Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  I didn’t learn anything of any further value that night except for this: her mother was a skilled conversationalist and much more proficient in the secret language of Earth than I.

  Eventually the hour grew late, and the Hold-Mistress of Argos took her leave.

  At first, taking off my power armor and finding myself expected to fall asleep in a strange new room filled with a giant bed, cushions and coverings made of native fibers and materials I’d never experienced before was more than a little disconcerting.

  However, when Akantha asked for some help undoing the native court garb she was now dressed in, I was instantly distracted from such thoughts.

  As with any man whose wife has just asked him to help her get undressed, my mind was quickly filled with thoughts and plans. Ones that completely ignored the troubles of city-states, worlds and the greater galaxy at large. It might not have been as productive an evening as if we’d sat up discussing state craft and troop movements, but it was infinitely more satisfying.

  At least it was for me, and from the sounds of her reaction to my plans and their execution, she seemed to feel the same way. At that particular moment in space and time, anyway.

  As we lay there sweaty and exhausted, she snuggled against my chest. “I knew you could beat Kapaneus,” she murmured. She semi-consciously nuzzled my chest before drifting into a deep sleep

  I smiled. Despite a few surprises along the way, it really wasn’t hard to outwit a muscle-bound idiot like that. Then my smile froze on my face. The way she said it seemed to indicate she knew about it before it actually went down. If his challenge really was some kind of unplanned for, random event, she couldn’t possibly have known anything about beforehand.

  Maybe I was reading too much into this situation, or maybe she heard about the fight but for some reason couldn’t come to watch. But this latest attack might not have been as completely spontaneous as it appeared.

  If she’d known Kapaneus was about to challenge me and had let me walk into the situation entirely unaware…I started to sweat. What had been a pleasant, relaxing episode in bed now had me stiff as a board in all the wrong places, trying to divine the deeper meaning of a handful of words. There was no choice for my suddenly frenzied and furious brain, and what I wondered left no room for any peace of mind.

  If I couldn’t rely on Akantha, my wife, then who could I rely on? With cousin Bethany aboard the Clover, even the loyalty of diehard Royalists like the Lancer Colonel had to be suspect, to say nothing of Parliamentary holdouts among the crew.

  More and more, it was looking like sending Gants and the better half of the Armory crew over to secure that Imperial Cruiser and the Multiplex Constructor ship had been nothing but an utter disaster from top to bottom. Who was I going to rely on down there in the Armory now… Oleander? That klutz? Hardly!

  With Spalding out of the picture, after having sacrificed himself to save the ship from a core breach, Gants gone off into the murky depths of hyperspace, sent away by my own foolish orders, and Akantha suddenly back on the ‘let's put my beloved Protector in mortal danger just to see him squirm’ warpath, there was no one around who I could completely rely on.

  Lieutenant Trembaly was just waiting to put a knife in my back. Most of my officers were decided unknowns, like the Lancer Colonel, now that Capria was back under Royal management and sticking its nose into affairs out here. I did have one decided advantage though: most of my new officers had their families currently living on Tracto VI.

  And what was this whole King James business anyway? What a crock. He was closer to my age and generation, and therefore further from a true path of succession than dozens of people with their eyes on the throne.

  As I lay there biting my mental nails and anguishing over everything that had and could go wrong, I was forced to wonder: what would happen if all my tropes and gambits failed?

  I was in it deep, so deep I had no clue how I was getting out of this mess. 'Jason Montagne, your local uninteresting holo-vid repairman,' was starting to sound more and more appealing all the time.

  Chapter 46: The Mechanics Of A Miracle vs. The Shroud

  He was… (or was he?)

  “We’re losing him,” screamed an orderly, panicking as he looked at the numbers displayed on the screen over the bed.

  “Pull yourself together, man!” snapped the man overseeing the operation, his arms already covered in blood.

