I stood there flabbergasted. I felt like Alice when she fell down a rabbit whole, only my rabbit hole had been inside a bug ship and I’d landed on my head. Ever since, it was like I was staring through the looking glass. Down was up, up was down, and the bane of my current existence was charming my crew right out from under me!
Being ignored was actually something I was quite used to, although it was something of an oddity since I’d taken command of a fleet consisting of one ship, the Lucky Clover. Bemused, I trailed along behind as the crew under the direction of ‘Lady Akantha’ proceeded to trash every room in the hallway.
For his part, the wild-haired Chief Engineer seemed to enjoy watching me play second fiddle to the Lady.
You could tell her patience had started wearing thin when she suggested they should return to medical to question the ‘rival war-band’ a second time. The Chief Engineer managed to steer her away from this course. I don’t know how he did it. The simplest words from me and it was fireworks, while the Engineer’s ‘suggestions’ she seemed to take for something close to gospel.
Eventually, since she wasn’t getting any satisfaction anywhere else, she turned on me. “Why are you not helping,” she demanded imperiously.
I sighed. My honeymoon as just another piece of movable furniture had come to an end. It had been nice while it lasted. I used to be able to go for days without anyone caring what I did I thought morosely.
“You seem to have more people than you need. I figured I’d just be in the way,” I replied blithely.
“Yes,” she replied, stepping closer and speaking as if I was slow on the uptake, “I have as much help as I need. So what are you doing,” she repeated.
I was a bit nonplused. Boy, was she tall. “Waiting to talk with you, like I said when I first got here.” Having her loom over me wasn’t helping. I looked up at her. I’m no shorty, and safely at the lower end of average, but when she was standing this close it was obvious that she was a good half foot taller than myself.
“Why are you wasting time,” came the response in her native tongue, echoed by the translator. She was giving me her patented cold stare.
“I have tens of thousands of refugees with no place to live. I told you this before,” I was starting to get exasperated. Both with the line of questioning, and the fact she was so much taller than me. I might have to look into improvised footwear in the near future.
“And you want me to find lands for them, right,” she asked, looking cross with my stubbornness. Then a sly look started breaking through her icy exterior. “A place to live,” she finished thoughtfully.
I was startled. “Yes, that's it exactly. Perhaps if you could introduce me to one of the local rulers…”
She sucked in her breath and looked concerned, but I wasn’t buying it. Not for a minute.
“Such a very big job. Finding a place for everyone on flying citadel, Lucky Clover. Even bigger if more people on other flying citadels,” she sucked on her teeth as if in consideration.
It looked like someone had finally explained to her that our ship was no boat. I glanced suspiciously at Spalding, who just looked smug.
“Can you help,” I asked, getting sucked in despite myself. “Please.” I finally forced that out and immediately gagged, but did my best to hide the reaction.
She paused, as if seriously considering and then nodded, “Yes, but first I need something. Before we can see to needs of, ref-u-gees,” she said the last word in Confederation standard language.
“Anything,” I said, hope rising for the first time since I had come down here. “We have weapons and power armor. Flying vehicles. Anything.”
She smiled serenely, “Before Adonia Akantha Zosime can see to needs of others, she must see to her own needs first.”
“Alright,” I said hoping, it wasn’t a thousand suits of power armor so she could crush her rivals and everyone on the surface she thought had done her wrong. Knowing her like I did, such a list would be very long indeed. I might be setting off a massacre worthy of the Montagne label.
“She doesn’t need lots of weapons or armor, and while flying sounds very nice,” she said shaking her head, “she really only needs one thing.” She paused then finished triumphantly, “I need my Ban-der-snatch.”
I felt like thumping my forehead for being such an idiot. I should have known. One time, my mother had lost her ring down the sink. She had insisted we disassemble the entire plumbing assembly in the kitchen until we found the thing. It had taken hours and there had been no swaying her. At one point, she’d even talked about contacting the sewage company to see if it had been caught in one of the filters, or even ended up in the bottom of one of the waste collectors.
I suppose if you replaced the traditional marriage ring with a deadly weapon masquerading as a long-lost family heirloom, in turn masquerading as the equivalent of a wedding ring, then the parallel soon became obvious.
Like any woman who lost her wedding ring, she wasn’t going to worry about the little things (like the rest of the world and a few hundred thousand people) until she got it back.
“Right. I’ll make a few calls,” I said, knowing I’d just been neatly manipulated. As usual, my girl was willing to hold everyone and everything else hostage until she got what she wanted.
The icy exterior was back and she nodded to me. “Good,” she said coolly, and turned back to ransacking someone else’s quarters.
Chapter 29: Given a Job
I marched back to the bridge, envisioning the steam hissing from my ears and turned to Officer Tremblay.
“It’s time to initiate a full-scale search for a missing sword,” I said with finality.
“What sword would that be, Admiral,” Tremblay said, and by the expression on his face it looked like he knew exactly what sword I was talking about but wanted a public confirmation.
