Admiral's Throne

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Still surprised by my sudden course change, Kong Pao once again bowed deeply.

  “Return to your masters; we’re done here,” I said.

  Kong Pao opened his mouth.

  “Not another word,” Akantha warned, her voice like a whip.

  She turned to me.

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  I gestured to a side chamber.

  “In our private quarters!” she said icily.

  Chapter 5

  Akantha’s Special Project

  Akantha stormed out of the Palace residence, slamming the door behind her and crossed over to the tower containing the Palace machine shop and private laboratory.

  Walking inside, she slammed the door closed behind her.

  There was a thump under one of the many tables filled with everything from disassembled robots to gravity impeller nodes, to droid cores.

  “What in tarnation!” cried Terrance P. Spalding, coming up from under one of the tables and rubbing an angry red spot on the top of his head, like some strange kind of techo-mole rising to the surface.

  “He has refused to see reason!” Akantha declared, stomping up to Spalding and placing her hands on her hips, “I don’t even know why I try. I tell him and he won’t listen.”

  “He….?” Spalding asked, rubbing his head only to wince as he hit a sore spot and then glare at her, “I mean confound it, Lady Akantha. You’ve got to knock! I was working on a piece of, ah, highly delicate equipment, and technical.”

  She glanced down.

  “Is that a multi-tool?” she asked furrowing her brow.

  “What? No!” he said looking down and seeing the offending tool, immediately kicked it out of sight under the table before looking back up with an innocent expression.

  Akantha shook her head, refusing to be sidetracked; she glowered at him.

  “Each time a ‘Spineward Sectors government’ used us for their own purpose, I’d think to myself he’s finally learned his lesson. But no! To blindly walk into another one of their traps… it boggles the mind!” she said sharply.

  “Oh, the Little Admiral,” Spalding said wisely, with sudden understanding of just what they were talking about.

  “How many people have to die before he realizes they’re just using him,” she said hotly.

  “Well,” Spalding said cautiously, “I’m pretty sure he know they’re using him, my Lady. He’s just probably doing whatever it is he’s up to right now, that has you in a bother because he wants to stop a boat load of people from dying. Plus, knowing the Little Admiral, I wouldn’t be so awful certain he wasn’t the one using them right back.”

  Akantha bestowed a withering look on the old engineer as he gave out this latest piece of so-called wisdom.

  “It might help this conversation along if I knew what exactly your husband said?” Spalding said, sensing he might be getting himself into trouble and fishing for more information.

  “We didn’t get much further than him admitting he was thinking about riding to their rescue yet again, and after everything they’ve put this family through before I walked out!” she declared, throwing her hands in the air.

  “So… we don’t know exactly why he’s doing what he’s doing?” Spalding asked slowly, just to be sure.

  “No,” Akantha said, crossing her arms across her chest and glaring at him.

  “Okay then,” the old engineer said happily, “the answer’s simple! Just head on back to your quarters and hash it all out. I’m sure after you’ve finish talking, you’ll feel much better and he’ll feel, eh, something or other…” He trailed off with a mutter, remembering his own days of ‘need to talk’ conversations with his ex-wife.

  He leaned down and started feeling around under the table.

  “Now where’d that tool go,” he muttered, while really searching for a bottle.

  A minute later he arose, half-opened bottle of ale held triumphantly in hand, which was when the sound of a tapping foot brought him back to the present; it seemed the Hold Mistress was very much still present in the room.

  “Oh, my Lady Akantha! I didn’t see you there, uh, I take it you haven’t had time to talk it out yet?” he asked cautiously.

  “That can wait. It might be better if I let things cool down for a while first, and besides, I had another reason for coming over here,” she admitted.

  “Another reason,” he groused, wondering if he was ever going to get the chance to finish upgrading that multi-tool, er, random piece of equipment he was testing out improvements on, “I hope it’s a wee bit more mechanical than the first one.”

  “No more household issues,” she promised.

  Spalding breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you about a ‘Special Project’ of great religious significance that I’ll need your help with for some time,” she said.

  His relief turned to immediate unease.

  “Religion, you say? I’m not the most religious person, I’m afraid, but if it’s some kind of microphone or sound system or lighting setup, to help with whatever ceremonies you’re having, I think I could whip something up,” he hedged.

  “It has nothing to do with stage lighting for the present and everything to do with what’s in the past. I believe I can trust in your complete and total discretion in this matter,” she said, eyes burning with a feverish light.

  “As long as the Admiral doesn’t ask about it, directly like, I don’t see as how keeping your secrets a secret should be a problem,” he said after a moment.

  Akantha looked dissatisfied and pondered for a minute before reluctantly nodding.

  “Don’t worry; it shouldn’t come up from his end of things,” she said.

  “Then what do you need my help with, then?” asked Spalding, feeling a sudden burst of concern.

  “I intend to resurrect a god,” she said.

  Spalding’s brows rose up in great alarm and then crashed right back down.

  “Eh?” he asked intelligently.

