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

by Luke Sky Wachter

“Have we been hacked?” I demanded, looking over at the small computer division within the Comm. section sharply, “and more importantly, can we get them to share their targeting data with the rest of the fleet?”

  “I’m receiving reports from captains all across the fleet saying the torpedoes have disappeared from their screens,” reported a backup com-operator while her section head was busy.

  “Blast it all. Why are only the New Sector Guard unaffected by this hack?!” I demanded.

  “It might not be a hack,” Hammer said slowly, “as I recall, the Sector Guard are using recently refitted New Pacifica ships. I wonder if targeting sensors were one of the upgrades they received in the shipyard?”

  “The Guard are willing to share their targeting data, Sir,” reported the lead com-tech, “and I’m receiving it now. Do you want me to disperse the feed across the fleet, Sir?”

  I started to feel a headache growing in my temples. Right at that moment, I wished more than anything that Lieutenant Steiner was at her post instead of getting some much-needed down time. I was used to dealing with her and she knew me well enough that she could almost read my mind.

  “If it’s not a hack, that will help, but not as much as if we were using our own eyes,” interjected Hart.

  “As I recall, the flagship’s sensor network was upgraded while it was in the Gambit Yards,” I said, my mind starting to run wild with New Sector Guard conspiracy theories. Were they just out to sabotage us, or had they recently started working with the Imperial—and, if so, for how long?

  “The physical sensors themselves were upgraded, which is probably why we can see the torps. But the targeting programs are still the same as the day they were last upgraded back in Capria,” Hammer reported, looking down as she read something off her screen. “The only changes the computer team made were in the interface between the computer and the new sensors so they could read the feeds properly. The actual targeting programs haven’t been updated in decades from what I’m seeing here.”

  “Ah!” I said running a hand through my hair. “The Royal Rage was officially destroyed by Capria years ago, but in reality was handed off to the pirates and used for spare parts to keep up several other illegally-transferred Battleships going instead. Of course, its programs haven’t been updated.” The explanation made sense—real sense—but even so…I didn’t want to trust the Guard for anything I didn’t have to.

  “It may be a marginal increase for us, but the rest of the fleet is literally shooting blind. We need a decision, Admiral,” Hart cut in angrily, clearly upset at my filibustering on the issue. “If we wait any longer it’ll be too late!”

  “Share the feed,” I said, giving the com-tech the nod and clenching my jaw. For better or worse, the decision was made.

  You could tell the moment the sensor data from the New Sector Guard ships was disseminated throughout the fleet. Point defense fire increased by six hundred percent and a hail of slightly-inaccurate fire poured out toward those torpedoes.

  “Sir, I hate to have to be the one to point this out, but lag time would reduce and targeting hits would increase if those former New Pacifica Battleships and their sensors were more centrally located in our formation—or, even better, spread throughout our formation,” Captain Hammer said as the first torpedoes started slamming home.

  It looked like the enemy had decided to target only two ships: Hart’s Heart and Admiral Dark Matter’s flagship. They were the two Battleships with the least amount of time in the yard, and the most obvious battle damage, so naturally they had been targeted by the enemy.

  “Of course it would,” I said, keeping my face deliberately blank. Fancy that? I now mysteriously needed to spread the most suspicious ships in my fleet around where they could to the most good—or the most damage to the Battleships, which represented the most important formation in my entire fleet, “but for now let’s focus on what’s right in front of us: they’re targeting our weakest ships. No doubt they’ll do that again and again until they break something. That’s why, next engagement, we’re going to make a few changes. Here’s what we’re going to do: we follow your suggestion and spread those New Pacifica Battleships for best effect and then….”

  While the torpedoes steady slammed into the weakening shields of the two increasingly beleaguered Battleships, I explained a few key elements of my new plan to the Captain. Finally, the first shots punched through the weakening shields and slammed into recently-patched armor on the two most vulnerable of our wallers.

  The two ships had been battered and wounded, but they survived. However, if the Imperials where given the chance to repeat their strikes unimpeded, they could stand back and slowly batter us down to nothing. That wouldn’t do.

  No, that wouldn’t do at all, I thought coldly.

  “Let me get this straight: you want to place Dark Matter and Hart’s Heart in the center of the Battleship formation, pull all the MSP Battleships out of the formation, and then place Rear Admiral Dark Matter—from Blackwood—in temporary command?” Hammer asked with alarm.

  “I don’t see how the particular Core World the man comes from as having any bearing on the subject and yes that’s the general plan,” I said firmly. Although it wasn’t so much that I was pulling the MSP out of the formation, as it was that I’d been grabbing every Battleship that could perform the Montagne Maneuver and putting them in one place.

  “The whole reason you are in command is because no one Core World wants to be placed under another. They need either a Sector official or Confederation Admiral at the top to keep them from fragmenting. You’re placing Dark Matter in an impossible position,” she objected.

