Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  The orderly returning to the room to ask her all sorts of embarrassing questions about her person and bodily function was actually a strange sort of relief, compared to being stuck inside this room with nothing but her own thoughts.

  Chapter 26: Return to Tracto

  “Point Emergence,” stated the Navigator, a hint of excitement coloring his otherwise completely professional voice.

  “Baffling being extended…now,” reported Helmsman DuPont.

  “Point Resistance?” asked Lieutenant Tremblay sounding cool, calm and collected.

  “Minimal,” reported Jones, “An estimated 25-29 gravities in the sump.”

  “Engine at 18% of maximum,” said the Helmsman casually.

  “Shields modulated for breakout,” said a new man at the main shield console.

  I was startled at the different terminology he used. The former shield man had been something of weak reed, so I wasn’t entirely surprised at the Officer of the Watch switching out the previous man on First Shift and swapping him with the Second Shift replacement. On the other hand, 'breakout' must have been what he was taught on the other shift, as it was mildly different from the 'sump slide' I was used to hearing.

  “Engine at 25% of maximum. Secondary engines ready to go,” stated DuPont.

  “Light them up, Helmsman,” instructed Officer Tremblay, referring to the twin secondary engines.

  “Shield strength at 97.5%, shield regeneration is holding steady with the Point Resistance drain,” said the main Shield Operator

  There was the barest hint of a sensation, nothing as abrupt as a bump or a lurch, and then I could feel we were free.

  “There we go. We’ve broken free of the Inertial Sump, am I good or am I good,” asked DuPont, shamelessly fishing for compliments.

  “Your efforts are becoming legendary, Helmsman DuPont,” I said, putting just enough mockery into my tone so he would neither get a swelled head, nor take offense.

  “Sensors, what have you got for me,” asked the First Officer looking at the main screen.

  As usual for a Tracto jump, we had appeared further toward the edge of the system than was standard. We were still feeling our way with all the Trillium deposits scattered throughout Tracto. Taking a 'better safe than sorry' attitude after that first, awful near-miss with a planet, caution was the watchword of the day when entering the Tracto System. If the natural hazards didn’t get us, the Bugs just very well might.

  As usual, a tally of planets and nearby asteroids started populating the screen. Then shoulders relaxed and postures weren’t quite so stiff in the Sensor Section.

  “I’m picking up a Corvette on a slow and steady patrol arc,” said an attractive female sensor operator I didn't recognize.

  Quickly I glanced around, looking to see if Akantha had spotted my noticing the Sensor Operator. We were in an uneasy truce ever since the blowup in sickbay.

  While I was looking, another operator from sensors, this one decidedly not attractive and also decidedly not female, reported spotting the missile defense turret still in orbit around Tract.

  I briefly wondered if Akantha might find this sensor operator attractive, and I actually started to get jealous at the thought of her being attracted to him. Except on second look, I didn’t think he was going to be drawing the ladies into his clutches any time soon. Combined with the fact that these Tracto native girls seemed obsessed with rank and status, I figured a 'lowly' sensor operator like him wasn’t any threat.

  My head still floating in the clouds of irrational jealousy, I forced myself to stop giving the rating a hard look. It wasn’t his fault Akantha and I were on the outs right now.

  “Lieutenant, let's send out a hail and make sure everything’s been okay since we’ve been gone,” I ordered, deliberately channeling the semi-professional Admiral, instead of the jealous and frustrated husband.

  “Yes, sir,” said Tremblay and turned to relay the orders.

  The response to our hail was a combination of the welcoming and the alarming. Captain Johnson painted an unhappy picture.

  “The Bugs attacked twice while you’ve been gone, sir. Both times with Harvesters. We had to lure them to the planet and catch them in the crossfire between the Light Squadron and the Orbital Defense Turrets. There was no point in trying to take them out with our little ships,” the Corvette Captain said grimly.

  “How are the new CR70’s? Did you get them worked into the rotation,” I asked in a somewhat demanding tone.

