Admiral's Throne

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “My guilt? I’m not the one who is betraying the people he once claimed so loudly he was out here to serve. If anyone in this room should feel guilty, it’s you not me, Admiral!” she declared, leaning forward to try and lock eyes with me.

  I, on the other hand, had no intention of engaging in a staring contest with a former subordinate. Leaning back in my chair, I propped a knee on the table and picked up a strategically-placed cup of tea.

  Savoring the smell, I took a sip and closed my eyes in appreciation.

  By the time I was done, Lenora Hammer was silently fuming.

  “Your lack of shame and flippant actions today only reaffirm the decision I made two years ago and make my resolution stronger,” Commodore Hammer said with disgust.

  “Give him the files,” she said, motioning toward me with two fingers. Beside the Commodore, one of her aides, an Ensign, looked surprised before standing up and sliding a data stick toward me.

  I looked at the Ensign coolly; she was too young, too fresh and too green to have been part of the original Confederation officers and crew rescued from the droids. As such, she’d never served with me or the MSP.

  Dismissing the Ensign, I looked back at the Commodore and decided now was not the time for posturing or games.

  “Lisa,” I said.

  “Sir?” she asked.

  “If you would take a look,” I said pleasantly.

  “Of course, Sir,” she said.

  “It’s all there,” Hammer said.

  “All the worlds my Flotilla and the local Sector Guard intend to hit. As well as all the information we have on the core-world SDF’s throughout the Spine and the most likely patrol assignments of the other Confederation Flotillas based throughout the Spine. Further data will be forwarded to you as soon as I get them,” she continued.

  I blinked. She was being almost suspiciously accommodating, not something I was exactly used to seeing from my sometimes allies, sometimes rivals, sometimes subordinates, in my many years operating in the Spine.

  “Thank you, Commodore Hammer,” I said nodding my head gravely.

  “Don’t thank me and don’t look so surprised,” Hammer said, shaking her head, “unlike you, I’m doing everything I can to protect this region without consideration of reimbursement or reward for my actions.”

  “I can assure you I’ll put your information to good use,” I said gravely and then shot her a sharp look, “although I have to admit I do have one question.”

  “What is it?” she asked stiffly.

  “What’s the name of the charity?” I asked keeping my face deliberately neutral and non-provoking.

  “What?” she said sharply.

  “The charity,” I repeated patiently, “so I can set up an account to supply matching funds,” I said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you’re interested in donating to charities to try and soothe your wounded conscience, I’m sure you can find any number of worthy causes you can use to try and ease your guilt,” she said stiffly.

  “I’m not guilty. I just thought that since you said you weren’t profiting in any way, shape or form from your actions in our upcoming Bug Campaign, while I was, that you must be donating your base fleet pay to a worthy charity or other organization,” I replied with a glint in my eye, “which is why I thought I’d supply matching—”

  Hammer stood, her face turning thunderous.

  “You forget I’ve seen you do this before. Needle and provoke your opponents until they don’t know up from down, can’t tell what you’re up to and then lose their temper or make a mistake you think you can take advantage of. Well I’m not your opponent today, Jason. I also resent the implication that earning a living through military service is in any way comparable to your rampant attempts at wartime profiteering. This racketeering scheme of yours is something a criminal would have come up with. The misery and suffering of others may be unavoidable but that doesn’t give us the excuse to take advantage of them in their hour of need,” she said.

  “It’s low. It’s despicable and I frankly admit that I thought better of you than this. But if millions or even billions of credits is your price to take actions and save the lives of people I’m unable to protect, fine, I’m willing to hold my nose and swallow it. Just don’t ask me to like it or you for doing it,” she added.

  “I’m glad you got that off your chest,” I said with a nod.

  “Don’t nod at me and play the flippant mocking noble. You may be a king but I know you, and I know this is just another one of the guises, knock it off or I’m out of here,” she said.

  “You saw me at my best, Leonora,” I corrected her sadly, “or close to my best, and even if a bit disgruntled at the time, I was still willing to throw myself on the grenade for the people of the Spineward Sectors if not for it’s continually corrupt government.”

  “What happened to that man? What happened to you, Admiral? Because we need that man badly, the Spine we are both trying to protect in our own way needs him now more than ever,” she said.

  “I think I’ve made that clear. The Spine threw me away. There’s nothing more we need to say. The politicians voted and the people were more than happy to go along,” I sighed.

  “So now you’re going to hurt them, make them pay, is that it?” she asked.

  “By hitting them in the pocket book I presume you mean? But no, that’s not my intention even though it might look like it. Or at least, the overriding one; my main issue is something entirely different,” I said.

  “I don’t follow you,” she said.

  I gave her a regretful smile.

  “Though I wish it were different, the Confederation, if maybe not the Spineward Sectors, can consider me a foreign power at this point. So. You might ask the Empire for help but not expect it automatically and certainly never for free. The same thing goes for Tracto,” I explained.

