Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Kastor Kephus had taken up a protective position on the dais, between Sapphira, Akantha and the rest of the court. He was just one man, but a big one.

  The sight of him standing there sent a shot of embarrassment through me and I shot a quick angry look at my protective detail. I was once again being attacked left and right in this crazy Citadel, and Akantha was running around unprotected. I was used to being the recipient of protective measures, not directing them.

  “Make sure Akantha has someone assigned to stay with her, from now on they don’t leave her side,” I muttered to the Caprian Sergeant. I was going to say more on the subject but was interrupted.

  “Is there a reason you’ve decided to pursue an ancient form of challenge in the middle of my Hall, at this particular moment,” Hold-Mistress Sapphira inquired, a hint of steel in her voice. I didn’t like the way she seemed to be blaming me for starting the fight, but whatever. I’d known going down here was a mistake but had come anyway. I had no one to blame but myself.

  “Kapaneus seemed to think the only way I could beat him was if I hid behind my magic armor like a coward,” I said, holding up the pistol and waggling it in my hand. “He forgot about my enchanted weapons.”

  Sapphira stiffened and looked at me like I was an insect, while Akantha narrowed her eyes and gave me a look that promised we’d talk later.

  “Perhaps some clothing is the order of the day,” Sapphira said, her mouth tightening.

  I gave a start and refused to look down. Ignoring the heat starting to creep up my neck, I was reminded that I stood naked in front of not only the entire court, but Akantha’s mother as well. I must look quite the midget compared to this genetically-engineered planet full of Nordic heroes.

  I gave my best attempt at a courtly bow and gestured my willingness to be led to a changing room. I wasn’t ready to jump from foot to foot putting on my clothes in front of everyone.

  Sapphira motioned for a pair of guards standing near the wall to escort me out of the room, and behind me the Honor Guard from the Lucky Clover picked up my armor suit and clothes.

  I strode out of the room with my head high and my nose in the air. The sight of one of the servants staring bug-eyed at me as I was lead to a side room almost undid me. The blush and hand quickly covering her mouth, no doubt hiding an emotion I didn’t want to examine too closely, more than I could bear.

  With a quickening pace I ducked off into the room indicated by the Argos Guard and stuck a hand out, snatching the clothing from the gauntleted hand of one of my Lancers.

  I was still busy putting my battle suit back on when one very angry Sword-Bearer came storming into the room.

  Chapter 44: Red Sky In The Morning...

  Half in and half out of my power armor I stopped, straightening up to meet Akantha.

  She didn’t appear pleased.

  “My Lady, what calls you from the Great Hall,” I asked, trying to play it cool.

  “You had to do it, didn’t you,” she glared.

  “Do what?” I arched a brow and inquired mildly.

  “You had best wipe that look from your face, Jason Montagne, before I remove it for you,” she snarled. I drew back and glared, feeling the thunderclouds gathering on my face. I did nothing to disguise them. “You deliberately ruined my visit home,” she accused.

  “Kapaneus-” I grated, only to be cut off.

  “To the pits with Kapaneus!” she exclaimed, her right hand jerking into the air as she leveled a finger at me. “I leave you alone for a few moments and the next thing I know there you are, on display for all the world to see, in the middle of the circle with some thick-skulled idiot like Kapaneus!”

  I waited with my arms folded, tapping a finger against my arm. I wanted to make sure she was done. She glared at me but didn’t say anything further, which was indication enough that it was now my turn to say something, if only to give her a chance to interrupt.

  “You abandon me in the midst of a hostile court filled with your former suitors, men just itching for an excuse to take my head off, and then you want to complain that by defending my life I cut short your mommy time?” I asked darkly.

  The slight pause before she returned to my verbal evisceration indicated something, I just wasn’t sure exactly what.

  “You didn’t want to come here in the first place, so as soon as you see an opportunity, you go out of your way to ruin things,” she flared.