  Chapter 6

  New Petitioners

  Over the next few days while the Confederation Delegation stewed, I was actively working the com-stat network for all it was worth. Or at least, that part of the com-stat network we still had some control over.

  It was amazing how quickly the old Confederation had grabbed hold of everything it could lay its hands on, like the remnants of the former com-state network.

  Fortunately for my study time, after a big blow-up over the issue of assisting the Spine, Akantha had decided to closet herself with her ‘Wizard’. Or in other words, my Chief Engineer Terrence Spalding and whatever it was they were cooking up together in the East Wing of the Palace, at least it had kept her blessedly occupied and out of my hair while I put things into motion.

  Two years in space dock, and an almost complete reorganization of the officer corps and general crew of the Fleet had required more than a little rust to be knocked off, now that serious space-based operations were back on the board.

  It wasn’t that my veterans weren’t reliable. Rather, a number of them had retired and gone groundside or returned home; meanwhile, the fresh recruits that replaced them were never enough. Enough bodies, enough training, enough command experience etc.

  Which was why, even as I was waiting for the fleet to assemble, I was taking some time off to speak with a pair of the MSP’s closest allies, who were surprisingly trailed by a certain old reprobate eager to hear the latest gossip.

  “What’s the good word, men?” I asked as soon as Glue and Puko, a Sundered Elder who by all reports had done yeomen’s work during the original Battle for the Omicron, were escorted into my study.

  “We’re not exactly men, Admiral,” snorted Puko.

  I shot Glue a look but decided to let the matter lie, and shot a look at Spalding who just raised his hands and waggled his eyebrows innocently, before taking a chair in the far corner of the room behind the Uplifts.


  “I know not if the word is good but we held a Moot,” Primarch Glue said seriously.

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “We have fresh word from the Alliance Against Alien Genocide,” Elder Puko said, grimly thumping his chest for emphasis.

  “Go on,” I said, feeling confused.

  “Pax Gorganus, or as it is after being more commonly known, the ‘Gorgon Alliance’… has been fighting against the Empire on the so-called Gorgon Front and sent us representatives here,” rumbled Glue.

  I leaned back and narrowed my eyes at the two Uplifts.

  “We are quite far from the Gorgon Front. What I still question is why we have these representatives and how does this information impact us?” I asked.

  “They have new information fresh from the Gorgon Front,” pointed Glue.

  “For varying levels of fresh! They were stranded in deep space for months and took a roundabout route to avoid imperial patrols,” snorted Puko.

  “Tell me more about them,” I instructed.

  Elder Puko blatted derisively.

  “A pair of fools, one old, one young, and a family unit from a group of our former people, now self-styled Stalwarts because of a refusal to allow moral considerations to stop them from using genocidal weapons,” said Puko.

  “Only to combat genocidal attacks or so they say,” replied Primarch Glue.

  “Or so they say… and entirely irrelevant,” retorted the Elder.

  “I disagree it’s irrelevant; even if I agree we can’t violate the moral code,” said Glue.

  Puko ignored him and turned to me.

  “Either way, they have arrived in your Star System. Tracto,” the Elder sneezed with distaste.

  Curiouser and curiouser.

  “I guess it all comes down to what they want? We know what they say but what’s their ultimate agenda?” I asked as this seemed the most important part.

  “They say they have proof that the aliens are not just real and alive on the Front, but are being deliberately targeted with genocidal action by the Imperials. But you would know better than me if the first part is accurate,” shrugged Elder Puko, referring to the fact my people had taken the alien samples and copies of all other documents for review.

  Primarch Glue growled.

  “Planetary-scale orbital bombardments. They showed us the holo-records. The ‘proof’ is well documented to my eyes. Worse even than we suffered on the trail of tears,” growled Glue.

  “I for one believe the years of suffering and slow death the Sundered experienced infinitely worse than a quick death via orbital bombardment!” he snapped.

  “So, unless the Admiral is ready to weigh in and say its definitive, I’ll just be over here withholding judgment,” disagreed Puko, who much more than Glue seemed to hold a grudge against these new arrivals.

  “We’re still verifying it,” I said bluntly.

  Puko nodded, looking sharply, and the Primarch scowled.

  “We should not do nothing when our people were killed in the millions after we left that place,” Glue rumbled, standing up.

  “Not ours! No longer ours, they call themselves Stalwarts now,” snapped Elder Puko, gathering himself.

  “Enough,” I said forcefully, bringing the two of them to a halt.

  While noting and accepting the caveats as well as the decidedly mixed reactions, strong enough even after all these years to still divide a pair of Sundered Uplifts who essentially agreed with each other, I couldn’t help wondering if this was worth it.

  If what they were saying was true, then what the Gorgons or rather these Stalwarts had brought us could do more to put a spike in the imperial ambitions of the Empire than a dozen Spineward Sectors ‘Rebellions’ or ‘Insurrections’—or whatever they were terming it now. On the other hand, even if it damaged the Empire, I was unwilling to pull my own side apart in the process.

