble.
Fifty years ago members of my planet’s royal family, specifically those royal members belonging to the Montagne branch (of which I was a reluctant part) had temporarily seized power from the parliament in a bloody coup. A coup which was ultimately suppressed by elements of the Confederated Empire’s Rim Fleet months later. And by suppressed, I mean bombarded from high orbit until even the rubble was rendered unrecognizable.
The current parliamentary government had sent me out here knowing with total certainty that I’d never have any hint of real authority within an Imperial Fleet. I was just here to look good on camera and show how important supporting the Empire was to our planet.
When they found out things were otherwise, heads would roll. Perhaps even literally, and it was quickly sinking in that almost certainly one of those heads would be my own. I’d never be allowed to renounce my citizenship and leave for a new colony after this. I’d be carefully watched for the rest of my days and if I was very unlucky I could even be permanently assigned to the royal retreat, which wasn't so very different from an actual prison sentence. Consumed with these thoughts, the hour until docking passed by like a dream.
When the Imperial Command Carrier actually docked with our ship I imagined I could feel the whole world shudder along with the ship. The next two hours also passed in a blur as Admiral Janeski ordered the entire crew confined to quarters and then started transferring all our Imperial officers and personnel off ship, along with the equipment they’d brought with them. After that, he ordered the main Imperial database wiped and prepared to leave the Flag Bridge for the last time.
The captain of the Battleship, also an Imperial officer, soon arrived on the Flag Bridge. Together, the Captain and Admiral ceremonially cased the Admiral’s flag, which was a metal standard made of Duralloy and had been personally given to the Admiral by an Imperial Triumvir when he’d originally made Flag rank. Then they began to leave.
As they pivoted on their heels and took the first step towards the door, I wondered if this was it. If they were just going to walk off and leave me with this terrible mess. Unsure if I was supposed to do anything other than just watch them leave the Flag Bridge I was suddenly reminded of the many holo-vids I’d watched back home, where the departing captain or admiral would ceremonially turned the command codes and keys for the ship over to the new officer about to take command of the ship. Finally seeing something I could do, my royal training kicked in and quickly I cleared my throat.
The Admiral glanced back in my direction.
Seeing him look at me, my courage went up a notch and I hopped out of the chair drawing myself up at full attention. I resolved to play this thing out just like I was a real Royal about to receive actual command of a space fleet. “Admiral Janeski, I am prepared to receive the command key and codes for both the flagship and patrol fleet at this time.”
The Captain looked at Janeski, who in turn looked at me with narrowed eyes. Then, after taking two abrupt strides, the Admiral stopped in front of me and pulled out a clear crystal from a vest pocket on the front of his uniform. Slapping it in my hand he turned and without any further ceremony strode out of the Flag Bridge and off the ship. The Captain, with the corner of his lip pulled up in a sneer, drew out a similar crystal and tossed it at my feet before following the Admiral.
The Admiral was already gone but the sneering captain hadn't yet left when my mouth took over. It must have been the stress because my mouth just took over. "I wouldn't want to keep you from your date with the waste recycler, you Imperial coward," I said in my most polite tone and gave a slight bow. The Captain stopped in his tracks and whirled around on me.
"What did you say, boy," he barked and stomped across the deck plates toward me, stopping literally inches from my nose.
I did my best to keep defiance out of my voice and suppressed the urge to gulp. "It's an ancient Caprian saying, customarily offered when ancient sea vessels would cast off their lines and head off to war," I lied through my teeth.
The Captain narrowed his eyes, and for a moment I was afraid he had actually understood what I'd said. But after an uncomfortable moment or three, he slowly turned and proceeded down the corridor once again.
I breathed a sigh of relief. It's nice knowing a secret language almost nobody in the universe even knows exists, at least nobody outside of your immediate family. It allows all kinds of liberties at times like these. Like I said before, it's not like Royalty isn't without its perks but whatever was I thinking, poking him with a verbal stick like that?
As quickly as that, I was the Master and Commander of an entire fleet of warships. At least briefly, I was in total control of my own fate and my destiny was entirely in my own hands. What could possibly go wrong?
Chapter 2: The Engineer
He was the very model of an ancient, outdated Space Engineer.
Earlier:
Engineering Officer Terrence Spalding nodded his head dutifully and saluted to acknowledge the new orders from the Imperial Chief Engineer. He then turned with dignity and - without warning - leapt out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him, activating the manual locking mechanism. Glancing around wildly he caught sight of an Able Spacehand named Gants.