“That would be a famous vibro-blade commissioned by my illustrious ancestor Larry One,” I said, using the politically correct version of King Larry the Great’s name. Then, because the cat was already out of the bag, “It has the letters B-A-N-D-E-R-S-N-A-T-C-H written down the side of it,” I added helpfully, just in case anyone had been sleeping through history class and also failed to key into the ship’s rumor mill.
"Yes, Admiral. I think everyone on the crew is familiar with the description of that sword,” the First Officer said before turning to issue the necessary orders.
“Good,” I said as I turned to go. “Carry on.”
“Admiral, what should we do after the weapon is recovered,” asked Tremblay. “I’m certain Parliament and the Queen-Regent, along with every crewman on this ship, will be overjoyed to hear about its recovery.”
“A foolish man might try to hide such a historical heirloom until we return home, to protect it from damage. A wise man, on the other hand, would immediately return the blade to the Lady Akantha. She’s convinced it’s the native equivalent of her wedding ring, a thing she simply must have returned to her before she’s willing to help fix our little settler problem,” I said, striding out the blast doors. While the thought of putting a spike in the wheels of that uppity royal Jason Montagne, who had the gall to go around acting like a real genuine admiral, might appeal to the first officer or others onboard the ship, it was unlikely they were going to risk the lives of helpless settlers just to stick it to me.
Returning to my quarters, I didn’t bother with the main lights, turning on the ones in the miniature bathroom instead.
After getting rid of that ridiculous helmet, I pulled off the uniform before falling back into bed exhausted.
I landed on a solid bar of metal. I gasped in pain, sitting back up as quickly as possible.
Seeing nothing immediately harmful, I felt around with my hands, checking for bruises, before looking balefully at the hunk of metal in the bed. I turned on the lights. It was the missing vibro-blade the whole ship was turning upside down looking for. How in the world did it get here? I picked it up and a piece of old fashioned paper f
luttered to the floor.
After reading the paper, things became much clearer.
Admiral,
Sweet Murphy, it's not right to just toss a wedding token at a lady like you did. I realize time was short on the Bug Ship. Har Har Har. But this time, get on your knees and do it right. For shame.
T.S.
P.S. Happy honeymoon. Oh, and by the way, there’s a couple discs I made which were recorded by that two-faced, Empire loving traitor, Lieutenant Van Ness. Lucky for you, I'm familiar with every data trap in this ship's DI, or we might not have been able to recover them. There’s something on them you have to see.
I had the sinking suspicion T.S. stood for Terrence Spalding, the same man who was tearing through personal quarters with the Lady Akantha, last time I checked. He had already managed to find the lost vibro-blade and sneak it into my quarters on the sly! What could possibly be on these two discs that could be so important?
Fumbling around in the dark, I located the discs mentioned in Spalding’s note.
It occurred to me that there were several messages to be taken from this little display of breaking and entering, not all of them designed to help a tired Admiral’s peace of mind.
Popping the first one (aptly labeled 'Number One') into my personal handheld reader, I sat down on the bed with a weary sigh.
The two figures I saw on the first disc sent me jumping to feet, reader clutched in a death grip. It was none other than murderous swine of Lieutenant, Mr. Van Ness and our dearly departed abandoner, Imperial Rear Admiral Arnold Janeski.
Blood rushed to my head and I could hear my pulse pounding in my ears, almost too loud for me to hear their exchange as the recording played progressed.
“So what you are telling me is, it’s time to go to Phase 3,” said Lieutenant Van Ness, standing with his back to the camera. The Admiral’s face clearly visible over his shoulder.
“The Invictus is scheduled to rendezvous with us in two hours time, after that events will have been in motion,” Said the Rear Admiral with a tight smile.
“One concern I have, Admiral. Why do you have work parties out on the hull disabling the ship’s main weaponry,” Van Ness said, sounding upset.
“Do your job, Lieutenant and leave things above your pay grade to those above your pay grade. You just worry about holding up your end and stick to the schedule. I’m not about to let anyone or anything, including incompetence, stand in the way,” Janeski said scornfully, his eyes turning hot. “Just focus on your end and everything will be fine.”
“Yes, Admiral,” said the grey haired Lieutenant who’d tried assassinate me - twice.
“Remember; wait until the Invictus point transfers out of the system. Then lock the Little Admiral away in the brig and take control of the ship. I’ve made sure that every officer senior to you is leaving with me, other than that cantankerous old fool down in Engineering who's made it clear the only way he’s leaving this ship is in a body bag. So other than one senile old engineer, you’ll be the senior officer on the ship,” said Janeski with a frown. “If you can’t handle a fool like Spalding who only wants to play with his engines and belly ache, then you’re not the man I think you are.”
“It’ll be exactly like you say, Sir. The operation will go like clockwork, and I’ll be at the rendezvous point before you know it to hook up with the rest of the fleet,” Lieutenant Van Ness said with relish. “One way or the other, that old retiree won’t stand in the way.”
