Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “It makes my heart glad that we were able to help your little world,” I said graciously, referring to the population and industry levels in the system more than he was to the actual size of his system or planet.

  “How long before we can have some real patrols through here? Regular like, I mean. Or even, dare I ask, a permanent Confederation Fleet presence? I know my little world would be more than willing to host a Confederation Naval Base,” said Igawa, and it was plain to see the hope and avarice at the thought of routine patrols, as well as the investment in local infrastructure a new naval base would bring to his world.

  “It's early days yet, Governor,” I said cautiously. "Until we can secure enough ships to assume the task of patrolling this sector on a permanent basis, the Confederation Fleet is asking every world in the sector to donate a ship or two, for anti-piracy missions,” I explained, hoping my lies would be too well hidden.

  The Governor blanched and started to mumble something.

  “On a temporary and at-will basis, of course," I said hastily, recognizing my faux pas. "No one is being forced to 'volunteer' a thing," I chuckled, hoping to alleviate his concerns.

  The Governor recovered a bit of his color. “I hope you understand we’re not as big and rich as some in the middle reaches. Nova-Practica is a small world with modest means. Our System Defense Force, small as it is, is all we have,” said the Governor with regret.

  “Of course, I understand your position,” I replied, mirroring his regret with my own.

  “It's not that we don’t want to help. Supplies, equipment, anything we have that you actually need, and we are more than willing to supply them for cost,” he said.

  I closed my eyes, feigning deep thought. Until the trillium mines in Tracto System started producing, I had nothing to trade. Actual credits? Hardly. Nope, I wasn’t even able to pay my crews right now. All of that was being handled back home by a Caprian Parliament which had originally sent out the Lucky Clover to be part of a Confederated Imperial Fleet under Admiral Janeski. I wasn’t sure how far they’d be willing to back a Confederation Fleet under one Admiral Montagne.

  Or rather, I was sure how far they'd back me, and it was all the way to a Caprian dry dock with a side trip to prison for the ship’s current, somehow treasonous Admiral.

  “Well, I’m sure something of that nature can be worked out going into the future,” I said, trying to sound upbeat.

  Governor Igawa gave me a searching look and then smiled wryly. “I take it things are still in the formative stages, Admiral,” said the man responsible for all of Nova-Practica

  “Very much so, I’m afraid, Governor,” I admitted.

  “Well, we are still very happy for everything you’ve done for us,” he said genuinely.

  I put on my most practiced smile. “If you can ask your representative to the still forming new rump-assembly to put in the good word for the MSP with that organization, and speak on behalf of my men, we would consider ourselves well paid. We might even be able to run a few patrols out this way, every now and again, as you’re so close to our operating base in this sector,” I said, tapping my finger on my chin.

  “I think we have an understanding, my young Admiral.” said the Planetary Governor. “Although, I’m not sure how much we’ll be able to do in the assembly, as Nova-Practica is neither an important nor very populous world. We only number in the tens of millions and our voting power is reflective of the fact,” he warned.

  “Likewise, the MSP is just getting its feet under it after the crash caused when the Imperials pulled out. We’ll do what we can, but...,” I stopped, leaving large all the potential implications of that statement.

  “I hope to see you again soon, Admiral,” Governor Igawa said with a formal nod.

  I put every ounce of my Royal training into a gracious nod and signed off.

  The Governor’s response had been mildly disappointing, but not wholly unexpected. As it was, both Nova-Practica and the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet needed all the help they could get, and had precious little to spare for others.

  Personally, I thought the Governor got the better of the deal. All he had to give were promises he might or might not keep. I, on the other hand, had already driven off a pirate force, repaired his damaged system Corvettes, and in every other way done all the heavy lifting.

  I would have to do a lot more, like send some routine patrols through this system before I'd get to see if the Governor held up his end of the informal arrangement.

  Oh well, that was a worry for another day. The sooner the Lucky Clover got about the business of saving the day in other worlds and systems around the sector, the sooner I’d have a few friends in the rump-assembly.

  As quickly as we could, our small Confederation squadron wrapped things up in Nova-Practica.

  Despite his grave concerns, Temporary Captain Middleton and the small Crew of the Hammerhead had performed marvelously during the engagement.

  So I decided to cut the ship loose. It was to continue the original patrol route and help out any worlds it could along the way.

  That was five hundred crew and Lancers that had to be siphoned from the manpower-short Lucky Clover, but what could I do? It was a small price to pay for a fully functional, if very outdated Medium Cruiser.

  After strapping the two damaged pirate Corvettes to the hull of the Lucky Clover, we once again pointed our nose in the direction of Tracto, the place that was slowly becoming our home base.

  It felt strange to be making a jump with another two ships strapped the hull, all the while knowing Engineer Spalding wasn’t down there in Engineering to make sure that everything went smoothly...well, if not smoothly, at least to make sure most of us survived the experience. The new Engineering officers seemed competent enough, but without the eccentric Chief at the helm, with his all-consuming love of everything related to this ship, things seemed a little empty and colorless.

  With a sigh I returned to the same quarters I had been using since first joining the ship. First a little study, and then some sleep in what used to be the Flag Lieutenant’s Quarters.

