Admiral's Throne

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Much as I hated to admit it, I might actually have to go bail out the most useless politician in the history of Sector 26.

  “It’s a deal,” I said finally, “I’ll round up the fleet and get there.”

  The Sector Governor practically slumped with relief.

  “This is the biggest bug fleet yet; you’ll need to recall your rear admirals,” he said.

  “That’s an internal decision of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet. We’ll deal with this Swarm the same way we have the others. Decisively,” I said, projecting easy confidence. Whether that confidence would play out in real life, we’d just have to see. I knew what bugs could do when guided by a human intelligence. Hadn’t I taken advantage of the droids to create a planetoid-sized bugship?

  I wasn’t enough of an egomaniac to think that anything I did, the Empire couldn’t imitate, if they desired to put in enough time and effort—but did they?

  Droid scientists like Mad Scientist might be mechanical geniuses or a dime a dozen, I honestly didn’t know; what I did know was the Empire had a legion of the top scientific talent in the known galaxy and could replicate anything they put their minds to.

  “Don’t become overconfident, Montagne,” advised the Governor, “when you get to the top, where we are right now, it’s easy to become overconfident and believe that you somehow deserve to be here by dint of intelligence or even mere existence. Never forget the weight of a world, in this case, a sector or even multiple sectors, rests on your shoulders.”

  “Nice fortune cookie wisdom,” I deadpanned, “but I’ve been shouldering that kind of load the better part of a decade now. I think I’ll manage to keep from becoming a deranged killer or overly entitled schlob. Still it could be good advice so long you’re willing to apply it to yourself,” I said looking pointedly at the Sector Governor as I said that.

  The Governor sighed.

  “I can see my words aren’t being heard in quite the way I would wish, not that I can entirely blame you, all things considered,” he said.

  “As I said before, or maybe I didn’t but it would have been nice to hear this during the last meeting we had in a public forum, not here in the middle of a star system wracked by chaos with no one of import around to hear it. In short, words are cheap,” I shrugged.

  “That’s hardly fair,” protested the Sector Governor.

  “Is it?” I was irked.

  “I have no use for fair-weather friends. People who tell me what a guy you are in private but when put to the test or in front of the cameras, proceed to angrily denounce me for not living up to his or her expectations,” I said rolling my shoulders to let any angry emotions I might feel slide off me like water off a raincoat, “so you can feel free to go on thinking I’m not fair to you because I don’t really care, considering what you and your sector governors have done.”

  “If you want to be entirely accurate, we haven’t done much of anything to you, good or bad. Unless you believe asking you to do your part in stopping this bug plague, is some kind of wrong we’ve done you,” the Governor said after a long moment and with a bite to his voice.

  “I’m not here to refight old battles,” I said wearily, “but ask yourself this? If you sacrificed everything for the Spine and your world were embargoed, how would you feel?”

  “Blast it, Admiral. I’d hope I’d rise above, considering no one has died and there was still time to reconcile. You know, despite your droid-loving ways, I really wish you’d won,” he sighed.

  “I did win. The Spine is its own master for however long men like you can keep it for us,” I said.

  “And for that, you had to fall on your sword. The truth is, you’re a Warlord, Admiral. Or King now, I suppose. But still a Warlord, one who’s done far more good than harm but the point is… A man like you has to be closely monitored if we’re to maintain a representative government. What do you want from me?”

  “Honestly?” I asked, digesting the notion that people considered me a warlord just like Arnold Janeski.

  The Sector Governor hesitated for a split second; if I hadn’t been watching, I wouldn’t have noticed it.

  He nodded.

  “Then if you guys would just stop assuming the worst of me every time we meet, that would be wonderful,” I said.

  “I think I can manage that,” he said finally.

  “Well, there we go,” I said.

  We’d reached an understanding. One I hoped lasted longer than his next appearance before a holo-camera.

  Chapter 46

  The Trouble with Spalding

  Spalding chortled as the miniaturized self-modulating shield emitters he’d installed around the entire anti-matter core vaporized another of the strange inter-dimensional creatures that seemed to be attracted to his ship like flies to honey every time they jumped.

  Pulling out a packet of corn, he tossed it into microwave and as soon as it was done bursting into fully-popped corn life, opened up the packet and started tossing the hot and buttery corn straight into his mouth.

  “You know, it was a good thing I convinced the Admiral to take a short break in between all that jumping,” Spalding chortled as another of the monstrosities went up like a flash in the pan.

  With the Spindles powered down and the ship laid up for temporary repairs, the Chief Engineer could shut a few things down and install the last shield generators. Generators that were working just as designed, he thought with pride.

  That the tech for the new shield generators was originally imperial tech was the only dark spot.

  “But as I always say, if you can’t beat them, join them. Only in our case, we walloped that command carrier right and proper and stole those Constructors right out from under Captain Cornwallis fair and square,” Spalding sighed, reminiscing fondly over past glories.

  To be entirely honest, it took almost as much engineering know-how to get the microwave working properly in this displaced bit of space time as it did the generators.

