Admiral's Nemesis Part II

by Luke Sky Wachter

  She waved a hand irritably as if waving away a fly. “Mister Montagne, I said,” she repeated nostrils flaring, “the people of New Prackter and the entire 23rd Sector demand to know if you’re still consorting with those vile electronic beings called the droids—the ones that invaded our peaceful planets—and if those creatures are still within your fleet!?”

  “In my fleet?” I asked, receiving a sharp nod. “Why, no,” I said with a butter wouldn’t melt look on my face.

  “That is a lie!” she declared.

  “No it is not. All the droids which I am acquainted with already have their own fleet, and I see no good use for them in the MSP. That said, the MSP is willing to work with any allies to further the cause of humanity…and the new Confederation of course,” I added a deliberately delayed beat later, “to my mind any Droid that’s willing to sacrifice its life in order to save the citizens of Sector 23 and the Spine from other Droids, the horrors of the Empire, and attacks from beyond the Rim is a good ally.”

 

  I saw stars before I even realized she’d taken the action of slapping me across the face. “Tyrant!” she shouted with angry satisfaction, “you would be well-advised to destroy those vile machines before you find out firsthand that quislings have always reached an untimely end,” she cried turning away and raising her arms to the crowd. “Dump the droids from the MSP. MAN NOT MACHINE,” she screamed, turning around and throwing her hands wide as she turned to the crowds, “Man not machine! Man not machine!”

  I took an instinctive step toward her before realizing I was about to attack an unarmed woman with her back turned to me—and in front of inter-galactic news to boot.

  My face turned stony as the media and the public surrounding the event went wild with joy and in moment shouts of ‘Down with the Tyrant’, ‘!!Human Lives Matter Too!!’and ‘!!!Man Not Machine!!!’ rocked the tarmac.

  I could already see news reporters turning to face their cameras eagerly reporting on “The Slap heard round the Sector,” and “The Assemblywoman who dared speak Truth to Tyranny.”

  “So this is the much vaunted personal invitation of the Grand Assembly, and the sort of greeting I can expect from the new Confederation from now on is it?” I asked coldly.

  The politician who’d allowed himself to be pushed to the side, so that Assemblywoman Kern could physically attack me in front of billions of voters, seemed stunned.

  “The Assemblywoman is overly passionate. Rest assured she will be censured by the Ethics Committee. I’ll see to it personally,” he said, and with a jerk of his head a pair of new Confederation Marines from the honor guard moved over to escort Assemblywoman Kern off the tarmac.

  “The Grand Assembly may let the Tyrant silence me but he’ll never silence the people of Sector 23!” screamed Kern sounding like a harpy as Marines surrounded her and she shrieked at the crowd. “The true defenders of the Spine will not rest until each and every Droid in his fleet and inside our borders is destroyed and he has personally apologized to the Spine for his many crimes against the people!” she declared before proceeding to walk off the shuttle pad with stately grace, turning what should have been an arrest into a state escort.

  “My deepest apologies,” grimaced the Spokesman.

  “Tensions run hot…as I warned you,” said Governor Isaak, only to receive a hot look from the Spokesman.

  “This way,” said the spokesman, escorting me off the tarmac and into the nearest lift.

  I hesitated for a moment before allowing myself to be led away.

  “I expect to be allowed to testify at her trial,” I said coldly.

  “Trial?” the spokesman asked.

  “The definition of assault and battery hadn’t changed the last time I looked it up,” I said.

  He made a choked, noncommittal sound. “I’d like to take this moment to thank you for your restraint towards the Assemblywoman’s actions,” he said finally, “rest assured, the committee will look into this matter and apply the harshest punishment for Kern’s actions.”

  “I don’t believe I caught your name,” I said to the politician by way of response. If he was looking for me to agree to let Kern walk in front of the Camera and grandstand some more, he was dead wrong.

  He looked surprised. “I’m today’s Speaker for the Assembly, Norman Watts. Assemblyman Norman Watts from the 22nd Sector,” he replied.

