Admiral's War Part Two (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 10)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “They say that mercy is for the weak, but maybe they just mean it’s for the stupid and soft hearted,” I growled.

  “Sir?” Steiner looked at me with concern.

  “Put her message up on the screen,” I snapped.

  “Your cousin or Captain McKnight?” Steiner asked with confusion over my request.

  That was a legitimate question, I realized. I closed my eyes to stop from saying something in the heat of the moment that I’d later regret.

  “A good question. Why don’t we start with the Captain’s and then go on to my sweet cousin’s try against our interests,” I said grimly.

  “Here it is, Sir,” she said in a subdued voice and moments later the wayward leader of my special forces/information gathering operation in Sector 24 appeared on my screen.

  ****************************************************

  “Admiral Montagne,” Lieutenant Commander McKnight appeared on the screen and nodded deferentially, “attached to this message you will find a comprehensive inventory of the sentient and material assets within the small fleet which conveyed the message itself. In accordance with your prior approval of my necessarily vague ComStat transmitted proposal, additional transfers of sentient and material assets are noted in a separate file.”

  I found myself nodding slowly, remembering the cryptic request which Middleton’s protégé had sent over the ComStat network shortly before we lost access to it. It had been heavily-encrypted and verbally coded, which had made a perfect translation problematic to say the least, but the gist of the proposal had been to conduct a side mission which would tie up several of her people for an indeterminate period of time.

  I generally hate signing blank checks, but the choice had been between doing that or passing up on an opportunity which McKnight’s prior message had made clear was unlikely to present itself again.

  I found myself scanning the inventory, which largely confirmed what my own sensors had already discerned, but I found myself smiling at seeing over a thousand new power suits—albeit old ones, but which had apparently been maintained to a high standard—listed on that inventory.

  My eyebrows rose what felt like several inches after seeing that, packed aboard several of those freighters, was a robust—if also aged—fixed defense network which was nearly half as powerful as the one which stood sentinel over Easy Haven.

  “As you can see, we were able to secure a significant amount of military hardware in exchange for our…cooperation with a black market arms dealer named Lynch,” McKnight continued, making no attempt to hide her disdain at having done so. “But, more importantly than that,” she pressed on, “I am proud to report that, fully twelve months ahead of the schedule outlined in my initial proposal made prior to our disembarkation, we now have control over an information-gathering network which stretches from one end of the Spineward Sectors to the other.”

  “Impressive…” I whistled softly, silently congratulating myself on having correctly identified a diamond in the rough and putting her in a position where she had done nothing short of stellar work in pursuit of a daunting task. Then my mind snagged on a particular phrase and my eyes narrowed. “What do you mean ‘we have control over’ this network?” I asked tautly, suspecting I wasn’t going to like what came next as I took a sip of tea.

  “As to the transfer of resources alluded to in my previous communication,” McKnight continued hesitantly, “the sentient resource transfers will go toward assisting Mr. Lynch in carrying out an intelligence operation which will take us to the Empire of Man and, with any luck, help take some of the pressure off the Spineward Sectors in the process. The sentient resource transfers will include Lieutenant Spalding and most of his fellow conscripts, a handful of key technicians, several Lancers…and myself.”

  And, just like that, the other shoe dropped like an anvil crashing on my toes and I found myself spraying tea through seemingly every orifice in my face—much of which covered the very screen where I watched the message.

  “Captain Archibald of the Gamer Gate has assumed direct operational control over our Sector 24 operation and his confirmation is attached to this message. He’s a capable officer and will do better with the intelligence network than I could have. From where I’m sitting, this is a good deal for the MSP. Thank you for authorizing this mission, Admiral Montagne,” the blond with the short, perfectly composed haircut said with an insufferable nod, “we’ll do you proud, Sir. McKnight out.”

  ****************************************************

  I slammed my hand down on the table.

  “Blast her. Blast that woman!” I howled.