  “Small as she is, Tracto has been placed in the same situation by the will of her leaders and Confederation politicians who had no desire for her trillium reserves to interrupt their own economic profit schemes any more than she already has. If she were to join the Region as a full voting member with all the rights that came with such membership, they might have lost big money and so it was easier to let her go,” I explained.

  “I’m here to help the people, not because it’s my duty but rather in spite of it. I labor under no obligation to help our economic suppressors. Quite the opposite in point of fact,” I said.

  “Tracto, even counting in Capria now, doesn’t hold a candle to the Confederation, Admiral. You have to see that. To try and put yourself on the same level as the Confederation or the Empire… well its laughable, Sir,” she said frankly and clearly taken aback.

  “We might be small but as you well know, the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet hits well above its weight class,” I said with a smirk, “we have money, we have hyper-fuel and we have warships in spades. The only thing we were lacking was sufficient manpower and a fully-developed tech base and shipbuilding/repair structure. Capria gives us that. Combined, I would argue we are more powerful than any two comparable worlds in the known galaxy,” I said.

  “Even so,” she said.

  “It’s the hand I’ve been dealt. You may think it’s a lost cause doomed to failure, just like you did my defense of the Spine against the Empire,” I shrugged, “regardless, I intend to stay the course. As you must be familiar with by now, I’m not a man to quit just because the going got tough or the odds looked impossible,” I finished, the corner of my mouth quirking up.

  “I didn’t leave because I thought you’d fail, but because I had a higher duty instead,” she said crossly, “however, I will concede you haven’t given up very easily in the past. At least not when faced with a military opponent.”

  I wanted to ask just what her last comment meant but I figured I knew only too well. In the past, and even in our latest meeting, I’d been forced—or forced myself—to ta
ke far too much grief from the elected ruling class, mainly because they were the elected representatives of the people.

  Well, the representatives handed me to the Empire, leaving me to my fate and the people were only too happy to put everything that had happened for the five years after the Withdrawal behind them, including forgetting about Admiral Montagne and the Patrol Fleet that had fought so hard for them.

  “You say potato and I say tomato,” I said instead, “You had a higher duty to what I called a peaceful region of space, while I had millions of lives and the freedom of seven sectors at stake. But like you said, we’re not here to refight the past. Today we have bugs, and since the Spine hasn’t been willing to pony up credit for the maintenance and upkeep of my fleet, they don’t get a free ride. It’s paying through the nose on this one.”

  Her expression which had started to show some cracks in it, or at least stress lines, once again hardened.

  Yep, she definitely didn’t like the idea of asking the people we were going to defend to paying for our defense efforts. I’d thought paying ‘their fair share’ was a popular tag line recently but I guess when the rubber hit the road, much like everything else, a slogan only went so far.

  “You will do what you feel you must and I’ll do the same, Admiral Montagne. I am sure in my course. I hope you can still say the same,” she replied.

  “Without hesitation, Commodore,” I said immediately. Never let them see you sweat that was my motto, especially ship-jumping former subordinates.

  I mean, I might be confused as to the best way to go forward in a few areas, maybe, just a tad, but one thing was clear to me. Leaving everything in the hands of elected politicians of this New Regional Authority of Sector Governors was only going to end in genocide or conquest. Neither of which appealed to me. As for the Confederation’s Grand Assembly, don’t even get me started; a day late and two credits short didn’t even begin to describe their procedural bureaucratic hang-ups.

  If that meant the old Little Admiral needed to step up to the plate, then that was exactly what I aimed to do and the beauty of it was, I didn’t need to conquer anyone to get it done. Between Capria’s trained manpower, Tracto’s wealth, my warships and our joint manufacturing and shipyard complexes, I figured we could do a lot of damage to anyone out there with bad intentions.

  Nope, no old-style lunatic Montagne Warlord determined to conquer everything in sight and place the people firmly under his boot-heel here!

  “Then if there’s nothing else, I think we’re done here,” she said.

  “Good luck, Leonora,” I said, genuinely wishing it on her because if the Old Confederation had actually meant for her flotilla to be anything more than a speed bump, they’d have assigned her more forces.

  She should have taken me up on my original offer, I thought sadly.

  “Good day, Admiral,” she said, turning on her heels with a sniff and stalking out of the room.

  You just couldn’t please some people.

  Chapter 27

  Returning to Capria

  “What’s the status on the repair efforts, Rear Admiral Star-Hammer?” I asked as soon as the Lucky Clover jumped back into the Star Kingdom of Capria and reached easy communication range of her main orbital shipyard and repair complex.

  “Better than I feared, not as good as I’d hoped,” the Rear Admiral grunted.

  “I’m really not in the mood for games, Star-Hammer,” I informed the Caprian flag-officer.

  “Apologies if my tone offended Your Majesty,” said Caprian Admiral.

  “And that’s a wrap,” I said, severing the channel in Star-Hammer’s now surprised face.

  Ignoring the rest of my flag staff, I punched a new number into my communicator. I was tired of being yanked around.

  “Druid here,” said the man on the other end of the screen.

  “I have a new job for you,” I said.