  “Today’s Speaker?” I asked lifting a brow.

  “There’s currently a hotly contested election for the Speaker’s seat, but in the meantime the new Assembly is using a rotary system whereby every assemblyperson is elligible for the top slot. Today was my randomly assigned date,” said today’s Speaker, “and in any case I’d just like to repeat my thanks for—”

  I lifted a hand, cutting him off.

  “You are aware that, according to Tracto-an law, I do believe she just issued a challenge,” I interrupted.

  The temporary Speaker looked alarmed. “I would ask you to overlook this incident in the interests of inter-galactic and inter-sector peace and let the committee handle it,” he said.

  I gave him a hard look. “So long as she’s punished and it doesn’t become a media circus, I’ll stay out of it,” I said finally there were other ways to deal with the violent assemblywoman, “it’s not like I was really hurt, and I certainly am not in the habit of attacking women, even after they’ve struck me first and with obvious malice and forethought.”

  “How very traditional of you,” he said with pleasure.

  I waited a beat and then blinked at him. I had no idea what he was talking about. “That said, no matter what I do or say I may end up being the least of the Assemblywoman’s problems in this matter,” I said with a long suffering sigh. If I attacked a woman, no matter what the provocation, I’d never recover in the eyes of the public. It was better all around to let someone else deal with everything from this point.

  The daily speaker stiffened. “Is that a threat?” he asked quietly.

  “Not from me,” I assured him, “a warning, perhaps, but I swear to the Sweet Saint I’ll not so much as lift a finger against the woman. After all, a man stooping down to Kern’s level… tut-tut, that’s what I have a wife for,” I said, turning away as the lift door slid open. “Assemblywoman Kern had better watch herself. I’ll try to talk Akantha down, but Tracto-ans play by different rules so who can say. I mean, now that we are no longer part of the Confederated Empire and have devolved to the Old Confederation code of conduct, which places heavy emphasis on inter-cultural sensitivity…” I trailed off meaningfully.

  Behind me I could hear Assemblyman Watts choking with surprise before taking a number of rapid steps to catch up with me.

  “You shouldn’t toy with the man, Jason. It’s beneath you,” said Sir Isaak, approaching me from the right.

  “Toy?” I asked, because I’d been fairly serious about letting Akantha have her head on the matter. Whatever that head turned out to be.

  “Please now,” Isaak drawled, “you must realize that as a merely ‘provisional member,’ the intercultural sensitivity clauses are entirely moot—even if they would apply in such a case.”

  “You aren’t recognizing Tracto’s status then?” I asked coolly.

  “Tracto doesn’t fall under the Old Confederation code, even assuming we did decide to ratify and adopt those outmoded rules. Sadly, because of their own actions, the representatives of the Tracto Star System have demonstrated why it is not currently classified as a fully civilized and thus voting world,” said Isaak.

  “I see that the esteemed Governor feels free to interject himself into my business yet again,” I said, eyes cutting his way, “I wonder why it is that I always seem to be using your title and proper form of address, but you appear almost constitutionally incapable of rendering me the same courtesy?”

  “Constitution…it's funny you would chose to use that particular word,” Isaak drawled, neatly sidestepping the question, “I mean, you didn’t honestly expect me to jus
t sit silently on the sidelines cheering for you after that stunt you pulled in Easy Haven, did you? I must warn you this is not the old Confederation, Jason, and once you join it our constitutionally mandated oversight will no longer be a theory for you to contemplate but a fact of life. Perhaps you might want to adopt an easier tone. He who goes along can get along, as they say.”

  My face hardened. “Is that a threat, Governor?” I drawled.

  “Does joining a democratically elected government—and no longer being a warlord, able to do whatever you want, to whoever you want whenever you want—threaten you in some way, Jason?” Isaak shot back.

  “Warlord? What’s that?” I asked mockingly, “I have no reason to fear the people of the Spine. I am what I have always been, at least for the past five years: a Confederation Admiral and champion of the people,” I retorted smoothly.