  “On the contrary, I think that putting one of their own in command—and a man who had a front row seat to the ‘debacle’ and survived it—should quiet some concerns. And having me out of the way and not in direct command of our most powerful formation will quiet others,” I said truthfully before adding, “and, truthfully, there’s been a lot of pushback from the Captain-and-Admiral’s council ever since Nuttal splattered Vice Admiral Vextriam’s brains all over the conference room walls. I think this will be better off all around,” and it should keep me safely out of range of any New Sector plots, I silently added. I wasn’t really concerned about an uprising during the middle of battle, sure it was a concern but not as big a one as I was making out for Hammer.

  “They’ll think you’re either trying to protect your ships from damage or call you a coward for trying to run away,” Hammer said coldly.

  “Let them think and say what they want about me. Right now I couldn’t care less,” I said flatly, meeting her angry eyes with my own flinty gaze. “I will gladly—even eagerly—settle any checks their flapping open mouths write but only after this battle is over with and won. In the meantime, even if they get a bad case of verbal diarrhea where it comes to me and the MSP, they’ll follow Dark Matter’s orders.”

  “I don’t know what you’re trying to do other than make an operational reserve we can call upon at need. But our own people won’t like the idea of standing back while everyone else goads us over the back channels for not fighting,” she warned.

  I shrugged and then pulled my uniform jacket straight. “They’ll be singing a different tune if we’re able to use of the Montagne Maneuver like I have planned,” I replied unemotionally because, while I hadn’t named it, actually saying the full name of the ‘Maneuver’ aloud sounded a lot more than a little egotistical coming out of my mouth. “I’ve got a whole new twist on Orion, Captain—one that’d give strong men nausea and send the weak ones running for the door screaming. That is if they have time to think and know it before hand,” I said with a crooked smile.

  Of course, the plan wasn’t entirely new. I’d gamed it out for days privately but, since I couldn’t risk a leak by telling even my own people this part of the plan before hand, I wasn’t exactly going to be informing Hammer that particular little fact right now and destroy morale.

  Besides, if I’d learned one
thing from Commander Spalding, it was that an officer—be he engineer or Admiral—always needed a surprise tucked away in his back pocket for just the right moment.

  I just hoped the Imperials were as surprised as our own people were going to be. After all, they’d seen the maneuver up close and personal once before.

  “The Maneuver,” Hammer said with sudden alarm, “surely you aren’t thinking of…”

  I gave her a cold glance and then looked away. As long as they followed orders and fought, the Admirals and Battleship Captains could complain about me all they like. But show me one man or woman who talked trash and then ran, and I’d show you what that person looked like when tossed outside an airlock without a space suit.

  From experience, I assure you it wasn’t a pretty sight.

  I was done playing. Clearly I could fight like a hero, putting all the professionals to shame, and they’d quietly downplay or outright delete the information. Lose a battle, or even just appear to lose, and they’d pile on decrying me as a Tyrant in the media while shouting that I was a failure to my face.

  Well, the whipping boy was the one holding the whip now—and after this battle I aimed to make good use of it.

  Assuming we won and I survived of course.

  In a foul mood, I turned back to the battle plot. There was a war on and I had no more time to wallow in self-pity. Save thousands and they called you a pirate; millions and they proclaimed you a tyrant; hit the billion plus mark and you were now a ‘machinist.’ Even in my own fleet, the new hires had started muttering that I was suspiciously pro-machinist.

  Really, I just couldn’t seem to win and I was perilously close to not caring anymore. I’d try the carrot approach one more time and see where the media department angle got me. In the past, thanks in no small part to my ancestors, I was deathly allergic to using the stick. But the more time that went on and I saw how people continued to distort and portray me, the more I wondered if the Montagnes of the past had really been the terrible despots they were now known as.

  I had to stow that thought double quick because, if it was true—which, of course, it wasn’t since it couldn’t be—and if I had been humiliated and proverbially burned in effigy since I was young, all because of a generations-long lie…well, I might just have to do something about that. And no one—including me—wanted that to happen, did they?

  And this, citizens and parliamentary members, is why, at least in this specific area, the elected types were right and a democracy truly was better than a monarchy. Humiliate a man and his family to the nth generation and, after all, he was just a man.

  Eventually his term in office would end—he would be out of the political arena permanently if things got bad enough—and ultimately both he and his family would be powerless to get revenge of past wrongs as anything other than an isolated terrorist. But a royal line had a staying power and continuity of rule that a democracy simply couldn’t match. Throw a dynasty under the bus and they would remember it.

  Kings, no matter how neutered their rule, always had some power, and princes knew no term limits. Eventually the worm would turn and the family you betrayed would be in a position to get back what was theirs. Always.

  Unless they were all dead.

  Chapter Forty-two: Imperial Fighters moving in

  “Red Flight, this is Red Leader: we are go for the attack run. Let’s get ready to shepherd the bombers in,” urged Red Leader.

  “Time to show these local yokels the price of spitting on the hand that guards, protects, and feeds them,” sneered a recent transfer from the now defunct yellow squadron which had been broken up to be reformed later. “Free health care instead of fleets, longevity treatments-for-all instead of orbital fortifications, and ‘universal tax breaks’ instead of defense spending—and then they all but beg us to protect them from the big baddies out there? Who do they think they are turning to for a bailout when things go sideways? Us, the Imperial Navy and Senate, that’s who! I’m tired of my hard-earned taxes going to support parasites like these. Everything’ll be better once this entire region of space is properly incorporated into the Empire once and for all.”

