“Cut that out,” I laughed before Officer Tremblay had a chance to lambast the helmsman. “Just because we’re back in civilized space doesn’t mean we’re home free yet. Keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary.”
“Report,” Tremblay demanded after a pause. “How’s the pirate cruiser doing over there? Did they come through the Inertial Sump without any damage?”
“She was included in our shield coverage,” reported one of the Sensor Operators. “The temporary shield relays Engineering set on their hull worked like a charm.”
“Not even a hint of the drain we experienced to our shields generators with the previous jumps,” agreed the shield operator with a grin.
While the rest of the Bridge Crew went about their duties with a smile on their lips, I watched the main view screen and worried.
First, I worried because there wasn’t anything on the screen. Then I worried because there was too much. In the two weeks since I had taken actual command of the ship, we had never been in a system with this kind of traffic.
In my head, I knew the amount of traffic was normal for this system. This wasn't a thriving core world with hundreds, or even thousands of ships present. Even still, the two dozen and counting contacts on the screen were enough to make me want to bite my nails.
“That’s odd,” said one of the Sensor Operators.
“Less feelings and more facts, Sensors,” snapped Lieutenant Tremblay, striding over to the man’s sensor console. “The other Officers of the Watch don’t have this kind of problem on Second and Third shifts,” he growled. “First shift is first because it’s the best one on the ship. The Admiral and I trust you to do your jobs in a professional manner. Don’t let us down, or I assure you the cushy First Shift position might very well go to Third instead. Third Shift doesn’t have these kinds of problems.”
“Sorry, Sir,” muttered the sensor operator. Then the technician raised his voice, “What I meant to say is I’ve isolated the readings from two of the ships further in the system. They both match the profile of a Hydra Class Medium Cruiser.”
“That’s Promethean build,” said Tremblay. “What are the odds of two Hydras showing up at the only fleet base we know is still intact,” he asked dryly.
I shared a look with the First Officer. In other matters we might be sharply divided, but on this one it was clear we saw eye to eye.
Our suspicions were confirmed a few moments later.
“The computer’s coming back with a match. Those ships match the profile of the Prometheus Fire and Pride of Prometheus. It’s the same two ships that stole our prize ship and abducted our away team, Admiral,” shouted the sensor operator.
“Settle down, Sensor Tech,” said the First Officer.
“But, Sir!” said the man at sensors. “We had to ram those pirates because they disobeyed the Admiral and ran away when we needed them.” The sensor man sounded genuinely outraged. If everyone else on the ship felt the same way… well, that was good for their Admiral (me), but very unlucky for that pair of ships.
I turned deliberately to my First Officer, “Mr. Tremblay, confirm the identification of those two Medium Cruisers without tipping our hand, please,” I said, raising a hand and added, “Assuming that’s possible. Then, if you would, please inform the Confederation Reservists on the former Pirate Cruiser that we’re going to have to cut them loose a little sooner than expected.”
I turned in the direction of the outraged sensor man and saw smiles on the face of the Bridge Crew.
“Assuming that it's the same pair that left us in the lurch, and in so doing abandoned a ship full of their own settlers to the tender mercy of pirates, all in favor of stealing a captured prize rightfully belonging to all of us in here. Then I’ll tell you what, my boys,” I gave a shark-like grin. “That pair of rogues is about to get some very well deserved payback. Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet Style, courtesy of our very own Lucky Clover!”
The bridge crew roared its approval at this course of action. The Helmsman soon plotted a course and after what could have only been a handful of seconds, the Clover was off.
“They’re squawking Promethean transponder codes as if they don’t have a care in the world,” confirmed the External Communication’s Tech. “It’s the Fire and Pride.”
“Thanks, Ex-Com,” said the First Officer as our Battleship accelerated, turning directly toward the pair of treacherous vessels.
“Sir, we’re being hailed by the Star Base,” said an Ex-Com Tech.
“Put it on the main screen and let's hear it,” I instructed playfully.