  As the winners, the old Confederation and Empire had the opportunity to write the history books, and as I’d personally had the chance to experience as the Losers, we had to sit and eat it. But this… this proof, if it was real, had the potential to throw a plasma grenade straight into the middle of intra-galactic politics.

  It could turn the modern-day political paradigm on its head and they’d brought it to me. It was too tempting to pass up.

  I was mentally rubbing my hands together.

  Even if it proved to be fake news, I couldn’t help but imagine all the trouble a horde of ‘observers’ could do if they descended en masse onto the war zone. At the very least, it would slow them down and hamper their movements.

  “Tempting news, I’ll agree, but why did they bring us specifically?” I asked, forcing myself to take a step back from my eagerness to shove a spike in the Empire’s spokes and look at things rationally. The Empire had been denying the existence of non-human life, intelligent life, literally for decades now, if not for centuries. I didn’t know the exact time frame. Longer than I’d been alive, anyhow.

  Certainly, the Empire had been shouting humanity’s unique and special status from the rooftops for as long as I’d been alive. Yet here was direct proof and hopefully incontrovertible proof it was all a lie, and they’d known it all along. But for it to fall into the hands of a person, me, who had every reason to hate the Empire and wish them ill, seemed too good to be true.

  Was this too good to be true? That was the real question unless…

  “Did their ship break down and that’s why they’re here?” I asked.

  “No. They say they spoke with a Seer and came here hoping to secure your help. They want you to free their people, Stalwart and Aliens from the imperial yoke,” said Puko with a sneer.

  I was taken aback and caught on the back foot as my most recent speculation went out the window.

  “A Seer? What exactly did they say they wanted again?” I asked. I was no messiah able to beat back the Empire with one hand tied behind my back. Plus, I’d heard reports of Seers on the Omicron prior to and shortly after our takeover but nothing more recently. These things—these Rim Walkers, Seers, or whatever they called themselves—had disappeared soon after and hadn’t been a problem since. We’d had nothing but rumors and speculation back then, and I hadn’t heard anything about them in years but even so, I was aware they had an almost mystical presence among the Rim populations.

  “Military support from the M.S.P.,” grumbled Glue, ignoring my mental digression.

  “Like I said, fools,” commented Elder Puko.

  “Is the Empire behind this or could this be an imperial trap of some kind?” I said, putting that out there. It needed to be said.

  The Sundered exchanged long looks before turning back to me.

  “No,” said Glue.

  “I judge the fools genuine but that doesn’t mean the Empire didn’t allow them to come somehow,” Elder Puko said suspiciously.

  “In my opinion, they are after wanting our help for genuine reasons,” said the Primarch.

  “Who cares what the Moral Code breakers want?” grumbled the Elder

  “You know why,” growled Glue.

  The Elder’s shoulder hunched but he continued to look mutinous.

  “Who took our best ships? Leaving our people weak before the Rim dwellers when we left,” Puko said angrily.

  “It was a war. They couldn’t let us take the best warships,” said Glue.

  “We left behind far more than we took, that was ours, and I’m not just saying warships,” Puko slapped the table.

  “It was our choice to cut our losses and leave when we did, as we did. We could have waited until the deliberations were fully over. Right now, they need our help,” said Glue.

  “We need to help ourselves! Did they send us even one mobile factory after the Alliance deliberated? One transport or warship? How about a tech update on a fast courier? Several research stations were built by us. I even hold considerable stock in a research corporation, or did. Are they even now holding our prope
rty, waiting for us to reclaim what is ours now things have settled and the hot emotions of the past have had time to cool for us, I wonder?” roared Puko.

  Glue looked down.

  “No! They aren’t!” growled Puko.

  “We would do the same thing,” said Glue.

  “No we wouldn’t, because we didn’t! We preferred to die on the Rim in search of a better way and that was a choice we made, and while that decision eats at my soul, seeing what happened after we left only reaffirms it was the only moral decision left to make,” said Puko.

  “Yet to abandon them when we can help them is not moral and could stain us in ways we do not yet understand,” warned Glue.

  “We’re not here to refight old grudges,” I said, clearing my throat only to be ignored.

  “If we can. If, Glue! Millions of our people died coming here,” Puko said hotly, “we sundered ourselves and walked a path where eight in ten of our people died rather than leaping headlong down a path we far too well understood and considered far worse than mere suffering. Yet now for moral reasons, we must go back and help those who decided to compromise their morals?” the Sundered Elder sneered. “Fine. I have no love for the Empire. If there is a way or if it helps those of us who left, or even simply because it is right and they seek a path away from the hell they created when they betrayed themselves.”

  “For the moral code and my own soul, I’ll consider helping those who burned down ‘my’ home and looted ‘my’ business. But only for that! Is that what you want from me?” he glanced at me and then glared at Glue. “Is that fair and moral enough for you, Glue?” asked Puko.

  For his part, Glue sighed heavily and looked at me.

  “As you are seeing, it is still a divisive issue for us. I fear you need to make your own determinations,” he said.

  I nodded.