Admiral's Fall

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “Is everything okay, Commander?” I asked with sympathy-tinged concern.

  “Right as rain, Sir,” Terrance P. Spalding said gruffly. He stopped to clear his throat and then snort in through his nose before swallowing.

  I eyed the older man. Back in the Palace, heaven forbid the Royal scion acted in such a fashion. My half a decade of non-voluntary space service had ground off the sharpest of the Royal edges, but even so I still sometimes couldn’t help my training as a youth.

  “You’re blessed to have a passel of children, Sir,” said the old cyborg, “not everyone is so lucky.”

  “I’m surprised. I would have thought the very idea of children aboard a warship would have horrified an older generation officer like yourself,” I said with a grin.

  “Reminds me of my Tiberius,” Spalding said nostalgically, “you know, even after all these years...I guess it’s decades now...I still miss the little guy.”

  I coughed, covering my mouth with a hand.

  “You’ve heard the latest reports. Your son is somewhere in Imperial space right about now, at least according to our best guesses,” I reminded him.

  “Oh, I’ve seen the reports. His life is his own,” Spalding said, rolling his eyes, “if he wants to waste it in the Empire that’s his own business. No. What I was talking about was the little boy who used to follow me around. He was my little buddy. I’d put him up on my shoulders and we’d go everywhere together.” The aged engineer’s eyes darkened. “At least we did back before his mother interfered,” muttered the old man

  He then sighed.

  “These right here are the magic years, Sir,” he said redirecting the conversation to my own children, “they’ll believe any fool thing you tell them and take it for the space gods' honest truth. Make sure you don’t miss it.”

  “I’ll do that,” I said, feeling touched by his sincerity.

  He paused. “As for outrage? You don’t have to look to the older generation to find it there’s enough out there right now to go around. Grumbles about the way you’ve abused your position to not just bring along your wife and kids too but a whole passel of nannies, babysitters and bodyguards,” Spading chuckled, slapping his thigh, “make no mistake, you’ve definitely abused your authority to bring them here.”

  “Thanks,” I grunted, the warm emotion of moments ago instantly fading into the ether.

  “Way I figure it, even though lots of guys say they’d kill if they could bring their families along they’re all full of hot air,” snorted Spalding. “First off, what kind of plum fool would bring his kids into a war zone?”

  “Gee, thanks. What am I chopped liver?” I asked.

  “Oh, no disrespect intended,” the old man said magnanimously, “you didn’t have a choice. We all know that. The Ladyship pretty well does whatever she likes in that regard,” Spalding added seriously.

  My brows lowered. “Maybe we should get down to the reason you’re here,” I said.

  Spalding ignored me, “Besides, look at all the good it did any of those jealous idiots on the old exploratory or generational ships? I looked at those records and I know better. It may sound great but at the end of the day…,” he shook his head, “well, I mean, I certainly wouldn’t have put in a hard day’s work getting yelled at by the Chief Engineer and my other superior officers only to go home and get yelled at some more. Or have to listen to a series of unending complaints, which is what you get after a few months, not to mention years, cooped up on the same ship.”

  “Well, that’s your opinion. I suppose every couple’s different. For me it hasn’t been so bad,” I informed him.

  “Yeah, well not everyone has access to an Admiral’s quarters and an entire flag deck to put the staff on,” Spalding said, slapping his thigh and grinning.

  I loudly cleared my throat. “Enough of that nonsense. I mean it,” I said quickly.

  “Alrighty then. I can tell you’re a busy man with lots to do now that we’re back at Gambit. What can I do you for, Admiral?” the old cyborg asked good-naturedly enough.

  After jumping back to Tracto and left off a few of the smaller and medium sized ships for the Belter’s station to start working on, we’d refilled the hoppers and promptly jumped back to Gambit.

  “I need the straight download and you’re the only one I trust to give it to me,” I said without preamble. Not only was it true, but it never hurt to remind someone how valuable they were to me.