  Fred Johnson pursed his lips before nodding his head. “The pirates ran them hard and put them away wet, but it was nothing we couldn’t take care of. It was the damage you boys did when you shot them up that was the hardest to overcome,” he said sourly.

  "They were deemed ready for crew at the point we left the system, Captain,” I reminded him, “however, my question was really about the new crews assigned to them and how they turned out.”

  “Nothing doing, Sir,” Captain Johnson said with a throw away motion. “There were a few bumps along the way, but for the most part the new crews jelled just fine. No,” he said changing the subject, “it’s the loss of the Multiplex that’s set us back over here,” he said gruffly.

  My eyes bulged. “You mean the Bugs got to it,” I hissed with sudden emotion.

  The Corvette Captain drew back from the screen, his brow furrowed. “No, sir. The Assembly sent out some new Admiral to retrieve it. I guess they want to return it to its owners in the 28th Sector,” he said, shooting me a look to see how I reacted.

  For my part, I tried to present only an image of mild to moderate interest in the events that had transpired while I was gone, acting as if I hadn’t a care in the world. “Too bad they didn’t stay,” I said simply. It really was too bad they’d taken off with the Constructor and its little army of robotic workers. I just had to hope that the people I’d left in charge back here in the Tracto System had managed to strike while the iron was hot. I sighed subconsciously, since I’d been planning on having the Multiplex here when I returned to the system.

  The Corvette Captain nodded, and then proceeded to shatter all my preconceptions into tiny little pieces. “The Admiral left one of his Corvettes here along with an Assembly Representative,” he gave me a look I couldn't read, “they mean for you to return to Easy Haven as soon as possible, Admiral. To deliver a full report.”

  I sat back stunned. It seemed the long arm of the Rump-Confederacy was reaching out to draw me into its clutches, to justify my actions much sooner than I’d been expecting. Well…at least much sooner than I was ready for anyway, I thought cracking a wry grin. I’d been half expecting it ever since I departed Easy Haven with the Constructor Multiplex in tow. Somehow, I’d managed to push it into the back of my mind between then and know.

  “Thank you for the timely report, Captain Johnson,” I said formally, bestowing a Royal nod of approval in his direction.

  Fred Johnson squinted at me, as apparently this wasn't the reaction he’d been expecting to see. Or perhaps, hoping to see would be a better adjective.

  The Lucky Clover was still on its way in system when a Corvette I’d never seen before broke away from the planet and the protection of the two defense turrets orbiting Tracto VI.

  Other than confirming I was aboard the ship via the Communications Officer, there was no further communication except for a request to dock as soon as possible after invoking the Rump-Assembly’s authority. All attempts to raise either the Captain or Governmental Representative failed.

  There was nothing further to do except wait for the arrival of the strange Corvette.

  Chapter 27: A Royal Welcome

  Hours later, the fleet-footed Corvette met our sluggish Lucky Clover, in what was technically the outer edge of the Star System.

  The aged Battleship hardly had to slow down, so deft was the Corvette’s captain, or at least her helmsman at sidling alongside the Clover and matching speeds.

  From DuPont’s reaction at the Helm and the hushed comments he
exchanged with Navigator Shepherd, I gathered this was quite a feat of helmsmanship. When my Helmsman was envious and trying not to show it, it meant the other man must be quite good.

  If the Captain of the C.S.S. Errand, which was the name of this nimble Corvette, and his Representative thought that ignoring me and showing up my pilot and old warship was the way to earn my attention, then he was correct. However, it was an unfavorable regard, and I’d be blasted out the airlock before I let them know it.

  I wasn’t some ham-handed rube fresh off the farm, I was a battle-tested Admiral. One who’d cut my teeth on courtly intrigues. This had the stench of a man with small reproductive organs intent on playing petty little games, and I knew just how to handle little woodpeckers with too much time on their hands.