“Unidentified Battleship, turn on your identification beacon immediately or System Command will be forced to designate you a Rogue vessel and presumed hostile,” said a middle-aged man in a fresh looking Confederation style uniform. “System Command out.”
I looked over at Lieutenant Tremblay.
The First Officer shrugged. “You told us not to give away our intentions to the Medium Cruisers. If they look at the backlogs, they’ll see we were squawking the Lucky Clover’s ship ID before canceling the transmission,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, stifling a groan. Clearly, my silent running idea was already a farce. “I assume that with modern computer systems System Command will automatically know our ship’s ID from the first signal they received. It shouldn’t matter that we’ve gone silent,” I said irritably.
“Modern distributed intelligence systems have re-incorporated that feature,” said the first officer. “Unlike earlier, more AI-paranoid systems.”
“Then why…” I trailed off questioningly.
“The Confederation always did have more in common with the Caprian philosophy when it comes to dealing with DI computer systems,” said Tremblay.
I raised a brow.
“The more hobbled, the better. And the less chance you’ll develop a rogue AI,” the First Officer stated matter-of-factly. “The Imperials never quite learned the same lesson our peoples did. The Empire’s always been much more willing to push the edges of what’s possible. It probably has something to do with the fact that in comparison, while under AI rule their peoples did rather well, others like our own Caprian forbearers suffered tremendously, or even underwent genocidal purges as soon as we’d outlived our usefulness to our AI masters.”
“The old dreaded Cost/Benefit ratio," I said with a manufactured shudder and false bearing of dread.
“We laugh now,” admonished Tremblay with a reluctant smile of his own, “but back during the AI wars, mothers would scare their children into taking their naps with dire warnings that if they were bad, the AI would institute a Cost/Benefit analysis on them, and if they fell below the acceptable Ratio, they’d be taken away. Never to be seen again.”
“Scary stuff,” I muttered. “I think I’d rather live with a clunky DI system than risk a return to those days.”
The First Officer indicated the main screen. “Enough of the history lesson, perhaps,” he said, redirecting my attention back to the matter at hand.
“Right,” I said abruptly. Turning to the Ex-Com operator, I said, “Put me through. But make sure to use the encryption Lieutenant Commander McCruise thoughtfully provided to us. Reluctant as she might have been to do so,” I added with a smile.
When the Tech told me we were live, I schooled my still somewhat burned and scar-faced features into a polite mask. A few days transit time back to civilized space had allowed for the medical staff to work some further magic on my face, but they said that barring a full workup and extended stay in the ship’s infirmary, I was going to sport the evidence of that particular adventure (rescuing the native prisoners from Bugs) for the rest of my life.
Like any modern day individual, I fully intended to get my face fixed and put back to normal…eventually. For the meantime though, having a battle-scarred face seemed to help out with both the natives and the rest of the crew. I might keep it, if just for a little while longer.
“System Command, this is Admiral Jason
Montagne, Commanding Officer of MPF Lucky Clover, Flagship of the Confederation Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet. Or I suppose we might now be the MPF-1, assuming the Assembly, in its wisdom, has already decided to designate a second fleet,” I said, speaking slightly faster than I wanted to, so I took a deep, calming breath to steady my nerves. Realizing I had taken too long of a pause, I settled back in the Admiral's Throne to wait for the response. Because of the distance between our Battleship and the Star Base, there would be a gap of several minutes between the time they received the transmission and had a chance to reply.
With nothing better to do but look at the man and study his features, I sat there and observed. Other than being middle-aged, the next thing that struck me about him was that his skin color was much whiter than the usually brown-skinned Caprians of the Lucky Clover.
Not quite as pale skinned as an Imperial, or a Tracto-an like the native warriors on my ship training to be Lancers, he still looked like his skin would burn under the rays of a medium primary sun. He had black hair and a sharp, pointed nose, once again putting him at odds with the generally flat nosed Caprians, and a look about him that said as certain as duralloy, this man was a serious professional.
“Admiral Who…? What Fleet?” the middle aged man paused to take a deep breath. “How did you get this encryption key,” demanded the Confederation Officer.