  “I’m just a humble space engineer,” Spalding said, brushing off his collar. Then, apparently seeing something he liked, he picked up a miniscule crumb. After scrutinizing it, he promptly put it in his mouth to test. His jaw worked for a moment and then he swallowed.

  I took a deep, steadying breath. I didn’t have time or inclination to be diverted. Not now. Not on this.

  “Listen, this is about Engineering and that’s right up your bailiwick so don’t even start with the humble business. Over the top, unhinged, crazy as a space rat, all those maybe, but humble? Forget it. You can consider that an order,” I said sternly, glancing briefly at his collar and suppressing a grimace.

  “Well, spit it out lad! It’s not like we have all day to jaw around. I’m an honest space engineer with work to do and I’m sure you have…whatever it is you do all day long,” Spalding finished, waving his hand in the air uncertainly.

  I flushed. “I need an honest assessment on our repair yards. How long is it going to take to get through all these ships, Commander?” I asked in an official tone.

  “Hmm...that’ll take me a little think,” he said, reaching up and twirling a finger in his long upright Albert Einstein-like hairdo.

  I waited patiently.

  “Well, I suppose it all depends on what you mean by 'how long',” Spalding said finally.

  “Just your best estimate will do,” I said helpfully.

  “Not what I meant,” Spalding was visibly unsatisfied with my response, “look, let me break it down for you.”

  “I really wish you would,” I quickly inserted.

  Spalding briefly rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said turning serious and leaning forward abruptly.

  I could tell I’d caught his interest with something, which wasn’t hard when you were about to talk engineering with an engineer.

  “Way things are set up now, you’re looking at 3-4 months just for the majority of the damage to the fleet. That’s not everything, mind you; some of the worse off hulls will take longer to put right but we’re talking most of the major stuff fixed and the smaller things papered over at least,” said the old Engineer, a fire lighting in his eyes as he considered everything.

  I looked at him gravely. “That mostly lines up with what the yard has been telling me. Though I’ll admit it wasn’t what I wanted to hear,” I admitted.

  Spalding shrugged. “Yard knows the broad strokes at least,” he conceded begrudgingly.

  “But, correct me if I’m wrong, I’m thinking the issue isn’t the repairs. It’s all those brand new hulls…well, not new,” the old Engineer said introspectively, “although most of them are a darned sight newer. or at least more advanced. than anything we’ve got out here in the Spine.”

  Spalding stopped and smirked.

  “Well. except for here in the MSP,” he said visibly swelling with pride.

  “You and your engineers have done wonders. Both on our ships and in the repair slips,” I agreed, not hesitating to stroke Spalding’s ego. “But what are we looking at right now for all of these new captures?” I couldn’t help but ask eagerly.

  Spalding frowned.

  “I’d say about…” there was a pregnant pause as Spalding chewed on his upper lip and squinted one eye, then his eye shot back up to look at me.

  I looked at him expectantly.

  “Probably about three years, give or take,” Spalding said after a moment’s thought.

  I suddenly felt a headache coming on.

  “I was hoping for better news,” I admitted.

  “Sorry,
Admiral, but we’ve only got four slips big enough for our largest ships, not counting the Clover,” he added with a proud look.

  I silently noted how he currently had more in common with a rooster than a person.

  Then he quickly deflated.

  “Look, we can speed that up if you focus on building us some more slips and take it down to a year and a half, or more like two years probably, but that’s about it,” he said finally.

  “Why not just build more slips if that’s the hold up?” I asked.

  Spalding eyed me. “We could try and build more slips, and I was counting on doing just that...the yard would probably come to you at some point about it, but there’s a couple of problems with that,” Spalding sighed.

  “Give it to me straight,” I said.

  “Look, more slips mean more ships we can run through the yard but you’ve got to figure the flexibles, which are the only things we can build quick like, are only really useful for Medium Cruisers and below,” he advised me. “For the bigger Heavy Cruisers and Battleships, the only real way to work on them are with dedicated repair docks or large yard slips. So that’s the first problem.”