Pointing to the machinist shop he yelled, “Gants find me a plasma torch from the shop and bring it here on the double quick.” When Gants looked at him with wide eyed, Spalding roared, “Move it, lad!”
Gants scrambled to obey.
Turning back to the control panel, the Engineering officer initiated a class II chemical contamination lock down. He breathed a sigh of relief when the computer accepted the code and temporarily locked down the room.
Gan
ts came running back with the torch and the Engineer immediately began welding the door shut. When he’d done enough to ensure the Imperial Officer was trapped inside, he turned to Gants. “Good lad, Gants,” said the grey-bearded Engineer, clapping him on the shoulder and struggling to slow his breathing. “You may have just helped save the ship.”
Gants eyes widened and his head reared back. “Sir?” He sounded shocked. “What’s going on?”
“Never ye mind all that, lad. Never ye mind. Just rest assured, Engineer Spalding’s got everything well in hand. Together we’ll save this bloody ship yet,” he said, a wild look in his eye as he indicated the door they’d just welded shut.
Gants nodded weakly and then uneasily glanced at the welded door. “If I can ask, sir?”
“No time. No time at all for that, Gants,” the old engineer said decisively. “No. You just run along and hop into that old suit of powered armor I’ve been having the lads refurbish as a surprise for the little admiral.” He winked, but Gants was visibly shaken. Irritated, Engineer Spalding barked “Now run along, Able Spacehand! As soon as you’re suited up, join the rest of us in Main Engineering. I’m putting out the summons for everyone not currently locked down to get over there for a meeting. We’ve got a bloody ship to save!”
Non-regulation length hair flaring out to either side of his head, he turned to activate the overhead comm. system. “All Engineering personnel are to gather in Main Engineering. Repeat, all Engineering personnel are to gather in main engineering as soon as possible for an important announcement.” The Engineer nodded fiercely to himself and headed for Main Engineering at a run, pausing only to grab a pry bar to complement his still smoking plasma torch.
When Spalding reached main engineering there were only a few Imperial space hands in sight, which was predictable since most of the engineering crew was Caprian born.
Ignoring the questions shooting at him from all sides, Spalding went to the largest open area on the engineering deck and then used the plasma torch to scorch a quick line down the middle of the floor. Pausing to look at the Engineering crew on the catwalk gazing down at him as if he were crazy, he shook his crowbar at them.
“Get down here,” barked to old grey bearded engineer, pointing with the crowbar at the line he’d just burned into the deck. “Everyone not doin' something critical to ship operations, stop whatever you’re fiddlin' with and get down here on the double,” he yelled, his eyebrows beetling fiercely.
When the current duty staff, as well as those few engineering crewmembers who’d started trickling in from outside main engineering reached the floor, he gave them a wild grin and motioned with his crowbar for everyone to go to one side of the line he’d just drawn. Then waving the plasma torch in the air to emphasize his points, he started speaking. “Every man who doesn’t love our fine ship Clover should step across that line.” For a moment no one moved, and a few looked at him as if he’d just gone completely bonkers.
Furious, his glare swept the deck. “I said every man who loves the finest ship the Space Gods saw fit to bestow on mankind, stay right where you blasted well are. The rest of you disloyal dogs let your mates know you’re plannin' to jump ship and cross that bleepin' line!” He activated the plasma and a great blue flame belched from the tip of the torch, obviously for effect. When still no one crossed the line (in fact, a few were actively backing away from both it and him as if the space between them were an active mine field) the Engineer gave a grunt of satisfaction.
Angrily he stomped up and down the line he’d just cut into the floor. “Looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way,” sighing he pointed to the Imperial crewmembers, “Lads, I don’t hold yer love of empire against ye,” he said, forcefully indicating they were to cross the line, with his crowbar. When they hesitated in the face of the visibly angry engineer, he indicated they were to move across the line with the active, hissing plasma torch.
After they’d scurried across the line (if only to avoid the active plasma torch), the Engineer’s eyes lit on a couple of new arrivals trying to sneak into the back of the main group and he scowled. “Spacehands Brence and Castwell, how good of you to join us so promptly! Why don’t you two troublemakers go join our Imperial brethren on the other side of this here line.” The spacehands glanced at one another but in the face of the plasma torch wielding engineer didn’t hesitate for long before moving to comply.