“Admiral Montagne of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, and you are…” I gestured toward the man on the screen then continued, “anyway, we got the Key from one Lieutenant Commander Synthia McCruise,” then I realized how that might sound. “Don’t worry, the crews of your two Corvettes are fine. Well,” I hesitated, “mostly fine, anyway. They had a little run in with a squadron of pirates who called themselves the Bloody Piranha’s or some such nonsense, I think. Anyway, we showed up to save the day and put an end to that little reign of pirate terror. So you can talk with her if you want,” I put on my best winning smile, the one I had practiced for the cameras ever since primary school. “She’s in the Heavy Cruiser strapped to our hull.”
A pause.
The other man’s eyes popped before his brow lowered and he started to scowl before his face settled back into its professional mien.
“Colin LeGodat,” the other man said shortly, omitting his rank and organization. “And yes, put Synthia on the Com,” he shook his head. “She lost both Corvettes and is riding back in a Heavy Cruiser,” he marveled. “This, I have to hear.”
The other man paused, “I suppose your strange profile makes sense now that I realize what we’re seeing is really two separate ships instead of just one big blob,” he said.
“Oh no,” I said when it was my turn to reply, “the two Corvettes were heavily damaged, but as far as I know are still mostly in one piece. The Heavy Cruiser issue is another one entirely,” I was going to say more, then reconsidered, “I’ll let her talk with you and explain the situation first.”
“You do that,” said the Fleet Officer, Colin LeGodat.
Turning my head toward a nearby bank of bridge stations to hide my rolling eyes, I looked over at the Communication section. I made a circling gesture with my one good hand, “Patch him through before we cut the trunk lines,” I said, trying to sound as much like a real Admiral as possible.
Several minutes later, a hard-faced Colin LeGodat was back on the screen. Looking at that face, I couldn’t imagine anyone ever mistaking the man for anything other than a Fleet Officer.
“Assuming she hasn’t been coerced somehow,” he said, giving me a penetrating look, “the Lieutenant Commander had quite the wild tale to tell. Full of fanciful accounts of ramming and cold space rescues,” he said, “She also spoke of a potential ‘deal’ whereby you…” he paused and pursed his lips, “meaning the MSP, want to transfer to us an ancient and very run-down Heavy Cruiser, in exchange for two battle damaged but otherwise very well maintained Corvettes,” he looked like he’d bitten into something sour, “One which has no independent star-drive capability at the moment.”
“That about sums it up,” I said cheerfully. Hopefully we could avoid the full list of penetrating questions until after the agreement had been made.
“Let's table that discussion for the moment,” said LeGodat, “You claim to be the Flagship of a real honest-to-Murphy, may the space gods destroy me if I lie, active Confederation Fleet Formation,” his eyes pinned me to my chair.
Feeling the weight of all the previous half-lies and self-justifications, I suppressed a gulp and, not entirely trusting my voice, gave my best regal nod. A nod gave me the perfect excuse to break my gaze with those all-too-knowing eyes.
When I looked back up and waited for the reply, the other Fleet Officer nodded slowly.
“My sensor technicians, in addition to confirming your outrageous story of transporting a Heavy Cruiser on the back of a Battleship through multiple point transfers, also say you are heading in the direction of two Medium Cruisers, the Promethean SDF Cruiser Promethean Fire and SDF Cruiser Pride of Prometheus. As System Commander, I must officially ask if that’s so and, if so, I must inquire as to your purpose,” he said in the kind of voice that made a lie out of his ‘request’.
I paused to think, my eyes moving furiously until I thought I had come up with the proper response.
Straightening, I looked right at the main screen pick up. “Your Sensor section is correct. I am indeed taking my Dreadnaught class Battleship over to see the Prometheans and have a... ‘discussion’ with the Captains of those two cruisers,” I said, putting the ring of authority into my voice.
“Why, and for what purpose,” repeated the Fleet Officer, momentarily taken aback by the authority in my tone, “I’ll brook no settling of provincial disputes here in Easy Haven,” he said harshly.