  “Yes, but it’s not the people who will be overseeing the Confederation’s new Fleet...Champion, but instead their duly elected representatives,” Isaak sneered.

  “As long as the Grand Assembly is willing to meet my demands and sign off on my terms, rebels like yourself have nothing to fear from me, Governor,” I said with a smirk.

  Sir Isaak’s face turned red with fury. “You’re playing with fire! Listen, you little squeak ant, you don’t make demands on seven Sectors of the galaxy even if you are the biggest warlord left standing,” he said furiously. “Threaten me again and—”

  “Oh, so you felt threatened by the notion that not everything is under your control?” I interrupted rudely.

  “You!” Isaak was red-faced.

  “Or perhaps it was by the fact that you openly rebelled against the Old Confederation and now you’re worried you’ll be hung when the real Confederation Admirals finally get around to you,” I shot back sharply, “threaten me and I’ll threaten you right back, Isaak.”

  “At least you’ve finally admitted from your own mouth you’re not a real fleet officer but a rank imposter who lucked into a fleet,” Isaak spat.

  “I’d rather be lucky than good; it just so happens I seem to be both,” I sneered.

  “Gentlemen!” Speaker Watts exclaimed pushing himself in between the two of us. “This is hardly the time or the place,” he gestured towards the large wood inlayed metal double doors right in front of us.

  “If this is the greeting your Assembly intended for me, sending out an assemblywoman to slap me in the face on galactic news and a former enemy to hound me through the halls, I think this was a mistake,” I said coldly.

  “No-no,” the Speaker's face turned grey and sweat beaded on his forehead, “let me extend my personal apologies for the manner of your arrival.”

  “The personal apologies of the daily speaker,” I said, looking down at him and then turning away from the doors, “this isn’t what I was led to believe.” I started walking away.

  “Wait,” cried Speaker Watts, “please at least wait for an hour or two before leaving. Give the Armed Services Committee a chance to speak with you first before making any final decisions.”

  Despite knowing better, I eventually allowed myself to be calmed down and led into the committee chambers.

  “Admiral Montagne, it is a great pleasure to finally meet the man behind the legend. The person behind the holo-images, as it were ,and the foremost fleet tactician of our day,” said the chairman of the committee as soon as I stepped into the room.

  “Your greeting so far has been less than adequate,” I said shortly, not willing to be jollied along and placated with empty words. Talk was cheap; it was actions that were telling and so far every act had been one of aggression toward me. Once again I had to remind myself not to let my ego get in the way of saving billions of helpless lives.

  The Chairman looked taken aback, as did other members on the twelve person panel.

  “Please, have a seat,” the Chairman said finally, directing me toward an imposing looking chair facing the committee, “I saw the news. If there is anything this committee can do to make up for the uncivilized actions of our colleague earlier today, please let us know.”

  “I have a few things in mind that you could do for me,” I said with a nod.

  Several assemblymembers on either side of the chairman looked surprised, and as I swept my eyes over the committee I realized I recognized at least one member.

  “High Captain Manning,” I said with a nod of recognition.

  “It's High Admiral Manning now, Admiral Montagne,” said the former High Captain his eyes sharp, intense and hooded as he looked back at me.

  “So it is,” I agreed blandly. He was probably still raw over the whole droid issue and the way the Battleships captured by the MSP hadn’t been turned over to the Mutual Defense League—like he’d hoped—after the battle for Elysium. You know, the same one that broke the back of the droid fleet and not incidentally saved his homeworld, not to mention his life, from genocide and destruction. The fact that we’d been capturing enemy warships while he’d been stuck on his flagship fighting off boarding actions probably played into that somewhere.

  I mean, that had to rankle. The man who had been lured into Sector 23 with the promise of commanding the MDL fleet and who had been passed over, in no small part thanks to Manning’s own actions, had reaped a great deal of benefit while the High Captain’s fleet had been torn up. Of course, Manning’s flagship wasn’t the only one that had been boarded during the battle for Elysium, I thought darkly, silently remembering my capture and resulting torture at the hands of droid boarding forces on the Furious Phoenix.

