Admiral's Nemesis Part II

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “So you’ve already secured a way to run if things go bad,” I said with disbelief, “I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”

  “We have a duty to the people, Grand Admiral!” the temporary speaker said sharply and then frowned at me, “you have a very cynical outlook for someone so young for your position, you’re not even out of your twenties yet and yet you already control the bulk of the military power in the Spineward Sectors and yet from your attitude…” he trailed off disappointedly before continuing briskly as if nothing had happened. “We must survive for their sake,” he explained, “we owe a duty to the people to look after their interests and ensure that the fight for their freedom and better interests carry on, even in the face of a seemingly overwhelming Imperial attack. This war of Imperial aggression will not go uncontested by our assembly!” he finished fiercely looking more like a rabid rabbit or mole than anything resembling anything actually fierce or dangerous.

  I sighed.

  “Talking big is easy and running away is even easier, Speaker,” I suddenly felt depressed, “actually fighting and standing your ground isn’t the glorious business the holo-vids make it out to be. If you think I lack a certain hopeful outlook all I can say is, you spend the better part of five years running around desperately trying to save the Spine from enemies internal and external and we’ll talk about cynicism. Personally I think my outlook is more along the lines of realism but as I said, unlike yourself, I’ve been desperately fighting for your survival and freedom for a long time now so it’s possible I’m jaded.”

  “Your contributions to Sector 25 have been more substantial than perhaps the media has warranted, Admiral,” the Speaker said awkwardly before clearing his throat, “regardless of all that. The truth is we need you out there. Your fleet is a symbol and, like it or hate it, the people of the Spine now take a certain comfort knowing it’s you out there facing impossible odds. We need the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, Admiral Montagne. The people need you. Out there and not sitting in orbit nursing, possibly very well deserved grudges.”

  I made a non-committal sound. The Speaker was speaking the secret language that existed only in my heart but the years of betrayals and disappointments told me that a politician would say anything to further his agenda. Even, or possibly especially, at my expense and I’d learned over the years that it was one thing to foolishly risk my life but it was another to risk the lives of my fleet on nothing more than hope, wishes and ephemeral promises.

  “I’m hardly one to nurse a grudge,” I informed the speaker, leaving out the part where I preferred to settle things quickly rather than have to stew about them later, “the Assembly has abused me and now seeks to make use of me out and far away from your soon to be mobile headquarters. I can’t say that I’m surprised but you are right,” I continued speaking when it looked like he wanted to say something, “but you’re right: the people need me out there giving the Empire headaches, not here giving you guys trouble. Besides,” I snorted, “I’m a big boy. I can take a beating in the name of the democratic process just as well as the next man.”

  More importantly I could see which way the winds of political pressure were blowing and unless I wanted to risk turning our unified defense over to a newly promoted Grand Admiral Manning I was going to have to go along with them… for now at least. I was willing to die for what I believe in, an independent Spine and a free people, but I was no one’s sacrificial goat. Not any longer.

  The Speaker grimaced, several different emotions flitting across his face.

  “I just hope you can put aside personal feelings for the sake of your fleet,” he finally said lamely. From another man that might have sounded like a threat but from him, an almost non-entity pushed into service as a figurehead, I didn’t take it that seriously. I knew who was actively acting against me behind the scenes.

  “We wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t,” I nodded after deciding I’d just have to see how things turned out. Once again I was being forced by political pressure to do something that was militarily inadvisable, going out before concentrating the forces of my fleet.

  Unfortunately after giving it a hard think I didn’t see how I could do anything else. Right now the Empire could reduce every other world in the sector except Central and we could still keep fighting, soon the Grand Assembly would be mobile and even that wouldn’t stop us, not as long as we had a fleet. And what was I going to do anyway, run off with the largest Fleet in the Spine and then stand by while they crush High Captain Manning and then moved on Tracto?

  “Good day then, Grand Admiral. Your official orders and the new fleetwide encryption keys will be couriered over by shuttle later today. Please plan to leave soon after,” he said.

  “We’ll be here a couple days, I’m expecting a couple of freighters to arrive soon and in the meantime we’ll start filling up our holds with supplies for the fleet. You can’t run a campaign without sufficient supplies,” I said, throwing out an excuse. I was done running things on a shoe string budget or funding things entirely from my own pocket. Tracto’s trillium mines were no excuse; a non-voting world listed only as a provisional member for funding the entire Sector defense? It was preposterous and, dare I say it, tyrannical to make Tracto shoulder such a burden. “Speaking of which. How long is it before you expect the 25th Sector Guard to return and reinforce us?” I asked.

  The Speaker stilled and then looked back over at me.

  “The Sector Guard Flotilla is currently engaged with the remnant forces of the Reclamation Fleet. I’m told that after you failed to subdue them in your last battle and a large intact fleet task group escaped to set up shop in sectors 26 and 27. Our forces there are currently outnumbered and I fear it will be sometime before they are able to subdue their adversaries and return to join the main fleet,” he said.

