Admiral Who? (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Chapter 17: A Nice Cruise

  I made my way back to the bridge, silently rehearsing the parts of the upcoming conversation which I believed would be the most crucial. Time seemed to be flying by, as I found myself standing outside the bridge far too quickly for my own liking. Gathering my composure, I activated the panel and strode onto the bridge. Once seated in the Admiral's Throne, I motioned to the communications technician to open the channel.

  “Hello. Is this the crazy Captain of that big bastard of a battleship? The one that just came roaring by and sideswiped several of those pirate cutters that were giving us such a problem,” asked a hatchet faced woman who looked to be somewhere into her second century. She was dressed in a Confederation uniform similar to the one I was wearing, but it sported an oddly updated appearance. “I hope that old Confederation encryption key you’re using means you’re one of the good guys and not another blasted pirate in disguise.”

  “This is Admiral Jason Montagne Vekna, Confederation Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet,” I replied, “and yes, we’re the good guys,” I said with a lopsided grin.

  “Admiral who?” She gave him a strange look, her eyes lingering on my ill fitting and nearly a century out of date old Confederation Admiral’s uniform. She gave herself half a shake. “That’s not what’s important right now. On behalf of myself and the Settlement Convoy under my protection I’d like to officially thank you for the timely assistance with those pirate scum.” She paused for a moment before continuing, obviously weighing her words carefully.

  “Although something my command crew and I don’t understand is why you chose to ram instead of fire your heavy weaponry when you passed through the center of their main formation. A battleship is tough, as you just clearly illustrated, but also very well armed. Frankly we’re baffled,” said the corvette Captain. I couldn't tell for certain if she was admonishing me, genuinely curious, or some strange mixture of the two.

  I could feel myself starting to turn red, and took a deep breath to steady myself. Dealing with a trained military officer, whose opinion was important (unlike pirates, who I could bluff and talk to without fear of anything worse happening later on) was nerve wracking. What’s the worst the pirates could do? Try to destroy the ship and kill or capture all those helpless settlers? They were already doing that. The Captain of the corvette, on the other hand, could cause me a big headache in the here and now, plus a great deal of trouble back home if we got off on the wrong foot.

  “It’s a bit of a long story,” I said with a wave to downplay the whole situation. I was just about to change the subject when the corvette Captain beat me to the punch.

  “We have a little bit of time before my corvette matches airlocks with our sister ship and we move to recover her. Incidentally, killing any pirates we encounter, Admiral,” the Captain said, sitting back in her chair. “My crew is dying to know how Confederation forces came to the rescue. We’d given up hope for a rescue.”

  I smiled to hide my suddenly gritted teeth. “I admit that from a given perspective, ramming them might look like something out of a holo-drama,” I said, careful not to mention that I actually got the idea from a low budget Caprian holo-series I had been avidly following prior to being drafted into the patrol fleet, “but it really starts makes sense when you realize we entered this system essentially unarmed.”

  The hatchet-faced Captain blinked. “Interesting,” she said, “go on. This has to be good. Also, I assume the cruiser in system, the one that hasn’t moved, is with you?”

  “Yes, a captured pirate ship,” I replied shortly, thankful for the momentary change of topic. I relaxed a little and was able to compose myself before continuing further. “Regarding our lack of weaponry, the answer is really quite simple,” I paused and leaned back in my chair, “I take it you’ve heard about the Empire’s withdrawal from the Spine?” The corvette captain sucked in a breath but after half a second gave an almost jerky nod. “Well so long as you know about that, then everything that follows becomes more understandable,” I said with a nod of my own. “I still can’t believe the Empire would abrogate the Union Treaty like this,” I shook my head slowly, trying to convey a profound sense of disappointment. “But I’m wandering off topic.”

  I turned to the side and motioned to one of the communication technicians, “Please send our credentials over to the corvette at the end of our conversation,” I said pointedly before turning back to face the captain on the screen. “As I was saying, when the Lucky Clover was designated to become the Flagship of our newly formed Patrol Fleet, the Imperials decided to upgrade her. This occurred prior to the start of our mission, of course, and Imperial Command also placed a number of officers onboard to assist us in our new duties. When the Imperial officers received recall orders from the Triumvirate, those same officers signaled for a command ship and proceeded to strip out all of the Imperial equipment they’d just installed, including our new weapons systems,” I paused and gave a cold half smile. “Thanks to our Chief Engineer, we still have most of the old weapon systems with us. We just hadn’t had time to reinstall them before we received your distress call. Time being of the essence, I decided not to wait until we were effectively rearmed, but instead to come immediately to the assistance of a distressed settlement convoy.”

  The corvette Captain’s eyes widened. “I don’t know of many captains, or admirals for that matter,” she said with a brief gesture in his direction, “who would have made the decision to take an unarmed ship, even a battleship, to answer a distress call. Although let me be the first to assure you that my crew and the settlers we’ve been escorting aren’t going to complain. Not one bit,” she said giving him a nod full of thanks, “Once again and on behalf of my ship and everyone in our convoy, I’d like to thank you for your efforts on our behalf.”