  “A problem, Admiral?” asked Steiner, popping back up on my screen uninvited but I was too busy to notice that or pay attention to her at that exact moment.

  “A good deal? She thinks she made a good Murphy-be-cursed-deal! Does she think I’m an imbecile? The whole idea of a covert operation is to be…covert! A hidden blade that can be called to hand later on, not some infernal throwing knife that everyone can see as soon as it gets bored with its mission and then conveniently gets picked up for use by the competition in exchange for a one-time use of two squadrons of warships,” I bellowed like a stuck pig. “Does she honestly think I want over a thousand power armor suits older than the ones we’re using now, an old orbital defensive network given to us instead of scrapped, and an information network that’s already been compromised from top to bottom by my dear sweet cousin?! Yes I asked for her to set up an information network. No! I did not ask her to buy it from someone else at the cost of my covert unit.”

  There was silence in the room as I sat there taking big deep breaths and Steiner was too scared to speak in the face of my anger. Not that I was minding her.

  “Ye-space gods! Middleton might have been a loose cannon, randomly firing wherever or at whatever he pleased, but at least he died fighting for the MSP and the Spine. He didn’t go haring off into another entire region of the known galaxy to cause me and the MSP no end of future headaches!” I cried. In retrospect, compared to his protégé, Middleton was a saint.

  McKnight thought she was going to use this ‘Lynch’ to penetrate the Empire and ‘take pressure off the Spineward Sectors’ by doing his dirty work? Just who did she think she was fooling? Who exactly was going to come out on top: a rogue military officer entirely too concerned with her hairdo, or an arms dealer with decades of experience playing people and governments against each other? And who was in charge of this whole Sector 24 operation, anyway? Me, that’s who!

  Clearly, she and the entire covert unit had other priorities than receiving orders and direction from one Admiral Jason Montagne.

  Despite all of that, I still had to take a breath, sit back and ask myself on simple question: had they helped? To be fair, they had sent more weight of metal to Wolf-9 and Easy Haven than they themselves could have ever provided. The fixed defensive platforms alone would bolster our defenses far more than I could have hoped, and that said nothing of the dozen warships which would lend their fire to our cause.

  It was a bitter pill to swallow but, okay, yes…they’d helped.

  The problem was that, for all I knew, this woman was about to embroil me in yet another steaming hot pile of trouble as soon as she got to the Empire. Given her track record—and the fact that my own dear, sweet cousin seemed to be in this up to her eyeballs—even if McKnight didn’t step wrong, she was going to end up pushed right smack into the mud. Knowing my luck, it would then smear all over the rest of us. Saint Murphy and his demonic monkey wrenches!

  “Play me Bethany’s message,” I said, coldly turning to Steiner.

  “Yes, Admiral,” she said in a subdued voice.

  ****************************************************

  Vid File Starts

  “Dear Cousin Jason,” Bethany smirked at the camera—looking far more pleased with herself than she had the last time I’d seen her. “If you’re seeing this message then I must regret to inform you that I’v
e traded up,” she stared at the camera, one corner of her mouth lifting up. “Oh, who am I kidding?” she gloated freely. “I don’t regret it one little bit. I’m a woman moving up in the world thanks to our soon-to-be-mutual benefactor. If you’re seeing this message—as of course you are—then it looks like our reinforcements have reached you in time…pity that. After the way you treated me the last time we parted company, I don’t particularly think you deserve our best efforts at helping reaching you in time but,” she smoothed the vest built into the front of her dress, “I don’t call the shots over here.”

  I felt my hand clamp tightly around the teacup and forced myself to relax. The last thing I needed was more tea everywhere.

  “If everything has gone according to plan then you will have received a significant amount of military aid in the form of supplies, warships, and system defenses—the smaller, transportable kind anyway,” she said, her mouth making a small moue as she paused to pick up a tea cup and take a sip. “Anyway, none of this would have been possible if not for that woman, McKnight. In exchange for the loyalty of the men and women of your covert unit, as well as future unnamed favors, you are now the proud owner of desperately needed immediate aid and a far-reaching information network—either of which greatly exceed the value of your little intelligence-gathering mission,” she tisked. “Really, Jason this was the best you could do? It looks like someone needs to go back for a few remedial lessons. Still, I suppose you’re more of a ‘through the front door’ person; intrigue and operating in the shadows has always left you looking befuddled.”