  “Sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you,” I said stiffly, drawing myself up.

  “You’ve done more than inconvenience me,” she said, her naturally pale face flushing. “If you had to fight, why couldn’t you just meet him in the circle, honorably,” she said, her anger suddenly replaced with pleading.

  My forehead wrinkled at this emotional shift. “I did meet him in the circle and, when I asked, nothing seemed to forbid advanced weaponry like a pistol,” I said, not wanting to touch on the fact that I didn’t think I could take the other man in a straight up fight.

  “You cheated,” she said flatly, “worse, you gloated about it afterwards.”

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say…,” I trailed off as I recalled what I’d said. Well, maybe I had gloated about my victory a little, but only right at the end.

  “You broke the rules like a word-smith, turning a plow into a sword,” she said despairingly. It was almost enough to make me regret not stepping into the ring with a man carrying a foot of height and a hundred pounds on me with nothing but a sword. Almost.

  “All you had to do was ignore him, or ask his deeds and then say if he wanted to challenge you he needed to come back once he was worthy,” she said, taking a deep breath as if to steady her nerves.

  I had to work to keep from giving her a hard look at this latest information, “I wish someone had thought to share this bit of protocol with me before I was challenged to a duel,” I said quietly, struggling to keep the flare of anger I was feeling bottled up on the inside where no one could see it.

  “If you had to fight, why didn’t you just kill him,” now she sounded almost pleading with me. As if there was anything I could do now that the challenge was over and done with.

  I closed my eyes. “I just grabbed the first thing on the Lancer Sergeant’s belt. I was hoping for a blaster pistol, actually,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t like the idea of letting my enemies regroup and recover so they could have another chance at yours truly, but after Kapaneus went down it had just seemed wrong to keep shooting him over and over until he was dead. Not to mention I hadn’t been sure if such an un-sporting action would incite the crowd to violence.

  I felt a gentle hand on my cheek and I opened my eyes. Akantha stood there looking at me warmly. In that moment I realized that I’ll never understand women, especially this bloodthirsty, Tracto-an version.

  “I’m happy you were victorious,” she said, her eyes locking with mine. I gazed deeply into their blue depths, and for a moment I was lost. I felt a surge of attraction and wondered if she felt the same. She slid her hand off my cheek and while I was wondering if this moment was about to lead to something else, she reared her hand back and slapped me. To add insult to injury, it was on the very same cheek she’d just been gently holding.

  “Ouch,” I protested, covering my face with a hand and using the other to ward off any further blows.

  “Next time kill your enemies, don’t let them recover,” she said icily. Without further niceties, she turned on her heel and strode out of the room with an angry flick of her hair.

  I have to admit I was slightly distracted from her dramatic exit, by the shapely motion of her hips as she walked away.

  “We’re not done with this,” she called from just outside the room. I could also tell from her voice she was getting further and further away.

  I gave my head a shake. So much for satisfaction of the baser impulses, that dream was out the window. With a sigh I returned to putting back on my battle-suit.

  This was going to be a long visit.

 
Chapter 45: ...Sailor's Delight?

  I’d been quietly escorted to a series of interconnected rooms. I had the sinking feeling these were going to be our sleeping accommodations for the night. I would have kicked a chair or scuffed the floor with my boots, except that they were power armored boots and I didn’t want to be accused of causing gross physical damage to the furniture or the structural integrity of the citadel.

  So I sat there and waited. And waited. And…waited. If I didn’t know better, I would think that the unsophisticated natives of this world didn’t think I was safe to be let out to mingle with the local society.

  “We can retrieve some refreshments if you would like,” offered one of the native members of my guard contingent.

  “I do believe I’ll wait, thank you though, Phstophes,” I said with a thankful smile. Personally, I’d rather go hungry than risk eating something prepared in Argos. Not because I thought the natives couldn’t cook, but because after the smashing success that was my first visit followed by the wonderful second impression I’d just made downstairs with Kapaneus, I didn’t trust someone not to try poison as the next in what I imagined to be a long line of attempts on my life. After all, history is filled with accounts of high-tech visitors being done in by underhanded native techniques, rather than face the magic weapons and armor we often came decked out in.