  I nodded in a fashion I hoped was not too curt and signed off as soon as possible. We monitored the escort corvette as mated its airlock to the airlock of the pirate cutter. On the main view screen it looked like the cutter was now squeezed in between the two corvettes, each almost twice the size of the little pirate vessel.

  Also around the same time, the two undamaged pirate cutters formed warp fields within seconds of each other and point transferred out of the system.

  Their less powerful star drives and smaller warp fields ensured they wouldn’t go far. However, rapid recycle times meant that they could jump much more often than an older, heavier ship like the Clover. So even if a large ship like the Clover was ready to jump and knew exactly where to go, the larger vessel with its slower but longer ranged engines would lose them after the 2nd transfer point. If the larger ship couldn’t destroy the smaller ship first, of course.

  “Let's change the alert status from red to yellow and let the crew know that except for a few loose ends the pirate threat in this system has been taken care of,” I said, turning to speak with the communication tech responsible for the internal com system. “The hard work isn’t over. We still have some crewmen and a lot of settlers to rescue, but as far as the battle is concerned we can chalk this one up in the win column.”

  I was suddenly taken aback at the implications of what I had just said. I (or rather, the ship I was commanding) had won a battle with real life pirates!

  The blast doors behind me cycled open.

  I stood up from the throne and prepared myself for what was to come. It was time to face the music. Hopefully no one (especially myself) would get hurt.

  Chapter 18: An Outraged Engineer

  I had expected to see Lieutenant Tremblay with a well armed detail of men, or perhaps just an armed detail of men so Tremblay could maintain the polite fiction that he wasn’t involved. I was holding out hope that my surprise for Tremblay, should the First Officer be launching a mutiny, might arrive first.

  Instead of an arrest squad, the blast doors burst opened to reveal the Chief Engineer, bald dome at the top of his head gleaming with sweat and what hair he still had flaring wildly out to either side. The half-cr
azed eyes of the old engineer scanned the room before settling on me. His uniform was dripping with sweat and his left leg was at least twice the size of the other, due to some kind of cast, I guessed.

  The wrinkled old officer straddling the line between old and ancient locked his eyes with mine in a furious glare. In one hand he held an unlit plasma torch; his other hand produced a finger pointed right at me.

  “Ask for miracles without limit,” he roared, stabbing an accusing finger as he slowly rounded on me. “Engineering can do it.” His gnarled finger thrust accusingly at me yet again. “Ask us to keep the ship running with half the men we need and almost no trained crew,” his finger stabbed once again and he took a step onto the bridge, “Engineering can do it."

  "Ask for impossible warp bubbles to haul prize ships too large for any sane spacer to even think about taking with them,” his finger pointed at me like an exclamation mark, and oddly I was quite thrilled that it was the open hand he continued to gesture with, apparently having forgotten the plasma torch in his other. He continued to roar, taking another step into the bridge, “Engineering can do it! Ask us to re-install weapon systems that are only there because we lied, cheated, stole and schemed to keep them on this ship when the Imperials threw them away for junk!” By now he was very close to the Admiral’s Throne, standing almost right next to it. “Engineering can blasted well do that, too!”

  “I understand you’re upset,” I started, trying to gain some control over the situation. “We have shuttles out right now-”

  “Upset? Upset,” screamed the Chief Engineer, cutting me off abruptly.

  By now several members of the Bridge Crew stood on their feet, looking uncertainly at the exchange. I could understand the shame on their faces because I felt it just as keenly as anyone else on board. No one had thought to warn engineering to get off the hull, and as the Admiral who had ordered the ramming, I was most responsible for the results, both good and bad.

  “You can demote us, work us till our hands bleed and we can’t remember the last time we saw a bunk. Send us out on the hull during combat to fix things that should very blasted well have been fixed before this ship even thought about getting into combat in the first place!”

  By this time the Chief Engineer was so red in the face, that had I not feared the impending introduction of the plasma torch to the conversation (as a club, at the very least), I would have called for station medical with a sedative.

  “But as the Demon Murphy is my witness, what you cannot do is leave an entire engineering shift out on the hull to act as human bumper cushions, when you know good and well that you’re planning to ram an enemy vessel!” A vein in the old engineer's forehead was becoming more prominent with every passing second.

  “I offered to make you Captain of the ship once before. I repeat the offer," I said, trying to defuse the situation by maintaining a calm, even tone. "If you think the ship would be handled bett-”

  That was as far as I got before Lieutenant Spalding’s fist connected with my jaw.

  I fell against the Admiral’s Throne, seeing more stars than just the ones depicted on the view screen. Before I could regain my footing, a boot hit me in the stomach. The funny part is that even though I was having difficulty with most of my senses, my hearing was remarkably clear. I know that it was uncompromised because I suddenly snapped to full attention at the sound of a plasma torch activating.

  “Back! Back, all ye murderin' idiots,” snarled the Chief Engineer, the last word sounding more like 'idjits' than usual, likely owing to the engineer's rage and uneven breathing. Nobody seemed to notice the blast doors opening in the middle of the scene.

