He gave his head a shake to clear it, and when he looked at me, it was with a bleak expression. “I refuse surrender, and I won’t be swayed from my course or my duty. It’s been good to have met you, however briefly, Admiral. It really is too bad we couldn’t have met under different terms. Prepare to receive the weight of our fury,” he finished, lifting his finger to press a button on his arm chair.
“Stop!” I said, before he could cut the transmission, and I’m afraid a bit of my desperation bled through my carefully constructed mask of polite indifference. Well, there was no help for it—I couldn’t let him go, or we were dead. It was just my luck that now with Yagar out of the picture, a highly motivated officer, dedicated to his duty, had taken his easily excitable place.
He looked back at me questioningly.
“Look,” I said speaking quickly, “Yagar might be a buffoon, but you’ve shown me that your organization isn’t made up entirely of men like him; there’s no need for you all to die!”
“Either things are as you say, and I’m trapped between your forces, or this is just another con from a man with a history of twisting the truth until it squeals in order to get what he wants,” Commodore Druid said, sounding every inch the seasoned professional, “I aim to find out.”
“There’s no need to throw your life and the lives of your men away like this,” I all but pleaded with him, allowing all the fear and concern I felt for my own crew, the men and women following me today, to color my voice with genuine emotion. Honestly, I could care less about half the 25th Sector Guard getting blown to Hades, but that attitude wouldn’t keep me or my crew breathing. So now I cared, and with a passion.
“I’ve seen what prison on a Dungeon Ship is like,” Druid said evenly, “and I have no intention of spending the rest of my life on board one, because I was too much the coward to stand tall when the chips were down,” he said with ringing finality.
“It’s a good thing I’m not asking you to do anything of the sort, then,” I retorted smoothly, forcing humor into my voice, while on the inside I was scrambling. Who was this man, that the further I pushed him and the more I convinced him his position was untenable, the greater his determination to stand tall and slam his head against the wall of utter futility?
“You’re offering to surrender?” he said flatly, his voice incredulous, but there was growing excitement on his face.
I was completely nonplussed. Surrender had been the last thing on my mind, so I shook my head in negation. I would rather die than go back to that Dungeon Ship again.
“Then I’m afraid there’s nothing left to discuss,” he said sadly, when I made no reply.
I drew myself up into my most regal pose, projecting Admiral Montagne at his best and greatest—despite the orange jumpsuit—and I looked down my nose at Commodore Druid.
“As the Senior Confederation Fleet Commander in this Region of Space, I hereby declare an official state of emergency-” I said in my most formal and official tone of voice
Druid cut in with a funny look in my direction. “What is this? Show some pride, Sir, there’s no reason to-” he started, but I kept speaking, over the top of him when necessary.
“As is traditional when entering a disaster or warzone,” I continued loudly.
“Disaster!” he exclaimed.
“Any Sector-wide mobile assets,” I continued shouting over him, as he kept trying to cut in, “up to, and including, a Sector Guard organization—something this Sector hasn’t had until very recently—can be conscripted into Confederation Service, and placed under the Command of the Senior Confederation Officer in the area: me,” I said, jabbing a thumb into my chest. “Such conscription shall last for the duration of said emergency, or until such a time as they are released from mandatory service!”
“This is outrageous…you think you can just wave your hand and take over without firing a shot?” he scoffed.
I gave him a wild-eyed look. “Both Rear Admiral Yagar’s Flagship and mine would clearly argue against the notion that no shots have been fired,” I said coldly.
“Semantics,” he snapped defiantly.
“I am willing to overlook the damage done to Confederation Assets, due to the need for a complete communications blackout up until now, and chalk it up to one big misunderstanding,” I said through clenched teeth. “But that’s as far as I’m willing to bend, Commodore!”
“I can’t believe this,” he sneered, “the sheer and utter gall, to think I would just hand over my ships and command to you, under the pretext we had somehow been conscripted by a man who has just been tried, sentenced, and was to be executed this very night for—among other things—impersonating a Confederation Admiral!” The rage was clear in his face and voice.
“If you doubt my legitimacy as a Confederation Fleet Commander, due to a confession obtained under extreme duress,” I declared, my voice as cold as glacial ice, first pointing to the massive scar covering most of my right neck and then reaching down and jerking open my Prisoner’s Jumpsuit, exposing the bruises covering my torso. Then I rolled back my sleeves to reveal more of the same, “Then you and anyone who feels as you do, are free to request a transfer under the command of Commodore Colin LeGodat, of the Wolf-9 Confederation Star Base. And they will receive that transfer! Or do you also doubt the legitimacy of a multi-decade Confederation Reservist? A man who personally showboated countless Confederation Representatives around the Easy Haven System, on any number of PR stunts, some of which even made the Galactic News!”
“A man who is conveniently not here,” Druid started hotly, “and even if he was—”
“We are receiving a transmission in the clear, Admiral,” my Comm Operator reported, and the image of Colin LeGodat appeared on my screen. I briefly closed my eyes and felt my knees beginning to tremble. All my gambles had been right after all, and when I again opened my eyes, I heard the voice of Easy Haven’s commander.
