Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “Place that person in the same room as myself and she’s a dead woman, Colonel,” Akantha said, sounding betrayed and trying to hide it, before turning on her heel and marching out of the room. She was followed by the native half of the honor guard.

  “That could have gone better,” Colonel Suffic said flatly after the doors had hissed shut.

  I wanted to say, 'put two vipers in a room and watch them try to kill one another,' but I deliberately held my tongue. Afterwards, I thought, I was surprised at myself. How could I allow myself to be distracted at a time like this?

  “Yes, it could have,” I said simply.

  Another power-armored figure, from the size this one another Caprian or Promethean, stepped into the room and the Lancer Colonel released my Cousin.

  “That space-crazed, blasted…blasted…witch,” Bethany yelled, holding a pretty aquamarine silk handkerchief to her broken and bloodied nose. “You sure know how to pick ’em, your high and mighty admiralship,” she sneered. “This one is even worse than that mud-blood you were dating, what was her name? The one that wanted to run off and become a colonist?”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I felt my fists clench. “Not another word on that subject, cousin," I bit out. For once, I was surprised to see her jaw actually snap shut when I told her to mind her own business. “I think you’ve caused enough of a scene, if it doesn’t qualify as an out and out catastrophe,” I said, feeling weary all of a sudden. This was all I needed, to have to go and sooth each woman individually. “So if there’s nothing else, let's adjourn for the day.”

  Her jaw unhinged and she once again became her usual, biting self. “No. We are not done, Cousin Jason Montagne. Are you really going to let that- that woman run around the ship, taking a historic antique to people whenever she feels like it,” she demanded, the fire returning to her voice.

  “Yes,” I said flatly. I didn't feel like explaining the whole situation to her right at the moment.

  “You’ll hand the Founder’s Sword over to some woman you barely know, but even though it might save your life, you won’t even consider giving it to me for significant political advantage,” she demanded disbelievingly.

  “Yes,” I repeated. “Are we done here? Because I’ve got some pressing ship and system business to deal with.”

  Bethany pressed her lips together. “No we’re not done here yet. I may have shared everything from the Caprian side of my brief, but I still have Confederation Instructions to relay,” she said, looking more irritated. If I knew my cousin, she was furious at the thought of being thwarted. “Don’t think for an instant that the issue of the sword is over and done with,” she warned.

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” I replied through gritted teeth, not feeling like playing any more of her games. I just wanted this thing over and done with. “Tell me the will of the rump-Assembly.”

  “Provisional Assembly,” she corrected sharply.

  I closed my eyes and just nodded my head, hoping my actions said louder than words that I really didn’t care and she should get on with it.

  She huffed but after a moment continued. “By order of the Assembly, the Lucky Clover is hereby instructed to return to Easy Haven upon receipt of this message. Fail to make port at Easy Haven as soon as possible, and one Jason Montagne will no longer be considered an Admiral of the Confederation,” she said. It's hard to look arch when you're holding a silk handy to your badly broken nose, but she almost managed it.

  “Is that all,” I asked blithely.

  “I’m sorry if Instructions from the Confederation Assembly bore you,” Bethany said tightly.

  “Provisional Assembly,” I corrected.

  Bethany stilled and I could tell the little barb had got through her armor, however briefly. “Provisional Assembly,” she agreed. “In addition, you are also required to dispatch every element of your,” her mouth twisted bitterly at the next word, “fleet, to the Rim protection duties. There were preliminary reports of piracy and attacks along the border worlds before I was dispatched here.” At this, she turned and glared straight into my eyes, “Which was the better part of a month ago. As it is, I’ve spent nearly three weeks in this dump of a system under attack from Bugs while you took your sweet time out doing whatever it is you were doing.”

  I nodded slowly. “If that’s all,” I inquired.

  “If that's all,” she demanded in disbelief. “The Confederation Assembly gives you instructions and all you can say to the Representative is, ‘is that all?'” She stomped her foot and then winced as the vibrations caused her arm to shift over her broken nose.

