Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  My own smiled withered and I looked down at the console built into my desk.

  I hunted around for a subject to bring back that smile. I admit it, I fell down a hole and met a woman I first thought was the next best thing to a snake. For a while, I’d thought of her as a pit viper, but seeing her just a few moments ago happy and smiling made me want to make her happy again. Just to see that smile once more.

  I was disgusted with myself.

  “I take it the ship was captured without too much damage or casualties,” I said just for something to say. I already knew casualties had been light.

  For her part, she seemed happy to go on about the victorious seizure of the Hammerheads. “Oh, we lost another fifty taking the ship. Their crew and Marines fought and they died, but the battle was never in doubt,” she said with a satisfied smirk on her face.

  “Excellent,” I said, more than a little bit chilled at the zeal she expressed.

  “Of course,” she said doubtfully, “Captain Iorghu of the Fire ship said they never actually pirated the Merchant fighting ship that was supposed to come with you. He said the people on that ship were homesick and asked for an escort back to Capria.”

  I closed my eyes and set my jaw.

  She continued in a cool voice, “I didn’t believe him at first, but on the way back some of the men with skills in such things said they looked into the database, and he was probably telling the truth.”

  My eyes opened and I just stared at her, working through the implications of what she had just said.

  She shrugged as if to say she didn’t trust it, but people with knowledge more than her own were convinced.

  This was just great. If true, it meant I had already experienced the first mutiny against my command. I was just fortunate no one on the ship had known about it at the time. Murphy knew what kind of tales the mutinous men onboard her were spreading around back home.

  I had thought I’d have more time before Parliament was certain I was running around in actual command of one of their Battleships.

  If the Promethean government had the authority to withdraw their ships from the MPF anytime they liked, that went double for the Caprian Parliament and the Lucky Clover.

  I couldn’t continue this charade of being a real Admiral without this ship. On top of that, I wasn’t exactly sure how the Tracto-ans would react, but I was pretty certain that if I told them I no longer had a ship capable of stopping the Bugs from killing everyone on their world, there would be blood on the decks.

  I found myself wondering just how many merchants had entered and left the Easy Haven system already since we’d entered the system. The sooner Capria’s Parliament heard I was back in the neighborhood and duking it out with the likes of Marcus Cornwallis and an Imperial Strike Cruiser… Well, let's just say the only thing that would motivate them more than me facing down an Imperial Cruiser and losing would be the thought of me kindling a feud with the Senatorial Cornwallis’s and starting a fight with the Empire by winning.

  Suddenly, I felt a new emphasis on wrapping up my business here and heading back out system. I needed some kind of PR win to convince our still nascent Confederation Assembly that, when it reformed, it needed me out on the Rim more than it needed to please the anti-Royalists in Caprian Parliament.

  “Well, that definitely puts a new spin on things. A new spin on things, indeed,” I said, staring at my interlaced fingers.

  She just looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression. Then she shook her head and got to her feet.

  I realized at that moment, this was the first time we’d actually been alone together in the entire time since we’d known each other. However, it was too late by the time I realized this and she was already out the door.

  Wondering what kind of subtle signals I’d missed, and kicking myself for being a dunce, I stared at the door and thought dark thoughts about Fleets and Governments and, most of all, women.

  I kept thinking fruitlessly about these things until the door to my ready room chimed and it was time to deal with some sort of post-battle reshuffling of ship’s personnel. My First Officer Raphael Tremblay strode in with the final casualty, damage and status reports to review.

  I’m sure he thought it was the kind of thing that would bore me to tears and annoy me that he hadn’t handled it himself, but if so, he got quite the opposite reaction.

  I spent as much time on the Bridge and working to put the ship back to rights as I could get away with before crashing in the Admiral’s ready room. A quick trip to my quarters, avoiding the sidelong glances of Third Shift, and I was able to get cleaned up and back on the Bridge for the handover from Third to First shift.

