“Now see here, boy,” barked Yagar.
“No, you see here,” I roared back, “Sector Guard units have traditionally been subject to the orders of the Confederation Fleet and its Fleet Commanders, not the other way around, Rear Admiral.”
“My writ, which I have just forwarded to you, gives me complete authority over any and all Military Assets in the Sector of space, not the other way around,” said Rear Admiral Yagar, his voice turning cold as comet ice.
I decided to go high and wide. If I was going to defy authority in the form of this hateful Yagar, then I might as well do it in a proper, high-handed fashion. “This Fleet, this Star Base and all of Commodore LeGodat’s forces are Confederation Assets, not individual Sector Forces,” I bit out, hoping against hope that I was right, or at least right enough that if I ever stood before a judge I’d have a leg to stand on. I didn’t know where this thing was going to wind up, but I was committed now.
On the outside, I was cool as could be. But on the inside, I had spontaneously developed a dozen ulcers as the implication of what I just said started to land like solid weights in my stomach. The last thing I needed was to be wrong on this technicality and be tried for a mutiny of my own, as well as planetary piracy if my enemies ever gained power over me! What I really needed was a half hour or so to speak with the ship’s lawyer and map out just how far I could push. Unfortunately, Yagar didn’t look like he was going to give me a half hour. He wasn’t even going to give me half a minute as he jumped back into the conversation.
“They are within this Sector, and thus under my authority! You, your ship and this holo-vid style organization you’ve been trying to form out here on the fly operate at, for, and by the pleasure of the Confederation Assembly!” yelled Yagar, his icy calm breaking into a thousand pieces as his face turned red and spittle flew out of his mouth. “To suggest or say otherwise is not only mutiny, it is treason against its lawful authority!”
I leveled my finger at him. “Yes, the Confederation Assembly, the very organization consisting of representatives from all 27 Sectors of the Confederation, so help us Space Gods,” I said throwing my arms wide in a mock evangelical, come-to-the-religion-of-our-forefathers moment. “How many sectors did you say were represented by this Provisional Assembly,” I demanded and then promptly cut him off before he could reply, “that's right, you didn’t. In fact, you specifically said you wouldn’t speak on its internal makeup, something that is normally a matter of public record!” I didn’t know if anything I was saying was correct or not, but sweet Murphy, it sure sounded good!
“Listen up, you pampered space pup,” he growled.
“I’ll listen if and when you say something worth listening to!” I shouted over the top of him. “I respect its authority to inspect, request and direct those forces within this sector for the common defense. But that in no way means that this Fleet, or Star Base, will in any way submit itself to orders which would cause it to abandon our respective responsibilities to those Confederation Sectors belonging to the Spine,” I said in the most controlled voice I could muster.
Yagar bared his teeth, “Amateurs, they think they know what they’re doing, but they haven’t a clue! First you talk about 27 sectors of the Confederation Assembly, and how your 'fleet' of one ship is a Confederation Force, and then in the same breath you go on about how have responsibilities to only the 8 Spineward sectors. Which is it, boy?!” he demanded.
I was momentarily taken aback, but quickly rallied, “The Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet is an organization created by the Confederation as a whole, but specifically tasked with patrolling multiple sectors of the Spine for the better part of a year prior to Rim Fleet up and abandoning its post and dropping its job in our laps as well!”
“Ha!” scoffed Yagar.
“And another thing, while this ship is the Flagship of the MSP, it’s hardly the only ship in the Fleet,” I retorted. I realized as soon as I said it I’d allowed Yagar’s childish ‘Ha!’ to goad me into a similar, almost childlike retort, but I couldn’t help myself. Envy of his nose had turned from a case of simple jealousy to outright hatred. No man this pig-headed and obnoxious should have such a wonderful asset and get to waste it so pompously.
For a moment we both just sat there taking deep breaths and glaring at one another.
“Honorary Vice Admiral Montagne,” Rear Admiral Yagar said in a formal voice, “do you submit your ship and yourself for inspection by a Confederation Inspection team comprised of Inspectors from the 25th Sector Guard.” He then paused and waited.