  “I’m assuming there’s a reason I can’t just wave my hand and have the yard build us more fixed repair slips?” I asked.

  “They require more men, more facilities and, well, more of just about everything. So even if we could build them, which we can given enough time of course,” Spalding said confidently, “the problem isn’t so much hard docks as it is manpower.”

  “Well, that and the technology mismatch,” he added.

  “I didn’t think that would be a big consideration,” I said.

  Spalding’s brows beetled. “What are you talking about?” he scoffed. “We’ve got the basic tech base to take care of the older style Confederation warships we’re used to seeing out here in the Spine, plus we’ve got the basic Imperial tech base as of oh, five years ago or so, plus everything we’ve pirated off those Imperial ships we’ve captured. Thought we’re still working on that. But,” here Spalding leveled a finger at me, “and it’s a big 'but,' We don’t have the base for these new first and second generation Confederation warships, which is most of what we captured. Worse, just like around here, many of the ships we’ve captured are one offs. Sure, we can sort through it eventually but the Empire uses a lot more standardized tech than the Old Confederation does. It’s going to take us time to sort through everything which is going to take time. I mean, sure, we could rip out everything and start fresh. But that has problems of its own. We’d be giving up any tech edge those ships we captured used to have, and stripping it all out ship by ship and replacing it's almost going to take as much time as if we just ran a bunch of one-offs, considering just how many warships we’ve got on our hands. In the end, all I can say for sure is it’s a right big mess we’ve got on our hands and it won’t be gone through anytime soon,” Spalding sighed.

  “So, in short, the current plan is we’re going to have the equivalent of an entire fleet of ships sitting around doing absolutely nothing while they’re waiting to be repaired,” I said.

  “Oh, we can shift a few over to Omicron; they’ve got some nice repair slips going on over there, especially for the lighter units, though I wouldn’t trust anything big to them,” Spalding opined. “And we could send a few more to Tracto if we had to, but basically you’ve hit the nail on the head. They’re just going to sit around here for a few years while we go over everything.”

  “I see. In that case, I wonder if we’re not putting too many eggs all in one basket,” I said, mulling it over as I thought aloud.

  Spalding frowned. “I don’t see what you’re on about, Admiral,” he admitted.

  “I’m just recalling that debacle with the antimatter,” I said and when Spalding looked at me blank faced I decided to prod him a little. “You know, the missing load the Droids sent back to Tracto?” I reminded.

  Spalding flushed. “Now wait just a cotton-pickin' second: every gram was retrieved and accounted for! I’ll admit, mistakes were made. To start off with, we can say trusting that Union of theirs to run things was a shot in the foot. Just like corporate bosses were born ready to cut your pay and short your overtime, I’ve yet to meet a union that didn’t foul something up and cause a work slowdown!”

  “You’re just mad because they made you look bad,” I said.

  “I’m man enough to admit you’re too blasted right!” Spalding said, looking absolutely furious. “Who’s done more for the Droids than Terrance P. Spalding? Then all they can do is call me an anti-machine bio-bigot. Bunchy of rust-covered faulty processors! I’m a bigot? I’ve saved more Droid cores than anyone I know,” he said with pride and then immediately scowled, “if they want to see some anti-machine action all they had to do was ask! You know, sometimes it just doesn’t pay to get out of bed in the morning,” he grumbled, “Droids… Admirals…slackers.”

  “I hope you’re not saying I’m a slacker,” I said, covering my mouth to hide my true expression.

  “I would never ‘say’ such a thing,” Spalding groused and then shot me a hard look, “but put Droids and my personal life aside since that’s not what we were discussing.” He stopped and peered at me suspiciously.

  I was temporarily stumped, wondering how exactly the conversation had come here and the best way to say it and then I just decided to go for it.

  “Well, as you know from personal experience with the anti-matter, it’s easier to get things, even anti-matter and starships, out of this star system than it ought to be,” I said.

