Spalding silently nodded in approval.
“Of course, Sir,” the Officer said stepping back with disappointment.
“Perhaps it would be best if I escort the Commodore down to Medical myself, Sire,” the First Officer said neutrally.
Spalding jerked with surprise.
“Now wait just a blooming second,” he started angrily.
The Little Admiral lifted a hand.
“No you’re going. Whatever repairs you have to perform can happen after you’ve been through the body shop. A pit stop at medical to get your head looked at and then,” he gestured to Spalding’s damaged leg servoe, “a stop at a machine shop. Maybe get the ship’s armorer to look at that. I’m sure he’s used to working on servos.”
“I can look after me own leg, Sir,” Spalding said testily.
“Just so long as it happens ‘after’ you see the doctor,” Admiral Montagne scolded.
“Sweet Murphy and his blessed wrench turners a man does a little thing like become king and the thinks he’s the boss of everyone around him,” Spalding swore.
“I am the boss,” the Little Admiral said pompously before waving imperiously.
“Humph!” Spalding huffed as a pair of lancers sprang into action and attempted to help him off the floor.
“Careful with your cotton-picking metal hands!” Spalding shouted, batting their helpful hands away.
“I can get up all my lonesome,” he declared shoving off the floor with a gasp and getting to his feet.
“So there!” he declared taking a step toward the door only for his right leg to spark, seizing up on him, “Confound it!” he cried pitching toward the floor only to be caught by a pair waiting and watchful Tractoans.
“A man needs a cane and there’s none to be found,” he groused eyeing the lancers with a dangerous glint in his eye, “now don’t go getting the idea old Spalding needs help to get around now,” he warned a dire threat in his voice, “it’s this defective metal leg. Once it’s been back through the body shop I’ll be good as new.”
“Of course, Commodore,” the one on the right said with a blank face.
“And don’t you forget it,” warned the old Engineer waving a finger around in the air as he was led to the lift like some sort of invalid.
“A man works his whole life, fighting to save his ship from the monsters of hyperspace determined to rip this ship apart he deserves a little respect!” he said jaw jutting belligerently.
“Let us know when the doctor’s done with you, yeah, Spalding?” asked the Little Admiral and new King of Capria.
“Those fools! There’s nothing those quacks can do for me that a bracing dose of combat heal can’t do better, Sir,” Spalding turned around and wheedled, “just give me a shot and I’ll be right as rain as soon as I’m done with this bum leg they gave me. Factory defective that’s what I say!”
“You’re going and that’s it,” warned the Admiral, “otherwise you’re confined to quarters and we’ll just have to risk the ship. As my chief of staff and tactical officer say billions of lives ride on our actions.”
Spalding’s eyes bulged.
“You’ll kill us all!” he roared.
“Then you know what you have to do. Go down there and come back with a clean bill of health,” said the Admiral unflinching as the old engineer vented his spleen.
“This is blackmail pure and simple!” Spalding cried throwing his hands in the air and not caring as he swayed and the lancers had to catch him before he hit the deck, “I have rights! There’s no call for throwing me to those wolves in white lab coats, Sir,” he complained as the Admiral made a chopping gesture and one of the lancers slapped the emergency close button on the doors.
“Blast it all I wasn’t done talking with the Admiral!” he bellowed rounding on his pair of walking cane replacements.
“The King was done talking with you, Sir,” said the Lancers.
“This is just great. It’s a conspiracy!” Spalding jerked his arms free and crossing them over his chest, “and on my own ship to boot! I knew I spent way too long on all those side projects. I shouldn’t have left her, I mean just look at all this disrespect,” he groused swaying from side to side as the Lancers gripped his upper arms to keep him from falling over again.
“Well that’s it. No more! I won’t take one single additional project from here on out. Fix the ship they say. Expand our anti-matter production how about it, Spalding, they ask. Raise the blazing dead. We’ll I’m done! Done you hear!!!” he complained aloud as the two Lancers manhandled him through the doors and into the medical department.
“Ah! Commodore I see you’re in for your yearly physical,” the Doctors said rubbing his hands together and smiling with delight, “you’re only six and a half months late but as soon as we’re done taking care of that nasty looking head wound we’ll make sure to put you through your paces. Dr. Presbyter’s orders,” he ended happily.
Spalding took one look at the torturer in disguise and lunged for the door, twisting in the Lancer’s hands.
“I just forgot I have a pressing engagement with a faulty junction relay,” he called over his shoulder only to be caught, picked up and finally deposited into a nearby medical bed.
“There’s no need to be like that, Commodore,” the Doctor sighed activating the every single one of the hover-bed’s auto-restraints; a feature normally only used to hold down and immobilize men and women with severe battle injuries where seconds count and arterial bleeds were common.
“This is false imprisonment. I’ve been kidnapped by a man with a stethoscope,” Spalding yelled as he was wheeled away.
“Now this won’t hurt a bit,” the doctor said placing a devise against his neck and hitting the trigger.
“HELP!” Spalding screamed bucking writhing as everything faded to black. His last thought as he was definitely going to sit down with the ship’s legal advisor and file a lawsuit against the entire blasted medical department.