“This is Commodore LeGodat of the Confederation Fleet. I was a reserve Commander until this current crisis, and I hereby endorse and reaffirm Admiral Montagne’s declaration of a Sector-wide emergency. For my part, I am more than willing to accept any and all volunteers for service in, at, and around the environs of Easy Haven, and the Wolf-9 Confederation Star Base,” he said crisply, looking and sounding every inch the seasoned Confederation Officer.
He turned as if to look at me and then rendered a salute. “Sorry for interrupting, Admiral Montagne,” he said, holding his salute, which I returned.
“A timely and appropriate intervention, Commodore,” I approved.
He nodded curtly, and cut his transmission.
Druid blinked, looking back and forth between what was probably my own image, and the suddenly blank screen LeGodat had left on his main holo-projector. It was clear he was rapidly reassessing his situation.
“You are surrounded, you are cut off, and you are called to Confederation service,” I said in an even tone. At that moment, the Commodore looked like a man caught between a rock and a hard place, so I decided to throw him a fig leaf—a sop, if you will—to sooth his battered ego. “The Spine needs you, the 25th Sector needs you, and what’s more: I need you, Commodore Druid. But I need your answer, and I need it now; will it be honorable service with the Fleet, protecting the Border Worlds?” I let my voice harden and my eyes fill with fire, “Or do you choose open defiance of legitimate Confederation authority?”
I very carefully didn’t say whose authority I was invoking: mine, or the new minted Commodore, who really was a Confederation Officer. “The latter would be rapidly followed by the death and destruction of your entire squadron, and every officer and crewperson that looks to you for leadership.”
“So you would hold a gun to my head, and label it a call to service. Is that it?” Commodore Druid asked bitterly. It was obvious by this point that he believed my fictitious forces to be as real as it gets, and he was charging headlong into a trap. It seemed, whereas he was disinclined to believe the word of an Admiral—who les
s than an hour ago had been a prisoner—the word of his fellow Commodore, Colin LeGodat, was much more plausible.
Anything that I should have been incapable of managing from my prison cell, the good Commodore was more than capable of handling.
“What next,” he demanded scornfully, “march my crews off our ships as soon as possible, and have us all manning unarmed sensor stations in Easy Haven?”
Now, that wasn’t a half bad idea, I thought with admiration, it’s too bad he came up with it before I did, and then accused me of desiring its implementation.
“No, of course not,” I replied, making sure to sound offended.
“Well then, what?” he scoffed, but I noticed that his ships had cut their speed in half. He hadn’t yet agreed, but he was clearly slowing down to allow for more time to negotiate and reach a decision.
“We can work out all the details later,” I said, trying to wave it off, but the Guard Commodore was having none of it.
“You might have us dead to rights, but I’m sure we can cause some serious damage to your allied forces,” he said shrewdly, “so either let us know on the front end, or I’ll take my chances in an escape pod after we’ve wrecked as many of your ships as possible. Who knows, I might even end up serving on one of the ships I manage to knock out.”
This kind of talk had to be nipped in the bud, and I knew just the way to do it. Really, it was a play on my old Montagne heritage—the one I’d so very much hoped to shed—only updated with my own personal…addition to the family reputation.
“Now, now Commodore; let’s not go counting our future command chairs out of turn. After all, what do you think your dreaded Tyrant of Cold Space would do, if he saw a poor, defenseless—and, most importantly—unarmed escape pod in the way of his ship?” I asked, putting a hint of menace into my voice.
“You wouldn’t dare,” hissed Druid.
“What does your beloved Assembly say, regarding tendencies and capabilities?” I asked, referring to the hatchet job they’d done on me and my reputation while I was in their hearings under an official ‘gag’ order.
He clearly realized by now that he had no choice. He could either call my bluff, in essence killing his career by calling his Sector Masters liars, or he could let my statement stand, giving me the last word on the matter. Being a wiser man that I probably would have been in a similar circumstance, he chose to hold his tongue and refuse to throw away his career…at least, not just yet.
“Here’s the deal,” I snapped, drawing my inspiration out of thin air. I had to give him enough incentive to believe he and his men wouldn’t be killed, imprisoned, or worse. Yet, it could be so far off-base, that he knew I was just trying to wave him off long enough to make good my escape.
“Let’s hear it,” he said grimly.
“You’ve got, what…a squad of Marines—ten men, plus a sergeant, maybe?” I asked.
“Something like that,” he said stiffly, his eyes daggers as he refused to actually confirm or deny what I was saying.
“That’s not nearly enough Lancers for a Corvette,” I said scornfully.
“Marines,” he corrected me with some heat.
“Lancers, says I,” I said locking gazes with him once again. “Besides, they’re coming off your ships,” I held up a finger to halt the angry retort I knew was coming, “I’m replacing them with Lancers off my ship, while your marines are retained and retrained, to meet the new standard they’ll have to conform to, as Confederation Lancers.”
“So you’d remove my internal security force, and replace it with one of your own,” he confirmed, without indicating how he felt about it one way or the other. Anyone could see he didn’t like it, but he in no way indicated that was a deal breaker. “So what will we do with them, in this hypothetical plan of yours, put them off in the escape pods?
