Admiral's Throne

by Luke Sky Wachter

  We fell into a rhythm jump from our last conquest to our next, and then while the fleet was dealing with Swarms too big for small system defense forces to handle, the Spindles return jumped home to load up on reinforcements and drop off any damaged warships along with the previous star system’s payment. Whatever form that took.

  Sometimes, they gave us credits, more often orbital furnaces or other industry; sometimes, I was such a sucker that I loaded up on mineral wealth in the form of processed ores and unprocessed asteroids. I was secretly resolved that I wasn’t going to turn anyone away even if they couldn’t pay but I wasn’t going to let them know that.

  They didn’t like the way we did business but we weren’t in the free lunch business any more.

  Unfortunately, there were just too many worlds and after the first week I was forced to split the fleet.

  Laurent and Druid, reinforced by new ships coming out of Capria, were each assigned a flotilla of ships and sent on separate missions.

  While I continued doing what I did, only time would tell if it was going to be enough.

  Chapter 40

  Akantha Meets Elaine Three Feathers

  “I want to do something nice for Jason since he’s been so busy lately,” said Akantha.

  “Are you sure you’re not trying to make up for something?” Elaine asked.

  “I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Akantha said, lifting her nose.

  “Really? I heard that someone went out onto the hull to fight space bugs in Hot Cross and is still trying to sneak out to play in every star system since,” Elaine said slyly.

  Akantha frowned.

  “It was only the one battle, for old time’s sake. I’m a mother now; I can’t afford to go running into every battle that presents itself. Especially not when there are so very many of them,” she said.

  “The fact bugs haven’t made it onto the hull since Hot Cross has nothing to do with it, of course,” Elaine nodded seriously.

  Akantha looked at her in irritation.

  “I didn’t come here to talk about me. I wanted to do something nice for Jason,” she reminded her mother-in-law.

  “Of course, dear. What were you thinking?” asked Elaine, taking a sip of her tea.

  “I was thinking it might be nice to kill King James before our next anniversary. Consider it a nice memento and a well-deserved action rolled into one,” she said bloodthirstily.

  The tea cup in mother-in-law’s hand returned to its saucer with an audible click.

  “You had to know you’d find a receptive audience here considering the latest turn of events back home. The question is why. Why now?” she asked, eyes sharp as she took in the younger woman.

  “I dislike the idea of a male in the line of succession on general principle, but what I like even less is the notion of someone murdering one of my sons because they’re all that stands between them and a throne,” Akantha said coldly.

  “Jason’s still very much alive so your sons should be fine. I honestly don’t know if I can help you with this,” Elaine said uneasily.

  Akantha picked up her own tea and took a small sip.

  “How is Duncan feeling?” she said, seemingly changing the subject.

  “He’s doing quite well, all things considering. He’s still in therapy but Doctor Presybter prescribed a full treatment regime and he should make a complete recovery. That was also a low blow, my dear,” said Elaine.

  “You’re a mother, should is not good enough when it comes to the safety of your child or in my case, children and, yes, you can. I know you have information, contacts, all unknown to Tracto. Just find him for me and I can take care of the rest,” Akantha ordered.

  “You think I don’t despise James Vekna? That I’m inclined by some merciful nature to let the attack on Duncan and me go just like that?” she snapped her fingers, “I don’t have that authority, dear. I never did,” Elaina said, leaning back.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Akantha said with disappointment.

  She leaned back in her chair, adjusting her seat for better comfort.

  “My old battlesuit just doesn’t fit as well as it used to,” Akantha complained.

  Elaine lifted an eyebrow with amusement.

  “Pregnancy and motherhood will do that sometimes. Why don’t you check with the ship’s armorer, a new fitting might be in order,” she suggested.

  “I was back in power armor right after I gave birth and I didn’t have any of these problems,” she growled.

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you,” Elaine said with amusement.

  “MEN!” Akantha swore, “it’s all these years of easy living. No wars. No rebellion. Hardly an assassination attempt worthy of the name. Prosperity; this is what it breeds.”

  “So, should I let the armorer know you’re coming?” asked Elaine.

  Akantha gave her a flat look.

  “Fine,” she said.

  “Of course, dear. Now is there anything I could do for you or was this purely a social visit? Minus the little disagreement concerning the King of course,” she asked.

  “Not so little,” Akantha said, relaxing in her chair, “and there is something you can do. You can relay a message.”

  “Oh?” Elaine’s ears perked up.

  “Yes. Please inform your sisters that Tract Two has decided to restart the resurrection process,” she said, picking up a cookie and taking a bite.

  Elaine stiffened.

  “Remind your sister,” she said waving the cookie in the air, “that their King is replaceable. He’s not even Tract One like Jason. In our consideration, nothing can stand in the way of our god’s return and I won’t have some rabid spit-monkey lurking in the background, waiting to strike and potentially uncovering something the wider galaxy is not yet ready to understand.”

  “That’s why I’m invoking prime override authority. Pull him from the shadows so I can send a priestess to eliminate him,”’ said Akantha, shoving the rest of the cookie into her mouth.