Chapter 45
Deep in Sector 23
My part of the Fleet was deep in Sector 23 and spread out to here and gone, and were giving the Jump Spindles a break on the Fleet’s Chief Engineer’s advice, when we received a call from the local Sector Governor.
Apparently, he’d rushed all the way out here via courier to make a request in person.
“King Jason, we desperately need your assistance in Sector 26,” said the Governor.
“I’m desperately needed everywhere right now, Governor,” I said, pulling up a screen showing a dozen red icons spread out over three sectors of space, “In fact, I’d be there already if the engines weren’t giving us trouble. I have eleven emergency calls coming from worlds all through sectors 23, 24 and 25. And right now, I can’t answer them all.”
“This is more important. Please prepare your fleet to jump to the Capital of Sector 26 immediately,” he instructed brusquely.
My brows lifted.
“Or as soon as your engines are repaired. My apologies. I trust your engine trouble will be fixed shortly?” the Sector Governor asked hopefully.
“They should be done within the day,” I admitted.
“Good; then you can get there in time,” said the Governor.
“To the Capital? Rejected,” I said immediately, “look, your fellow Governor decided to fort up with a bunch of his cronies and the 26th Sector Guard to protect him, as is his right, and the rest of the Guard was doled out to his biggest supporters. No one’s denying that. But that means I’ve had to put out more fires in Sector 26 than any two other sectors and as a result, I don’t have time, desire or resources to commit anything more to his paranoid defensive measures.”
The Governor looked irritated. I couldn’t tell if it was because he wasn’t used to being defied to his face or that my failure to comply was putting a wrench in one of the Regional Authority’s big plans.
“Listen every scan report we’re getting say this is the single largest
bug nest of them all, so far, and it’s heading straight for the Capital of Sector 26. Due to various reasons, one’s I’m sure you’re aware of given your history that Sector was hit the hardest and it has limited defenses. You might not like his decisions but my fellow governor had to make some hard calls. Well it turns out he was right! You may hate him for it but there is one blasted giant of a bug attack force on the way and it’s all hands on deck, we need you, Admiral,” he said passionately.
“I have worlds out here that need me more,” I dismissed immediately.
The Governor looked pained.
“The Regional Authority will compensate you for your efforts if that’s what you’re worried about,” he said shortly.
“How many ways do I need to say this? Not interested. I already have a valid contract and I’m not about to help a man that wasn’t willing to help those around him when he had every chance to do so already and chose not to. He made his calculations and made the hard call to protect himself and the world he’s staying at above every other? Well, good for him! And you can count me out,” I said, iron entering my voice.
The Governor looked at me in disbelief.
“You really intend to continue poking around, saving a few hundred million lives here and there when five billion souls face annihilation?” he asked with disbelief, “over some personal beef?”
I narrowed my eyes.
“Is there a reason you want me to go to another sector instead of protecting those hundreds of millions right here in your own sector?” I asked.
The Sector Governor slammed a fist down on his desk.
“Blast you, Montagne! I am not some soulless bureaucrat in a suit, for you to mock. Of course, I care about my people. But we’re all in this together. Five billion souls. I can’t just ignore that and neither should a heartless money-grubbing monarch like yourself,” he snapped.
I snorted derisively.
“Yes I am a heartless money-grubber; that’s totally and completely why I have the only fleet out here protecting the middle-rung worlds and why I won’t just give up on them the moment you wave a fist full of credits in the air,” I sneered.
He shook his head hard enough to give himself whiplash, to my eyes.
“This is an awful time to start proving you care about something more than just yourself. If words won’t sway, please can you just take the money and go,” he said wearily.
“I haven’t just started to prove anything and this has to be the third or fourth time you tried to pay me to leave your sector. I’ll repeat. Just what are you hiding, Sir?” I said coldly.
The Governor looked genuinely torn.
“Look,” he started and then stopped.
His shoulders slumped.
“Despite my angry words earlier, I and the rest of the Governors realize you are a man of principle or at least you were in the past. Despite former Governor Isaak’s hatchet job, there was enough evidence you were always more a man of the people than some holo-vid-inspired space--lane Tyrant,” he said unhappily, “what you are today is anyone’s guess, although I’d say angry and disaffected are clearly part of it.”
“While part of that’s good to finally hear, all the head shrinkery isn’t. Why the sudden change of subject, Sector Governor?” I said, eyes narrowing.
“The Regional Authority may seem united on the surface and everything appears all fine and dandy on the media streams, but things are much shakier than they appear at first glance. The fact is, we’re holding the Spineward Sectors together by our fingernails,” he said wearily running a hand through his pasty Caucasian skin.
“Who’s we, white man?” I asked.
A brief flash of rage crossed his face before being suppressed.
“Don’t you get it already? The only reason the Spine hasn’t fallen apart, is because Governors like myself realize the Empire is still eyeing us and the Confederation would be more than happy to have us return to the fold with a new fifty-year round of protectorate status as they ‘re-integrate’ us back into the Grand Assembly fold,” he said coldly, “an integration that those of us without a brain fear will never see happen.”