  So instead of going down to meet the Representative and his posse of sycophants, I dispatched the Lancer Colonel along with a detachment of our Lancers. If I was a fool and this was all some cunning maneuver to get me to lower my guard while they snuck a team of power armored specialists onboard, then they would soon find they had met their match. If I was right, then we’d see how pompous and overbearing this so called Assembly Representative was with my Honor Guard dogging his every step.

  Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned during my time at court and on this ship, it's that being surrounded by guards not in your employ can be one of the most nerve-wracking experiences imaginable. Always sitting there wondering what their orders were, or what they’d go ballistic and lose their minds over if you took a wrong step.

  Maintaining your composure when dealing with Honor Guards provided by someone outside of your control took more than just a small amount of experience, or some really great composure. Either of which would tell me something about this new adversary. If this Representative even qualified as an adversary at all, and not just some lickspittle little minion.

  I pushed aside the knowledge that I needed the support of the Confederation Assembly, or at least the newly forming Assembly out here in the Spine. My need was perhaps more immediate than ever before, and while I was a large step closer to the limelight, back home at court I’d learned that your fortunes always depended on the good graces of someone else.

  Crawling and licking that person’s boots was more likely to earn yourself a swift kick in the teeth, just on general principle, while respectfully baring said teeth and showing you weren’t just another spineless pushover ran you no greater risks than the previous option. You might even come out better off if they did decide to turn their gaze away from you.

  That’s why, after posting additional battle-suited lancers in and around the Flag Bridge, I decided to meet them inside the Admiral’s ready room. Let them walk through my ship. Come to the center of my power. Along the way they would see a fully functional Battleship, one that was still formidable, instead of whatever falling apart lash-up they’d been expecting. Once they were in the center of my power and had time to absorb things, let them come and try to beard me in my own lair.

  After the grand tour, they’d be less likely to see a far too youthful-looking man, and instead they would see a Confederation Admiral. Then let them attempt whatever power grab they were interested in. They wouldn’t find me an easy target.

  It was a tense twenty five minutes once I knew the Assembly Representative and his party were on the way up to meet me. I struggled not to squirm or pace. I needed to be perfectly in control. Not only of myself, but my surroundings. It's hard to do that when you are filled to brim with nervous energy.

  To quiet my nerves, I pulled up the data dump from Captain Johnson and started going through his Captain’s Log. Going through the record reminded me that I hadn’t even started a Log of my own. That was something a real Admiral would do, and maybe it was time I should start.

  I meant to skim ahead to the parts I was most interested in, namely the Assembly Representative I was about to meet, as well as this other Officer who’d come to take away my Constructor. Unfortunately, I got diverted when my eyes skimmed across Captain Johnson’s entry and were snagged by mention of a battle with another Bug Harvester. Last time the Lucky Clover had been here for most of the heavy lifting. I couldn’t imagine how they’d manage to deal with not one but two of those ships. Well, I could imagine, but nothing I was coming up with filled me with anything but anxiety.

  The blow by blow account and accompanying sensor files had me on the edge of my seat as I scanned through them, even though I knew with total certainty that the Captain and his ship had both survived the encounter. It was then that I noticed something in the footnotes of the report listing the assets involved in the battle, and I'm sure it made my face turn red.

  I had never looked up the full designation on all of these CR70 corvettes we had been encountering, but right there in Johnson's report it was listed as clear as day: Cornwallis-Raubuch Series 70 Corvette. I had no idea who Raubuch was, but the fact that the Cornwallis family was so influential as to be co-founder of one of the more popular lines of ship design in use out here in the Spine made me fume. There wasn't anything I could do about it, but my mind raced with the potential implications of this little factoid for a few minutes before I forcibly calmed myself and re-focused on the task at hand.

  I was still reviewing the files and watching the little defense squadron flee to Tracto VI in hit and run style when the door chimed. I looked up in surprise, and before I had the chance to press a touch button on my desk and key open the door, someone outside overrode the lock and I received the surprise of my life.