  Then it was time for the destruction of the Imperial Strike Cruiser.

  I was sitting on my Admiral’s Throne and barely able to sit still. I forced myself not to squirm through sheer force of will, and I reminded myself that all this would be over soon.

  On the screen was an image of the Imperial Strike Cruiser, nearby was the New Dream, the Constructor from the 28th Provisional Sector with a number of my Engineers and wounded crew on board. Our crew on board the New Dream had been busy placing missiles for the better part of a day.

  “New Dream is signaling the mine field is in place,” said the external communications operator.

  “Remind them to notify us before they detonate the Imperial Cruiser,” said the First Officer.

  “That’s odd,” said one of the sensor operators.

  “Give me specifics, people,” growled the Tremblay.

  “Sorry, Sir. What I mean is the Constructor, New Dream has activated its cold space engines and I’m getting some anomalous hyper field readings from the Victorious Solar Flare,” reported the operator.

  “I’m reading it as well,” said another Sensor Operator, obvious tension in his voice.

  I tensed. The last thing we needed was something to go wrong at this late stage.

  “Get New Dream on the horn and ask them what the Murphy they think they’re playing with,” snapped the First Officer.

  The Ex-Com Operator relayed the message. “Murphy’s demon imps!” He exclaimed. Then, before Tremblay could say anything, the com tech shunted the audio onto the Flag Bridge.

  There was the sound of blaster fire in the background and someone screamed and there was a thud. This was followed by a short burst of blaster fire and then the sound of movement.

  A computer simulated voice came on over the speaker system.

  “Long live the Empire,” said the computerized voice.

  “The Constructor is picking up speed,” exclaimed a female sensor operator.

  “It looks like it's passing right through the missile swarm surrounding the Strike Cruiser… It's on a collision course with the Cruiser, Sir,” she said sounding horrified.

  “I’m still getting strange hyper field readings, I’ve never seen anything like it before. It's like the field is fluctuating. Hyper fields aren’t supposed to move like that, even if a ship is moving under cold space engine power,” said a Sensor Operator sounding puzzled. “Which the Imperial Cruiser is not.”

  “Keep hailing New Dream. Get me someone on the line over there!” barked First Officer Tremblay.

  I felt my shoulders tighten reflexively. This would go down as my single, biggest blunder, I thought with growing fear.

  “Helm, do we have time to get over there ourselves and pull her away from the Strike Cruiser,” demanded the First Officer.

  The Helmsman looked at him like he was crazy. “Even if the Constructor stops right next to the Strike Cruiser-” started Helmsman DuPont.

  “Missile swarm has just been set on automatic countdown,” interrupted the female sensor operator.

  “Shut it down!” yelled the First Officer.

  There was a flurry of activity from tactical.

  “No can do, Lieutenant,” said the grey haired Tactical Officer in command of First shift Tactical. He looked a little pale.

  “Murphy take us, what
is going on,” yelled Tremblay.

  Then over the open audio channel there was an explosion followed by a series of blaster bolts.

  “Slow it down before we ram into the Solar-Flare,” barked a voice.

  “Who is this,” demanded Tremblay.

  “Sorry, Sir. Kind of busy right now,” said a voice tight with tension.

  “The Constructor is slowing and she’s changed her course. She should just avoid the Imperial Cruiser,” said one of the Sensor Operators with enthusiasm.

  “They’re going to be too late,” the Navigator said.

  “No,” growled Tremblay, hitting his own leg with a clenched fist. "We haven't even transferred the fusion cores and the battle suits yet!"

  I didn't remember ordering anything about battle suits. What was my First Officer getting at? I didn't have time to dwell on it, though.

  “The strange hyper field readings have evened out, but the Imperial now has a larger than expected hyper bubble,” said the same Sensor Operator who’d been puzzled the entire time.

  Then, almost as soon as the Constructor was right beside the Imperial Cruiser, the missile field detonated.

