“Going to the bridge might be the next logical step,” he said instead of any one of half a dozen other things that came to mind.
Akantha turned to her Honor Guard. “Rally the Lyconese,” she said disdainfully, “and pray the last of the foemen along our path to the Bridge haven’t already been slain.”
“My Lady,” they replied, bracing to attention.
“This Citadel will yet be ours!” she said fiercely.
Chapter 43: Lucky Clover – Raging from the Gun Deck
“To the starboard side,” yelled Chief Bogart, bashing the head of another stout Parliamentarian with his auto-wrench. The enemy crewman staggered to his knees and collapsed.
“Elected Order,” screamed another unarmed foe with more starch than sense.
“Royal rage,” screamed Bogart in stout return, lashing out with his wrench again and again until he’d cleared a path through the parliamentary crew.
“For the Little Admiral, for the Gun Deck, and for the Clover,” he cried, waving his auto-wrench above his head and seeing a pair of crewmen wearing Armory patches setting up a crew served sonic cannon further down the corridor; the Chief Gunner decided it was time to use his blaster pistol again.
Taking careful aim he unleashed his weapon, sending blaster bolts spewing down the corridor as fast as he could pull the trigger, he gave another wave of his auto-wrench.
“Charge,” he roared, putting feet to action and hauling down the corridor towards the Armory men at top speed.
The Armory boys broke and ran as soon as the blaster bolts started falling around them and the Chief of the Gun Deck yelled with victory.
Only the cowardly Armory boys weren’t as cowardly as they initially seemed, and no sooner had they disappeared down the corridor in apparent flight than they came right back around the corner, arms cocked.
The first sonic grenade knocked the Gun Chief off his feet, while the second had him seeing stars and the third sent him for a loop.
As if from a distance he heard cries of, “Messene!” Following which, no more grenades went off around him.
“Man the number three turbo-laser, and cut off the hydraulics to the heavy laser batter, the main trunk line is about to blow,” Bogart bellowed, grabbing the arm of the first man to pass by him, forgetting for the moment that they weren’t even on the gundeck. In his head he was back on the old Armor Prince, taking a broadside from a pair of pirate cruisers.
Even with his eyes crossed though, the old gun chief spotted the parliamentary patches on this crewman’s shoulders and with a cry of outrage, he swung his auto-wrench.
A fist to the face had him down for the count and by the time he’d recovered wits enough to wonder what was going on around him, the parliamentary fist swinger was long gone.
“They’re getting ahead of us,” Heirophant grumbled, clumping up beside him.
Bogart looked up the corridor where his grease monkeys were swarming over the pair of crew served sonic cannons.
“We just took two crew mounts and probably a bunch of sonic grenades,” the Gun Chief said, grabbing a hold of the overgrown grease monkey’s arm, which he used to pull himself upright. The pain in his side made itself known with a kick that had him bent over breathing hard.
“Are you sure you can go on,” Heirophant demanded.
Bogart shook his head and glared, “Even if I couldn’t, there’s no one else around here to do the job for me,” he growled, “I can take a break when I’m dead!”
“I’m glad to see that you haven’t let circumstance dictate your battle plan,” Heirophant said with a laugh.
“Battle plan,” Bogart said with a quizzical wrinkle of his single remaining eye brow, the other had been burnt off sometime in the not too distant past, “We don’t need no stinkin' battle plan! Those things are for high and mighty Officers like our Little Admiral or Tactical Officer Laurent. I’m just in charge of the ship’s Gun Deck, and down there we don’t need no stinking plan to lock on target and give it to 'em with both barrels!”
“Go Argos,” Heirophant said waving a fist in the air lack-lusteredly.
“Dismount those sonic cannons and prepare to carry them and their tripod mounts with us,” Bogart ordered with one hand on the wall for support as he came up on the celebrating grease monkeys.
“There’s a long, hard slog before us before we can retake the ship,” he snapped, shaking his arms in the air, both to give a sense that he was joining in with the grease monkey s in temporary celebration and then with a slashing motion to indicate they were to get back on task. There would be no slacking around while there was still a ship to save, Sweet Murphy take the hindmost!