  “Don’t remind me, please, but of course, yes, you’re right,” Spalding snorted and then his eyes turned sharp. “Since you’re pointing this out, do you have an idea on what to do about it?”

  “Well, our secret rebel base isn’t exactly secret anymore. And after the way the Spineward Assembly kicked me to the curb, we’re actually a lot closer to being rebels than ever before. I think it’s time we fixed that,” I said, one corner of my mouth turning down.

  “The secret or the rebel part?” Spalding asked, quick on the uptake. “Because I have to say, once a secret’s out—like the location of a particular star system, say—well, putting the cat back in the bag is harder than scratching Duralloy II. O’ course, it’s not like we’re exactly sure the coordinates have leaked out and all…” Spalding trailed off, looking like he’d just eaten a bug.

  “In a way, I’m glad those Droids did what they did,” I said philosophically, “at least now we know we’re potentially compromised—I mean in more than just a sheerly hypothetical way.”

  “You can be glad,” the old Engineer harrumphed, “me, I’m not glad. I’m mad. I’m going to break some metal heads over this, mark my words! Not to say that it was all that hard to tell Gambit’s location had leaked out like a two day old sieve!”

  “I thought you were more of a Droid advocate than that. Breaking metal heads? For shame,” I snickered before turning serious, “but what’s this about how easy it was to tell how the coordinates must have leaked out?”

  “Well, isn’t it obvious?” Spalding rolled his eyes, “I mean, you jumped a whole blasted lot of Border Alliance ships into Gambit when we were running away from Grand Assembly Speaker Isaak at Easy Haven.”

  “I didn’t run from anybody! It was a strategic withdrawal. One that left us with the panther’s share of the prize that’s all,” I finished defensively.

  “Yeah, and my grandmother’s milk tea wasn’t just healthy for you, it tasted good too,” Spalding mocked, rolling his eyes. “But am I to take it from this line of conversation that it’s the 'secret' part of this rebel base of yours that has you the most concerned? Because I would have thought it’d be those Confederation Admiral’s nebulae on your collar that would have had your knickers in a knot.”

  “You’re right, it’s the no longer secret location,” I sighed, “sad as I am to admit it, the 'Admiral' ship has sailed. Oh, make no mistake, I figured victory would keep me in t
he driver's seat longer than it did,” I said helplessly, “but I always figured once I joined this Spineward Sectors lash-up of theirs that my career as a Confederation Admiral was on the short track to nowhere. I just,” I splayed my hands helpless, “I figured it was the only way to save our people from the Empire. Sure, I could have just sat back and waited until they wrecked the new government and crushed everything inside of Sector 25, but it just didn’t feel right,” I said dispiritedly, “in retrospect that might have been one of my bigger mistakes. Huh?”

  “It’s a hit, and a big one, make no mistake about it,” Spalding groused, “and you’ll probably lose most of the Border Alliance boys before too long. Probably even some of the original crew too. Once it's official.”

  The old engineer looked dour as he swept his long hair back.

  “Fill me up with cheer, why don’t ya?” I said, crossing my arms unhappily. “Anyway you’re right. I don’t want a bunch of unattended hulls sitting around Gambit just waiting for someone to sneak on over and take a few items away with him for a little graft and corruption to line his pockets.”

  I paused.

  “You aren’t intending to bail on me now that I’m no longer representing a Confederation are you, Spalding?” I asked, trying to hide my concern.

  “I’ve done too much damage while under your command to get away with slacking off now, Admiral,” Spalding said belligerently before continuing, “besides, what kind of Prince runs around without an entourage of some kind? It’s better than giving myself up for trial about that antimatter we’re mixing up.”

  “Gee, thanks, Spalding!” I exclaimed, mostly relieved and only a little bit outraged.

  “Mark my words: if they come for me in the night like storm troopers and then put the screws to me, it’ll be up to you to rescue me because I’ve already done the prison break routine—and let me tell you it’s nerve-wracking enough I don’t know if I’m up for a second time,” he informed me, “I’m too old and too borged for any more of that hero nonsense.”