  “Premature missile swarm detonation,” said a horrified tactical operator.

  The tactical display, which previously had shown the perilously close icons representing the two ships, registered dozens of blips which probably corresponded with the missile explosions. After the rapid sequence of detonations, the display showed little more than a faint cloud, apparently to indicate a debris field.

  “How the Hades did this just happen,” the First Officer said in a stunned voice.

  I closed my eyes and wordlessly gave a prayer for everyone on board the two ships.

  “Let's search the wreckage for survivors,” I managed to force out, eventually finding my voice.

  One of the Sensor Operators said something in a lowered voice.

  “What,” I asked abruptly, then caught myself. I needed to project calm and control at this particular moment. I reset my voice and continued, “speak up.”

  “I’m reading only minimal debris,” said a sensor operator in a quiet voice.

  “I think the hyper field activated right around the same time as the missile swarm,” said the same persistent Sensor Operator who’d been following the strange readings the entire time. “Right before or right after, I couldn’t say. That many missiles going off at the same time obscured my sensor feed.”

  “How is that possible. They were just standard concussion missiles,” said Tremblay.

  “Apparently, the New Dream dumped the entire magazine into space, not just the concussion missiles. The ship’s compliment of ECM jammers obscured my sensor readings when everything detonated simultaneously,” the Sensor Operator reported.

  “Possible sabotage,” asked the First Officer looking at the Sensor Operator.

  I injected myself into the conversation. “I think that part is pretty obvious, don’t you Mr. Tremblay? Someone, or several someones on the Constructor were organized enough to take over the New Dream and put the ship on a collision course with the Victorious Solar-Flare, just before she was slated to be destroyed,” I snapped, my veins bulging and my face flushed.

  “The short amount of time they held control of the ship would argue against a deep organization on board the New Dream itself,” protested Tremblay.

  “It seems pretty clear to me that they intended to make sure we lost the New Dream, along with the Strike Cruiser. It doesn’t matter how long they had control of the ship, since they quite obviously succeeded,” I continued harshly.

  “We need to take further precautions, Admiral,” protested the First Officer. “Let's think this through at least and see if we’re still vulnerable.”

  “Post Lancers in key locations throughout every ship in the fleet and then get me Commodore LeGodat. It's time we left his system,” I said, looking at the floor while my mind raced at light speed.

  “What fleet? All we’ve got left is one damaged Heavy Cruiser,” the First Officer said, rolling his eyes.

  “Instruct our personnel to consolidate the crews of the two Hammerhead class Cruisers onto the Fire of Prometheus. We’ll be taking the Pride of Prometheus and that second Constructor, the Multiplex, along with us when we go,” I ordered imperiously.

  “The Promethean Cruisers are no longer part of our virtually non-existent Confederation Fleet. If we take the Pride, we’re no better than pirates,” said Tremblay with a challenge in his tone.

  I rounded on the First Officer, fire in my eyes.

  “That ship refused a lawful Confederation Inspection, and resisted with deadly force. Many of our Lancers are now dead because of their actions, and a Confederation Fleet organization just lost a shuttle because of them. The Pride of Prometheus isn’t being pirated, it's being impounded and then conscripted into the Confederation Fleet,” I rebuked Tremblay in plain view of the whole Bridge crew.

  “Somehow, I don’t think the Promethean Government will see it that way,” the First Officer said after a pause to reign in his temper.

  “Carry out my orders,” I forced through gritted teeth.

  “Yes, Sir. Admiral, Sir,” said the First Officer, turning on his heel and stalking over to the Communications section.

  I returned to my ready room. I couldn’t stand to face the rest of Bridge crew right now. Things were about to become more interesting onboard the Lucky Clover now that the Chief Engineer, the Chief Medical Officer, and Gants along with half the Armory team were gone.

  I had known them and, more importantly, I trusted Gants and even Spalding for all his half-crazed, histrionic ways.

