Admiral's Throne

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “That’s right, Sir. If they’re going to shoot us, it’ll almost certainly be because they know who we are,” Spalding agreed heartily and in an overly loud voice.

  I shot the old engineer a look.

  “Since we’ve been invited, I somehow doubt that’s going to be an issue, Commodore,” I said quellingly.

  “Invited by Commodore Hammer maybe but do the rest of them blooming politicians know we’ve been invited? That’s the question, Your Majesty,” Spalding said, fingering the plasma torch on his belt as he stared at the main screen along with the rest of us.

  “Admiral will do just fine while we’re out here, Spalding,” I said pointedly, “and it’s kind of hard to imagine they had no idea I was coming since we’re technically meeting outside the official border of the Spineward Sectors, something I’m sure the Regional Authority isn’t in the habit of doing.”

  “Of course, Sir,” Spalding said, blinking as he looked up from the torch clipped to his tool belt.

  “We’re receiving a hail, Sir,” reported Commander Steiner.

  I straightened.

  “Thank you, Lisa,” I said firmly putting aside the speculation of moments before. It was time to focus on the actual situation.

  For a moment, it was like I was back at the beginning of my adventures, waiting for a channel to open to a potentially hostile force. Would I find an ally, an enemy or another grasping politician eager to brow beat me and my fleet…?

  I grimaced. On second thought, the good old days hadn’t really been all that good either now had they?

  “Put it through,” I said.

  There was a flicker, and the image of a uniformed functionary of some kind appeared on the screen. I could tell it was a uniform of some kind because of the braiding and metal star on the right breast of the man’s chest but the flowing grey robes he was wearing were decidedly non-military.

  I was decidedly nonplussed.

  The functionary took that moment to seize the initiative and his mouth made a small grimace.

  “Vice Admiral Montagne, we expected you days ago. The Regional Advisory Body had all but given up hope of your arrival,” the Functionary said and then his eyes swept over something on his console and he sighed, “although we had hoped you’d bring more warships with you.”’

  I thought nothing could faze me. Betrayed, broken, left for dead, even exiled by the feckless cretins who claimed to run things after winning the freedom of the Spine, none of that was as off-putting as dealing with this functionary.

  My eyes flashed angrily.

  The sheer gall of this man to act as if nothing had happened, and it was simply a given that Jason Montagne and his Patrol Fleet, the MSP, would ride to the rescue yet again.

  “I received an invitation from Commodore Hammer of the Confederation Fleet. I wasn’t aware there was a time limit on that invitation. No worries; I can always leave and come back at some later date when all the bureaucratic stars are properly aligned.

  The Functionary looked startled and then began to panic.

  “Oh, no! I’m quite sorry if I gave that impression. We need you, Sir. I’ve followed your career for several years now and if there’s one thing that’s certain. You’re the man we need for this bug crisis. Please, if anything I’ve said has offended you, I apologize,” the other man said, quickly bowing his head.

  For some reason, every word out of this man’s mouth, even his seemingly genuine apologies just seemed to elevate my blood pressure.

  I took a calming breath.

  “Apology… accepted,” I said finally, “now are you going to transfer this call to one of the people in charge, or?” I cocked my head.

  “The Governors, Sir,” said the Functionary.

  “One of these governors then,” I nodded.

  “Oh no, Sir! I mean we can if you want but the Regional Advisory Body has requested a meeting with you and the top members of your fleet. I’m told Commodore Hammer and several key SDF Admirals throughout the Spine will be present,” he said.

  “Wonderful,” I said, freighting the word with meaning.

  “Actually, they’ve been meeting for a while now but it takes time for the forces needed to gather and so far… well the recent focus on domestic rebuilding programs and resulting cutbacks in local star system military spending has left us in something of a pinch.” The Functionary suddenly smiled happily, “although with the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet back from its exile beyond the Rim, we should have more than enough forces to protect the key star systems through the Spineward Sectors, Sir!”

  Once again, I felt my temper rising but quickly throttled it.

  What was I, some kind of chump they thought they could call to heel when there was trouble and kick to the curb when it was convenient?

  “I make no promises but I’m willing to meet with the Sector Governors of the Regional Advisory Body and discuss the price of my assistance,” I said with a smile that really wasn’t very nice. Even I could tell that, although the reaction of the Functionary to my words would have given it away.

  “Price?” he asked, looking dumbfounded.

  I wrinkled my brows.

  “In the past, it was my duty to come to aid the common citizen and repulse threats to all of humanity. Later, my fleet took action against a common threat to every free world in the region. But Tracto is well guarded against any bug incursion and we have one of the largest fleets on the Rim of Known Space. Our Star System is not at risk of being overrun by space bugs and the rest of the worlds of the Spine have made their opinions of me and my fleet crystal clear.”

  I paused as the Functionary looked like he’d just tasted something foul and I wasn’t living up to his expectations.

  Well too bad. I didn’t even feel a pang of regret. The wild-eyed crusader determined to save the helpless people of the Spine had been curb stomped one too many times by his supposed allies.