  There was a gasp. “This is Mutiny!” declared Officer Tremblay.

  He must have just entered the Flag Bridge, I thought, still gasping for air and surprised at the pain in my jaw from just one punch thrown by a man many times my age.

  “Seize the Chief Engineer and clap him in irons!” yelled Tremblay.

  There was the sound of a plasma torch being swung back and forth. “I also hold you responsible for my men on the Hull, Mr. First Officer,” cried Spalding, the pure rage in his voice now accompanied by something less furious and more accusatory. “You left them out there to die.”

  “Sir, think about what you're doing,” pleaded Gants to the Chief Engineer. A new voice on the Flag Bridge, and not a moment too soon. It looked like the surprise I had called up from the armory had met with Officer Tremblay on his way back to the Flag Bridge from his quarters.

  “So you’re against me too, Gants,” Spalding coughed. “Arghh,” Then there was a gasp and the sound of the plasma torch hitting the floor followed by the thud of a body. Metal popped and bubbled where the plasma flame touched the floor.

  “Never, Mr. Spalding, sir,” cried Gants, incredulous at the implication and sounding hurt. I could hear him moving towards our position, but I was still having some degree of difficulty with my vision.

  There was the sound of a scuffle. “Keep your blasted hands off him,” yelled Gants.

  “He struck a superior officer in a war-zone. An Admiral, no less! He even tried to kill him with a plasma torch. He’s nothing but a miserable old mutineer,” said Tremblay, the sneer on his face easily visible in my mind's eye.

  “He’s an old man with a bad heart and he needs a medic. Medic. Medic!” cried Gants. “He’s never killed anyone with that plasma torch. Only burned a few arses that needed it,” Gants said furiously. It was obvious that he wasn't used to defending the old man, but the hero worship in his voice was evident and it was clear as day that the man felt absolute conviction standing alongside Engineer Spalding in this, perhaps his lowest moment.

  There was the sound of another blow. “How dare you," Officer Tremblay said, ice in his voice.

  “You want to talk about some more mutiny, do you Mr. First Officer? Well, let's talk and don’t think for a minute I haven’t heard all about you asking the crew their opinions about having a Montagne in command of us all,” Gants said hotly.

  It seemed even though he had been willing to bring a couple of his armory buddies to the Flag Bridge to back me up, the former engineering rating was still holding out on me. Oh well, at least he came when asked and was about as opposed to anything the former Intelligence Officer was up to as he would ever be right at this minute, which was exactly what I needed.

  I decided something while lying on the deck, listening to the crisis unfolding around me. The young person who had stood up to confront an irate Chief of Engineering might have fallen to the deck thinking he was nothing more than just another young man from Capria. Someone who had been thrust into something he wanted out of so badly he could almost scream, but for all of that was still just a pawn at the mercy of powerful men who were very far away. I decided that the man who got up off this decking was going to be something entirely different from that person. Up until this moment everything had felt like a role I was playing, a game, albeit one with deadly results, but for all of that still just a game. But now people had died and I was responsible. Thousands had lived that wouldn’t otherwise, and I was responsible for that too.

  From now on, I wasn’t just Jason Montagne, a two-bit nothing Royal with a martyr complex who was so persecuted he couldn’t even get a student loan because the world really was out to get him. Instead, I was going to be (and refuse to think of myself as anything other than) Admiral Jason Montagne, a Prince-Cadet of the Caprian Realm. Demon-Murphy take anyone who thought differently!

  “Enough,” I said firmly, using a hand on the throne to help myself to my feet. My vision seemed to return with the discovery of my newfound purpose.

  “Striking a superior officer is a court-martial offense,” said Officer Tremblay. “In a war zone, it's execution!”

  “That dirty, good for nothing skunk. Kicking a man when he’s down having a heart attack," said Gants, emotion starting to get the better of him. "Admiral, sir!” pleaded Gants.

  “I said enough. That goes for the
both of you,” I repeated.

  The two men were standing over the stricken form of the chief of engineering like two dogs fighting over a scrap of bone. Behind them were a gaggle of men with sonic weapons. I knew I should check to see if they were all from the armory, or if Mr. Tremblay had finally decided to make his move. Instead, I made a snap decision.

  “I’m pardoning all of you. The whole lot,” I said. “Everything that happened up until this moment is forgiven.”

  “What,” asked Officer Tremblay, his forehead wrinkling as he looked at me for the first time since bursting onto the scene.

  “Thank you, sir,” said Gants knuckling his forehead. “Much obliged.” He didn’t look very obliged; he rather looked like an angry hornet.

  “Admirals can’t just pardon anyone they please, they don’t have that power,” said Tremblay, scowling fiercely.

  “I have the right and the power and I dare anyone to test me,” I said, sticking my chin out, then wincing at the pain the gesture produced. For an old man, the Chief Engineer sure packed a punch. “Anyone who disagrees with my decisions and actions is free to get off at the next stop. Until then, he’s to keep his mouth shut and obey my orders.”