  My hands gripped the tea cup in my hand so hard that the handle broke off and I had to set it all down on the table before it fell and made a mess.

  “Anyhow, McKnight and her people are ours now—so forget about them in the meantime and do try to focus on your little ‘war.’ Enjoy your little sandbox disputes, and remember: we’ll be watching ,” she said, pausing and hesitating before adding, “on a more personal note…for the sake of our mutual home world. I hope you win. Although I hope you won’t hold it against me if I admit that my greatest hope would be to see the both of you go down together in mutual annihilation. But if you do survive try to remember that we’ll be coming back to collect at some point. Ta-ta!”

  With a wave of her hand, the screen suddenly froze and the transmission came to an abrupt stop before resuming.

  “Oh, by the way, I wanted to tell you that Tremblay’s helped immensely. It would have been so much harder to get where I am without him. Bye bye, Flat Nose—and please remember that everything I have now is thanks to you! See you sooner than you think—assuming you survive and all that. TTFN.”

  She cut the transmission abruptly this time.

  ****************************************************

  I stared at the screen coldly. It seemed these new reinforcements didn’t come without strings attached—strings pulled by this ‘Lynch,’ who Bethany had somehow attached herself to. It was enough to make a man sick to the stomach.

  First, backstabbers like the Sector Guard. Then, faint-hearted politicos like the local SDF’s followed by fair weather friends like the MDL. And now arms dealers who allied themselves with the very worst elements of my family. What was next: pirates and drug dealers to fill out the ranks? And to think that I’d originally thought adding droids and genetic uplifts to my fleet would be the worst that things could get. But at least when it came to the non-humans, they seemed to be able to listen to orders and fight in formation for the common good.

  “Letting her go was a mistake,” I said flatly. Still it was a mistake I was going to be able to profit from in the short term. We’d just have to see how things played out in the long game.

  As for these ‘unnamed favors’ that she claimed I now ‘owed’ her in the future. Well, we’d just have to see if she—or, rather, this Lynch—had the leverage to collect them in the future.

  I didn’t mind being grateful for honest assistance rendered in a time of need. But don’t try to put me over a barrel and then expect to enjoy the results later.

  I turned to Steiner. “Inform the engineers and Commodore LeGodat’s staff regarding the new war materials so that they can be best placed for system defense,” I said with a chill in my voice.

  “Will do,” she acknowledged quietly.

  I took a critical glance at the fixed defenses listed on the inventory, noting they were essentially automated defense platforms that seemed to be nothing more than a launcher with a sensor and a pair of missiles. Semi-stealthed, non-mobile control platforms, and a number of remote-controlled gunboats.

  “I’m sure Glue, or LeGodat, or one of our engineers will be able to do more with this mess than me,” I said, turning away indifferently.

  Curse her. I hoped she contracted a strain of medication-resistant leprosy and her face rotted off.

  “Uh, sir, I have some news that might cheer you up,” Steiner said.

  “I hope it’s better than the rest of this hot mess that’s landed in my lap,” I quipped.

  “Captain Jackson of the Metal Titan reports his ship should be out of the repair slip by tomorrow. They finished fixing up the last of the damage they didn’t get to over at Gambit. He reports there are still a few minor structural issues but for the most part the Titan is back up and ready for action,” she said.

  “Well…at least that’s something,” I grumbled. still mentally focused on McKnight, cotton mouth my dear Bethany Tilday Vekna, and this Lynch who’d swept them all into the palm of his hand. “Tell Quentin Jackson ‘good work’ from me and then, if you would, please gather up all the inventory files on that military equipment we received from the arms dealer.”