  “This is not what I had come to expect from years of hearing about the exploits of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, Sir,” the Functionary said finally.

  My brows rose and I laughed outright.

  “Surely you didn’t expect the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet and its admiral to die defending your worlds against those space bugs for free, did you?” I said, wondering just how naïve and ridiculous the people manning the communication desk for the Regional Governors of the Spine could possibly be.

  “Why no, of course not,” the Functionary said, flushing, “I’m sure a fleet has any number of costs involved in its daily operations as well as certain sunk costs and depreciation schedules that need to be prorated and paid for above and beyond those.”

  “We’re going to need a whole lot more than daily operating costs if the RGA expects us to fight their battles. But that’s an issue between me and your superiors,” I informed the other man, “please pass along the meeting time, location and docking protocols to my staff.”

  “Of course, Sir,” said the Functionary.

  “If that’s all,” I said.

  “I’ll contact my superiors and get the information to your staff, Sir,” he said.

  “Good,” I cut the connection.

  ***

  “Ah, Admiral Montagne! How good of you to join us,” said one of the seven Governors as soon as I entered the room.

  “Admiral,” nodded several of the other politicians.

  I swept the room with a cool, assessing gaze and save for a couple people here and there and a small group of military officers I was withholding judgment on for the moment, I found myself decidedly unimpressed.

  I was once again in the main hall of the Monitor that previously served as the mobile governmental headquarters of the New Confederation legislature and I had to say I didn’t really care what they’d done with the place.

  That probably had something to do with my previous experiences here, I must admit, but even that granted, I had to think that fewer than fifty men and women using a room that had
been designed for at least four to five times as many had something to do with it. It made it feel like the new government was trying too hard to build its legitimacy. Trying and failing.

  Oh, well; none of this had anything to do with me.

  I was here for one purpose and one purpose only.

  “Governors,” I bowed my head and then looked around at the rest of the people in the room. “Gentlemen and ladies,” I added with a suave smile, playing every inch the nobleman-turned-King and turning it up to nine.

  Most people smiled happily but there was one audible sniff.

  “And Herms,” said a loud and carrying voice.

  What was this bullroar? My good mood instantly wilted. I hadn’t come here to dance to another’s tune and I certainly wasn’t going to start now, but this was an unneeded complication. I mean, was the current Spineward Sectors Authority so gutless or without honor that they would let the only man with a fleet strong enough to save their homeworlds be heckled by some random….

  Looking around, I saw people shaking their heads but no one stood up for the infamous Tyrant of Cold Space, the hero they had summoned to slay the evil dragon that was the space bugs.

  Well that answered the question for me and I was a fool to have ever believed otherwise, I thought bitterly. There was a solution for that. Akantha herself had pointed it out; people would only treat you as badly as you let them. Demand respect, and you would have it.

  Or I could just treat them the same way I had the individual planetary governors at the beginning of my career as a space admiral. That would work too.

  “What is this?” I asked drolly.

  The Lead Governor opened his mouth, at least having the grace to look embarrassed but he was cut off.

  “I said and Herms!” declared some belligerent individual with a thick beard and a beer belly nearly protruding out of the grey robe that looked like it was some kind of regular uniform for the government workers here, as he thrust himself into the middle of the room.

  I sighed.

  “I wasn’t aware there were any Herms in the room,” I informed the government worker before turning back to the Governor with a raised eyebrow. Did they seriously expect me to bandy words with a mere flunky while billions of lives were on the line?

  The worker flushed an angry red.

  “That’s not the point!” he snarled.

  “Ah,” I said, still looking at the Governor pointedly.

  Placed on the spot, the Governor shot his underling an irritated look, one that the government worker proceeded to ignore, as he continued to glare at me.

  “I’m sure the Admiral didn’t mean anything by his lack of respect for absolute inclusivity, Mr. Bentwick,” the Governor said finally, “please try to remember that this is the Spineward Sectors not the Heart Land Sectors of the Confederation, and we have different cultural norms out here. We are a diverse and disparate population with wildly varying greeting structures that require—”

  “Absolute inclusivity requires that everyone is treated absolutely the same way regardless of their gender, racial or social-cultural differences, Mr. Governor!” declared Bentwick, stalking forward until he was standing only slightly away from me, his chin and bulging belly thrusting toward me provocatively.

  I couldn’t help it and snorted.

  “You,” The government worker turned on me like some kind of small but paunchy rabid creature. I had to restrain myself from laughing at the absurdity of it.

  “Me.” I agreed, arching an eyebrow and Bentwick seemed to swell until his belly nearly burst out of his robes.

  “Do you mock the beliefs our Confederation was founded on, Sir?” demanded Bentwick.

  “The Admiral,” started one of the Governors.

  I lifted a hand, cutting him off.

  “Can speak for himself,” I said, looking pointedly at Mr. Bentwick’s protruding gut.

  The government worker flushed.

  “Herms have the right to the same treatment as everyone else, Admiral,” the government worker shot back, temper clearly rising.

  I gave the worker a withering look.