“As long as they don’t interfere with our ability to perform our duties to the Confederation as a whole, they are welcome to inspect away to their heart’s content,” I said, negligently waving a hand, not happy at the thought of this man’s lackeys under our skin, poking and prodding at everything under the sun as they looked for ways to torpedo us. But if it was Inspectors or an official break with the only organization still giving me a legal leg to stand on, I didn’t see how I had much of a choice.
“Honorary Vice Admiral Montagne, do you submit yourself, your ship and your forces, to authority of the Provisional Confederation Assembly in Sector 25,” Yagar continued in the same formal tone.
“Until such a time as the 25th can speak for the entire Spine, we submit ourselves to its authority in any way that doesn’t interfere with our mission to the Spine as a whole,” I said matching his formal tone.
The Rear Admiral hesitated and had to take several deep breaths to calm himself before he finally decided to continue.
“Honorary Vice Admiral Montagne,” he started and by now I was starting to get more than a bit fed up with this whole Honorary Vice Admiral Montagne bit.
“Yes? ‘Rear’ Admiral Yagar of the Sector Guard,” I asked.
He stopped long enough to glare at me before continuing down his laundry list of demands from the rump assembly. “Do you submit yourself, your ship and your forces to the authority of one Rear Admiral Yagar of the 25th Sector Guard, Acting High Commander of all Fleet and Mobile Space Forces within this sector by order of the Provisional Confederation Assembly in Sector 25?” he continued.
“No.” I said.
“Then you are officially refusing to obey a lawful order from the Confederation Assembly?” he demanded.
I steepled my fingers and stared at them while I composed my reply.
“Unlike the Imperial Senate and its Executives the Triumvirs, the Confederation Assembly does not issue orders directly to its military officers,” I raised a finger, “even its Fleet Commanders,” I hastened to add, since I’d studied some of this before coming back to Easy Haven. It looked like my time with the ship’s lawyer hadn’t been entirely wasted. “Traditionally and by law, the Confederation Assembly limits itself to the appointment of Admirals to Fleet High Command and the issuing of General Directives. Confederation Fleet personnel are sworn to obey the orders of their commanding officers, as appointed by High Command and ratified by the Assembly,” I said.
“Enough with the history lesson, son. Everyone present is aware of the formal process,” Yagar said stiffly.
“Then you are aware that since the Assembly only ever issues directives to High Command and replaces High Commanders who have failed to carry out those directives, I am not, in point of fact, refusing a direct order from the ‘Provisional Assembly’. I am simply failing to recognize your authority as High Commander of a single Sector, this sector, to issue binding orders to a Multi-Sector organization such as the MSP, whose mandate is Confederation-wide,” I was a little hazy on some of the particulars and essentially making it up as I went along, but hopefully by the time anyone realized I was baffling them with baloney I would be long gone from this system.
Yagar’s eyes bulged and he glared down his strong eagle nose at the screen.
“Treason! Mutiny in cold space,” Yagar declared, suddenly sounding more satisfied with the current state of things than truly outraged.
“My question for you, Rear
Admiral Yagar,” I countered, going on the offensive after sensing a turn in the conversation I didn’t like, “is are you refusing to recognize my lawful authority as a Confederation Fleet Commander? Because as you are no doubt more aware than myself, traditionally Sector Guard units, where they have existed,” I said, eager to make the unstated point that up until now our Sector had never actually had a Sector Guard, such organizations being a thing of the long past, “have placed themselves under the command of Confederation Fleet Commanders during times of Hazard and Emergency.”
Yagar went red in the face, his goatee quivering with high emotion and the pot belly at his middle moving from side to side as he shifted position in his rather smaller Admiral’s chair.