  Not my finest hour, I’ll admit.

  “Admiral Montagne?” asked the Chairman, breaking me out of the dark place our reunion had brought me to.

  I gave myself a shake. “My apologies, Chairman, my mind wandered,” I said, forcing a smile as I pushed away the memories.

  “Yes, well you had mentioned there was something you needed?” asked the Chairman. “Because let me assure you we are more than ready to proceed with the induction ceremony whereby the Assembly will officially empower you as the first military officer of the new Confederation of flag rank and bestow upon you the position of Grand Admiral and command of our entire armed forces.”

  “And, of course, welcome your fleet into the Confederation as its first—and so far only—active fleet,” High Admiral Manning said dryly. It seemed that, despite whatever animosity might exist between us, he was willing to admit the irony of the situation aloud.

  I looked over at him with a lifted eyebrow and we shared a look of mutually amused understanding.

  “Of course you are,” I said turning back to the Chairman, “and I am reluctantly willing to bring both myself and…” I gave a humorless smile, “the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet into the Spineward Sectors' very own newly established mega-government. After all' the MSP has always stood for principles of freedom, justice and the Confederation way, which includes the right to self determination in the Old Confederation charter. I think our current situation definitely applies.”

  I paused and then looked over at a very pleased looking Chairman.

  “But since you did ask what you could do for me, I won’t hold back. I’ll admit that if it were just myself I was speaking for we would already have an agreement and I would swear the fleet’s service oath. However, as things stand I have a duty to more than just myself which is why,” I looked over at one of the handful of people who had followed me down from the Royal Rage and snapped my fingers.

  Lieutenant Harpsinger hurried over, placing a large paper file in my hands, as well as a data-storage device.

  “My lawyer has prepared the necessary paperwork for you and as soon as it has been finalized and signed off on by the new Grand Assembly then you gentlemen will have yourself a fleet,” I said and then paused, “well, what you’ll actually have is me and my fleet, which really is the same thing if you stop and think about it.”

  I then held out the papers in my hand toward the chairman and an aide scurried out to take th
em from me.

  “What is this?” the Chairman asked, looking at the piles of papers skeptically.

  “A trick, no doubt,” mocked Isaak from the side, “we were fools to think a Montagne would ever turn his stripes,” he turned to me from a seat he had quietly taken within the committee. “What kind of onerous restrictions have you placed in there so that you can later claim you tried but we wouldn’t take you in?”

  “What!?” the chairman asked in alarm.

  “It’s a ruse, a deception, a Royalist diversion meant only to dupe us into giving him a larger platform—” Isaak said cuttingly.

  “You mean a simple recognition of the existing order of things so that there was no confusion going forward,” I cut him off.

  “This is highly irregular,” the chairman said, looking back and forth between myself and Isaak.

  “The very formation of a Confederation in the Spine itself is highly irregular,” I said dismissively, surprised to find that unlike my last time in Central I was in no way intimidated or even that much impressed by the politicians before me. I guess time on the Admiral’s Throne had changed me, “Regardless, a certain amount of discretion and accommodation will be necessary if we are to not just survive but merge together and thrive as one Star Nation.”

  “'Discretion,' is it?” started Governor Isaak.

  “If the committee member will allow the Chair its traditional prerogatives and let me lead the questioning,” the Chairman interrupted shooting Isaak a quelling glance.

  The Governor looked surprised before shrugging and sitting back, “It’s your show.”

  The chairman harrumphed before turning back to me. “Now, you were saying something about discretion. What exactly are you expecting from this committee that these documents you provided us with are designed to elicit?” he asked with censure in his expression if not his voice.

  I paused, wondering if this was a serious request or if all they were interested in was a good PR stunt. They’d already poisoned the well as far as I was concerned by allowing Assemblywoman Kern to accost me. Having Isaak tag along with his sniping diatribes did nothing to convince me otherwise. In which case…