  “Vital signs are crashing and his heart won’t settle down, he’s going into cardiac arrest!” gasped the orderly. “This is happening much earlier than projected in the model.”

  ““Hold on, blast you,” the surgeon yelled at the patient on his operating table. “Initiate chelation therapy, now,” he instructed the ashen-faced orderly.”

  “Oh gods there’s no way he can make it, he’s going to die unless his heart settles down,” shrilled the orderly.

  “Get the Hades out of my operating room,” snarled the surgeon, turning a withering look on the Orderly. “And send in your replacement,” he hollered at the other man’s retreating back. “Live, damn you! You’re too tough to die like this,” he bellowed at the patient on his table.

  “What can I do, doctor,” asked the orderly’s replacement, sounding much more professional than the last yahoo to pollute the operating room with his histrionics.

  There was a pause and he gave her a blank look before turning to glance at a screen being emulated by one of the most advanced medical programs ever devised. He didn’t like what he was seeing.

  His face hardened. “Get me a laser scalpel and prepare to stand by for suction. His ticker’s too far gone, we’re going to have to jerk it and put in the replacement. Now.”

  The new orderly’s eyes widened. “The patient’s still coming out of cryo, I didn’t know it was possible to perform a major organ replacement at a time like this and expect the patient to survive.”

  The surgeon just gave her a flat look. “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “Oh,” she said in a small voice. Then she shook herself and nodded briskly, “Of course, sir. Anything you need,” she said scooping up the laser scalpel and handing it over.

  The patient on the table was barely aware of anything but the searing line of fire down the middle of his chest, followed by a cracking noise and the voices started to grow increasingly distant. He also registered an ominous sound, as the previously consistent beeping suddenly stopped and became a harsh, continuous tone instead.

  'That can’t be good,' was his first and only thought before spiraling into darkness.

  “Doctor, he’s not going to make it, he’s already dead!” said the orderly, sounding excited for the first time since she took over.

  “Not yet, blast it! We’ll just have to continue this surgery in the regeneration tank. If we leave the lid open, there’s no reason we can’t continue to operate,” barked the surgeon, feeling more alive in these few moments than in the previous handful of years combined.

  “Space Gods,” breathed the new orderly, however she soon proved she was made of much sterner stuff than the previous wanker. “Of course, Doctor.”

  “We have enough uncontaminated blood samples to replace every cell in his body, and a brand spanking new heart, to boot,” said the surgeon, sounding like he was trying to convince himself.

  The orderly carefully didn’t mention the heart was still more than a touch on the immature side. Instead, she just nodded and rushed over to the tank.

  With the click of a few buttons and a subsequent plop, the body on the surgical table sank into the tank.

  “Stabilize the body so I can continue to work on him,” he said in frustration.

  “Of course, sir,” she replied, not for a moment thinking to make the excuse that the patient was floating around in the regeneration tank because that’s what they were supposed to do. Instead, she grabbed an arm and a leg and held on for dear life.

  Both medical personnel ignored the buzzing of their personal radiation alarms. />
  “Forget holding him steady,” the surgeon said irritably.

  “But you said…” started the orderly.

  “Never you mind that,” he snapped. “Place your hands here and squeeze,” he said pointing to the open chest cavity.

  The orderly gave him a wide-eyed stare.

  “Do it, now!” he barked.

  Grimly, the Orderly placed her hands on the old heart still inside the chest cavity.

  “Now squeeze, and use your hands as his heart,” the elderly surgeon commanded.

  And she did.

  Chapter 47: Back in Orbit

  As I stood on the bridge and issued the final orders to depart the system, all my hoped for accomplishments tasted like ashes in my mouth.

  “Point transfer coordinates locked and ready, Admiral,” reported Navigator Shepherd.

  “Whenever you’re ready to give the order, Sir,” Lieutenant Tremblay said cautiously.

  I glanced over at Cousin Bethany sitting at an empty console in communication section and gritted my teeth.