  “Ah, my fault again, for not making my last victory clean enough,” I said with disbelief, 4th Easy Haven had been so close a run thing that looking back at it we should have lost it. The fact that we hadn’t, or that right now we needed those Sector Guardsmen and their ships down here helping to drive off the Empire more than we needed them trying—and almost certainly failing, from the sounds of it—to hold the line against the Reclamation Fleet in Sector 26 was certain to fall on deaf ears, “Still, as Grand Admiral it’s my judgment that we need whatever Sector forces we have available over here concentrated and facing the Imperial Fleet instead of scattered across the Sector 26 border facing a superior enemy in penny packets.”

  “I’ll be sure to relay your advice to the appropriate committees for review,” the Speaker said appreciatively, “however for the time being its probably best to just proceed under the assumption that the forces already allocated are all you’ll have. We’ll keep trying to get you reinforcements but…”

  “I see,” I said and I really did. They may have made me the Grand Admiral of the Confederation in name but it was clear I wasn’t going to be given every possible resource or the right to send every large formation in the Spineward Confederation wherever I as the man supposedly leading our spirited defense against the Empire felt it best.

  Go fight for the people and if at all possible win this one for us, Montagne, and if you die fighting them that’s all the better so long as you win but even if you don’t with our new mobile headquarters we’re ready to valiantly carry on the fight without you, was the vibe I was picking up.

  “I’ll begin issuing new orders to ready the fleet for movement and you can relay to your ‘committees’ that I’ve dispatched several new squadrons from Tracto that should be reaching the front lines soon,” I said.

  “That will certainly help on the propaganda front. And it would be even more helpful if you could get us holo-records of any combat against the enemy that puts our forces in the best light to help reassure the people,” said the Speaker.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” I didn’t promise anything.

  It might not be the best play to head out to battle with my forces still strung
out all over here, there and everywhere but nothing said I couldn’t just move to another star system and then order every warship on its way to gather on me there.

  The politicians would have a harder time giving me trouble if I picked one conveniently out of com-stat range and as far as I could see the sooner I could get away from central control, such as it was, the better.

  “Then I’ll be off,” said the Speaker and after making sure I didn’t have anything else to raise with him he sighed off.

  After the speaker disconnected I started issuing orders we would wait for the last several expected batches of warships, the last major units in the sector that could join us in the next week, and then sally out.

  Later that day when my newly signed deal with the Confederation in the Spine with all of my expected provisions, including the increased leave time for my fleet’s crew members, after this latest war was over of course, arrived I immediately sent one last set of orders, this time by FTL com-buoy.

  Chapter 23: The Return of Crazy Ivan

  “I say again: strange warship this is a warn-off. You and your squadron are to move to a position five minutes inside the hyper limit, a position I will give you, and heave to for inspection or our system defense forces will have no choice but to consider you hostile,” came a series of time delayed instructions as a pair of Light Cruisers on hyper-limit patrol finished pulling themselves out of their hyperspace-induced inertial sump.

  “Negative, System Control. I have already relayed our priority code. This is a Confederation Unit in the course of its duties, we have primacy over local regulations,” repeated the Com-Operator, starting to look stressed.

  “Negative, unidentified vessels,” snapped System Control based out of one of the Light Cruisers, “our SDF is in control of this star system and you’re rocking the electronic footprint of an Imperial Destroyer class! Like Hades we’re going just let you waltz into our star system doing as you pleased. The last information we have doesn’t show you people doing too well against another Imperial Destroyer even when you had her heavily outnumbered. You could have been captured and those codes intercepted for all we know. Furthermore—”

  The MSP Destroyer captain stepped over to the Communications console leaned over the com-operator and focused the pick up right on him.

  “This is Commander Dimitri Ivan of the Crazy Ivan,” he said with a thick slavic accent as he punched the transmit button on the operator’s holo-display, his finger going right through the holo-image of the button from the force of his thrust, “you know us already. Me and my old crew we are only in new ship because lost old one fighting last Imperial fleet. You can check your records and identify me and even if you don’t know me,” he panned the camera so that it showed the Lancers guarding the blast doors into the bridge, “surely you can see our Tracto-an Lancers. No one else in-Sector looks like these fighters.”

  “Encryption keys can be captured and holo-images faked.

  We are advancing on your position, Captain. If you don’t want to see your ship destroyed you will heave to and stand by for—” Central Control said with suppressed impatience.

  “Yes-yes, you will try to destroy this brand new Imperial technological wonder of which I am commanding. Your impertinence is only exceeded by how boring your words are,” growled Captain Ivan.

  “We are going weapons hot. You have an Imperial drive signature and hull design,” said Central Control.

  “I have decided,” said Dimitir Ivan as if suddenly coming to a decision, “by my authority as Confederation Officer, you are ordered to bring your ship alongside warship for our inspection.”

  “Are you crazy or just plain dense?” Central Control asked suspiciously.

  “My ship is named Crazy Ivan for a reason,” snickered Captain Ivan, “and as Captain of the Crazy Ivan it is my duty to inspect all suspicious ships outside your system border but there is no reason we cannot mix business with pleasure. While my people are inspecting your Cruiser, you and your captain are invited over for dinner. Your crew can receive what is called 'guided tour' while we eat. You and your officers inspect a fine meal in my cabin.”