“Alright,” said the engineer, his voice pitched to carry. “Anyone else who doesn’t love the Lucky Clover want to go join Brence and Castwell?”
Alarmed, Spacehand Brence began, “Sir, as the Maker is my witness I love this ship as much as the next man. I’ll just go join the rest of the crew, if that’s alright with you.” He started to move to the side with the other crewmembers from Capria.
“Hold your lazy, slacking tongue and stay right where you are, you poor excuse for an engineering rating,” snarled Spalding, pausing only to spit on the deck. “Of course you can say you love this ship as well as the next man because the man right next to you is that thieving, no good Castwell!”
“Sir, I never-” Castwell started indignantly.
"Murphy's first law, sonny: whatever can go wrong, will go wrong! And it seems plenty's goin' wrong for you right about now," he said with a scowl, shaking his crowbar at the pair of errant spacehands. "Don’t think I’m a fool who doesn’t know who it was that failed to reverse polarity on the aft beta node because he was too busy working on building himself a liquor still! Because it was that very same idjit what also tried to sell his fleet issued diagnostic tool to the crew of that poor shot up merchant ship them pirates mauled last month. All for a measly case of rot gut whiskey at that!”
Before he could continue extolling the various misdeeds of the whiskey seeking spacehand, the main set of blast doors leading into main engineering cycled open and a pair of Imperial Jacks marched into the room closely followed by the Imperial Chief Engineer. The Chief Engineer’s lips were white and his face so red it was amazing steam wasn’t shooting out both ears.
As soon as he saw Spalding he motioned to the Imperial Soldiers. “Jacks, clap that Officer in irons for falsely imprisoning a senior officer and disobeying a direct order!” He then swept the assembled engineering crew with an icy gaze. “The rest of you, I don’t know what this officer has told you…”
Engineer Spalding cut him off, spittle flying from his mouth, “I never disobeyed your illegal orders, although by all the space gods I was sorely tempted to. Instead, as ordered, I went and asked which ones of this crew wanted to leave their comrades in the lurch during a time of war and join with the Imperial members of this crew in jumping ship!” He stamped his feet to punctuate the final two words. “And as far as false imprisonment, that’s in no way worse than inciting the men and officers of this ship to abandon their posts, renounce their citizenship and go fight a war at the very moment their planet needs them the most!” Whatever else he’d been about to say was cut off as the Jacks seized him by the arms and picked him up off his feet, impotently flailing arms and all.
“Throw that senile old monkey, that poor, miserable excuse for an addled old space engineer in the brig. I’ve heard more than enough of his blather. More than I’d ever care to experience again, without seeking a blood drenched satisfaction,” the Imperial Chief Engineer stated clearly and coldly and then waited until the still struggling engineer had been forcibly removed from the deck before continuing. He ignored the surprised exclamations coming from the engineering crew and the questions cut off when he turned to look at men gathered together on the deck.
“Now despite whatever that old relic had to say, I’m here to inform you that due to events outside of our control the Empire of Man needs every man willing to join battle fleet and help fight off the Gorgon menace. You can all rest assured that if they get through the Empire, they’ll be coming here next. And everyone, including that old fool, will die.”
There was some muttering among the spacehands at this informa
tion.
“In addition, any man who willingly signs on with the Imperial Fleet will automatically receive Imperial citizenship, as soon as his tour of duty is completed. No one, I repeat no one is being asked to give up their planetary citizenship at this time,” he said, shaking his head. “Finally all ranks will be maintained without the usual two step downgrade in rank for a standard transfer from a system defense force to the Imperial Fleet.” He paused and swept the crew with a confident gaze. “I’m here to enlist everyman willing. If you sign up with us you can do so knowing you’ll be getting yourself off this ancient bucket of bolts and onto a proper ‘first class’ warship, fighting to protect you and yours.”
Chapter 3: What to do?
When the last monitor showed itself clear of Imperial officers, crew and Marine Jacks, the last bulkhead and blast door between the two ships had been sealed and the Imperial Command Carrier finally undocked, I slumped back in my chair. It was real. This was really happening. An Imperial Admiral had abandoned the Flagship, turned command over to me, and was even now at this very moment departing in an Imperial Command Carrier for the other side of known space. The daze I’d been in as my brain tried to process the new reality of things started to clear, and I really began to consider things larger than myself and my own private worries, no matter how terminal those worries might wind up being for me personally.
Admiral Who? (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 2