  She of course chose that moment to look my way, and when our eyes met I forced a smile. She gave me back a serene smile with the barest hint of gloating concealed within it. Concealed that is, from everyone but me. I knew her too well. She was up to something, I didn’t know what, but I had my eyes on her and my ears open.

  From her position on the side of the Flag Bridge opposite from our honorable Confederation Representative, Akantha glared daggers at my sweet cousin.

  Stuck between these two prime examples of the feminine side of our species, it was all I could do to keep my eyes focused forward on the main screen and avoid getting sucked into their little turf war. Anyone who thought women couldn’t be just as ruthless and twice as vicious as a man had another think coming. A controversial philosopher once said ‘women don’t have the capacity for mercy.’ I’m not sure how much of that I was willing to believe, but just looking at the two of them out of the corners of my eyes completely shook my inherent faith in that philosopher’s wrong-headed nature.

  I sat back in the Admiral's Throne and languidly waved a hand as if I had not a care in the world. “Engage the star drive as soon as she’s ready, Navigator Shepherd. We’re going back to Easy Haven,” I commanded as evenly as I could.

  If only my tour of the surrounding inhabited star systems had produced better results, I thought bitterly, then I might have some cover when I returned for whatever little surprise dear cousin and Confederation Representative Bethany had cooked up. Because sure as anything, she was just waiting to put a spoke in my wheel the first chance she got. I was doubly thankful right then for the ‘honor guard’ I’d set her up with.

  “Hyperdrive engaging, Admiral,” reported the Navigator and the Galaxy twisted around us.

  Reality shifted and we point transferred from one star system to another, all through the wonders of hyperspace.

  Chapter 48: Return to Easy Haven

  “Point Emergence,” stated the Assistant Navigator, and even though he was the ‘Assistant,’ he had more time in grade and a greater depth of experience than Navigator Shepherd. Shepherd did have one thing going for him the other man didn’t, though. He was someone I knew and trusted to do his job.

  “Baffling extended beyond transfer area, main engine is cycling up,” said Helmsman DuPont.

  “Shields are modulated for Inertial Sump emergence,” reported the man at shields.

  “There are an estimated 23 gravities to be overcome in this sump,” Science Officer Jones sighed, allowing the barest hint of irritation to color his voice.

  “Shunting all sensor readings through Tactical,” stated the First shift Tactical Officer.

  There was a pause.

  Tremblay started tapping his foot on the duralloy deck plating. Tap-tap-tap.

  I frowned at him.

  He deliberately turned his eyes so he could later claim he never noticed my suppressive look.

  I gritted my teeth.

  “Main engine at 29% and climbing, both secondaries engaged,” reported the Helmsman. A moment later, “And we’re still locked.”

  “Tactical has identified over two dozen military grade contacts,” the grey bearded tactical officer said finally.

  I sat bolt upright in my chair.

  “Two dozen,” exclaimed Tremblay.

  “Is there any way they could have pulled two dozen ships out of mothballs in the time we’ve been away,” I asked doubtfully.

  Tremblay and I shared a look of disbelief and then he snorted ironically before shaking his head.

  “Right,” I said grimly, before bestowing a tight nod on the first shift Tactical Officer. “Find out who else is in this system besides Commodore LeGodat’s 209th Light Squadron.

  While he was getting the answers I slitted a glance sideways over at my dear cousin Bethany. She had a small little smile flitting around her lips and was looking entirely too satisfied with this current turn of affairs. I didn’t like it.

  But there was little I could do about her and whatever machinations she was a part of, at least not at the moment. Later on it would be an entirely different story, assuming we both survived whatever power-play she was plotting, there would be a ‘come to Murphy’ moment in her future. You could take that to the bank and deposit it.

  “Is there a problem with the ship, Cousin,” she asked, arching a brow and bestowing a superior smile in my direction.

  “Not at all, Cousin,” I stopped myself from grinding out the words and instead produced a superior little smile of my own.