  “Since I take it you have nothing further to add at this time,” I motioned for the Lancer that wasn’t the Lancer Colonel to escort my cousin, the Princess-Cadet turned Confederation Representative out of the room.

  “No, that’s not all,” Bethany said around the handkerchief, “I want to lodge an official complaint over the treatment of the Confederation’s Official Representative,” she huffed in a familiar display of pouting.

  “Over yourself, you mean,” I said.

  “Yes, over myself,” she exclaimed. “Assault and battery with a deadly weapon at the very best. Treason against the Confederacy and attempted murder, more likely. I’ve never been so poorly treated in my entire life! Do you have any idea how much this hurts, Jason Montagne,” she demanded, indicating her broken nose.

  I paused as if to consider, and then reached for my Officer’s Helmet. It resembled nothing so much as hollowed out bowling ball. Carefully, I pulled it off my head.

  “Dear lady of beauty,” Bethany said crossing her middle and ring fingers and holding them up at me in the sign of aversion. “What happened?”

  “The worst of the scarring on my face has already been taken care of, but I’ll need some serious time in a healing tank to take care of the rest of this,” I said waving my hand at my ruined head.

  “Disgusting as it is to see, and thank you for sharing that by the way,” Bethany sneered. I could tell she was trying to hide her shock through insults. “I have no idea why you’re showing your head to me.”

  I cocked a brow at her and then slowly eased the helmet back over my head. Anyone who says I don’t have more than my fair share of vanity is lying. Even to disgruntle and disgust my sweet cousin here, I couldn’t bear the thought of purposefully letting everyone seeing how ugly I’d become for more than a moment.

  “You asked if I had any idea how your nose felt, dear cousin,” I said mockingly. “Well, if getting hit with a plasma grenade after being buried under a pile of Bugs whose acidic juices had worked their particular wonders on my features has any bearing on the situation, then let me assure you, I’ve felt your pain.”

  “So what are you going to do about it,” she asked, obviously wrongfooted.

  “Let me see,” I paused as if to give the situation some serious thought. “It's in large part thanks to Akantha that I received all this scarring and lost my hair, and last time something like that happened, I got mad and married the woman,” I gave another instant of mock consideration. “Perhaps this time I’ll just give her a stern talking to. How does that sound to you?”

  Bethany turned on her heel and stalked out of the ready room.

  I waited until she was out of the room and the hatch had firmly closed before sagging back in the chair.

  Chapter 28: A Royal Pain

  “Murphy's hangnail, I thought she’d never leave,” I sighed, without realizing anyone else was still in the room until after I’d said it.

  The Lancer Colonel cleared his throat. “Can’t say as I disagree with the sentiment,” he chuckled.

  I groaned. “I said that aloud, didn’t I,” I asked despairingly. My Cousin had been on the ship less than an hour, and already I was feeling deficient, every move second-guessed, every display of emotion needing to be parsed for advantage. Good grief, I got away from the Court life because of these very problems!

  “Afraid so, Admiral,” Colonel Su
ffic said courteously.

  “Well, at least someone feels my pain. But I fear I’ll be getting short shrift from the two ladies for the foreseeable future,” I said. Which was only too true. Somehow I’d managed to tick off both of them, when my true desire had only been to discommode my newly rediscovered cousin.

  The Lancer Colonel popped his face mask open and shook his dignified head. “Neither one left here thinking you were on their side. Which in my experience spells trouble on the home front as well as during any and all the family gatherings,” he commiserated. "On the other hand, it usually points to a successful arbitration process, if both parties come off equally upset," he offered.

  “Well, there you have it,” I said squirming in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Space Gods, my back is killing me,” I over-exaggerated for effect.

  “Do you want me to inform the Bridge for you,” Colonel Suffic asked.

  “About my back?” I scoffed.

  “Regarding the Confederation Instructions,” he corrected.

  I looked at him sharply. “There’s a few things to take care of first before we immediately start jumping to the tune of the Provisional Assembly,” I said, making sure to stress the provisional part.

