Admiral's Throne

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “That’s fast,” I said with visible surprise.

  “Our boys and girls back home weren’t just sitting on their hands, or at least our robots weren’t. Every inch of these ships has been inspected, scanned and a repair list readied for the oncoming yard team. Combine that with the formidable industrial capacity of your homeworld, and the yards are churning out everything these ships need faster than the engineers can install them,” said Druid.

  “Of course,” he paused and my mental ears pricked up, “what the yard dogs here really wanted to do was jerk everything out, replace everything from the ground up with Caprian compatible technology. And rearrange the interiors while they were at it.”

  “That’ll have to wait,” I said.

  “You want to bring everything up to Caprian standard now that they’re part of our supply chain?” Druid asked.

  “No. Rather, I’d like to bring Capria up to our current standard of technology. They had a few imperial upgrades so they could make those battleships for House Davenport but I’d like to expand on that,” I said.

  “You want to give them our whole tech base?” asked Druid.

  “Well… not everything,” I said with a significant look, “I was thinking more along the lines of having the Multiplex paying a visit and sharing with them her nearly imperial level database.”

  “Right. There’s no need to share such pesky little things like all the new shield and weapons technology we picked up from those top-of-the-line imperial warship we captured,” Druid said with a serious expression.

  “Tuck it in, Officer,” I ordered the Rear Admiral with a smirk, “we wouldn’t want the movers and shakers of Capria to realize they aren’t as indispensable as they’d like to believe, which they will after they eventually break this encryption protocol; besides, it’s generally wise policy to keep a trick or two hidden up your sleeve for tense future negotiations.”

  “Meaning you intend to upgrade their weapons and shields eventually but in our own yards,” nodded Druid.

  “I didn’t say that,” or think it either, “but that’s probably a safe assumption. Of course, it’s not like we could equip them with all of those nice little goodies right now regardless. We don’t have the production capacity back home and we still need to improve the orbital factories here,” I paused in consideration, “of course, once a team of Caprian engineers have their hands on functional examples of top of the line imperial technology, or at least the best top-of-the-line imperial tech we have our hands on, they’ll be able to take detailed scans, send them back home and eventually reverse engineer them.”

  “It’s a good thing I’m not the King then,” said Druid.

  “Bad cess,” I said giving him a hard look, “it’s not like I wanted the job.”

  “No. You just didn’t turn it down when they offered it,” said Druid.

  “What was I supposed to do, let people die?” I asked.

  “I’m not saying you were wrong to do it. Just that no one was twisting your arm,” he said.

  “Away with you,” I said with an irritable wave of the hand, “I’m sure you have more important things to do, like carry out the new assignment I just gave you.”

  “Meanwhile, you get to continue playing hookie?” he asked.

  I drew myself up pompously.

  “Let me tell you, those thousands of spacers eager for duty onboard the ships of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet won’t swear themselves in all by themselves,” I said.

  “Isn’t that what recruiters are for?” asked the Rear Admiral.

  “You don’t know my countrymen,” I said wryly, “if you give them an inch, they’ll take a mile. No, each of them is going to swear their oath to me personally. That way, they can’t try to winkle out of it later. At least this way, if they decide to turn on me, I’ll be able to say I looked them in the eye when they swore their oaths. If they’re going to be hanged for oath breakers, I don’t intend to make it easy on them.”

  “Does that actually matter here? I mean, making the oaths in person,” said Druid.

  “More than you might guess,” I said darkly, “it won’t stop the most dedicated, but for the rest it will actually mean something that their King took their oaths in person and then personally led them into battle. Far too many of our commanders-in-chief do their commanding from the Palace and not a flag-bridge.”

  “As you say,” Druid said.

  On that cheery note, the video-conference soon broke up.

  Chapter 28

  Calm Before the Storm

  Over the next week, I swore tens of thousands of spacers into the King’s Own Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, including more officers than I honestly expected.

  “Is it just me or is anyone else surprised at the turn-out we’ve had so far?” I asked my bridge team.

  “I don’t see the issue, Your Majesty?” said the Intelligence Officer, wrinkling her nose, “a lot of people are out of work, especially spacers. There are easily a hundred thousand spacers without a job or the means to cover their bills. I mean, if you had the choice between part-time work flipping burgers or working construction in a job-saturated environment for minimum wage or full-time employment back in space in a job you’re fully trained and qualified for, which would you choose?”

  “Please, don’t you start with the Majesty bit too, Senior Lieutenant,” I growled.

  “Sorry, Sir,” she said stiffening.

  I sighed. I just couldn’t seem to win.

  “Courtesies and honorifics aside, I don’t think you’re taking into account just how hated the Monarchy is at the moment into your calculations, Senior Lieutenant,” I said with a frown.

  “I could be wrong, but polling data seems to indicate the public is giving you the benefit of the doubt, at least for the moment. It might have something to do with the stock market jump and the slew of new hiring and laid-off workers returning to the job force that started as soon as you injected several hundred million credits into the economy, Sir,” the Intelligence Officer said dryly.

  I turned to Lisa Steiner.