  “What do you need, Admiral?” he asked.

  “I’m facing administrative resistance from the current Annex Commander,” I said.

  “Need me to go over there and break heads, Sir?” he asked with enough confidence that I decided he thought he could actually do it.

  I hesitated.

  “Well, I was thinking about placing you in command and jumping the whole annex back to Gambit sooner rather than later but…,” I mused.

  Instant distaste crossed over Druid’s face.

  “I’m a battleship officer. Give me command of a Squadron of the Wall any day, Sir, not one of these floating orbital shipyards. That’s the same thing as running a city, not my cup of tea please,” he insisted.

  “Running a battleship is like running a small town in many ways,” I pointed out.

  “First, I don’t think we should move the shipyard-annex, at least not until after the initial glut of repair work dies down. We need the sources of raw materials, fresh supplies and precision equipment being shipped in from around the star system unless you want a slowdown. Second, there’s a difference between running a ‘small town’ as you put it and the equivalent of a metropolis. If you want to put someone else in charge here, tap Commodore Spalding,” said Druid.

  “I’ve got a few irons in the fire to replace those precision equipment lines but I suppose you’re right,” I said, the urge to immediately remove the Annex from Caprian space fading away in the light of pure logic.

  “After I knock a few heads together over here, what’s next, Admiral?” he asked.

  “Next?” I asked, baring my teeth in an imitation of a smile.

  Druid’s gaze sharpened as I paused for effect.

  “Next? We gather up this fleet and start touring the Spine. I have the sense that dozens of worlds across the Spineward Sectors are no longer quite as confident in the number of credits they’ve invested in their SDF’s these past two years,” I said.

  “The Confederation is not ready to come riding to their rescue as we previously suspected?” he asked.

  “You’re bang on, Druid,” I said with a nod, “and while I’m not saying the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet won’t be there to help, the days of us running headlong into danger for nothing but accolades and attaboys are gone.”

  Druid mulled that over for a minute.

  “Can’t say as I’m surprised,” he said.

  “Not exactly the reaction I was expecting,” I said lifting an eyebrow, “or maybe fearing, more accurately,” I added after a moment’s consideration.

  “Maybe the lower ranks can leave with a valuable skill set and secure gainful employment back home, wherever that is for the specific individual crewman or technician. But for the officers and even more so for those of us of captain or flag rank, that’s not really an option,” he said.

  “Meaning you’re here because you’re stuck, not because you believe in truth, justice and the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet way?” I asked.

  “I’m hurt, Rear Admiral. Simply hurt, I say,” I joked.

  “No, Sir. We’re stuck here because after fighting the good fight, the rest of known space turned their back on us. They may have named you the Exile, Sir. But the rest of us are just as effectively tarred with the same brush alongside you. At least, we are if we want to pursue anything resembling our chosen profession. Oh, I’m not denying the ability of a few to find a sunny beach somewhere, open a bar and live the quiet life in whatever star system they originally came from, but if they want onboard a starship, we’re fresh out of luck,” Druid said.

  “If they can find that beach, good for them, Druid,” I said wearily. I couldn’t fault anyone who’d fought the good fight for the Spine back during the dark years after the Confederated Empire dissolved. If they decided enough was enough and were able to make it stick, more power to them.

  We shared a moment of mutual silence and then Druid smirked.

  “Speaking of which, I’ve received a surprising number of inquiries from spacers looking to get off the beach and secure a shipboard assignment,�
�� Druid said.

  “If they want to get off half pay and back into space, I’m game; blast it all, if they’re retired and they want to serve again I wouldn’t say no,” I said after a moment’s thought, “they’ll just have to be ready to swear into the King’s Own and take the royal crown.”

  Druid’s brow wrinkled.

  “You’re giving them your crown? How many of those things do you have anyway?” he asked.

  “Not the crown. A gold crown. Although I suppose not literally. We’ll be paying them in credits but the principle is the same,” I said.

  “If you say so,” he shrugged.

  “I do say so,” I said with certainty, “what we need are hardened spacers ready to follow the chain of command. Not wild-eyed rabble rousers looking to get out the vote and mistakenly believing that anything Parliament says will have any bearing on who’s ultimately in control of this fleet.”

  “Local politics are always trouble,” Druid said with disgust.

  After a moment’s consideration, I joined him in his displeasure.

  “I thought I got away from it all,” I agreed with a dispirited sigh. I left Capria hoping to eventually immigrate to another world and actually did, after a strange roundabout fashion. Yet despite that, here I was back in the clutches of my class-ridden homeworld and re-immersed in all her ugly sectarian strife.

  As King, there was no way to escape it. I never should have accepted the job.

  “It’s good to hear there are so many eager to join the fleet,” I said to get the conversation started again, “speaking of which, how many ships have been released from the yards here?”

  “I’ve heard a lot of complaints about random ship designs from all over the region and beyond, some of them with very strange designs on everything from atmospheric scrubbers to non-standard bolt sizes but despite that, we have almost one hundred warships undergoing working up trials,” said Druid.