“At least not until after you rejoining the old Confederation as full voting members doesn’t threaten to upset the applecart,” I agreed, “but despite this momentary burst of sanity, I once again fail to see how any of this is my problem. I fought the good fight and in my judgment, I’m still doing that right now. Nothing’s changed. Right down to the usual political figures like you telling me, unsuccessfully, how to do my job.”
The Governor looked like he was holding onto his temper with both hands.
“You feel you’ve been given a raw deal. I can respect that. Despite playing hardball with the Council of Sector Governors, you still genuinely have my sympathy. But you have to realize there’s no way the Regional Authority can so much as privately acknowledge your efforts for this region, without risk of an imperial invasion,” he said trying to sound sympathetic maybe but coming off forced as if he was secretly cold and uncaring.
“Publically, maybe, I can buy that. But privately?” I shook my head, “you could have brought me into a secret room, patted me on the back, cheered me for my efforts and sent me back out on my way with a made-up medal you never had to later acknowledge giving me. That you didn’t, and only gave me the public grilling, doesn’t show prudence; it shows cowardice or a lack of feeling. Maybe both,” I replied evenly.
I flashed a cold smile.
“Not that I expected anything less from the combined Sector Governors of the Spine, I’ll admit,” I said.
“You can believe what you want,” the Governor said bluntly, a hint of regret in his demeanor, “but sadly, I don’t have the time or inclination to sit around here and change your mind. There are events bigger than the two of us that require your attention desperately, right now. We need you in Sector 26.”
“If you’re looking for me to repeat myself, I’m more than willing. No deal,” I said, looking away uncaringly.
“Maybe I haven’t made the stakes here abundantly clear. You may hate me. You may hate the Governor of Sector 26 and the whole Council of Governors but please hear me when I say the only thing holding the Spine together right now is a core alliance of four sectors, 23, 24, 25 and 26. We provide the appearance of stability that is all that’s keeping the Grand Assembly off our backs and the Imperial Senate from making another move to subjugate our people,” he said.
“This alliance will fall apart if the Capital of 26 is turned into an uninhabitable waste land by space bugs and everything your people say they fought and died for will be gone forever. If you won’t do it for us, then please reconsider and do it for the good of the people you have shown you cherish time and time again,” he said.
“Nice tug on the heartstrings,” I remarked, gritting my teeth as the shot sailed home.
“Blast you; what’s it going to take?” he finally demanded.
“Fine. Now you’re talking my language,” I lied, angry at being manipulated successfully and determined to make him pay for it as much as I could, “since you’re asking what I want. First, it’s someone else to take over my current contract,” I said.
“And draw down home fleet?” he asked taken aback.
“Is that what you call your Sector Guard or your home world’s SDF?” I asked.
The Sector Governor had the grace to look abashed.
“I’ve been using my world’s SDF as a ready reserve,” he said defensively.
I shrugged, to each his own and all that. I didn’t really care what kind of games he was playing in his home sector.
“Well, get ready to use them again,” I said.
The Governor for Sector 23 ran a hand through his hair.
“Done,” he said finally, “it’ll hurt but if it gets you moving, it’s worth it. My warships can’t get there in time but yours can.”
That was when I knew he was serious. Either serious about this al
liance, or serious about doing anything including lying to me to get the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet out of his sector.
Now it was my turn to be surprised.
“Well, in that case. The same terms apply for the Sector Capital of 26 as they would do any other world,” I said after a moment, “give me a signed contract and I’ll jump in there in nothing flat.”
“I’ll sign the contract and pay you out of this sector’s own coffers. Just go,” the Governor said seriously, “between my forces and your detached patrol force under Captain Archibald, I believe we can handle anything that crops up.”
I looked at him, surprised to hear a seemingly rational response.
“I’m not a fool; there’s been a dozen worlds attacked by bugs in this sector,” the Governor said testily, “sectors 25 and 26 have both had more than twenty worlds targeted. While sectors such as 21, 22 and 27 have all had half a dozen or less. I’ve weighed the odds and run the numbers.”
“I’ve noticed the same pattern,” I admitted.
“However, there’s nothing to say more attacks aren’t on the way, ones that will push the numbers in those sectors up to comparable levels,” I warned.
“Absence of evidence isn’t a fact; the speculation is sound, but I can’t be paralyzed into indecision. All of those sectors being attacked may be the ones that most strongly resisted the imperial liberation fleets in the past, but that could just be baseless speculation on our part; there’s nothing to say ours aren’t just late in coming,” the Sector Governor said unhappily.
“Liberation Fleets?” I asked, a chill to my tone.
“Perhaps I misspoke. Whatever you want to call them, the four core sectors of our current alliance were the ones most deeply involved in resisting the Empire during the dark times and in holding onto our semi-autonomous status with the old Confederation now,” said the Governor, “it’s no surprise that whoever’s involved, we’re the ones being most heavily hit.”
I drummed my fingers on the armrest of my flagship’s throne. He made sense and he wasn’t even all that evasive…. for a politician.
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