  “What do you think, Chief of Staff?” I asked her, “are we seeing a simple case of paychecks before politics, like the Senior Lieutenant is suggesting or is there something deeper at work here?”

  Commander Steiner looked momentarily startled and then thoughtful. Over the years, she was maturing into a more thoughtful and composed person than the bright and eager and overly young com-tech I’d initially known. I wasn’t sure if I entirely approved of the change but… who was I kidding? I don’t know how I would have managed the various transitions following my Exile, the fleet drawdown and now rapid build-ups in particular, without my steady Chief of Staff there to help manage it.

  “I see what you’re saying, Sir, and we’d probably be wise to continue our full background checks with multiple references from someone either in the MSP, previously in the MSP or who was themselves referred to us by a current or former officer or spacer. That said, other than doubling the guard around sensitive areas like engineering, the armory and the bridges of various warships as we stand them up, I don’t see that there’s much more we can do,” she said.

  “So, am I jumping at shadows or do you find the current steps we’re taking excessive, Commander?” I asked her.

  She pursed her lips as the rest of the flag staff peered at her curiously. Then she lifted her nose.

  “Neither. I think like Officer Shandry suggests, most of the people joining the new King’s Own are solid. Certainly, they’re more interested in a paycheck than in sabotaging your efforts,” she lifted a cautioning finger, “as always with any new officers and crew, their loyalty will depend on how they are treated and how favorably they view your leadership during the upcoming conflict,” she said.

  “On the positive side, we are fighting against genocidal attacks but they know that going into it, which is probably why we only have tens of thousands of recruits and not hundreds of thousands of ne
w recruits and returning space-hands. If we do as well as we normally do under your command, I can’t see them turning against us en masse,” she nodded, “though you’re wise to put a lancer detail onboard each of the larger more important warships.”

  “So, like usual they’ll march to the sound of the guns but I had better show them victory or everything’s in doubt,” I said wearily.

  Steiner looked at me challengingly.

  “Isn’t that always the way, Sir?” she asked.

  “I suppose it is,” I said, somewhat appeased, although in no way prepared to let my guard down. Just because mass mutiny wasn’t on the table right now, didn’t mean things wouldn’t change for the worse. More importantly, I knew that powerful interests on Capria were going to be maneuvering in the background. Either to impede me, secure their own advantage in my ‘court’ or simply to place enough people nearby me that if I started acting in ways they didn’t approve, they could take action

  There was no reason to drop my guard and every reason to stay frosty and ready for action at any time. At no point since the officers and crew that paved the way for Jean Luc’s successful mutiny onboard the original Lucky Clover, had we let so many new people under the hardened hulls of our warships.

  Only time would tell how bad the fallout would be.

  The next few days were filled with tedium and swearing-in ceremonies. Not only did they let the new men and women of the MSP see me, but they played well on the homeworld as well. The news coverage was still cautious but the sight of so many officers and crew returning to uniform and thus full-time wages helped. The warships they were manning helped even more as they left their builder’s trials and started patrolling the star system for bugs.

  While warships were patrolling the skies, I was crisscrossing the orbitals and space stations of Capria, inspecting, encouraging and accepting oaths.

  Eighteen hours into a twenty-four-hour day, the High Chancellor Office finally wore me down and convinced me of the need for a full-on media blitz on the actual planet itself. Apparently, the people felt I wasn’t accessible enough, giving them the impression I was an absentee monarch who cared more about what happened in our star system’s orbital spaces than down on the surface where most of the people lived.

  Considering this was truer than not, I didn’t see it as a big deal, until they pointed out it was hurting the space-based recruitment efforts.

  “It’ll be nice to be back in the Palace again,” Jake Evans said brightly.

  I glowered at the former trainee turned full-on armsman before turning wearily back to my data-slate. This little excursion down to the Palace might be all fun and games for him but what it meant for me was about three hours of sleep and a full day of studying profiles, boning up on the current state of planetary politics and endless hours of standing still, smile in place, as I shook hands.

  Not exactly the sort of planetary vacation one looked forward to, which I promptly told him.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Sir. As a Royal Armsman, it’s kind of nice to be the primary team for once,” Jake Evans smirked before Sean D’Argeant, my Chief Armsman, finally growled at him to be quiet.

  I felt a pang, one I firmly pushed down. Sean and his team had sacrificed much to come serve as my personal bodyguards, spending years away from home to protect me, true. But I’d been very clear from the beginning that serving me meant they would likely never see Capria again, at least not as long as they were in my service.

  From that standpoint, everything from this point on was a gift. The kind that kept giving; you know, assassins, bugs, angry mobs…

  I gave myself a shake and a stern lecture. Plan for the worst, yes, but then spend the rest of the day going about enjoying your life was my motto, something I wondered if my Montagne ancestors had ever really internalized?

  There were enough open threats out there that I no longer felt the need to go around buying more trouble. Or maybe that was the problem, I thought, my mental thought train grinding to a halt. Maybe they’d fallen to obsessing over the hidden threats, ultimately sabotaging their own reigns, because they didn’t have enough open problems like, oh, Droids, Imperial War Fleets, Pirates and oh, back-stabbing sector politicians, to deal with.