I raised an eyebrow at his tone and looked down my nose at the Fleet Officer, “This is no provincial dispute, but rather a matter of either mutiny and treason or rank piracy against the Confederation. And you would do well to moderate your tone when speaking with an Admiral appointed to command of a Confederation Fleet, Mr. LeGodat,” I said sharply. I hated the pause in conversation. It made maintaining composure even more difficult than usual, but I worked hard to keep the air of authority I had worked so hard to project.
The Fleet Officer quirked an eye. “How can one not be sure whether it's mutiny or piracy, Admiral…Montagne, was it?” he inquired.
“Ah,” I said, ignoring his last snipe, “a number of the ships in the MSP are at-will members and technically have the ability to terminate their memberships in our fleet at the instruction of their respective provincial governments. The Promethean Cruisers are part of this agreement. However, it is unclear if their planetary government authorized a removal from the fleet, thus removing their actions from the realm of treason and into the arena of piracy.” Again, an intolerable pause as I waited for his reply.
“How can removing their ships from your fleet be considered piracy,” said Fleet Officer LeGodat with a sharp look. “If, as you say, they have the right to quit?”
“Oh, the piracy charges aren’t related to the Medium Cruisers, they're in regards to a captured pirate conversion. The Prometheans were supposed to jump to the assistance of your two Corvettes, along with my Flagship. Instead, they and our captured merchant conversion mysteriously disappeared en route to AZT89443.”
“Ah,” said LeGodat, his features shifting slightly, “things start to become clearer.”
“As you can imagine, even if Captain Stood and the Promethean Cruisers were completely entitled to voluntarily remove themselves from my fleet, after I’d issued them otherwise legal orders to rendezvous with the Lucky Clover at AZT89443, they were the last ones to put eyes on a merchant conversion with an away team from my ship. On top of that, the merchant conversion belonged to either the MPF or the ship which captured her which is, again, my very own Lucky Clover. If they're not part of the MPF…”
“In that case, System Command is willing to stand by while you deal with you
r wayward ships,” the Fleet Officer said, then added, “as long as the Unified Code of Military Regulations are followed, of course.”
“No longer being part of the Unified Military Authority, the MPF has reverted to the most recent Confederation regulations regarding such matters instead, but your point is well taken,” I nodded in acknowledgment of his concerns. “If they submit themselves to our inspection without undue protest or resistance, they will be accorded every right under the laws of cold space. Part of my fleet or not, if they choose to resist Confederate authority during this crisis, after being suspected of treason, piracy and mutiny, any force necessary will be used to bring them to justice,” I said, my tone and expression unyielding.
Fleet Officer LeGodat nodded slowly and then seemed to come to some sort of decision. He nodded decisively. “In that case, Admiral,” he said, a new level of respect for me in his voice, “as Acting Commander of the Easy Haven Star Base - Wolf 9 and 209th Confederation Active Reserve Light Squadron, I formally notify you of an act of potential piracy occurring within the Easy Haven System itself.”
My eyes widened.
“I also appeal to you, as a fellow Confederation officer and only Flag Ranked Officer in the system, to investigate the matter for your final determination,” said the Officer LeGodat.
“I guess it's my turn to ask why it is only potential piracy, and for more particulars on the exact situation,” I said with a tight grin. Beside me, I could see the Lieutenant Tremblay close his eyes and place a hand on his forehead. My First Officer could be so dramatic at times.
“An Imperial Medium Cruiser commanded by one Marcus Cornwallis, an Imperial Commander in the Confederated Navy and the nephew of Imperial Senator and Rear Admiral, Charles Cornwallis-” for some reason I couldn’t understand, the Fleet Officer in command of the system defenses stopped talking and searched my face instead.
As the Confederation active reservist spoke, the First Officer had been slowly shaking his head, but at the name of Charles Cornwallis, his look turned to horror and he rapidly shook his head at me, his face full of what could only be described as panic.
Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 2