  “Who’s the old potato now?” he asked, stuffing another handful of corn into his mouth and chewing loudly.

  Chapter 47

  The Bug Campaign III: Ironing Out the Chain of Command

  Anti-Matter Generators fully protected and the ship no longer at risk of total annihilation, the King’s Own Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet jumped into the Star System that was the Capital of Sector 26.

  “Clean emergence; there’s nothing on the initial short-range sweep, King Jason,” reported the Sensor Officer.

  “I’m still an Admiral, blast it all,” I said, glaring at the Sensor Officer.

  A hand on my elbow brought me back to reality. I turned with an angry look.

  “It’s not his fault you are King, Jason,” she said softly.

  “Gah,” I said, turning back to look at the petrified Sensor Officer. I folded my arms and huffed.

  I could almost feel the silent disapproval.

  “My apologies, Sensors. That was uncalled for,” I said.

  “No apology necessary, Admiral,” the Sensor Officer said with relief.

  I noted he was careful to use my preferred title which only made me feel even worse, stoking the dying embers of my anger.

  I took a calming breath, reminding myself I’d had two years of opportunities to go fishing and be with the family. That should be enough.

  As the bridge crew rattled off the checklist of a standard point transfer emergence, although there was still nothing standard about a Jump Spindle transfer, I kept my eyes on the main screen.

  At this point, everyone on the flagship was a professional, as were the entire patrol fleet. The addition of tens of thousands of fully-trained Caprian officers and crew in no way detracted from that professionalism; if anything, they added to it. Sure, they weren’t as combat-experienced as my people were but then again, they weren’t entirely uninitiated either considering the latest serious losses the SDF incurred during the latest bug attack.

  “We just made c
ontact with an SDF destroyer on picket duty. They’re forwarding us a full system data-dump of all the major players,” reported Communications.

  “Good work, Coms,” Chief of Staff Steiner said approvingly.

  “Yes, indeed, good work,” I agreed.

  The main-screen populated while Tactical processed the information and sensors scrambled to verify the data-dump.

  The tactical picture when it came in didn’t look good.

  “Four successive waves of bugs, each with multiple bug Motherships and thousands of smaller vessels in each Swarm,” I said with disbelief.

  I had to give the imperials, or whoever they were, points for creativity. They might not have been able to emulate the bug spheroid yet, but they’d gone and done one nearly as good. I could see why the local Sector Guard was shivering in its proverbial boots.

  “Sire we’re receiving a series of hails,” reported the Com-Officer.

  “From whom?” I asked.

  “Who are they not from?” he asked rhetorically.

  I frowned.

  The com-officer seeing my expression hastened to explain.

  “I’ve got com-link requests coming in from everyone, starting with the Capital’s System Defense Force, the Sector Guard, a contingent of the local Confederation Flotilla, the Planetary President, the System Regent, the head of the Sector Assembly and the Sector Governor. They all want to speak with you and the tone ranges from relieved and jubilant to short and dour, Sire,” he said.

  “That’s… interesting,” I temporized. Usually in a star system, the local infrastructure was a little less complicated. Not that we didn’t have a lot of two-bit players who wanted personal reassurance but that was just it, they were two-bit players. Small-time operators who thought they were a big deal but could usually be safely ignored or pawned off onto the ship’s legal department or a junior officer.

  I could still ignore them, of course. But that would be a mistake that would almost certainly come back to bite us in the back.

  Just before I could open my mouth and start issuing instructions, Akantha spoke up.

  “I think I’ll take the politicians and forward anyone you really need to speak with afterwards,” she said in a voice that made it clear they wouldn’t have any need to speak with me after she was done with them.

  “We’re here to play nice; are you sure it wouldn’t be better if I took the calls, dear?” I hinted.

  Akantha lifted an eyebrow.

  I hated it when my best signature moves were copied.

  “I’d like to speak with the local authorities regarding the resumption of trillium shipments, now that the trade embargo is gone and the tariffs have been listed,” she said.

  “Uh, Akantha, I don’t know how to tell you this but Sector 26 was never really one of our biggest fans, not as bad as Sector 23 with its violently anti-droid outrage but combine that with it recently being conquered by the Empire, and I doubt they bought much of Tracto’s trillium in the first place,” I said.

  “Then there’s no reason they can’t start, now they’re back on their feet,” Akantha returned with a smirk.

  I didn’t like that smirk. I really didn’t. Then I recalled that I really didn’t like the Governor of Sector 26 and I suddenly found myself much more okay with her taking point on the political side of the street.

  We might even make some cold hard credits out of it.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t think of having you take the local calls from the system governments before,” I said.

  “First, you didn’t think of it. Second, most of the places we’ve been weren’t exactly in a position to buy a lot of hyper-fuel. The few that were—” She said.

  “Like Hot-Cross,” I cut in.

  “Exactly like Hot-Cross,” she agreed, “well, they weren’t going to be very receptive to any overtures.”

  “And you think that Sector 26 or their capital system at least is any different?” I asked skeptically.

  “If they want to talk with you, they need to buy my trillium first,” she said.