“I wish I had a few loyal line officers to spare but I‘ll need every man worth his powder to help secure the Command Carrier,” Janeski said, breath hissing out of his teeth and then gave Van Ness a hard look. “This is a milk run, it doesn’t get any easier than this, so don’t mess it up with any of that SDF cowboy space rot they teach you out here.”
“We’ll follow your instructions to the letter, Sir,” Van Ness hastened to assure him. “Professional all the way, you can count on me, Admiral.”
“A spineless civilian like that won’t give you any trouble. He’ll fold at the first sign of adversity, which is why he was chosen. Wants to be a Colonial Administrator of all things,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain, “The esteemed Governor is more useful to us alive than dead, if only as a scapegoat should anything go wrong. But kill him if you have to. Your people will blame a Montagne for anything, even an incompetent stripling like this one.”
“Yes, Sir. I know the plan,” Lieutenant Van Ness said respectfully.
The Transmission ended.
I sat back, stunned at what I had seen. It felt as if my whole little world had been torn from its nice, predictable orbit. I was actually a bit numb when I switched the discs and started the second one.
This time, the image was one of Lieutenant Van Ness, looking like death warmed over, his skin pale and ashen. The recording must have been made on a personal workstation pick up, probably in his quarters.
"The Governor isn't the fool we took him for. Within minutes of your departure, he somehow organized a troupe of undercover Confederates and seized control of the Armory. I moved as quickly as I could, but by the time I got to the bridge, he was already decked out in a suit of personalized power armor." The grey-haired security officer was laboring with each breath. He paused for a moment before continuing.
"When I arrived on the bridge, he was in the process of appointing some of those loyalists to key positions throughout the ship. I attempted to arrest the whelp, but he proved more competent in a battle-suit than his file suggested, and every bit as bloodthirsty as his infamous ancestors." There was another pause as he gathered his breath.
"I am sending this message to you via your secure channel over the ComStat system. I regret missing the rendezvous at the appointed time, but am here to inform you that I will take control of the ship within two days and proceed to the rendezvous point, where I will transmit via the same channel if I don't receive new instructions from you before then." With that, he leaned forward and the transmission cut.
The rage I felt when I saw the first recording was slowly replaced by an icy chill. I honestly couldn't tell you how to describe it. I mean, I'd obviously survived two attempts on my life at this guy's hands, and he was currently laid out on the doctor's operation table, but I think it would probably be fair to call the feeling I was now experiencing ice cold terror.
Arnold Janeski was the most competent military figure I had ever seen, and he had ordered nothing less than my execution, either at the hands of Lieutenant Van Ness and his goons, or by what amounted to nothing more than an angry mob of parliamentarians.
After a few minutes, I activated the comm. system and said coldly, "Patch me through to Doctor Presbyter. Now. I don't care if he is in the middle of surgery, get him on the line."
Rather quickly, I was greeted by the Doctor's voice. "Medical, go ahead."
"Doctor, I need to speak with Lieutenant Van Ness," I said in the most level tone I could manage, careful not to give away the cold fury I felt. "How soon will that be possible?"
There was a pause. "I'm sorry, Admiral, but I'm afraid you'll be waiting for quite awhile. The Lieutenant didn't make it through surgery."
I took a long pause, digesting this information and its potential implications. Finally, I said in my most measured voice, "I'm sure you did everything you could, and I suppose I shouldn't be disappointed. After all, I was under the impression that he had died the first time he came into your care. Carry on, Doctor." I cut the transmission and leaned back in my chair. A few moments later, I winced at my implication that the Doctor might have been involved. Still, he was yet another person on this ship who I now had to keep a close eye on. I suppose I might have been too hard on the Doctor, since he had also been assaulted during the pillow incident, but that's the thing about paranoia: you're just another lunatic until it turns out they're really after you. It was, however, an unforgivable slip on my part. I had to be more careful.
I was as angry with myself as anyone, at that moment. I mean,
really, a man tries to kill me and I don't even follow up to see if he survives the incident? I just assume he's dead, when in reality he's free to roam about the ship? It really was an unforgivable, nearly fatal mistake. The fact that I was busy trying to save everyone else's life is no excuse.
It took a long time to process this information. I replayed the vids, searching for clues that I might have missed the first time, but there was nothing I thought could help me identify any other potential accomplices which may have been on board. Neither was there any indication as to where Janeski intended to rendezvous with Van Ness after he had taken command of the Lucky Clover.
The only thing which puzzled me was the comment Janeski made about needing crew from the Clover to help him secure the Invictus Rising. It could have been nothing more than internal Imperial politics combined with the well-known crew shortages the Empire was experiencing due to the war with the Gorgon Alliance, but frankly I was in no condition to make a final determination. I had a banquet to attend.
Admiral Who? (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 30