“You’ve got some big brass ones, boy! To suggest your lawful Commander place himself under your authority! You, nothing but a pimple-faced Palace party boy!” Yagar was getting redder and redder by moment. “Clearly, you don’t know the first thing about the Chain of Command or proper lines of military authority.” He opened his mouth to go on, but someone whispering to him off screen caused him to close it again and then look like he was swallowing something sour.
“This conversation will be continued at a later date, Honorary Vice Admiral. Clearly you haven’t the slightest clue of who and what you are dealing with here,” he declared before slamming his pointer finger down on the side of his chair, cutting the connection.
All set to continue sparring with this long-nosed Yagar for an extended period, it was as if the wind I’d been leaning into was suddenly gone. It took a moment to sit back and regain my composure before I could once again focus on the Flag Bridge and people around me.
I used the controls built into the Throne to slowly rotate it, and my view of the bridge. “Well, that went well,” I said, trying to project as light a tone and easy manner as possible.
For a moment, Tremblay looked as if he was going to have a stroke, before shaking his head and shrugging as if to say, ‘why am I even surprised’. His mouth shaped something, I suspected it was ‘Montagne’s’.
Shooting my gaze over at cousin Bethany, I wasn’t surprised to see the spiteful look she was throwing my way. I was, however, both surprised and slightly disconcerted to see underneath that spite, a look of calculation. It was quickly hidden and after a moment I wasn’t even sure I’d seen it. However, if it really had been there, it didn’t make me very happy. Bethany thinking she, or at least the interests she eagerly represented still had an angle to play after I’d essentially told Yagar to go pound sand didn’t fill me with a warm fuzzy feeling
Feeling cold and worried wasn’t going to get me out of whatever mess my overactive mouth had just gotten me into. I now had to make sure and certain my mouth hadn’t just written a check my highly placed, honorary hind end couldn’t cash.
“Get me a channel to Commodore LeGodat, and do it now,” I snapped to the communications technician. I needed to get a handle on just what assets and potential assets I had in this Star System and do it fast.
“Tremblay, you have the Flag Bridge. Don’t lose the ship in the next ten minutes. Mr. Laurent,” I said turning to my tactical officer, “in my ready room, now.” I sprang from my Throne and made for the Admiral’s Ready Room.
When Bethany made as if to follow me into the ready room, which would have defeated much of the purpose of a private conference, I met the eyes of her honor guard and made an abrupt slashing motion indicating she was to stay right where she was. “Stay on the Flag Bridge in case any high level Confederation Communications come through,” I said, unable to keep a faint hint of scorn out of my voice.
However when Akantha, who’d actually managed to keep herself off of the Flag Bridge for the transition and subsequent verbal firestorm in place of a 'hail, well met long-lost brothers' greeting marched through the Blast doors and made a bee-line for my ready room, I had to grind my teeth in sheer frustration. Clearly there was a rat on board, I knew there was no way this sudden appearance of hers was a coincidence. Just as clearly, there was no way I could keep her out of my ‘private conference’.
Furious at the way everyone around me, both inside and outside the ship was either maneuvering directly against or around my clearly stated desires and interests, I would have given vent to angry emotion and slammed the door if such a thing had been possible. Fortunately for both my composure and continuing good reputation onboard the ship, these automatic sliding doors were amazingly resistant to slamming, kicking or any other form of tantrum I could come up with.
I paused and glared at the wall before shaking my head. I’d hit these walls before and while I was willing to risk a broken hand for momentary satisfaction, hitting solid metal just wasn’t as satisfying as splintering a panel of wood.
A mental light bulb went off. Yes! The Admiral’s desk in the ready room was made almost entirely of wood, I remembered with dark satisfaction. I could pound away on that thing and the worst that might happen was a little bruising to the hands.
Mind made up, and in a surprisingly better mood with the knowledge that I could pound on said desk for emphasis while I was talking with the various schemers that currently surrounded me and plagued my every waking hour with their incessant plots and demands.
“You wanted to speak with me, Sir,” asked Tactical Officer Laurant, after I was seated behind the desk and the pause in the room had grown uncomfortable.