  “Maybe the Admiral heard something I missed, but the directives couldn’t have been any more clear. Depart immediately, or be labeled rogues,” Suffic pointed out.

  “No, I heard her clearly. The Lucky Clover must leave as soon as it receives the message. Well, I’ve yet to pass that message along to the ship,” I paused before continuing with the second half. “If we don’t get there as soon as possible, then I’ll no longer be considered a Confederation Admiral. Well now, that would be a crying shame,” I said sarcastically. “The Clover will leave as soon as I get around to telling her,” I finished, giving the Lancer Colonel a steely gaze.

  “As long as you know what you’re doing,” Hansel Suffic said, drawing out the words as if considering them, before giving a sharp nod. “You’re the Admiral.”

  “That I am,” I said flatly, “and there’s a few things I need to see to first.” I started to get up, but no sooner had I reached my feet than I fell over.

  The Colonel rushed to my side. “There’s blood all over the chair and your shirt’s soaked through,” he said in surprise. “Medical emergency to the Flag Bridge! Send a team stat, the Admiral has been wounded by the Representative. You can find us in the ready room,” Colonel Suffic said, sounding very serious. He must have used the com device built into his battle suit because I didn’t see him activate my desk functions to make the call.

  “I’ll be fine,” I tried to assure him, but he pushed me back down to the floor when I started to rise.

  “You’re far from fine, Sir,” he said. “Just lay down there,” he turned me onto my side. There was a tugging sensation followed by a ripping sound as he tore off part of my blaster-resistant Admiral’s jacket. He then wadded it up and pressed it against my back.

  “Just a little pressure to help slow the bleeding until we can get you down to sickbay,” he assured me.

  I didn’t like being reassured. It stank, and frankly this wasn’t the position I wanted to be in. Receiving assurances, that is. It made me think that there was some reason not to be assured, which made me want to get to my feet and let everyone know just how fine I really was. As if by convincing them, I’d somehow miraculously find myself healed.

  I was the one supposed to be reassuring people, not the other way around, I thought indignantly. I gave a mighty snort, or at least as mighty a snort as I could manage while lying down on my office floor.

  “Are you okay there, Sir,” Colonel Suffic asked sounding slightly concerned.

  “Never better,” I said breezily, fluttering my hand in the air making a throwaway motion.

  “Please save your strength, Sir,” Hansel Suffic instructed sternly.

  “Oh, whatever,” I muttered rebelliously before subsiding into a disgruntled silence. It's not like I was actually hurt or anything. The last thing I needed was a bunch of overbearing nursemaids. Why couldn’t they just leave well enough alone, or at least not make such a scene? I didn’t need to portray weakness right at this particular moment….

  That was the last thought I had before waking up in sickbay.

  Chapter 29: I Spy With My Beady Eye

  Chief Bogart had taken a wrong turn somewhere. He was familiar with the Dreadnaught Class from his tour onboard the Armor Prince before she was decommissioned by Parliament and sent to the breakers, but none of that was helping him now.

  He was lost somewhere in the bowels of the ship, in a place that only engineers and those nervous nellies over in Environmental where known to tread. It's not that he set out to get lost, it's just that on the Armor Prince cutting through here would have been a straight shot over to a junction that led to one of the maintenance crawlspaces for the port side gun deck.

  The petty officers and gun crew on the port side were wise to his ‘random inspections’ by now, and they had posted lookouts on all the entrances leading into the portside.

  Well, he was going to show them when he popped up like a weasel out of its box and turned up right in the heart of the port gun deck. Were those boys going to be in for a surprise, if he could ever find his way to the proper junction.

  He refused to crack open the nearest data terminal and run a search for directions. Both because if any of the petty officers were on the ball and tapped in tight with the ship’s system analysts they would get wind of his presence, and also because if he did so he’d have to admit he was lost and get rather more than a little irritated with himself.

