“So it’s like that, is it?” Spalding’s eyes narrowed. “Another whippersnapper too big for his britches who thinks old man Spalding is too weak and feeble to be paid any never no mind to. Well, you’ve another think coming lad! You don’t answer to me? There’s not a man alive who doesn’t answer to me when he’s on my battleship!”
“Your battleship?” Persus said neutrally.
“Or maybe the reason you’re beating around the bush is because you have been answering to someone and she’s the one who told you to stab old Spalding in the back when you tried to murder the Admiral,” the old Engineer grunted.
“Say what you want about me, but you’ll keep a civil tongue in your mouth when it comes to the Lady,” Persus said, standing up with grim determination.
“What I’ll do is use these metal hands of mine to reach into that non-answering, silent tongue of yers and rip it out at the root. After that, I guarantee you’ll be answering to no man—be he man or woman,” Spalding snapped matching his motion.
“I’d like to see you try,” Persus said, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword.
“I got no use for mutineers masquerading as men you can rely on,” the Engineer sneered in reply.
“My understanding is that mutineers are traitors, but this was an honorable challenge,” Persus said flatly.
“You find honor in more than twenty challenges… consecutively…in a row!? Saint Murphy and his blessed gaze save me from ever seeing the honor in that sort of ‘honorable’ challenge,” the old Engineer sneered.
Persus reddened. “It followed the Code of Men,” Persus said defensively, “your own Admiral even agreed to the challenges.”
“That’s our Admiral—unless you’ve forgotten that too. Of course he agreed when faced with his loyal Lancer officers split down the middle on the issue of turning on him!” Spalding snapped.
“If a man can’t keep what he holds—” Persus said defensively.
Spalding leveled a finger at him, “You boys went around me once, but forewarned is forearmed; the second time around I vent the lot of you into cold space and sleep the sleep of the just and righteous! No one goes around old Spalding while he’s knee-deep in a potential core overload,” he growled.
“So you’ve said,” Persus bridled.
“And I’ll say it again—and again if necessary,” Spalding said with finality, “and do more than talk if need be.”
Persus began to bristle, and then sighed. “Listen,” he said heavily, “challenge or mutiny, maybe we have different ways of looking at things. Men knows the challenges may have followed the Code, but there was little enough honor in it,” he lifted a hand. “Having said that, your Lord proved something that day.”
“What? That he hasn’t got enough Tracto-ans willing to stand by his side to shake a stick at?” Spalding said skeptically.
“No,” Persus frowned, “defeating that many challengers in a single day—and warriors among warriors, not common rank and file hoplites—was a feat so rare it is only found in legends of ages past.”
The old engineer rolled his eyes.
“Hear my words,” Persus told Spalding sternly, meeting and holding his eyes, “a man—rather, a warrior—who can defeat that many top warriors and warlords is not just a man but a legend. And legends are only fought, challenged, and killed by other legends. There is a saying amongst my people: challenge rank high and die. It means that your Admiral will not be brought down by a rabble of power-hungry young warriors. My people will not stand for it now.”
“I wish I could believe that; it would make things a lot easier,” Spalding allowed sourly.
“I swear on my name and my honor as a warrior that, after his string of impossible victories, it would take an order from God Herself to turn Tracto against him now. A warrior cannot see the battles of ships the way they can see prowess on the battlefield or in the circle. So no: there will be no more challenges from within the war band, or those newly joined to it. Men would not stand for it and neither will Her warriors. It’s as simple as that,” said Persus. “You may not like it, but in that challenge circle your Admiral proved himself to be not just a man, a warrior, or even a Protector…he proved himself to be something legendary. My people will respect that.”
Spalding grunted. Only time will tell, he supposed. But in the meantime he wasn’t lowering his guard. Not for a second.
It was actions, not words that would do the true telling.
Chapter Sixty-nine: The Grand Departure
It had taken longer than I’d expected to prepare the fleet for departure, but we were finally ready. Our ships had crossed the hyper-limit, their engines flaring into the blackness of the void as the fleet slowed as one.
“Ship is coming to a full stop relative to Tracto’s Primary,” reported DuPont.
“Hyper drive is already past the point-of-no-return,” reported our latest Navigator, “one hour until estimated jump.”
“Just enough time for you to work your magic and plot us a course, Navigator,” said Captain Hammer.
“Aye, Captain,” said Nav., while I sat back and continued to observe for a while before pulling out a data slate and once again looking at the latest information from an emergency flash courier sent from Aegis.
Despite the fact that Laurent and his team were used to the Dreadnaught class, and Hammer and her people—including a few transplants I’d personally maneuvered over here, like DuPont, who were the exceptions—weren’t, it was time for Captain Laurent to spread his wings somewhere other than on the flagship.
Besides, I was becoming more comfortable with Captain Hammer and her way of doing things. Or maybe that was just due to the better part of a year spent dealing with problems, first in Gambit and then in Tracto. Either way, I wasn’t changing horses midstream and I needed to be on the Rage. Thanks to Spalding, it was the most powerful battleship this Sector of the galaxy had seen—or, at least, the one with the thickest armor.
“Twenty seven minutes until the course is plotted and prepared for dissemination throughout the Fleet, Captain,” reported the Navigator.
Leanora Hammer turned to me. “We are ready to jump, Admiral,” she reported, as if I couldn’t hear very well what the Navigator had just said.
I hid a sigh; maybe I wasn’t quite as used to Hammer’s way of running things as I remembered. Oh well, it was too late to change things now. Besides, I was sure we’d figure things out on the way.
“Has the series of rendezvous jumps we’ll be using on our way to New Pacifica been transmitted to the smaller ships in the fleet?” I asked perfunctorily, because it certainly better have been. The smaller ships had shorter ranges per jump, but could more rapidly cycle their hyper drives. That meant that unless we wanted to move at a snail’s pace—with the worst combination of a corvette’s shorter range and a battleship’s longer jump interval—we were going to have to split up.
“It has, Admiral Montagne,” replied Hammer, “and the schedule of System link ups has been updated and disseminated to the rest of the fleet as well.”
“Then link us up with the rest of the MSP and Easy Haven forces, and prepare to take us out of this star system,” I ordered.
“Not the New Sector Guard?” Hammer asked perfunctorily.
“They have refused to link with our systems and are planning to jump their ships separately. Please make sure they are aware of our intended destination and arrival point so we don’t have any mishaps,” I said neutrally.
“Will do, Admiral,” she said and started to relay the information.
I once again looked at the report from the Aegis Courier and shook my head at the estimated enemy force levels. If the Aegis report wasn’t in error, this could get messy in a hurry.
“Five minutes until point-transfer,” reported Nav., and the rest of the bridge went into a flurry of last minute checks.
Five…four…three…two…one…” reported Navigation counting down the time until jump.
In a flash, we wer
e suddenly in another Star System.
I could only hope that things went as planned but, even if they didn’t, no one destroyed one of my battleships and got off lightly. They’d feel it before I was done with them.
“I’m coming for you, Arnold Janeski,” I said savagely, knowing it was possible that someone else led this enemy force—but also knowing the universe had a nasty habit of making my worst fears come to life. The man had tried to have me murdered—assassinated, actually—on several occasions and had it not been for some exceptionally good luck, he would have succeeded.
But now, for the first time in my short career as Admiral, I was in a position to make an enemy tremble at my passing—and trembling would only be the beginning of what I had planned for these would-be conquerors.
It was time to bring the pain.
The End
Admiral's Challenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 8) Page 50