Admiral's Nemesis (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 11)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “My apologies, Admiral,” Ensign Jones said coloring at the rebuke before once again fearlessly treading where even fools and heroes hesitated, “so I take it then that we aren’t actually keeping captive Governor Isaak?”

  “You’ve got a lot to learn, son,” I happily lectured a young man that had to be close to the same age as myself, “of course he’s not a prisoner!”

  “That’s a relief,” Jones said, his shoulders slumping.

  “He’s in protective custody for his own protection,” I continued blithely, now playing as much to the audience that was the bridge crew as I was to the hapless flag lieutenant whose actual rank was that of an ensign. “I mean after all the laws he broke, the number of times he’s tried to kill not only myself but each and every member of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, and the various and many blunders that led to the full-fledged invasion of this Sector while he hid under the proverbial desk until after the battles were safely over, what else was I supposed to do?” I asked piously. “What if some MSP loyalist, believing he’d gamed the system to escape justice, decided to take matters into his own hands and delivered unto him his just deserts? That would be a complete and utter disaster!” I exclaimed with patently mock concern.

  Slowly, the Ensign's eyes had been only growing wider and wider until he finally blanched. “Sir! You can’t possibly mean to hold the Governor captive for alleged crimes against yourself and this fleet, not without a hint of proof! This isn’t some kind of third world space navy with a kangaroo court; we’re Confederation Fleet,” he cried.

  “What are you blathering about, man?” I demanded sternly. Meanwhile, heads all over the bridge had turned in our direction as I continued, “I just told you that my each and every action is only intended to secure the Governor’s life and continued freedom! Which is why, for the duration of his temporary stay with us, I have placed him and his entire staff in the safest place aboard this ship.”

  Jones blinked rapidly. “S-s-sir-” he stuttered to a stop.

  “So you brigged him, aye?” asked Laurent, feeling free to rejoin the conversation at anytime.

  “Admiral!” Jones exclaimed.

  “Where else was I supposed to put the man?” I asked the ship’s Captain with a grin while completely ignoring the other man, “Ignoring the literally thousands of officers and crew scattered throughout this fleet who are too honorable to hold the Governor to account for his actions, all it takes is one new crew transfer or visitor from another ship within the 25th Amalgamated Fleet with well-justified grudges against him to cast a shadow over the MSP and,” I declared, piously placing a hand over my heart, “bring an abrupt end to his life before he attempted to clear his name before a jury of his peers. What else was I to do?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Laurent said sarcastically, “maybe send the man back to his own ship? You know, where he’d be safe from all the supposed threats aboard my warship,” he finished with a decided edge to his voice on that last part.

  “Pfah!” I decried. “And risk him being assassinated immediately upon his return with all the blame being foisted off on us, the hapless stooges in this dirty palace play the Governor has unwittingly dragged us into? Hardly,” I said firmly, thumping an index finger on the arm rest of my chair, “you may have forgotten the countless thousands that have died under Governor Isaak’s term and during the Reclamation War but I assure you that I have not. The only safe place right now is aboard this warship—and the only safe place for him here is in the brig.”

  “I fear you’re dangerously misguided, Sir!” protested Jones, “you’ve all but convicted a sitting Sector Governor of malfeasance and murder without a trial. I advise you to reconsider.”

  “Reconsider?” I asked dangerously.

  “I’ll believe the middle portion but not the rest of that claptrap,” Laurent told me before turning to Jones with thunder in his eyes, “and far be it from a mere ship driver like myself to interfere in the internal affairs of the Admiral’s staff, but I assure you that if any of my officers dared to tell an Admiral that he was ‘dangerously misguided’ he’d be transferred to a shore posting so fast his head would spin!”

  I suppressed a smile and then turned a beady eye on Jones. “Well said, Captain,” I said with a smile which turned thunderous as I turned to the ensign. Well,” I demanded harshly, “what do you have to say for yourself, Ensign?”

