Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Flailing my arms and legs wildly, all I managed to do was send myself into a slow spin.

  I screamed with frustration and tried to get on the local communication channel, but the Lancers below were a little too busy with the Bug behemoth now trying to burrow its way through the duralloy hull of my ship to pay any attention to someone safely out of the fight.

  To someone who has never had it happen, it's difficult to relate just how helpless, despairing and terrifying it is to be slowly floating away from a ship in cold space. I mean, I knew that I had a locator beacon built in to my suit, but the notion that I might just keep floating until I ran out of breathable gases was almost enough to send me into a full-blown panic attack. But I was able to stave off the worst of the fear by overpowering it with anger at my own stupidity. For the rest of the battle on the hull, all I could do was watch and curse myself for not bringing along a portable jet pack.

  I was helpless to do anything other than clap my hands and cheer as reinforcements started to pour on the hull, and someone managed to get some high explosives placed on the super beetle. Watching that beetle-thing explode in a very odd, nearly spherical cloud of insect bits and fluid was just about the happiest sight I’d seen all day.

  I continued calling for someone to come pick me up, but no one answered. Passing through the shields of the ship was a dreadful sensation, and one I hoped never to repeat.

  Eventually I figured out how to turn on my emergency beacon. After that I floated for hours, hoping someone would remember to come pick up one very lost and lonely Admiral.

  I’d been up for well over twenty four hours by this point, and I’m not ashamed to say that after shouting myself hoarse on the local push channel, I fell into an exhausted slumber.

  I gradually woke up enough to realize I was in a strange room.

  Feeling the mattress underneath, I knew I was in some kind of bed but other than that I hadn’t a clue where I was. I could tell I was clearly in a ship, but the room looked like no quarters on any ship I’d ever been in.

  Visions of being recovered after significant damage and frozen (like the Doctor had planned to do with Chief Engineer Spalding) until I could be revived danced through my head and I started to hyperventilate.

  I tested my limbs, but other than the same litany of aches and pains (most notably my still-recovering forearm that had been cut off several weeks ago and reattached) everything felt much the same as I remembered.

  I heard the rapid beeping of some sort of medical device as my stress level abruptly increased.

  “He’s awake,” a voice said from the next room over.

  Akantha came into the room and, after searching her face for signs of aging, I heaved a sigh of relief and my breathing returned to normal as I sank back into the bed.

  “If I had known how much you wanted to get in my bed, I would have held out for better than this vibrating dinner knife masquerading as a Dark Sword of Power,” she said in a cool voice.

  I started and looked around. So this was the Admiral’s quarters. No wonder I hadn’t recognized it! I started to rise out of the bed.

  “I’ll just get out of your hair,” I said with a nervous laugh. I, the Admiral who wasn’t afraid to face giant Bug marines or Imperial Jacks, was eager to beat a hasty retreat in the face of this white-skinned ice maiden.

  She looked extremely irritated and pushed me back into the bed. “You almost died out there from bad air, they tell me,” she said.

  Squirming was pointless, in my weakened state she easily overpowered me and I was pinned to the bed.

  It had to be that I was weaker than I thought, because I knew there was no way she was stronger than I was. Besides, I was laying prone while she loomed over me.

  I reminded myself that the Minos Sword was much bigger than her bad-luck Bandersnatch, so there, I thought sticking a mental tongue out at her before reluctantly subsiding back into the bed.

  “I feel fine,” I protested obstinately.

  She raised an eyebrow and gave me that look of hers that I’d come to hate so much in such a very short time. “The men that delivered you to me brought a healer who took great pains to impress upon me how close you came to dying in cold space,” she said coolly.

  “I can’t be that bad off if I’m not in sickbay,” I argued.

  A hint of a smile played around the edges of her mouth. “Whether that’s true or not, those men brought you here rather than to sickbay. Clearly they at least seem to think it's more important that you be here than in sickbay at this point in your healing process,” she said icily.

  Sweet Murphy, it was a conspiracy! Not the kind of conspiracy I’d been worried about up to this point, but a theoretically more benign one. Obviously word had spread around the crew that their Admiral was on the outs with the Lady Akantha. Observing me sleeping in the ready room and then taking a look at the missing door to my former quarters would tell anyone that.

  It seemed the men had decided to put their oar in and send me up for bed rest. Since my former quarters were demolished, where else would an Admiral sleep but in the Admiral’s Quarters with his wife?

  “If you wish to ignore the healer’s advice and disappoint your crew, there’s the door,” she said pointing at the exit.

  When she put it that way, I needed all the points with the men that I could get.

  I heaved a sigh and threw an arm over my eyes. “Thank you for the hospitality,” I said instead of getting up and leaving. “It's quite generous of you.”

  Her voice gained a hint of venom. “It is nothing less than my duty.”

  I took the arm off my eyes and looked at her, trying to put the gratitude I actually did feel into my eyes. I mean, she could have caused a stink and booted my unconscious self back down to sickbay.

  “I really am grateful,” I said, holding her gaze.