  Instead he was about to give it all up as a zero sum game and go home in defeat when he heard what sounded like lowered voices up ahead.

  Placing his footsteps carefully he walked up to the next junction in the corridor. Able to go straight, left, right or back the way he came, the voices were coming from the right. He stopped to listen to what they were saying, but they were still too far away. Easing around the corner he saw a pair of figures a ways down the hall.

  “…harder to kill than a cockroach,” he heard the one turned away from him say. From his jacket he was just a common crewman.

  The other…Chief Bogart blinked. It was the ship’s first officer, Lieutenant Tremblay. What the Hades was he doing out here in the middle of nowhere?

  “The only reason we’re in the mess we’re in is because Security decided to exceed orders and act on its own initiative,” Tremblay said irritably, “we don’t need any more of that kind of space cowboy nonsense.”

  Bogart clenched his hands into fists. 'Definitely up to no good,' he thought.

  “Slow and steady wins the race, at least up until-” Tremblay paused his head jerking up as he spotted the Chief Gunnery Officer. "Bogart,” he said glaring at the chief officer in command of the gun deck.

  “Why if it isn’t our very own First Officer,” Bogart said his eyes narrowing.

  “I don’t know who else I’d be, Bogart,” retorted Tremblay with a sneer.

  “And just who do you have here with you, Lieutenant Tremblay,” the Gun chief asked mildly.

  The crewman’s back stiffened as he tensed.

  Chief Bogart observed Tremblay’s eyes narrow and give a slight shake of his head, then the crewman took off down the hall.

  “Your friend isn’t going to wait around to say 'hi,' Mr. Tremblay,” he said sardonically.

  “It's First Officer to you, and don’t you worry about my ‘friend’,” Tremblay snorted, “Why don’t you tell me just what you’re doing down here in the middle of nowhere, Chief Bogart,” he demanded, stepping into the center of the corridor and blocking the view of the departing crewman, but not before Curtis Bogart spotted Armory patches sewn into the jacket of the rapidly departing figure.

  “Was on my way to a surprise inspection of the Port Side gun deck when I got turned around,” Bogart shrugged, his offhand slowly creeping down to his sid
e where the heavy duty spanner was strapped to his belt.

  Tremblay looked at him through slitted eyes. “Carry on then, Chief Gunner,” he said, turning on his heel and stalking away.

  Bogart cocked an eye as the First Officer departed almost as rapidly as his mysterious crewman.

  Something was most definitely up, and whatever it was stunk to high Nirvana with all wretched odor of plotting and scheming. And make no mistake, it was Parliamentary plotting and scheming, if his experienced nose wasn’t leading him astray.

  Whatever it was the First Officer was in, it was up to his eyeballs. But there wasn’t anything the Chief Gunner could do about it. Yet.

  In the meantime he was just going to have to quietly put the word out to a few of the other old Caprian hands to keep their eyes open. From what little he’d overheard, this was a First Officer who definitely bore close watching.

  Too bad he didn’t have anything definite to take to the Admiral. Otherwise he’d have wiped the floor with that scheming little pipsqueak and dragged him over to the brig for being the little plotting weasel he was.

  Growling under his breath, the Chief Gunner stomped back the way he’d come. Now all he had to do was find his way out of this accursed place and back to the proper areas of the ship for a gunner. These back corridors were only fit of enviro-techs and engineers. A gunner needed outer hull battle armor and a gun sight look through.

  Chapter 30: To Rest or Not To Rest. Not To Rest.

  “Well Admiral, you sure know how to keep us on our toes,” someone said and I started, trying to quickly sit up.

  “Careful there,” the man clucked his tongue as he pushed me back down. “No sitting up until we’re sure you’re stable.”

  I shook my head to clear the fog from it and allowed myself to return to a lying position. “Where am I,” I asked, my thoughts still fuzzy. Almost as soon as I asked, I started to take in my surroundings. The blue stripes on their arms and the cut of the uniforms worn by the few people I could see gave them away as medical staff.