  A quick glance took in the figure in the doorway, stepping into my ready room like she owned it, revealing a young woman in Caprian Court Attire. The only nod to her supposed duties as a Confederation Representative was a rune-covered length of red silk that hung around her neck, reaching up from one knee and back down to the other. I knew enough to recognize the silk as part of an official Confederation diplomatic uniform of some type. Its exact provenance was difficult to tell because she wasn’t wearing the whole uniform, just the silk. The rest of her dress was pure Caprian, and more than that, pure Caprian Royal attire.

  Even though I was more than skilled enough with our own native clothing to recognize who, or rather what she was simply from the cut and style of her clothing, I didn’t need to. The brown skin, black hair and feminine features were enough for any fool to tell she was from my home world. But that perfectly sculpted nose, and those razor-sharp epicanthic folds around the eyes could only belong to one person.

  Stepping up to my desk, her lips twitched and she gave me a derisive look. “Well-well-well,” she said, turning her head to take in the room before rolling her eyes. “I always knew you were destined to hang, Flat-Nose, I just never figured you for the type to voluntarily stick your neck in the noose,” she sneered as she used an old nickname I had been slapped with during childhood. I had grown up hating it when they called me Flat-Nose, I actually disliked it even more than when the crew referred to me as the Little Admiral.

  “I always pegged you as more the 'run for cover and hide while sucking your thumb' type, but I guess we learn something new every day,” she said when I didn’t instantly leap into the conversation. The sad fact of it was, I would much rather have been hiding out on my own little wine vineyard in some other sector of space than trying to hold the Rim of known space together with my bare hands.

  And as fate would have it, at that exact moment, the only thing that could have possibly made this situation any worse walked right into the room along with her honor guard. I closed my eyes to keep from exploding. I had specifically not invited Akantha because I didn’t want her presence during what was sure to be a stressful enough affair without her taking offense at every little insult I received. Then I forced them open again and kept them turned away from my wife, and back to the woman in front of my desk.

  “As stimulating a conversationalist as ever, Cotton-Mouth,” I said, resisting the urge to squirm in my seat and scowl, “barely through the door
and already the threats start spewing out. Reminds me of the time back when you used to pay cousin Herald to come and knock me to the ground just so you could get in a few good kicks while I was down.”

  While the Confederation’s Representative sneered at me, I made an obvious play out of ignoring her and focused on my Sword-Bearer instead. “My Lady Akantha,” I said, rising to my feet and gave her a courtly bow, one entirely too proper for a husband to his wife. “I have been too long without the light of your presence shining in my eyes.” From the confusion in Akantha’s face quickly followed by a look in her eye, I was certain she wondered if I was making fun at her expense.

  Her eyes narrowed and she slid a glance at other woman in the room. “Protector Montagne-,” she started coolly, only to be cut off.

  “Protector now, is it,” scoffed the Confederation Representative, a superior expression on her face as she sliced a glance over at Akantha. “Flat-Nose here couldn’t protect an ice factory in the middle of winter.”

  Akantha’s eyes slitted and she started to turn white. It looked a lot like fear to me, but the next words out of her mouth knocked those thoughts right out of my head like a sledgehammer.

  “Who is this person that speaks so familiarly with you,” she said abruptly, her hand creeping toward her sword.

  Both the women in the room looked at me expectantly.

  I gritted my teeth behind closed lips where no one could see it. When I’d mastered my jaw muscles once again, I put on my best court smile.

  “My Lady Akantha, please allow me to introduce my Royal Cousin Bethany Tilday Vekna,” I said with a sardonic wave of my hand. “Bethany, this is-.”

  My royal Cousin cut me off. “Whoever it is, I don‘t care to hear her introduction. Just tell the stooges to leave the room. We’ve got things of vast importance to the Family to talk about, Flat-Nose,” she said looking at me with a gleam in her eye. “I do not care to converse in front of the teeming masses.”