“I sure hope you have a plan for how to deal with more of those power-armored Jacks, if and when we run across any more of them,” Heirophant said stumping up behind him.
“Leg still hurting you,” Bogart asked.
“Like I’ve never felt before,” Heirophant said stiffly, then he paused to take the weight off his bad leg, “those Jacks aren’t going to just roll over like these unarmed crewmen we’ve been dealing with. I hope you have a plan.”
“Sure I do, lad,” Bogart said slapping the overgrown grease monkey on the shoulder, “and he’s standing right here beside me in his very own set of power armor. Our very own gun deck attack dog.”
“World of Men, you’re going to get us all killed,” Heirophant said staring down at his bum leg in dismay, “I’m only getting around because of the suit, and you’re half out on your feet!”
“What a pair we make,” Bogart agreed, smacking him on the arm with his auto-wrench this time. “Whoever said this royal bull was too stupid to say die had it right!”
Heirophant clutched his Imperial boarding axe and started clumping down the hall.
“Forward! Forward lads,” Bogart barked at the nearest pack of grease monkeys, “don’t stop until you see the back of their teeth!”
“Parliament breeds them all weak and snivelly,” Bogart added, limping down the hall, auto-wrench clutched in one hand and nearly empty blaster pistol in the other, “Not like us tough as nails Confederation boys. Grit and determination will carry the day!”
The grease monkey ’s cheered and continued streaming down the corridor.
“Space gods help us, something needs to break our way here,” Bogart muttered, staring up at the ceiling beseechingly. The Little Admiral had better get around to rallying some reinforcements or else things were going to start getting dire… very dire indeed.
Chapter 44: From One Bridge to Another
“Why has this ship’s Port Gun Deck not yet ceased firing at every pirate ship to enter its arc,” Jean Luc demanded, his voice like a hot rock in a sauna where water has just been poured on it.
Captain Heppner closed his eyes briefly and then motioned abruptly at the ship’s Communication’s Officer.
That Officer quickly started yapping on the horn and then his eyes widened with shock.
“The Gun Deck says we can go straight to Hades, Sir, they’re only taking orders from Warrant Officer Laurent or the Little Admiral,” the new Comm. Officer reported, “they also said they intend to shoot at every pirate to enter their field of fire until they’ve learn better than to mess with the Lucky Clover.”
Jean Luc’s face twisted with barely suppressed rage.
“I will not have a few imbeciles on the Gun Deck setting this ship’s policy and doing its best to start a shooting war with every pirate ship in the sector,” Jean Luc seethed, his voice like molten lava.
“Perhaps if we got Mr. Laurent to give them the stand down order,” Jim Heppner said slowly.
Jean Luc stared at him with eyes that seemed to look right through the ship’s nominal Captain, “I’ve got a better idea,” he said flatly, “activate the anti-mutiny suppression system. I happen to know it was installed and operational the last time I was onboard this ship.”
“An extreme gesture,” Captain Heppner protested mildly, “wouldn’t you say, Sir?”
“Sirs,” exclaimed damage control, “I’m getting reports of mutineers on decks 5 and 8,” he paused and listened for a moment before looking over at Captain Heppner, “it’s the gunnery department, Captain. It seems they’ve risen up against Parliament.”
Jean Luc looked from the Communications Officer over to the Damage Control section and then he glanced at Jim Heppner.
“Release the gas,” the one-eyed pirate lord said with a short chopping gesture.
Captain Heppner’s face hardened, “Make it so, Mr. Bruenswich. Activate the anti-mutiny suppression system on the Port Gundeck,” the Parliamentary Officer instructed, slotting his key crystal into a slot on the Admiral’s Throne and giving it a twist.
Jean Luc Montagne followed suit and slotted in the Command Crystal he’d taken off the previous occupant of the throne, also giving it a twist.