  Jones’s head swiveled back and forth between us before finally settling on me. Realizing he’d just been boxed into a corner, the Ensign quickly schooled his features. “I apologize for my remarks, Admiral. I was taken by surprise, overcome with emotion, and failed to understand the entire situation. It won’t happen again.”

  “Not a problem, son,” I said seriously, a gleam in my eye that promised we would discuss this further in private, “it’s often difficult for those of us who are not senior officers, and have never had to sit in the big chair, to understand the way most politicians operate or how those of us who have lost friends and crew mates to their machinations feel. We all have our limitations, after all.”

  “Yes, Sir,” he replied, his eyes opaque.

  There was a pregnant pause in the room as all parties fell silent. So, of course, I decided to break that silence.

  “Alright, Captain,” I said after a moment’s consideration, “I think we’ve toyed with the Governor’s military escort long enough. You may inform them that the Governor has, for various reasons, decided to take a tour of the more prominent features of the star system and intends to personally inspect Project Waypoint—the location of all those ships they’re just itching to get their hands on in the middle reaches of the star system. Oh, and you can relay the instruction that they are to take up standard escort positions around this ship as soon as they are able using my authority—while maintaining the Furious Phoenix ’s current course and speed of course,” I finished with a smile.

  Laurent looked at me flatly, “They’ll be furious and they won’t be able to keep up.”

  I waved a languid hand. “It wouldn’t do for the Sector Guard to think that they could dictate to the Sector Flagship while both the Sector Commandant and Governor is aboard,” I scoffed, “it is high time they begin adjusting to the new reality: Sector forces do not give orders to the Confederation Fleet. It’s high time they were reminded of that. Oh, and make sure to record if any of the Governor’s battleships perform below specification so that I can make a note in their file during the upcoming Sector readiness review.”

  Laurent shook his head and turned, pursing his lips. He spoke into his microphone, listened, and his faced went rigid before he looked back to me.

  “I am unavailable for comment at this time,” I said, flipping a leg over the arm of the chair as I adjusted captain’s chair backwards for better comfort, “I have important affairs of state to consider at this time,” I finished, lacing my fingers and placing them behind my head.

  Laurent turned back spoke again and then winced before shutting the com-channel. “The Captains of those battleships are incensed,” he informed me stone-faced.

  “Remind them via electronic text communication that their propulsion performance will be graded and evaluated,” I said.

  “They may fire on us,” warned Laurent.

  “They don’t have the speed,” I dismissed.

  “That’s true for now, but we will need to slow down at some point…if we want to join the hulks out at,” he rolled his eyes, “'Project Waypoint.'”

  “They can’t risk firing on us; they might kill the governor,” I assured him. “No. If they attack us with lasers, and that’s a big 'if,' it would only be to lower our shields so that they may attempt to send over boarding teams to safely escort the Governor back to his ship.”

  Ensign Jones put a hand to his forehead.

  “You are crediting the Guard with a level of intelligence—a level which I am not sure is warranted,” Laurent riposted.

  “You think they’ll want proof of life?” I asked, tak
en aback.

  Jones made a muffled sound which he quickly squelched, and Laurent shot me a hard look. “I think these are new ships, or new to the Sector Guard at any rate, and that whatever passed for experienced officers and crew joined with us in repulsing Warlord Janeski and the Reclamation Fleet. We had no prior information on these battleships, let alone on the temperament of their captains whoever they are. For all I know they might think it entirely reasonable to punch great big gaping holes in my ship, certain in the knowledge that anyone who is important aboard—such as the Governor—could not have possibly been vaporized in the attack!”

  “I don’t remember you being this excitable,” I frowned, looking at Laurent with concern.

  “Oh, in the fie!” Laurent swore and then turned away while throwing his hands in the air. “You’ll do whatever you’ll do anyway, I don’t know why I even bother trying.”

  “Don’t worry so much, Captain,” I chided, “I know what I’m doing.”

  Time, of course, would be the ultimate judge.

  Chapter 5: Project Green Pea

  “We’re approaching the Spindles now, Admiral,” Laurent said, pointing toward the giant Elder Tech jump engines and the mass of warships lashed together between them, “it’s time to either slow down or plan to overshoot.”