Wishing I could do just that, I shook my head.
“As tempting as that sounds, we need all the hands over here we can get. They’ll be transferring over to my ship, and they can bring their weapons and battle-suits to boot,” I said, and while it was a stupid idea, it wasn’t as stupid an idea as it appeared on first blush. I mean, even if they took over this ship, a Hydra was going nowhere fast, and this one had been badly shot up before I ever set foot on it, “just so long as they’re prepared to work and help out with the battle damage.”
No, if they got over here and tried to take over, they weren’t coming out the better in this deal, because while Commodore Druid might somehow believe his hundred to hundred and fifty plus regular crewmen could somehow fight off ten power armored Lancers if push came to shove, what I wasn’t telling him was that I planned to send over twenty genetically engineered super soldiers to each of his ships, and my Lancers could eat a comparable number of his Marines for breakfast.
“And my crew,” he said belligerently.
“Frankly,” I began, and then decided to lay out some of the truth for him, “I don’t have enough trained crew to go around on all the ships we do have, so you and your guys are going to stay right where they are, unless they request a transfer,” I finished evenly.
“Sounds too good to be true,” he said, no doubt already divining how he could turn this situation to his advantage.
“Any holes in your personnel rosters will, of course, be filled out by my men still on the dungeon ship,” I said blithely.
He smiled. “We’ve had a handful of casualties fighting your corvettes and cutters, but we came out here with full rosters,” he replied.
“Too bad,” I shrugged, wishing he’d been at half crew and I could fill his ships with my Lancers and partisans. Besides, I was sure they were just as eager as I’d been to get out of their cells, and back to life outside that dungeon ship.
“Isn’t it?” Druid asked sardonically.
I decided to swipe that smile off his face. “Of course, as a gesture of faith and goodwill, I will be temporarily transferring my Flag over to your Command Ship,” I continued, gratified to see the smirk wiped off his face.
“You’re transferring here,” he repeated, as if he couldn’t believe his ears.
“This Cruiser won’t be up for serving as my Flagship until after significant repairs have been enacted, and it’s important to integrate you and your men into our command structure as quickly as possible,” I said smoothly. “I can’t see a better way to do this, than transferring over personally. Think of it as a ‘two birds with one stone’ situation.”
I could tell he was trying to figure out my angle. He knew there had to be one, but by putting myself personally at stake, I was throwing him off. Frankly, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had twenty marines in each of his ships, and he planned to offload only ten, and keep the others and their gear hidden in a crawlspace, or someone’s quarters until the time was ripe to renegotiate things. But in the end, it really didn’t matter.
Because for me, personally, it all came down to this: if he didn’t stop and turn around, it was doubtful we could get out of system. And much as I might be tempted to flee to the farthest corners of the galaxy, there were people here who had put their faith in me. I couldn’t abandon them…at least, not until we had exacted revenge against Jean Luc and whoever helped him.
When viewed through that prism, the choice was clear. If the choice was to sacrifice themselves to ensure they got me, or to take myself and a handful of Lancers on board their ships, that had to be a hard offer to turn down; even if they counted on losing a lot of men suppressing my Lancers in some insurgency. In the final tally, the risk had to be worth the reward for them.
Of course, I was placing a lot of faith in my battle-hardened native warriors, and I planned to put twice as many Lancers as they expected on board their ships, but…it was a dice roll. Still, if we could get them in the middle of LeGodat’s formation—surrounded by all our ships—and I got the chance to transfer my flag to a fully functional vessel.
“Tell me more about how this could possibly work,” Commodore Druid prompted, and on the s
creen I could see his ships come to a halt just outside of weapons range of my ship.
“Of course,” I obliged, keeping my fists down at my side, clenched in victory. LeGodat was getting closer and closer all the time. True, being just outside of weapons range, all Druid had to do was lunge forward and he could finish destroying my Hydra in one salvo, before being destroyed in turn by LeGodat’s Easy Haven contingent.
Still, it was a huge step in the right direction. The man was clearly no fool, and the Praxis SDF Squadron was still out there sniffing around this little piece of space, so I couldn’t stall for too long. I’d have to get over there quickly, and then haul for the hyper-limit.
Nevertheless, I was elated—and truthfully, more than a little depressed—that I was probably going to see the day out in, more or less, one piece.
It seemed that despite my best efforts, I was still destined to be an Admiral. Almost in spite of myself at times, I was once again the titular head of this Confederation rattletrap. Disillusioned, and now more desperate than ever, it was a mantle that was both daunting and comforting at the same time.
Sometimes it’s amazing how the universe works, because just as quick as all that, and in less than a day, I went from being a Prisoner on death row, back to a fully-fledged, bona fide Fleet Commander. The last part was noteworthy because it now appeared that I had the better part of an actual fleet, instead of just one old Battleship.
I was going to put that fleet to good use ASAP. My personal karma ledger needed balancing, and it just so happened that I had a mental list of people who could help me in that regard…regardless of how willing they might be to do so. I could think of no better place to start, than right at the top of that list.
Admiral's Trial (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 40