“With pleasure, Captain…Commodore,” Bruenswich, the current Chief Tactical Officer on the Flag Bridge said, saluting first the Captain and then the newly minted Commodore in his black leather armor before turning and pressing a series of keys on the main tactical console.
Mr. Bruenswich frowned, “Initial results are mixed,” he said shaking his head, “it would appear the anti-mutiny suppression system has been partially disabled on the port side gundeck.”
“It seems we are…anticipated, Jim,” Jean Luc said with a smile that failed where it met the twin pools of molten magma that had become his eyes.
“Your orders, Sir,” Captain Heppner inquired mildly.
“Send in the marines,” the Montagne Commodore said with a languid flick of the wrist, “it’s time for Riggs to start earning his keep.”
When the Captain failed to add anything, Jean Luc glanced over at him, “Wouldn’t you say, Number One?”
“Of course, Sir,” replied the Captain nodding his agreement.
“Then do it, Jim,” said the man on the Admiral’s Throne.
Captain Heppner strode over to the communications section and leaned over to issue the necessary orders.
“It’s done,” reported Jim Heppner, straightening from his task.
“Excellent,” Jean Luc smiled. “Now, there are a number of individuals I will need to contact in order to secure the safe passage of this ship out of the system,” he gloated with a knowing smirk.
“Commodore,” called the Communication’s Officer, “I have a channel request from the Armor Prince, a person identifying himself as Captain Dowell is demanding to speak with you. He says it’s extremely urgent, Sir.”
“He’s a little earlier than originally expected, and I doubt ‘extremely urgent’ was the manner in which he phrased the request,” Jean Luc replied, his smile intact on his face but his eyes narrowing. “Put the Black Dowell through to my chair’s screen, Mr. Bruenswich.”
Just then all the lights on the Flag Bridge suddenly went dark. One second, two seconds and on the third an angry red emergency lighting was all that returned.
“What the blazes is going on here, Heppner,” snarled Jean Luc.
“Just a second, Sir,” Captain Heppner answered in a tight voice.
“Contact,” stated one of the sensor operators who had been transferred to the Flag Bridge following the purge of its former Caprian/Confederation crew. “I’ve got visual on one of our fusion generators floating away from the ship.”
“My power readings concur with the loss of a fusion generator, Commodore,” reported the lead Damage Control Officer.
“Murphy’s knuckle bones, we lost a fusion generator,” Jean Luc barked jumping out of his chair. “I sent Tuttle down to Main Engineering to handle the matter personally! When I get my hands on that miserable excuse of a human being masquerading as my Armsman, why I’ll…” the newly minted Commodore reached into the air with both hands as if squeezing the life out of someone.
Face contorted into a rictus of rage, it was several breaths later before Jean Luc calmed down.
“Damage control,” demanded Jean Luc, “would I be correct in my assumption that with the loss of this generator my ship is now down to only two power plants?”
After several seconds had passed, causing tensions to mount, "Yes Sir," the Damage Control Officer finally confirmed.
“Well, that certainly puts a damper on things, as well as a significant crimp in our plans,” Jean Luc grudged, composing his face and retaking his seat on the Throne.
“We will triumph and overcome as always, Cap— sorry, Commodore,” said Jim Heppner addressing the former pirate king.
“Put Captain Dowell on the main screen, he’s been waiting more than long enough,” Jean Luc said with an irritated wave.
On the screen appeared the image of a man slumped over the Captain’s chair, and Jean Luc saw an all-too familiar sword’s blade sticking through the front of his piratical uniform.
An armor-shod boot then appeared, kicking the body off the chair.
“We’ve got a live feed here,” snapped someone off screen, and then a white-skinned female face appeared on screen.
“Get me a channel to the Lucky Clover,” she said imperiously.
“My dear, it would appear that you already have one,” Jean Luc said, leaning forward in his chair while all around him, officers and crew drew back in dismay.
“Who do you think you are,” the blond woman in power armor demanded, glaring at him as she did so. “Put Jason on the main screen, I’ve important news.”