  “Excellent news, Captain,” I said, looking up at the screen and the Sector Battleships trailing along behind us, “please open a channel to the Lucky Clover. I’d like to speak with Commander Spalding . Oh, and you can take us in slow.”

  “Aye aye, Sir,” Laurent grumped.

  Turning to the head of my personal protective detail, I motioned and Sean D’Argeant leaned in close. “Orders, my Prince?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Please have the Governor escorted back to his shuttle,” I instructed in a low voice.

  “Yes, my liege,” he said bracing to attention before turning away to pass along my orders.

  “I have the commander on the line,” reported the Com-Officer.

  “Excellent news,” I said with approval.

  “Putting him through now,” said the Com-Officer.

  “Are we on track, Commander?” I asked as soon as the Chief Engineer appeared on my screen.

  “The Spindles are fit as a fiddle; everyone over here is secured and we’ve battened down the hatches. Ready to go on your order, Sir,” reported the old reprobate.

  “Be ready to activate the engines as soon as the Furious Phoenix comes to a full and complete stop, Commander. No need to wait on my orders,” I said.

  “Aye aye, Sir,” Spalding said with satisfaction and cut the channel.

  I blinked as normally I was the one closing the channel as of late but then shrugged it off.

  “The Battleships are starting to gain on us, Sir,” reported Captain Laurent.

  I glanced at the screen, where no miracles had occurred to favor the enemy and the Sector Guard was still gratifyingly distant from the Medium Cruiser that was my flagship, and nodded.

  “You are aware that they can bring us into firing range before we reach the flotilla if they don’t slow down?” Laurent offered.

  “I do have a plan to avoid that, but yes, Captain,” I said irritably, “I’m well aware of the risks involved if the enemy is too hardened—or too green—to consider what might happen to the Governor, a man they view as the highest authority in this Sector. Please, have a little faith.”

  “Oh, I know you have a plan,” Laurent said with an edge to his voice, “I also know that no plan survives contact with the enemy.”

  “Which I’m sure would be true enough if they were the enemy. But as these members of the Sector Guard are simply my very own misguided subordinates let’s see how this plays out first, hmm?” I riposted.

  “It’s your funeral,” said the Captain.

  “Oh no, if I’m wrong, it could be all of our funerals. Everyone in this star system,” I said with a sharp-edged smile and then turned away.

  D’Argeant leaned over towards me and reported, “The Governor has reached his shuttle.”

  “I love it when a plan comes together,” I said, looking over to Laurent. “Captain, please inform the shuttle bay that they are to release the Governor and his shuttle from the ship.”

  Laurent blinked, but the seasoned veteran of several Montagne campaigns by now simply rolled with it and began issuing orders.

  Ensign Jones, on the other hand, couldn’t help himself.

  “I thought from the way you were speaking earlier that you were going to detain the Governor indefinitely,” he observed.

  “Is there a question in there somewhere, Ensign?” I queried irritably.

  “What changed, Sir?”

  “What are you talking about? Nothing’s changed, Ensign,” I said with a snort.

  “Then the whole ‘keeping him in protective custody’ line…” he cocked his head at me with a penetrating gaze that ensigns just simply didn’t turn on their Admirals. Yes, this one that Captain Hammer had sent me was definitely something other than your standard run-of-the-mill snot-nosed junior officer.

  I waved a hand dismissively. “He’s in the safest place he can be right now, Officer Jones,” I assured the other man, “the very safest.”

  I’m afraid from his reaction that the smile I revealed as I said those last words was not exactly the nicest one I’d ever shown but it was something I was willing to live with.

  “Admiral, the shuttle has cleared the bay,” reported Laurent.

  Chapter 6: Governing Outrage

  “Sir, the shuttle is attempting to transmit,” reported comm., “we’re jamming, but…”

  “Quick thinking, Coms, but please let the Governor speak,” I said as my voice hardened fractionally. “There’s nothing he can say that we haven’t all heard before.”