  “You realize yours is not the first attempt to bring him back? The three-for-one society has tried over the centuries since the fall,” she advised.

  “We know and we don’t care. Where you failed, there’s no reason to think we can’t succeed. Not if we are willing to build upon the good work your sisterhood has already done, as we are,” she said bluntly.

  “We have the swords of power and access to several monuments and repositories your sisterhood may not. Trying is not a slander against your tract. If we failed to even try, that would be the real slur against our god,” Akantha said with certainty.

  “I will relay your message,” Elaine said after a minute, “but I must advise, you are walking perilously close to abusing your authority for personal ends and that is how many in the sisterhood will see it.”

  “Thank you and I don’t see what’s wrong with a High Priestess looking to the needs of her god’s people at the same time she’s dealing with higher affairs,” Akantha smiled and picked up another cookie.

  She took a bite.

  “These are really good cookies,” she said with real appreciation.

  “I have another plate we can have, while waiting on the hot-cross buns I have in the oven,” she paused, “and I’ll see what I can do,” said Jason’s mother, handing over the plate and then moving to a communications panel, “you know I picked up the recipe on Hot Cross itself. It’s supposedly a system famous recipe. They were inordinately proud of it,” she continued, tapping away on the com-console.

  “Have you heard where our next target is?” asked Akantha, sniffing as the thick tempting smell of baked goods started to permeate the apartment.

  “Officer Laurent’s been assigned to Pleasurance in Sector 22 and Rear Admiral Druid’s still tied up somewhere in Sector 27,” said Elaine.

  “I thought that was just supposed to be a quick assignment?” asked Akantha.

  “Turns out another three star systems
nearby have been targeted,” Elaine said with a sigh.

  She finished with the com-console and returned to the sofa.

  “Leaving the Fleet with the choice of three different core-worlds,” she said, “Fannin’s System, Paradise Lost and, uh, The People’s New Tibet III.”

  “All core-worlds? And screaming for help I presume,” Messene’s Hold-Mistress said derisively.

  “You’re letting your contempt for them shine through, even if you presume correctly, Akantha,” Elaine warned lightly.

  “And why should I moderate myself?” Akantha asked, clearly irked, “where were they when Tracto was spending its blood and treasure to drive back the Empire? When Jason was exiled? When the Sector Governors placed a tariff on trillium imports from Tracto, each individual governor, bringing the effective price of our hyperfuel to the point old Confederation fuel providers could outbid us in the open market? When…,” she cut herself off, “if it were just my decision, I would demand as little as he did. Jason is far too kind to a people that show no kindness to us,” she said savagely.

  “It’s fine to whine a little in private but just remember, not in public. The media can scent scandal half a sector away and zero in on it,” warned Elaine.

  “They cut our throats with trade, turn around and tell us it’s our duty as fair-minded people of good character to save them from the demon sky bugs, and I’m the one who needs to guard her tongue? I think you forget Tracto is not Capria. It is also not a part and portion of the old Confederation that they can dictate their code of behavior on a Hold-Mistress of Tracto,” Akantha said with outrage.

  “They could have blockaded your world, sent an invasion to overwhelm your people with sheer numbers, forcefully taken your trillium and integrated Tracto’s people into the intra-galactic community and declared Jason an intra-galactic criminal. Making you helpless bystanders in your own homeworld. There are far worse fates than Exile and trade restrictions,” she said.

  “Over my dead body! I’d like to see them try to take our world from us!” Akantha snapped.

  “With a million-strong planetary garrison and so determined a billion new colonists within two years, mark my words you’d soon find yourself a minority on your own world. A mere speck in a veritable sea of humanity,” Elaine rebutted, “I don’t think you understand the full gravity of the situation your people find themselves in. The sisterhood has seen it before. Worlds full of survivors placed in restricted zones called reservations where they could be safely left to wither and die, while the rest of your world was actively built up and exploited.”

  Akantha narrowed her eyes.

  “Maybe you’ll outlast them, you think. Build up your strength and attack when they’re weak and least expecting it? But who will follow you? New generation of young native Tractoans seduced by the luxuries of the outside world, paid for by your own mineral wealth? Unlikely,” Elaine said brutally, “in many ways, we are both fortunate your people were not forced to join the Confederation at gunpoint and if you think the Sisterhood took no action to ensure your world and the ancient repositories of secret knowledge they contain were spared such a fate, think again.”

  “Jean Luc’s invasion and conquest of Tracto?” Elaine sighed, “that was a mere taste of what modern warfare has to offer, done on a shoestring budget with a small manpower base,” she added, “you’ve seen but a tithe of what the wider galaxy has to offer, my dear,” she said, reaching over and patting Akantha’s hand.

  Akantha withdrew her hand.

  “You paint a grim picture of what could have been but our people are still here, unbowed and stronger than ever,” she said with icy determination, “and I aim to see that continue until ours is a world not so easily dismissed as he has been in the past. Starting with the death of James Vekna.”

  “I’d hoped you’d decided to move on from that,” Elaine said.