  “It wasn’t a nice thought,” I muttered.

  “Sire?” asked Sean, eyeing me assessingly.

  “Did I say that aloud?” I asked with a grimace, “clearly, I haven’t been getting enough sleep. These glad-handing and oath-taking tours are for the birds.”

  “They do seem to be wearing you down, Your Majesty. If you don’t mind my saying so,” said Jake Evans.

  Sean D’Argeant gave him a stern look.

  “Sorry, Sire,” Armsman Jake Evans said, stepping back against the wall of the shuttle as we were entering final approach and resuming the stiff and blank-faced armsman’s demeanor.

  “My apologies, Sire. I don’t know what’s gotten into my team lately,” said my Chief Armsman, giving Jake Evans a sharp look.

  “It’s almost like they weren’t used to escorting the King into his palace, Sean,” I snickered.

  “Perish the thought,” muttered Sean.

  “I think we can forgive them a little exuberance,” I said lightly, earning a quick grimace from Evans and a few chuckles from the rest of the team as I bandied words with their team leader and quickly diffused the situation. I didn’t need my security team turned all stiff and against each other right before we entered the Palace.

  “Here we go, Sir,” D’Argeant said as the back ramp of the transport shuttle started cycling down and everyone including me put on their game faces.

  Another whirlwind tour followed as Palace staff tried to escort me to my quarters, showing off the history of my ancestors in alcoves, tapestries, paintings and busts all along the way, while at the same time, those Lords and politicians canny enough to know I was coming and arrive in advance or connected enough to secure an invitation after news of my arrival broke, began to pester me to throw support behind their various and varied special interests.

  “Gentlemen and Ladies,” I interrupted as two representatives of opposing special interests almost came to blows before I’d even had the chance to weigh in yet, “it’s been the end of a long day. Why don’t we table this discussion until after we’ve all had a chance to rest and freshen up? I’m sure we can return to the issue at hand at a more appropriate time and location.”

  “But, Sire! Where could be more appropriate to discuss the needs of the people than in the Winter Palace before the King himself?” cried one of the two near-brawlers passionately, while most of the others here to borrow my ear at one of my few visits to the planet nodded in agreement.

  I nodded firmly.

  “I’m glad we all agree. We’ll see if we can’t continue this in the morning,” I said, happily ignoring the nearly-united opposition to their attempts to deny me any sleep. I made a mental note to see that the majority of these noble freeloaders were ejected during the night.

  Line-jumping would not be rewarding during the administrative portions of my reign, I decided.

  “But Sire!” urged the crowd.

  A crowd I happily ignored as my Royal Team of Armsmen ran interference and I escaped to the royal quarters.

  “You’ve all heard your new King. If you’re loyal, you’ll stand aside and if you’re not, you’ll pretend you are and do the same,” Akantha said sharply when a few persistent would-be courtiers made as if to follow despite the security barrier now between them and the object of their current desire, me.

  “Thank you, dear. I appreciate the support,” I said with a tired smile, pulling out my data-slate and making a note to buy her flowers someday soon. I remembered seeing a pink bouquet of flowers and a nice little heart-shaped silver pendant with three letters in gold, spelling MOM, right in the center of it. I thought it would make a nice little present for later.

  While I was thinking about it, I sent a message to Steiner to send
someone back to the last space station on our route and purchase the both of them. Or if they weren’t available, then have exact duplicates of them secured and shipped to the Palace. There was no time like the present and it wasn’t like I didn’t have enough money for such gestures.

  “You need to get some rest, you look dead on your feet, Jason,” she said with concern.

  “I’ve seen you go for longer,” I dismissed, lowering myself into a nice thick upholstered chair with a sigh.

  “This isn’t a time when you need to show me and everyone else how long you can last. Go take a shower and get ready for bed,” she instructed.

  “Yes, Ma’am,” I said, bestowing a mock salute before giving into the inevitable.

  Twenty minutes later, showered, shaved and tucked away into bed with my wife now in the chair reading an enormous paper-bound book she must have picked up somewhere in the room, I drifted off to sleep in one of the nicest, softest, poshest and most wonderful room and bed in the entire….

  I cracked a yawn, rolled over and proceeded to snore.

  Chapter 29

  The Storm Front

  While I was happily imitating a chainsaw in the royal bedchambers, things were not quite so happy or exhausted in other parts of the Palace or world.

  “Report,” ordered Agent Persimmons.

  “Hack Ops is tapped directly into several R.I. 6 feeds using the new codes we received from our last off-world data-dump and we’re seeing something interesting starting to happen,” reported Agent Orange.

  “We’ll get to that in a minute. How are we on the Parliamentary Secret Service secured channels?” asked Agent Persimmons.

  Orange frowned.

  “As you know, a lot of our former intelligence sources were compromised or killed in the failed attempt on the Primary Target, but we’re still getting information from some of our assets. Information that’s tying in rather alarmingly with several of our Royal Intelligence 6 intercepts,” said the other Agent.