  “You’re welcome," she said after a pause, "but as I said before, it is my duty,”

  At least she didn’t sound like she wanted to kill me anymore. A minor improvement, but one I was more than happy to take.

  There was a small, comfortable pause, and then she had to go and break our little unspoken truce. “It is good you are here,” she said, a hint of reproach in her voice, “You should have come sooner.”

  “You blew up my door and then turned me away,” I said as evenly as I could.

  “I mean before that,” she snapped.

  “I wasn’t sure of my reception. I figured it was best if,” I started, then paused as I tried to figure out the right thing to say. Telling her I’d been half hoping for an eventual annulment didn’t seem like the politic thing to say right at the moment.

  “The circumstances of our…union were rather bizarre. I thought it best to take things slow,” and here I took the chance and gave her a piercing look, “As you will recall, I even asked you to tell me what was bothering you. Before you destroyed my room. All you had to do was say something to let me know I was…welcome,” I said finally.

  It was her turn to look pensive. “It is not a woman’s place to chase after a man, any man. It is both unseemly and betokens the worst sort of brazen or desperate behavior. Bad enough for a common woman, how much worse for a Sword-Bearer, Land-Bride and, even though I am absent more than I am present, now Hold Mistress of Messene,” she said, starting out hesitant but finishing fiercely.

  This was what I got for winding up with a girl from a culture that still had many of the worst sorts of patriarchal holdovers. I didn’t sign up for this! Or so I thought to myself, before fairness demanded its due. I actually had. Oh not with the crazy giving of the sword thing, but rather when I stood before her mother and uncle and promised to defend her. I had hoped for more of a temporary business-like arrangement, but like everything else lately, what I’d hoped for and what I’d actually gotten were two very different things.

  I started to sit up, but the warning look in her eye told me that this was one nursemaid who wasn’t going to brook any guff off her patient. Instead, I r
olled onto my side and propped myself up with one arm.

  After a moment organizing my thoughts, I decided to give this thing we had one more try. “Look, Akantha,” I started and her brows furrowed. “That’s it. That right there,” I exclaimed, pointing to her brow.

  “What,” she asked, smoothing her brow.

  “If we are really going to try to make this thing work,” I said, my voice rising more than I would have liked, “then we’re going to have to be honest with each other.”

  Her eyes narrowed and I could see the beginnings of a scowl starting to form.

  But I continued doggedly, “At least in private. When we’re alone we have to be able to be honest with one another. If we can’t even manage that, how is anything going to work out this thing between us and,” I added, “between our two peoples.”

  “I can’t read your mind to know what it is I need to tell you,” she said with a frown.

  “I don’t expect you to," I said as gently as I could, "but when it's just the two of us, we can’t always be the Protector, Admiral Prince-Cadet, Governor of Harpoon and the Sword-Bearer, Land-Bride, Hold Mistress of Messene. There has to be a time when we can put all that aside and just be two people from completely different cultures trying to muddle through as best we can,” I said impassionedly.

  She bit her lip. “There are many things I still don’t understand about this ship and your peoples from the river between the stars,” she started hesitantly. For once, the icy mask she liked to wear was cracked, showing the uncertain woman behind it.

  “There’s a lot about you and your people I still have no clue about,” I said, hoping that at last we could reach some sort of truce and find a bridge to mutual understanding.

  “I don’t think we are very complicated. Not when compared to all this,” she said waving her arm as if to encompass the entire ship around us.

  “Maybe not as far as technology and machines are concerned,” I allowed, “But take this whole Warlord business. What exactly does it mean, and even more than that, what kind of obligations have I picked up that I don’t even know about? I mean, are your people only here for a term of service, or is this Warlord thing a lifetime commitment? I still have no clue,” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

  She got a quizzical look and a hint of a smile played around the edges. “That’s an easy enough thing to explain,” she said laughingly. “Is there anything else you don’t understand about my people that you’d like to know?”

  My eyebrows shot up. “Where do I start,” I said excitedly.

  Then, as if a dam had burst inside me, it all started pouring out. “First there’s this whole Protector/Sword-Bearer business, what does it all mean,” I asked eagerly, then looked down at my fingers and started ticking off points. “Not to mention your Uncle, your mother, and what does she think about me after all those challenges, plus what the challenges signify and then there’s-” a finger on my lips cut me off.

  Akantha crouched down next to me. I looked up into a half serious, half amused expression. “I saw the face underneath all those scars for such a very short time when first we met. It has been difficult to get past them and see the face of the man hidden there,” she said, an interested look in her face.

  “Uh,” I gulped, “I can get rid of them if you like.” Suddenly, the collar of my bed clothes felt too tight, which is odd since it was a button-up.

  She had a look of wonder on her face, then pursed her lips and shook her head in negation. “I didn’t know your healers were capable of such things…but no. Or at least, do not remove them all. A strong warrior should bear proof of his injuries with pride.”

  “I’m not sure how much of a warrior I really am, being an Admiral is hard enough-” I said, but once again a finger on my lips silenced me.