  There was a long silence as the people on the other side of the com-channel digested this latest suggestion.

  “This is the Captain of the Fighting Badger, how do we know this isn’t a trap?” asked the new voice suspiciously.

  “Because I have fine vodka hidden inside my safe, and with my people it is crime to waste perfectly good drink—and because I have enough firepower in this squadron, including my fine former Imperial Destroyer, to destroy both your warships,” said Captain Ivan his voice turning deadly serious, “the choice is yours, Captain. A fine drink with friends or…” he trailed off.

  There was another but much shorter pause.

  “That had better be some drink,” said the Captain of the Fighting Badger.

  “Only the finest vodkas smuggled into the Destroyer ships of MSP,” Captain Ivan said with pride.

  “Uh-huh,” the other captain said with skepticism.

  Chapter 24: The Lucky Clover Goes to Capria!

  “Alright boys, make time for one last check to make sure the holds are full and then we’re off. And lads those holds had better be full because the little admiral is counting on us and I have no intention of missing out on another war,” said the temporary Captain of the Lucky Clover.

  There was a pause as everyone double and triple checked to make sure that everything that was supposed to be aboard was there. Several Ensigns conferred with a junior lieutenant before the junior lieutenant turned to the acting Captain.

  “Everything’s aboard and accounted for Captain Spalding,” said the Lieutenant JG.

  “Now that’s what I wanted to hear! The yard didn’t short us this time boys!” Spalding chortled happily and then proceeded to slap himself on the knees repeatedly.

  He was still snorting happily when the Junior Lieutenant on his bridge crew stood up and cleared his throat.

  “Was there anything else you wanted, Commander?” he asked leadingly.

  “Are you daft?” Spalding goggled at him. “Can’t you see we’re hot and ready to trot?” he demanded.

  “What does that even mean, Sir?” an Ensign asked screwing up her courage and then flinching and ducking back as his head swiveled around to look at her.

  The old engineer rolled his eyes.

  “Sometimes I forget just how wet the lot of you are behind the ears,” he said, shaking his head and then straightened up cleared his throat officiously, “very well then: Engineering, bring the Clover’s generators up to full power and start charging the Spindles. Navigation: start calculating the jump. Take the ship to ready condition and inform Gambit Control that the Lucky Clover is ready to proceed with its mission!”

  “Bringing all six antimatter generators up to full power and activating our backup fusion generators, Aye, Commander,” said Engineering.

  “The Helm is ready whenever the ship is, Sir,” reported the Helmsman.

  “Preparing sequence and activating the strange particle generator,” continued Engineering.

  “Well that’s good then,” Spalding said with a gleam in his eye, “it sounds like you’ve got everything well in hand. I’ll just mosey on down to Engineering and take a quick look like. Make sure everything’s running smoothly and all that.”

  He levered himself out of his chair and started for the door.

  The Navigator cleared her throat.

  “Uh…Sir?” she asked hesitantly.

  Spalding paused mid motion and turned back to look at her.

  “Yes, Ensign?” he asked gruffly.

  “Well…I mean that is…” she took a quick breath and then calmed down, “what I mean to say is I’m ready to calculate the jump but you never got around to telling me where exactly it is we’re going,” she said starting off strong but finishing weakly.

  “Ah!” he slapped himself on the forehead. “Sweet Crying Murphy, I must be getting old,” he said
unhappily and then pulling out a data crystal he tossed it to the navigator, “here, catch.”

  The Ensign used both hands to receive the crystal and it nearly bounced out of her hands before she secured it.

  “Thank you, Sir,” she said with relief.

  “Got our entire data set and list of orders all tabulated nice and proper like,” the old Engineer said wisely, “yes, sirree, they’ll be quite surprised back home when we show up. Oh yes they will. Why I doubt they’ll even recognize the old girl when we get there. Might even take us for an alien attack, Ha!” he chortled.

  Shaking his head and snorting he once again turned to go.

  “Uh, Sir?” the Navigator asked once again.

  “Yes, Ensign?” he asked with long suffering as he turned around for the second time.

  She quailed for a moment and then her expression firmed up. “I hate to have to be the one to ask this but is there a reason you’re having the night watch crew ready the ship for this jump? I realize it’s the middle of the night but none of us have ever worked the bridge during a point transfer before, outside of maybe a few former freighter crew, but a warship is very different from a merchant vessel. Are you sure you don’t want to assign a couple of the more senior personnel to the bridge crew to help out on our first point transfer or replace us entirely?” she asked

  Spalding’s happy expression soon morphed into a proper scowl.

  “A very fine question, and one that tells me you’re not going to let me have any fun today are you, Ensign?” he asked, his brow beetling.

  “Sir…?” she asked taken aback.

  “Oh all right!” he threw his hands in the air, “I guess it doesn’t matter if the XO and the rest of the ship’s senior staff wake up an hour before the jump or twelve hours. Although it would have been fun to see how long it took before they figured out what was going on and see their reaction when we arrived in Capria,” he sighed.