  The com-officer gave me a disgruntled look, but followed orders.

  “Are you sure that’s the wisest course, Sir?” questioned Laurent, and Ensign Jones nodded in tacit agreement.

  “I agree with the Captain, Sir. The Governor has no reasons to sing your praises,” Jones said neutrally—or at least as neutrally as a man who was going against the stated position of his commanding officer for the third or fourth time in a conversation could reasonably manage.

  “Two of the battleships are maintaining speed and adjusting course for intercept,” reported Tactical, “the rest of the squadron is slowing down for a zero-zero intercept with the Phoenix at Point Harvest.”

  “Understood,” Laurent and I said at almost the same time.

  The Captain shot me a neutral look but I shrugged it off.

  “Communications is reading a series of encrypted communication between the Sector Governor’s shuttle and the battleship squadron,” reported a com-tech, his Officer standing over his shoulder and nodding along with the report.

  “Your orders, Sir?” asked the Captain.

  “I thought I was clear,” I lifted an eyebrow as our Strike Cruiser continued to approach the Spindles, “we’re going to stall for time and let this play out.”

  “The Governor is now broadcasting in the clear,” reported the Tech. The Com-Officer standing behind his shoulder cleared his throat and the Tech reddened. “My apologies, Sir,” the Tech said, ducking his head and glancing between me and his Department Head before continuing the report, “he’s broadcasting in the clear, but his message his directed at us.”

  I pursed my lips. “Oh he is. Is he?” I asked, snorting on the inside where no one could hear or see.

  “So much for playing for time, Admiral,” Captain Laurent said pointedly.

  I frowned, casting a quelling look at the Captain who for his part studiously ignored my look.

  “What’s he saying, Technician?” I asked ignoring the mood-ruiner beside me.

  “He’s quite angry, Sir, and he’s demanding to speak with you,” reported the Senior Lieutenant in charge of the section.

  “Although I haven’t the slightest idea why,” I said with a stra
ight face, “by all means, put the man on.”

  A red-faced Sir Isaak appeared on the screen. “You’ve gone too far this time, Montagne!” roared the Sector Governor, the redness of his forehead and a throbbing vein on his forehead failing to disguise the hint of fear that remained from his scant handful of hours in the Phoenix’s brig.

  “Why, whatever do you mean, Governor?” I asked, drawing back with entirely fake effrontery and wondering, 'if this was how the man responded to a mere handful of hours held firmly within the power of another but not actually harmed, how would he have handled being held for months on end, threatened, abused and nearly executed as like I nearly was?'

  “Kidnapping and false imprisonment, not to mention a series of not-so-veiled threats against my life,” growled Isaak. “Don’t pretend you have no idea what I’m talking about, Admiral,” he all but spat the last word, “I had our entire conversation secretly recorded by a member of my staff, so there’s no point denying it!”

  “While I highly doubt your staff recorded anything through ‘my staff’s’ highly effective and routine jamming techniques, that’s entirely beside the point,” I said perfunctorily before continuing, “as I have literally no idea what you’re talking about!” I then pasted a look of mock horror and growing concern on my face, looking as much like a falsely accused subordinate as I was capable of at the moment.

  “Try that one in the courts, your royal Highness, Jason Montagne! This is not Capria where you can do whatever you like, threatening and then throwing a duly-elected Sector Governor into the brig. There are actual rules outside the despotic dictatorship you grew up in. You overplayed your hand this time, my pampered little Prince, and now the full weight and measure of the law are about to descend upon you like the vengeance of angels upon a sinner found trying to break into heaven with a skeleton key!”

  “While I am more than willing to face any and all accusers in the court of a ruling Sector Judge to prove my innocence, I find your allegations simply shocking—especially after all the efforts we had to go through to keep you safe, Governor,” I declared, slapping a hand on the arm of the command chair and glaring at Sir Isaak. “Talk about all the two-faced, double backstabbing malarkey, Sir! And all because our staff simply couldn’t deliver you the chardonnay and caviar you've become accustomed to as quickly as you liked.”