  “You are a brave warrior with many kills. I have seen this with my own eyes, and also through the eyes of my people, those who have fought beside you,” she said in a breathy voice.

  She paused, seeming to consider something, but continued after a moment. “Do not belittle your many accomplishments just because you have a Dark Sword of Power and magic armor.” Her fingers traced the scars on my face and then traveled up over my ear.

  My mouth was suddenly dry and I laughed a little hoarsely. “There’s no need to do anything you don’t want to do, just because you feel some sort of obligation,” I managed to stammer in a strangled voice.

  “I am pleased that you wish to know what it means to be a Protector,” she said a little hesitantly, and then climbed onto the bed.

  Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, I tried to get up into a sitting position but she gently pressed me back down. She leaned her head next to mine and whispered in my ear. She actually sounded a little delighted at my continued reluctance.

  “Let me teach you that which passes between the best of Protectors and their Sword-Bearers,” she purred.

  She lifted her head back up and looked down at my face before touching several of the bigger scars. “Yes,” she nodded to herself, “I think you should get rid of this one, and this, and,” her fingers traced over to the last scar that didn’t meet with her approval, before lifting a finger up to tap it twice, “this one definitely,” she said firmly.

  “Whatever you want,” I said, gazing at her like I was a calf about to be slaughtered. There would be no hope of an easy getaway after this.

  “I think so, too,” she said with a hint of self-conscious delight.

  We didn’t do a whole lot of talking after that, but despite the lack of words, I still think we managed to communicate a lot of what there was to know about each other. I’m not exactly sure what she may have learned about me, but I discovered, or at least had a new appreciation for how physically strong and fit she was.

  I’d always suspected the Montagne family had a little unofficial tinkering in our background, but whatever we may have had, these Tracto-ans had something installed into their genetic heritage that far surpassed anything I’d ever seen before.

  One thing was for sure and certain: I was going to have to find the time to start working out. This desk job of mine seemed to have sapped my strength and stamina to unacceptable levels.

  Interlude: Repairs and a little R&R before Departure.

  Now in orbit around Tracto VI, the Lucky Clover swarmed with work parties. The engineering department was out on the hull in force, working to repair the damage sustained during the battle.

  All over the system, ships had limped into orbit, and now repair robots and their operators from the Multiplex swarmed over the light units already in orbit. The Lucky Clover could take care of herself this time, and our engineering team wanted to make sure our guys got the experience.

  Looking at the savagely mauled Corvette, it was obvious that Tracto needed more than just a handful of light vessels, however willing their crews had been, to protect it when the Bugs arrived in force.

  The two additional Corvettes I’d captured from the pirates should help, but they were just more of the same. Light units that would certainly help to stem the tide, but would be unable to stop the big dogs of the Bug fleet from tearing through the system.

  That’s why I had decided that as soon as the mobile units were repaired, the Constructor needed to turn every available resource towards building a pair of orbital defense turrets.

  The Lucky Clover could stay in the system for as long as possible, but the fact remained that the rest of the sector still needed us. If the first inhabited world we’d stopped by was any indication, that need was dire. So although I wasn’t about to let Tracto be annihilated while I was gone, there was only so long I could justify hanging around.

  Besides, I still felt that sticking around for too long would only ensure the Lucky Clover would eventually be recalled back home. If that happened before the Bug mother ship arrived, it was sayonara for the inhabitants of this system.

  I was still kicking myself for sending the Hammerhead off on an independent patrol. If she’d
been here, then the Harvester wouldn’t have presented half the threat to the system that it had. Ultimately if the Medium Cruiser was recalled to Prometheus, that was still better than thousands (or more realistically millions) dying because it wasn’t here.

  Unsure of my best course of action, the next few days passed in a blur as the now four Corvettes and two cutters were completely repaired and re-outfitted. The speed and efficiency of these Constructors was truly a sight to behold, and I had a newfound appreciation for why the junior Cornwallis had gone to such lengths to secure them. I still wasn't positive that I knew who he had been securing them for, though. Ostensibly, it was for the Empire and their war effort against the Gorgons, but I had a growing suspicion that it wasn't quite that simple.

  Obviously, this Cornwallis had been anything but a calculated mastermind, which meant he was working for someone else. And I could only think of one man familiar enough with this part of Confederated Space who would have both the clout and motivation to swipe not one, but five of these technological marvels within a week of the Imperial withdrawal. I owed that particular man a large debt, and I intended to see it repaid as quickly as possible.

  But right now, the issue of my revenge against Imperial Rear Admiral Arnold Janeski and his cohorts was on the backburner. I had other fish to fry.

  New crews were assembled for the recent pirate captures, and the losses sustained by all four ships of the Light Squadron during the battle with the Bugs were replaced with volunteers from the Lucky Clover.

  We didn’t get very many volunteers from the original crew, most of whom were still looking to go home, so most of the recruits came from the still green Promethean and Caprian royalists who were more than willing to transfer to a job closer to what they were slowly coming to consider their home.