  Interlude: Matters come to a head on the way home

  She sat and fumed. What was the meaning of the flowers and sweets? Was she some one or two candle illicit encounter, to be bought off with simple gifts?

  And why was she suddenly invited to so many meetings of the War Council on this flying citadel? Did he think to distract her with the call of duty instead?

  Shame could not be paid off or distracted, it stayed and haunted a person throughout life and even beyond the grave. Every day, he made clear as the edge of a sword his disregard for her and her status among her people. People who were sworn to follow him as their Warlord.

  As she sat and stewed within the Admiral’s Suite, she got madder and madder. Finally, she’d had enough. The first month of their time together as Sword-Bearer and Protector was almost over. There was no excuse for this kind of behavior.

  What kind of man chose to spend every single night in someone else’s bed? Here she was in the Admiral’s Suite, and not once had the actual Admiral slept in his own bed!

  She stepped over to the wall and picked up her Bandersnatch. Half pulling it out of its sheath, she once again looked in amazement at its five and a half feet of dark metal with small crystal shards glinting within its depths. Her mother had been the recipient of a Dark Sword of Power. Akantha had only ever dreamed of receiving the same. Who would have ever dreamed it would be one unknown to her people, and carried from the stars by a strange Protector in magic armor?

  Her face hardened and she slammed the sword back in its sheath. Her patience was at an end. It was time for blood.

  But she had to find her wayward Protector first. Out of respect for their unusual situation and whatever prior arrangements may have existed that required closure, she’d looked the other way and not learned where he was staying. Their first month was almost over, and that had been more than enough time to make equitable arrangements.r />
  Admiral Jason Montagne might have lost more of his close confidants, or at least those ones she was aware of, with the destruction of the New Dream. The loss of the New Dream was a blow to the young Admiral that even she, a person unable to fully understand this foreign people and their language, could see plainly.

  She wouldn’t seek out the First Officer Raphael Tremblay because of the questionable state of his loyalty to her Protector. However, she still had ties to the surviving half of the Armory war-band. They would know where to find an Admiral who never slept a single night in his own bed. She would no longer worry about looking like some sort of desperate woman chasing after a reluctant suitor.

  With a renewed purpose, she walked over to the lift, doing her best to ignore the looks exchanged by her pair of honor guards.

  Down in the Armory the night shift was slow to admit her, but they relented. As they should have done for their Lord's Sword-Bearer. Akantha looked around, scanning the faces of the men. This was the heart of her Protector’s war-band, his original bank of sworn men. It was critical she pick the right person, now that reliable Gants was as dead as the Miracle Worker. The latter of whom would have been her first choice to speak with concerning this matter. Elder wisdom was always to be sought in such matters. Alas, it was not to be, as they were gone.

  Her eyes landed on one face that was more familiar than the others. Eyes narrowing, she considered. This one had been disciplined by her Protector on at least one occasion, and was not closely held in his favor. This made him all the more likely to answer her questions honestly. It would also be a good test of his loyalty to his Lord.

  She walked over to him and looked down into his face. The men here were all very short and stunted. It must be a product of living among the stars. It made them slow and weak, when compared to the men of her homeland. On the other hand, their knowledge of matters magical was beyond compare. It was a trade-off, as with most things in life, but that didn't make it any more palatable.

  “What is your name and rank, Warrior,” she asked evenly. Of course, to anyone listening, it was quite obviously a demand made by a superior.

  The Armory Warrior before her blinked rapidly. “Oleander, Lady. I’m just a crewman,” he said, giving her a half nod. It was a paltry display of respect, but she wasn't interested in protocol at the moment.

  “Where can I find my Protector? Your Admiral, Crewman Oleander,” she said without inflection and then waited for her mechanical translating device to relay her words.

  “I’m not sure it's my place to say, Lady Akantha,” replied Oleander, his eyes lowering to the deck.

  “I need to speak with him on matters of grave import,” she insisted.

  “I’m sure Admiral Montagne can be found in his quarters, sleeping, at this time of night. He keeps to the First Shift schedule, Lady Akantha,” said Oleander.

  She suppressed her disappointment. Either her Protector kept his own men in the dark, or this Oleander was closer to Jason than she initially believed.

  “The Admiral has not been in his Quarters the entire time I’ve been on this ship. So I fear you are wrong in your supposition,” she said coolly.

  Some light seemed to go off behind the warrior's eyes and she noticed a slight upturn at one corner of his mouth. Her eyes narrowed, and his hint of a smile disappeared immediately.

  “Perhaps you should check the Flag Lieutenant’s Quarters. It's listed on any wall panel that links to the ship’s register, Lady,” he said in a helpful tone.

  She glanced around and saw several other heads nodding and a few smiles hidden behind covering hands.

  Her face hardened. It seemed everyone in the Armory knew where their Admiral was spending his nights. Clearly, he’d lost more than a reliable leader when half the Armory band was destroyed.

  She glanced back at Oleander. There was nothing obvious that made the man stick out from the rest of the band, neither in voice or apparent manner. But something about him disconcerted her.