  “I’ve told you before to check your political rants at the door, Red 5,” Red Leader said severely. “I don’t care what your previous Leader’s position was on the subject but, not only are you factually inaccurate when it comes to the Spine, it’s distracting to the rest of the squadron and I just won’t have it.”

  “Just say ‘no’ to people who want handouts instead of a hand up—that’s my motto!” the pilot said angrily, “and tell me one single area where I’m wrong and I’ll put a sock in it. But if you can’t then I’m standing by my position.”

  “If you were talking about the Confederation Heartland regions then maybe you’d have a point, but that’s not the case out here. I don’t care if they want it heart and soul, they’re too poor in the Spine to institute a universal anything—except maybe taxes on the population. That’s your one thing, there’s your area, now snap that yap trap or I’ll have you up on charges so fast your head will spin when we get back to the barn!” snapped Red Leader.

  “It’s every solder’s Man-given right to bitch and complain, Red Leader,” protested Red 5, “this is a violation of my rights as a pilot!”

  “Not when it screws with unit cohesion it isn’t, Red 5. Request a transfer when you get back to the hangar if you want—I’ll even endorse it—but in the meantime, be quiet!” ordered the Leader.

  “Already tried that, you know? They said ‘no way, no how’,” sighed Red Five.

  “Like I said before: I’ll endorse it,” grunted Red Leader.

  “Forged your electronic signature and already tried but they still said no. I think someone in personnel hates your guts almost as much as they hate mine,” sighed Red Five, “I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

  “You forged…you flaming barnacle! We’ll talk about this when we get back to base. For now, and for once in your miserable little life, shut your mouth before I put a hard lock on all outgoing transmissions on your com-channel and let you take your chances in the next furball without the chance to call for support,” the Leader said coldly.

  “Man…” protested Red 5.

  “All Red Flight pilots: prepare for insertion. We’re going in!” barked Red Leader

  Chapter Forty-three: A hit! A definite hit!

  “We’re going in!” called Red Leader. “Everyone guard your bomber and watch out for openings,” he said as the bombers picked up speed for their final attack run.

  “Yee-haw!” shouted Red Five, hot-dogging his fighter up to the front of the formation and following his bomber in as it swooped up the stern of a provincial Cruiser. Despite everything the enemy’s point defenses could do, the bomber launched its torpedo and Five whooped, “Take that, you tax-evading criminals. Time to pay your fair share! You want to have your cake and eat it too? Well I’m not going to cut the check on your handouts anymore—no more Imperial subsidies from me! So you can take your much-vaunted zero tax rate, citizen-born right to a living wage without work or employment, and shove it up your dark and hairy—”

  Red Leader touched the override button, forcibly blocking all transmissions from Red Five. He was going to kill him. He was really going to kill him when they got back to the Carrier.

  But for now, he needed to follow his own bomber in for an attack on the same enemy Cruiser.

  All around him, the other flights in the combined fighter/bomber wings made their attack runs, tearing the holy flaming atoms out of the sterns of half a dozen local warships before coming about, their ordnance expended.

  Sure they were taking losses but in the cold math of the empire trading a fighter or even a handful of fighters for an enemy ship of the line? That was a trade the Imperials were willing to make all day long.

  Evading a point defense laser and then goosing his engines to interpose his fighter between the bomber and an old-fashioned enemy chain gun, Red Leader was in his element.
This was what he trained for. This was what he lived for.

  But still…chain guns? He’d thought that this Sector was supposed to be one of the more advanced ones in the Spine. Thankfully, he wasn’t seeing it on the battlefield yet.

  “Alright, turn back and get ready to escort your bomber back to the barn!” called Red Leader, keying open the squadron channel and thus unintentionally removing the lock on Red Five, “good work, everyone.”

  But after the attack run, somehow he wasn’t minding the unceasing anti-Confederation rants as much as he had before. Not as much…but it was still blazing annoying. He again keyed the override after he suddenly remembered the other pilot’s admission that he forged his signature.

  Chapter Forty-four: Riding it out

  “There’s another wave of bombers coming in!” reported Tactical in a rising voice.

  “Bow thrusters now! Full burn,” snapped Stravinsky fighting her ship. “I want at least sixty percent point defense fire on them as they come in. I am not going to lose another engine, people. Do you hear me?” she demanded.

  “Alpha Squadron, stop and turn,” LeGodat said, keying open the com-channel himself using a priority override that would directly connect him to the Alpha Squadron Commander. He didn’t have time to wait for the com-section to relay it for him or worse have to wrangle back and forth with the Squadron Commander. The Imperials were here now and they were out of time for hand holding, “Your ships are the furthest ones in the front. I need your anti-fighter fire now!”

  The Commodore, or Flag Captain, or ComCap, or Major, or whatever he was called on the other end of the line blinked with surprise. Then, after a moment of visible hesitation, he nodded.

  “Passing the order to turn now, Commodore,” he said and swallowing.

  “Good. Get it done, Alpha,” LeGodat cut the channel.

  “Enemy on close attack run!” cried Sensors.