  The Lucky Clover would survive these losses. It had to, but things were just going to be tougher without them around anymore. The reality of the situation had obviously not yet fully sunk in.

  I just hoped someone else broke the news to Akantha. I didn’t want to have to lie, but I could just imagine the look on her face when she learned New Dream had been lost with all hands, including one very rugged Wizard.

  Chapter 11: The Departure

  “I’m going to send you a letter intended for the Caprian Government. I hope you can see it's delivered for me and a copy retained here if for some reason Planetary Officials are already in transit,” I said formally.

  “Of course, Admiral,” said Commodore LeGodat.

  “All elements of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, save those men assigned as crew your Dungeon ship, will be departing the system within 10 hours,” I continued.

  “We’d noticed here at System Command that you’d begun to spin up your star drives, Admiral. The only question around here was when you’d get around to informing us,” Commodore LeGodat replied.

  “Just so you know, the Promethean Hammerhead, Pride of Prometheus has been impounded for violently resisting a lawful inspection party. And in the process killing over 150 men, destroying one shuttle and damaging two more. For the time being, it's been added to my fleet,” I said.

  LeGodat sucked air in through his teeth, then nodded.

  “Can’t say as I’m entirely surprised. However, I need to go on record advising against impounding the Medium Cruiser,” said the Commodore.

  “Noted,” I said flatly with a nod.

  “May I inquire as to your intended destination, Admiral Montagne,” asked LeGodat.

  “MPF Lucky Clover will return to Tracto VI for repair and then continue along her patrol route. Fire of Prometheus and Multiplex, the other Constructor, will go with us at least as far as Tracto System. After which, decisions will need to be made. But probably they’ll stay in Tracto,” I said evenly.

  The Commodore nodded, gave a sharp salute and then signed off.

  Back on the Flag Bridge I made my way to the command chair and awaited the impending point transfer.

  “Threshold exceeded one hour fifty minutes ago. The countdown is five minutes until point transfer,” said Lieutenant Tremblay matter-of-factly.

  “Are all ships
slaved to our navigation computer,” I demanded. After the last fiasco involving the Hammerhead, I wasn’t taking any chances.

  “All Nav-Comp’s are slaved to mine,” said the Navigator Shepherd.

  “With our slow recycle times and the shorter range of the Hammerhead Cruiser, it will take almost twice as long to return to Tracto VI,” the First Officer said disapprovingly.

  I knew the First Officer was displeased on a couple different levels. First, Tremblay wanted to take the ship home to Capria, not simply send a message letting them know we were okay. Second, if we were going back to Tracto, he didn’t want to be in the company of two very hot ships, whose respective governments were likely to pursue and attempt to retrieve.

  “Steady on, men. There’s no need to let what happened to New Dream effect our performance” I said, deliberately misattributing the First Officer’s worries.

  Lieutenant Tremblay gave me a look that made it clear that wasn’t what he’d meant and I knew it, but otherwise remained silent on the subject.

  It took a week to return to Tracto from Easy Haven, instead of the half week it had taken us on the way in. Between the Medium Cruiser’s shorter range and the massive Constructor’s longer recycle times, we were lucky to get there as fast as we did.

  Compared to a Settler, a Constructor might be considered small. Next to anything else it was massive, and that size resulted in a ship that took even longer to jump to hyperspace than the underpowered Lucky Clover, with its three outdated fusion generators and old Caprian construction main dish.

  Unlike the other systems we’d point transferred into, where the odds of encountering trouble were low, Tracto had us all on our toes.

  It wasn’t the home world for most of our crew, especially those on the Flag Bridge, but for those not filled with a keen interest in the doings of the local populations, there was something else to capture their interest. Bugs. According to the Empire, the Bugs were a non-sentient, genetically engineered race, created by the AI’s for who knew what purpose.

  While I generally took everything the Empire said with a bucket of salt, nothing I’d seen so far had contradicted the official story.