Jean Luc quirked a smile and leaned back in his chair. “If you are referring to the Little Admiral, I’m afraid he’s indisposed. I, on the other hand am more than willing to take any message you’d care to relay.”
“I know not who you are, nor do I have time for your games,” the woman said stiffly, “put Jason Montagne on the main screen, now!”
“And you are?” Jean Luc paused for a moment as if just now remembering. “I’ve got it,” he said snapping his fingers, “you must be this Akantha person I’ve been hearing ever so much about.”
Another face pushed its way into the pickup of the main screen and started talking urgently to the woman in power armor while gesturing toward the holo pickup.
“Trace this line back to its source,” she snarled to someone off screen.
If it were possible, Jean Luc felt his smile grow even wider.
“What you have done with Jason,” she demanded in a voice filled with glacial ice.
“I disposed of the little pipsqueak, myself,” Jean Luc replied, buffing the fingers of his non-damaged hand on his black piratical uniform, “after his yammering got to be worse than annoying. Really, nephews these days seem to be completely lacking the respect due their elders.”
Akantha closed her eyes briefly and her gauntleted hand grasped at the joint at her neck where helmet met power-armored torso. She seemed to be reaching for something which she failed to retrieve.
“Am I intruding on an intensely personal moment,” Jean Luc asked cuttingly. “Please forgive me if all of this comes as something of a shock, but I’m afraid there simply isn’t going to be a better time to break the news. If you’ll recall, you did attack me, not the other way around.”
“Whatever you have done with him,” Akantha began as she opened her stormy, blue-green eyes that seemed to pin him to the Admiral’s Throne he was sitting in, “for the sake of my people, I am prepared to come to some sort of an arrangement.”
“Unfortunately, the only terms I am willing to entertain at this point in time involve your unconditional surrender,” Jean Luc said flatly.
“Is that your final answer,” Akantha’s eyes were like icy flints as she glared at his. “Think twice, then thrice before you open your mouth again,” she warned with icy precision.
“I fear all decisions are final my dear, even when appeals for reconsideration are presented by such a beautiful, if grieving widow such as yourself,” Jean Luc replied evenly.
“I see,” Akantha nodded stiffly, then switched back to her native language, “then you will come
to rue the day you made an enemy of Akantha of Messene,” she said, placing the blade of her vibro-blade against the palm of her hand and pressing downward until blood flowed.
“Oh really,” he asked, cocking an eyebrow in surprise even as he followed suit with the language shift, having learned that same language years earlier. “I don’t see as there’s much you can do while I’m over here and you… well, you are stuck over there and, if I’m not mistaken, about to be overrun by a fresh horde of infuriated pirates. They are the scum of the spaceways, but I am can vouch for their ferocity, having been one myself until very recently.”
“You are just like Jason,” she said coldly, biting each word as she said it. “I actually do believe you to be his uncle; you both talk too much.”
“Then let me bid you good luck and good day, my lady,” Jean Luc said mockingly, “for I very much fear you’re going to need it.”
“Someday I will find something you cherish, even if it is merely your life, and when I do we shall have this conversation again,” Akantha said with slitted eyes. “I am eager to discover if you will take such a tone with me again.”
Jean Luc threw back his head and laughed, then signaled for the connection to be cut.
His laughter cut off as abruptly as the signal when Akantha’s image disappeared from the screen.
“Transmit this string of code on the frequency I’m now sending you,” he ordered in a deathly voice to the main Communication’s Officer.
“Sir—” started the man at comm.’s.
“Just do it,” Jean Luc cut him off, still staring ominously at the now blank screen, his mind racing with what he had just learned.
“Commodore, if I may be so bold,” interrupted Captain Heppner.
Jean Luc cut him off with a raised hand.
“Inform the Vineyard to follow us out, then turn this battleship around,” Jean Luc said flatly. “It’s time we headed for deep space.”
“But the Armor Prince, Sir,” protested Jim Heppner, “she’s still salvageable.”
Spineward Sectors 03 Admiral's Tribulation Page 28