  “On it, Admiral,” she replied.

  “Thank you.”

  Since I now had bunch of old, expired. and revamped military equipment instead of a special forces unit, I was determined to use it to the maximum and get every bang I could for my buck. I stubbornly insisted in the recesses of my own mind that I wouldn’t have made the trade, but I rationalized that now that I was stuck with it, it had better as the Demon Murphy was my witness be worth it.

  Chapter Nineteen: As ready as we can be

  “Your Highness, Rear Admiral Nuttal, SDF, is at the door,” advised D’Argent via wireless signal.

  “Send him in, Sean,” I instructed my sworn armsman. And let me tell you, for a man that didn’t want to be king, having such a thing as sworn armsmen was a weighty burden—and one I would have gladly done without. That is if I had thought I, and those I loved, could have continued to survive—let alone thrive—without the sort of professional assistance that D’Argent and his team provided.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Vice Admiral,” Nuttal said, coming into the room, stepping up to my table and coming to an at attention posture.

  “You’re the one who asked for the meeting, not me,” I shrugged. “Please have a seat,” I gestured to the chair in front of my work desk.

  “I don’t mind if I do,” Rear Admiral Nuttal nodded before sitting down.

  “So, Grantor, what can I do for you?” I asked, cutting to the chase.

  “I was hoping for a chance to take a look at our defenses, Sir,” Nuttal said with a serious nod.

  “I believe our defensive stance has been made available to all flag officers of Rear Admiral’s rank and above, as well as to every Flag Captain and Commodore with a squadron level command,” I said with a shrug. “And you can knock off with all of the ‘Sir’s. There’s little need for a man like you to mouth meaningless platitudes—that is unless you’re attempting to somehow take me off my guard?” I finished with an uplifted brow.

  “A man like myself?” Grantor Nuttal sighed.

  “People seemed to listen to you in the last meeting…barring one glaring exception,” I riposted. “Either way, I think we can drop the honorifics…for now.”

  “Shoot a man at a conference meeting and everything changes,” Grantor said wryly.

  “I’ve shot
a few men in my day,” I said easily. “And, yes, it does tend to impact on any attempts to fly under the radar. So tell me, Grantor: why are you here? I assume it’s not to pull out your pistol and do to me what you did to my would-be replacement?”

  “No. I’m afraid your reputation for close combat precedes you and, even if it didn’t,” he said, lifting a hand and then gesturing to the pair of armsmen inside the room, “I’m afraid that your personal guard is far too professional and effective for a man of my humble talents. I’m more of a ship driver or formation commander anyway,” he finished self-effacingly.

  “Ouch,” I said, “thus implying that there are others with higher talents than yours within this fleet that might be a threat,” I said.

  Nuttal stiffened. “It was not my intention to imply any such thing. I’m here today because I represent a group of officers who are concerned with the current state of our defenses and need some handholding,” he said, shaking his head.

  “Oh really?” I leaned back in my chair.

  Rear Admiral Nuttal sighed. “In many ways, the time we’ve had to rebuild our strength has worked to our advantage. This system is much stronger than it was when you brought back that shattered wreck of a fleet with you,” he explained.

  “Shattered wreck?” I said softly.

  “Half the fleet captured or destroyed outright, and of the survivors half turning back to go home? You came back with a little more than a fourth of the original strength you left this star system with. If that isn’t shattered then I don’t know what is. But let’s not quibble over terminology,” he continued evenly.

  “Then what would you like to quibble about?” I shot back.

  Nuttal waited a beat. “Look, I am not your enemy. I am here to warn you about the faint of heart and your political rivals within this fleet. And I am only your adversary in this situation in as much as it takes for you to recognize this threat and take steps to counter it. We must have a unified command. With the Sector Governor behind you, the support of the Commodore who controls this star base, and your cachet as a Confederation flag officer, right now you’re it. If it were anyone else at the top, this farce of a fleet would fall apart and collapse under its own weight. May the gods help us all.”