  “My thanks,” she said gruffly.

  She stalked out of the room followed by a pair of dour looking honor guards. They knew what was liable to happen when she caught up with her philandering Protector.

  Reaching the door to this Flag Lieutenant's quarters, whoever she was, Akantha stood to one side and, refusing to look at her guards, pointed at the door.

  “Break it down and then leave us,” she instructed.

  The honor guards hesitated. “Perhaps you should knock or, as they do here, signal for acceptance,” suggested the male warrior.

  “Are you here to protect my honor or are you not? If you cannot assist me in this matter, then you are free to leave,” she said stiffly.

  She could almost hear the looks and silent communication passing between her honor guard.

  “I’ll do it, Hold Mistress,” said the female half of Akantha’s little team.

  “This might be a mistake,” the male warrior said, resignation in his voice as he took a step back and cleared the doorway for the female Lancer.

  “Do it,” she said, pointing to the more enthusiastic female guard.

  Akantha turned slightly to make clear she was addressing the male guard.

  “The time for misunderstandings and soft words is over. It is time to cut through the confusion, leaving behind nothing but a harsh truth that can balance on the razor-sharp edge of a blade and survive the experience,” she hissed, her blood as up as it had ever been.

  The female in power armor pulled out a thermal detonator and placed it on the door.

  “Are you sure you know the correct settings for that,” asked Akantha, a hint of concern creeping into her voice.

  “I used several during the storming of that rebel ship, The Pride of Prometheus, and learned the proper settings for a door of this type from the Lancer Colonel himself,” the female warrior assured her.

  Akantha gave a short chopping gesture and backed away down the corridor.

  The detonator exploded and her honor guard jumped forward to tear open the door.

  There were several bright flashes, but she was too focused on getting inside to care, and as soon as her honor guard had cleared the door, she moved in.

  Akantha unsheathed her sword and ducked down to avoid the red hot and still smoking edges of the door leading into the personal quarters of the rival for her Protector’s affections.

  It was time to make clear who came first in this little arrangement. She didn’t care if he wanted to be with a goat when he wasn’t with her…well, actually that was disgusting and she actually did care if he wished to debase himself that much, but whatever he did, it had better not reflect poorly on her and her own honor. That was as sure as the blade of Bandersnatch, whose business end she was about to introduce to whoever was inside.

  **********

  I was asleep in my bed. Happily snoring away (at least I assume I snored, as I had since childhood) when I woke to the sound of thunder and hot bits of metal landing over me in a spray.

  My eyes shot open and I saw a figure with metal gauntlets tearing away at the door to my quarters.

  The revolution was here! I realized I was holding the holdout blaster pistol, never far from me and normally hidden under my pillow, in my hand.

  Snapping off a series of blaster bolts at the doorway, I emptied the little pistol into an armored figure virtually immune to my low-powered hand weapon.

  Bleary-eyed, I staggered out of my bed and threw away the depleted little pistol. I cursed myself for a complacent fool and wished I had stored some heavier artillery in my room like a plasma rifle, a couple grenades, or really anything I could point or chuck at the doorway. I reflexively grabbed the hilt of the Minos Sword. The ‘Dark Sword of Power,’ as the superstitious natives called it, was never far from my bedside.

  There was no time to get into the power-armor I kept in my room, since the door was already gone and the large, unarmored figure had just lunged through the still smoking doorway and into the room.

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sp; Casting the sheath off my sword by virtue of stepping on the soft leather end to get it loose and then bringing it around, letting momentum and my hands do the rest for me, I leveled the six foot blade at my foe. The blade was made of the same dark metal, impregnated with small glittering crystals as my family heirloom Bandersnatch.

  Just like that ancestral vibro-blade, this sword, minus the vibro-technology, was able to stand up to the latest in Imperial Locsium crystal weapons (the same stuff they used for top of the line ship hulls), as well as Imperial force blade technology. I knew this for a fact, because I’d encountered both types of weapons in the hands of Marine Jacks defending the Imperial Strike Cruiser when we’d stormed the ship.

  Backlit by the door way, the shadowy figure leveled his blade at me, but a voice too high to belong to a man cried out in a language I didn't understand.

  “Where is she!” cried a mechanical translator a few seconds later.

  “What?” I barked, raising my sword, certain this was some sort of ruse. Then I had the horrifying thought that they were after Akantha, too! My eyes flashed left and right, trying to locate whatever accomplices this assassin had brought.

  The figure cursed and jumped forward, knocking my heavy blade out of the way.

  I scrambled back, keeping the sword between myself and my attacker. Glancing back and forth between the doorway and the revolutionary, I reached behind myself until I felt something I could throw. My hand found a data slate. It wasn’t the best projectile, but it would have to do.

  If the Parliamentary loyalists had gotten together with the natives in my Lancer force, I could be seriously screwed. I could get away in one of the Corvettes if the conspiracy was too widespread, I instantly decided. The Lucky Clover would never catch me.

  The figure looked at my bed and snarled. Giving vent to a high-pitched scream, the revolutionary raised her sword and brought it down on my bed.