  “I thought you weren’t going to let them talk with me?” I said plaintively.

  “Oh, I’m not,” Akantha assured me.

  I was confused. Or rather I wasn’t but I was. If that made any sense.

  “You’re not the only one they insult with their trade restrictions, tariffs and embargoes,” she informed coldly.

  There was my favorite pit viper, I thought fondly.

  “Go get them, girl,” I cheered her on.

  “I’m no girl,” my wife informed me imperiously.

  “A thousand apologies,” I said, miming an arm-waving bow without leaving my seat, “carry on, dear lady.”

  My wife sighed at my antics.

  Apparently, she decided to give me a pass because the next thing I knew, she was turning to accept the call from the speaker for the local sector assembly.

  As she began to shake down the local Speaker, a man I soon gathered had his eyes on the top slot in the sector—the Sector Governor’s slot no less—I couldn’t help but smirk. It was always nice to sow a little confusion among your enemies.

  I took a moment to reflect that I was probably doing the Sector a disfavor in considering its Governor, even if only mentally, an enemy. Then I shrugged it off. I was here to save lives not hold hands and was more than ready to treat the people here however they decided to treat me.

  Akantha closed the com-link she was on with a satisfied expression.

  “I’ll speak with the President now,” she said.

  “Right away, Hold-Mistress,” my Com-Officer said respectfully, and then transferred the channel. Apparently, the President or at least his office was holding because she immediately had someone else on the horn.

  I realized I was actually anticipating watching my wife oh-so-politely tear into yet another politician when I heard someone clearing their throat and looked over to see my Chief of Staff.

  She was clearly tapping her feet.

  “Need something?” I asked with a winning smile. Why was it, I wondered, that it was the ladies in my life that were the most insistent on managing it?

  “I don’t. But Admiral Zendor of the local SDF and Flag Captain Starborn of the Confederation Fleet, not to mention Commandant Miller of the Sector Guard all seem to believe they need to speak with you. Of course, I can tell them all to keep waiting?” she asked sweetly.

  I heaved a sigh.

  Yes, it was official; I was definitely spoiled after so much time on Tracto, not having to deal with the intransigent movers and shakers out here in the rest of the Spine.

  “Put him, her or it on,” I instructed.

  “Which one, Sir?” she asked.

  “Yes,” I replied blandly.

  “Of course, Sire. Right away,” Commander Steiner rolled her eyes.

  “This is, Admiral Jason Montagne, of the King’s Own Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet,” I drawled as soon as the channel opened.

  “The King?” asked the man in a Confederation uniform on the other end of the screen, brow wrinkling.

  “Mine. I’m the King but it’s the same old Patrol Fleet out there fighting for truth, justice and the Spineward sector way,” I said with a smirk.

  The Flag Captain’s gaze sharpened as he looked at me with dawning disapproval.

  Oh well, another detractor was created every day, I guessed.

  “Jason Montagne Vekna, I have to admit I never expected to say this; it’s good to see you here, Admiral,” Flag Captain Starborn said.

  “Now I’m the King, you can drop the Vekna,” I said buffing my nails on the jacket of my uniform with pride, “anyone with the barest link to House Montagne will be dusting off their old pedigree and tacking a Montagne on end of their name fairly soon as is the usual practice.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that,” the Flag Captain said neutrally.

  “There may be a few hold-outs waiting to see how long my reig
n lasts, pining for the False King, or afraid of reprisals should they back the wrong royal horse,” I advised glibly, “but you didn’t contact me for an update on the naming sense of the nobles of Capria or even, I dare say, to congratulate me on my crowning.”

  “Congratulations, Your Majesty,” he said perfunctorily.

  “What can I do for you, Captain Starborn?” I asked with a smile.

  “Flag Captain,” he corrected.

  I wiggled my fingers dismissively.

  “Potato/Pot-ah-to. Flag Captain it is,” I said, clapping my hands happily, “to what do I owe the call?”

  The Flag Captain took a breath and frowned but must have decided to let my flippancy pass because he immediately zeroed in on the heart of the matter.

  “I just wanted to clarify the chain of command with you and coordinate the Patrol Fleet’s movements with those of the Sector Guard and the local defense fleet,” the Captain said firmly.

  “Being the senior most officer now in the star system, I am more than willing to take any advice you have regarding our defenses as I plan out the defense of this star system,” I said lightly.

  The Flag Captain’s brows rose and face tightened.

  He coughed politely into his fist.

  “Yes about that. No one is denying your… ‘seniority’,” the Flag Captain spoke as if that the last word in the sentence was distasteful, “however, considering the, tangled, issue of combining multiple different military structures, along with the touchy matter of home system primacy, I have decided to use my Confederation Fleet authority to assume command for the duration of the current emergency. I hope you understand.”

  “How’s that working out for you?” I asked with a grin.

  The Flag Captain started to look irked.

  “I’m afraid you’re not taking this matter nearly as seriously as you should, Admiral. The time for levity, point transferred out of this system a long time ago,” he said, iron entering his voice as he tried to intimidate me.