  “Oh,” she asked looking surprised, “it’s just that you had the most perturbed look upon your face but a moment ago. Knowing it isn’t anything to do with the ship relieves my mind entirely.”

  “Perturbed, Cousin?” I said, arching a brow of my own and shooting her a piercing glance, all the while keeping my own smile firmly in place for any of the bridge crew that might be watching the exchange. “Surely you jest.”

  “Cousin Shirley is back home on Capria, as you must recall,” she quirked a cute little expression before turning slightly more serious, “However, I will concede I must have been mistaken, after all you’re a high and mighty Admiral now. I’m certain there’s not a moment when doubt or indecision resides within you.”

  “First it was perturbed, and now I am full of indecision and doubt. Really, Cousin,” I laughed a deep belly laugh, one I was quite pleased to pull off on the spot like that, “a powerful Confederation Representative like yourself needs to improve her skill at reading body language, or at least pick a conclusion and stick with it. In the future, you won’t always be dealing with family as forgiving as myself, so it is my heartfelt recommendation is that you pick up a few remedial courses at the palace on assessing micro-expressions before once again attempting to deal with the galaxy at large.”

  The look she gave me could have flayed the skin off my body if it was any sharper.

  “I fear it is not a lack of training, dear Jason, it’s that dreadful scar tissue you still have on your face. Not only does it detract from your otherwise adequate features, but apparently it ‘blunts’ an otherwise well-honed skill of mine,” she said her voice dripping honey.

  Hidden within the obvious insult where she essentially called me ugly now and merely adequate looking normally, was the word ‘blunt’ which was a better-concealed dig at my nose. She knew how much I disliked how flat my nose was compared to the rest of the Royal family

  I glanced over at Tremblay, who had a finger across his upper lip while his thumb rested on his chin. If he was trying to conceal the smirk he was sporting at the sight of a pair of Royals verbally tearing each other apart in front of the crew, then he failed miserably. That’s when I knew it was time to cut this little barb fest short.

  I could always have the ‘honor guard’ I’d assigned her drag our dear Confederation Representative off the Flag Bridge. Tempting as it was, doing so right after we’d transitioned into Easy Haven System itself seemed w
orse than counter-productive. All my political senses were in harmony on this one, and agreed that it would be suicidal.

  I needed an ace in the hole, something that would shut down that venomous mouth of hers but good. That’s when I had it.

  I felt a vicious grin start to creep across my face. What’s more, I deliberately let her see it. “Oh?” I asked, quirking a finger and looking slightly past her as if meeting the eyes of one of the honor guard, “I thought the scars added distinction,” I drawled, turning my eyes to meet her gaze and look directly at her.

  She paused, a better word might be froze temporarily and then fluttered her fingers as if to shoo away a fly. “Of course, my dear Admiral. I’m sure you’re right,” she said, doing her best to laugh off the subject.

  “As you say, esteemed Confederation Representative,” I said still smiling at her. There was no way she could know it, but when I’d crooked my finger at her honor guard, as the Queen Regent was known to do with the Royal Guard when a member of the Blood Royal had gone entirely beyond her good graces, the guard I’d assigned her hadn’t a clue what I’d meant. There was no way to train them in the finer points of Caprian Court hand gestures. However, Bethany had no way of knowing that. To her, I’d as much as pointed a loaded gun at her and said 'one more cross word and my Lancers will clap you in irons and drag you off to the dungeon.'

  The puzzled expression on Tremblay’s face made my day even more fulfilling than a mere temporarily silencing of my current familial opponent. The less he felt he understood things, the better, at least where our royal Confederation Representative was concerned. Cottonmouth could be a deadly enough opponent back home where the knives were mainly verbal and exile equated to death, but out here where the name of the game was real power and everything else was a desperate scramble simply to survive…no, he and the rest of the crew were better off keeping as much distance between her and themselves as possible.