“Yes,” I said shortly, glaring at Akantha’s waist to avoid a fight, but unable to let the matter go entirely. Then I took a deep breath. So what if Akantha’s family tried to kill me every time I set foot on Tracto, she wasn’t working against me here. I needed to get a grip and let these little maneuvers go. I sighed, releasing a load of pent-up frustration and then turned to Laurant, giving him my undivided attention.
“How does the Clover stack up against a dozen light warships, if we’re attacked and it comes down to the hazard,” I said abruptly. No sense beating around the bush. Laurent had been there along with the rest of the Flag Bridge while Yagar made his threats and claims to supreme authority. There was no cute way to approach the subject. Better to come across as a straight shooter, rather than some kind of plotting Palace schemer too wrapped up in his own web of delusion to realize the people around him had brains of their own and could figure out what I meant to ask all along.
“We can take any four Corvettes without breaking a sweat, they’d never even get through our shields, I don’t care what tactics they tried to use,” the Tactical Officer said with ringing finality in his voice, but this talk of four Corvettes being easy prey when I was talking about ten plus a Destroyer wasn’t painting a picture I liked.
“A squadron of six,” he pursed his lips and moved his head from side to side as he considered the matter, “unless they got real lucky and crippled our engines early on in the game, we’d take ’em,” he said snapping his fingers for emphasis. “Probably be able to repair any damage they did with just our own Engineering department too.”
“And a solid dozen of them,” I demanded harshly.
Mr. Laurent met my eyes steadily. “That many ships and it doesn’t matter, even if they only have a handful of heavy guns per each ship, they start to match us in sheer firepower. Combine that with numerous moving targets versus our superior armor and shields and there’s no way they don’t manage to cripple our engines and, seeing as there is at least a squadron of newer types out here,” he paused, having abruptly taken this exercise out of the hypothetical and directly into the realm of current reality as he referenced our only real potential adversary, “they move just outside our range and slowly pound us to scrap.”
“What!” I blurted, outraged at this turn of events. “We’ve got bigger, larger and heavier weapons than anything a light Corvette could mount.”
“What we’ve got, Admiral,” he said a hint of steel threaded under the respectful tone of voice he was currently using, “is a hodgepodge of fifty year old or older original issue weaponry, and a bunch of even
older and less standardized stuff transferred off that pirate Heavy Cruiser you boys captured back before the start of the troubles. In a moving battle it wouldn’t matter, but even if it’s just a few kilometers better range, when you combine a hypothetical loss of engines with our current lack of a full set of fusion plants for our shield recharge rate, the writing's on the wall.”
“Blast it!” I cursed, pounding on my desk for good measure. For some reason, it didn’t feel as good as I’d thought it would to punch my desk.
“We’d maul them but good,” said Roland Laurent, sounding grim, “and the ones that survived wouldn’t be fit for much more than a dry dock after we got done with them but unless they’re complete morons over there, any way you run the numbers, odds are we’d be on the losing end of that exchange.”
I leaned back in my chair, the wind going out of my sails as I grappled with the unpalatable little factoid my Tactical Officer had just plopped down in my lap like a steaming pile of refuse. This Battleship was my trump card, the one thing I had that no one out here could currently match. Take that away as a game-ending piece and we were in deep, deep trouble.
I steepled my fingers as I tried to come up with a winning move, in this, my latest no-win scenario.
“They can’t afford the losses, Jason,” Akantha said coolly, breaking into the conversation.
“What?” I snapped out of my reverie, surprised and more than a little taken aback at her use of my first name, almost as much as I was at her insight into this situation. “What do you mean, Akantha,” I pressed, my eyes narrowing in thought as I chased this sudden lure.
“Exactly what I said,” she said sounding irritated. Nothing unusual there, I thought wryly as I abruptly motioned for her to elaborate despite my perceived failing. “We just toured these border worlds of yours, and how many of them had a force this large?” she demanded, “how many of them even had half this much strength,” she asked, stopping abruptly as if her point had just been made all by itself.
Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 43