  “Was I invited by one? Is there even one in the entire room? I was sent for by the Governors and Commodore Hammer and none of them are Herms as far as I’m aware,” I snorted.

  “That’s beside the point!” snapped the Government worker.

  “No that is the point. As far as I’m concerned, that is exactly the point,” I said and then made a sweeping away gesture with my hand. “Now leave. It’s time for the important people to talk. You know, the ones who have fleets and control the fates of star systems.”

  “Just who do you think you are?” the veins on Mr. Bentwick’s forehead began to bulge but as amusing as that was, I didn’t have time for it or him any longer, “the social code demands that even if everyone in a room is of a single normative descriptor that all three traditional greets are to be used!”

  “Jason Montagne, King of Capria, Protector of Messene, Admiral of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet and so on and so forth,” I said as if absently answering the first half of his question before I turned to the actual movers and shakers in the room.

  “Governor, if we could get down to business,” I said, jerking my head at the government worker. It was time they got rid of this fool so we could get down to business.

  “Yes,” the Governor nodded. He took a breath and turned to the government worker, “Mr. Bentwicks, please return to your former duties.”

  “This is outrageous! The Grand Assembly will hear of this,” he protested.

  “All well and good but please inform them ‘after’ the meeting, hmm?” said the Governor.

  For a moment, the government official looked like he was going to break and retreat but his connections back in the heartlands must have been really something for him to be brave enough to ignore the commands of a Sector Governor and his superior, because he stiffened.

  “No, Excellency. I will not! There is only one way forward for this galaxy and until we are all willing to acknowledge that, you will never free this region of space from the hell it has created for itself,” Bentwicks said belligerently. “Yes, you think I’m a fool but I know who you are! Who all of you are! And I stand by my words. The Regional Authority can throw me into one of your benighted dungeon ships but I will not back down,” said Mr. Bentwicks.

  He then turned back to me.

  “As for you! You would be well advised to crawl back to the barbaric hellhole you—,” he began furiously, but I cut him off.

  “Who is this person that insults me, Governor? First he speaks to me as if I needed his advice and then he doesn’t just insult me, he insults the planet I’m from?” I snapped, “I’m not here to talk about herms, Governor; I’m here to talk star fleets!”

  “You go too far by half, Bentwicks!” snapped the Sector Governor, starting to get angry now that his authority had been directly challenged and I was threatening to pull out, “I don’t care if the Speaker for the Grand Assembly sent you to us personally. You’ve offended the Admiral, a man whose ships we desperately need if we are to save actual lives.”

  My eyes glinted as the Governor made it clear once and for all that it was what I could do for them and not any of my past efforts that made them take action to shut this fool down. It was nice to know where I stood at least.

  Beard bristling and beer belly protruding, Bentwicks crossed his arms.

  “I won’t leave until the Admiral renounces his anti-Confederation way,” declared Bentwicks.

  The Governor looked at me apologetically and then gestured to the Confederation marines standing guard near the entry ways and a quad broke off.

  “Please escort the official back to his quarters, Corporal. Mr. Bentwicks appears overwrought and we have more important things to discuss right now than lacking honorifics,” he said.

  Feeling my temper spike, I held up a hand.

  “If it will move things alo
ng at a faster pace, I am more than willing to meet Bentwicks’ call for absolute inclusivity and do him one better by asking both him and every person, potentate and government official in this room to acknowledge the real and inalienable rights of every peace loving man, woman, herm, uplift, droid and genetically-engineered person in the Spine and outer Rim,” I said furiously.

  It was like I had just let loose the largest, loudest most noxious stink bomb ever smelt in this room.

  “Uplifts and droids? Peace is antithetical to their very nature. That’s not absolute inclusivity that anti-human bigotry! Do you hate your own race that much, Admiral?” shouted Bentwicks, followed by several muffled shouts and yells as he was cuffed and escorted out of the room, “Machine Lover!” he screamed one final slur before he was dragged out of the room.

  I waited until the angry heartworlder was escorted out of the room and everyone else was either wrinkling their noses, looking aside or staring at me angrily.

  “Well does anyone care to join me?” I asked, looking around.

  Most wouldn’t meet my eyes and those that did glared at me hotly.

  I nodded seriously.

  “I see. It’s okay to heckle me ruthlessly and call for me to take action but when I ask for actions commensurate with your own, the silence is deafening,” I sniffed loudly.

  The Lead Governor sighed.

  “I understand why you felt you had to do that and I admit it wasn’t entirely uncalled for. However, please let us set aside the grand standing for a few moments and focus on the business at hand. Mr. Bentwicks has powerful allies within the Confederation bureaucracy back in the heartland sectors. He’s a necessary evil but one I do genuinely apologize for.”

  I gave the Governor a level look.

  I could see he understood just how badly he’d let this meeting degenerate but despite that, he was determined to continue to try and pry as many warships out of my hands as he could.

  I stared at him and then after a long minute, decided that was something I could live with… for now.

  “Then I suppose that if no one else is interested in mocking the way I speak on the one hand and then begging for my assistance on the other, I’m game. Let’s get down to brass tacks,” I said.