  “Never. With or without your assistance, James Vekna will shuffle off his mortal coil and move onto his eternal reward… oblivion. A man like that cannot threaten my children and live,” said Akantha.

  “You’re aware this attack on you wasn’t the latest attempt? That he sent an assassin to murder my children in their beds and not just once,” she said.

  “I’ll see what I can do and I am not entirely without resources myself, understand,” said Elaine.

  The two women shared a look of mutual understanding.

  Chapter 41

  A Queen’s Eye View

  Inside her mobile hive mound, the Bug Queen carefully observed the screen placed in front of her oculars. Was their time of exile and hardship, the only things she and her Swarm had ever known, about to end?

  For long minutes, she carefully ruminated using small manipulators to look first this way and that at the small world on the screen. Then, almost as if by accident, her front manipulator touch activated the zoom function and the world she was looking at grew until it dominated the screen.

  All around the front of her massive bulk, the hive Primes and specialized brain bugs focused on her, waiting in anticipation for her carefully-guided decision.

  For while her decisions were near absolute, it was the Primes and brain bugs that decided which information was necessary for the Queen to receive to make those decisions and which were not.

  Slowly, her abdomen began to swell in response to the sight of the rich green world with all that biomass.

  The Primes-stirred claws and manipulators started clacking in anticipation.

  The Queen suddenly screeched, angry, inquisitive, wanting to know the level of expected Swarm resistance to expect. It was long in the past before she was even a sub-queen but this Queen remembered a time when the hive before this had been broken and the survivors shattered.

  It was the reason she had been able to rise in status, eventually metamorphosing into a Queen and she had no desire to lose everything she had worked so long and hard to build, just so she could die and another genetic competitor might rise and take her place. The mere thought of it was enough to trigger an instinctive release of suppressive hormones throughout the hive.

  In response to her query, a pair of primes stepped forward, each releasing an acrid burst of pheromones, as they chittered to the Queen and then at each other.

  Their consensus was that what the hive needed most right now was the production of more warriors and a few more workers to help harvest the biomass the warriors were going to secure.

  Slightly mollified, the Queen eyed her two primes before screeching at the brain bugs for confirmation.

  In response, the brain bugs rubbed their manipulators together, creating a soothing harmony and signaling their group agreement of the Prime’s assessment.

  But there was one slightly discordant sound within the brain bug group as one of their number fiddled a different tune.

  At their Queen’s signal, a trio of enforcers swarmed over the discordant brain bug, dragging him within range of the Queen’s manipulators.

  The brain bug quailed.

  Once again, the Queen screeched an interrogative.

  Eventually, the brain bug straightened and sang its discordant worries to the Queen as she began to swell with fury, causing the rest of the brain bugs to immediately begin another soothing song.

  The Queen was drifting dangerously off track. What was important right now was going down, digging deep and securing that rich source of biomass just at the tantalizing edge of their sensory organs.

  Even the Primes started to join in with the brain bugs in an effort to soothe the Queen. After a minute, her eyes began to cloud and she seemed to droop.

  Once again, the prime, calling for more masses of warrior bugs released a burst of pheromones and the Queen’s abdomen started to pulse. At the other end of her giant bulk in another room of the ship, nursemaid drones without the capability of genetic advancement began to receive a glut of new eggs.

  The bugs facing the Queen received the notification and began to r
elax, the Primes leaving the harmony entirely as the brain bugs slowed their soothing tune.

  In that exact moment, the Queen reared up to her full height and snagged the forward-most lead brain bug, the head of their chorus, with her forward manipulators.

  The brain bug chorister screamed and squealed, twisting in her grip as the Queen drew the bug into her constantly heavy maw and crunched down on his head. As the deep rich brain matter of the brain bug entered her mouth, the Queen’s eyes sharpened and she glared around with fury at her mutinous advisors. Lifting her head, she swallowed the brain bug whole.

  Releasing a gas-filled belch, the Queen cast around the room with reddened eyes. With an angry chirrup, she summoned her primes, ignoring the now quelled and quiet brain Bugs entirely.

  When the now cowed primes and brain bugs left the room, they weren’t just short of one brain bug; they were also short of a prime. At the rear of the ship, the birthing chambers began to fill with more than just the workers and warriors previously requested. Two small clutches of genetically-specialized eggs were laid, nearly causing the nursemaid bugs to go wild as they lavished additional care on them.

  After the glut of eggs slowed to a trickle, the Bug Queen began to grunt and groan. Two days later, one giant egg, nearly the size of the Queen’s entire abdomen, was birthed. It was immediately moved to the front of the Mothership and placed in a specially-prepared birthing chamber where it would alternately be exposed to bulk nutrients, trace metals, and the vacuum of cold space.

  It was a seed that would grow into another harvester. Whether it was heavy, medium or light would depend on the nutrients it received as well as the directing intelligence assigned to it, a directing intelligence already laid inside one of those two special clutches of eggs.

  Her primes and brain bugs might have become complacent, seeing only all of that rich, green, easily digestible biomass, but the Queen was a wily veteran of past conquests and she intended to consume everything in her path.