  “Whatever you decide, we’ll be here, Admiral,” said Phstophes stepping back.

  I found a sturdy surface near the fireplace that looked strong enough and carefully lowered my power-armored rear. When nothing cracked or shattered under my weight, I leaned back with a sigh and closed my eyes to rest.

  Before joining the Lucky Clover and subsequently taking command of the ship, I’d never have been able to fall asleep inside a battle suit like this. I wonder what it said about me that it was no longer the discomfort it would have been before, and the thought of acting ‘normal’ and actually getting out of my armor was more than mildly disconcerting?

  I fell asleep to the sound of servos whining as the Honor Guard worked on improving their fine dexterity by playing cards with their gauntlets on.

  I woke to silence. The lack of noise was actually what caused me to rouse. As I sat there blinking my eyes, I saw that Akantha and her mother were both present in the room and the Lancer detachment were gone.

  I also realized I could understand what Akantha and her mother, the Lady Zosime, were saying. Without the use of mechanical translator. They were conversing in the ‘secret language of the Earth ancients.’

  “I imagine the difficulties of starting a brand new hold-colony, in the middle of a Stone Rhino infested island like Messene are quite severe,” said Polymnia, Akantha’s mother.

  “The speed with which the wizard engineers of the two new tribes on the island display is quite amazing, mother,” Akantha was saying with enthusiasm, “they do in days what it would take our people weeks, or perhaps even months to build.”

  Polymnia nodded, taking a sip from a wooden goblet.

  “That’s good then,” she said with a sigh, “just remember, if you need any help while you’re busy running around the stars with your new Protector, do not hesitate to call on us,” said the refined Hold-Mistress of Argos.

  “Mother,” Akantha said with irritation. “I’ve told you why it's necessary I’m away from my Holding so frequently.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard and believe you,” said Polymnia with a grimace in her voice. “First the Sky Demons came to plague us, and your Protector put a stop to them. Only they are not entirely gone and he cannot continue to slay them for us unless he is also able to fulfill prior obligations. If he fails, the world as a whole faces imminent destruction.”

  “Then you understand why I must continue to do as I have,” said Akantha sounding resolute.

  “In your place, I would do the same thing,” admitted Akantha’s mother. “I just wish that you were not the only one leaving her Hold unattended while she sees to the needs of all Men.”

  I watched through half-lidded eyes. The woman I saw in here resembled the Hold-Mistress of Argos I’d seen out in the Great Hall. The refined look was still there, but the vague and dreamy demeanor was very much reduced. I wondered if I should interject myself into the conversation or if I should continue sitting here by the fireplace. Eavesdropping won out over making myself a convenient verbal punching bag for my wife.

  Akantha shrugged. “Already word of the great wonders to be found on Messene have spread to our neighbors,” she said looking pleased.

  “What about the Lyconese,” Polymnia muttered balefully.

  “Making drama as usual,” Akantha said, no longer looking quite so pleased. “I wanted to go there personally, but my Protector convinced me to send a band of warriors from the Lucky Clover instead.”

  “After seeing your Jason fight in that Power Armor of his, I can only imagine what a full war band could do,” Polymnia paused to consider, “It's an astute bit statecraft, which is surprising, coming from a man,” said Polymnia with serious contemplation in her voice. “You’ll want to watch that one carefully,” she advised.

  “Never fear that,” Akantha said with a giggle, “I’m keeping an eye on him.” She paused, “I’m curious why you think it’s a good move politically, though.”

  “Simple,” said Polymnia with a slightly surprised look on her face, “As long as you do not go personally, the conflict between Messene and Lyconesia stays a matter of men. That doesn’t mean that tragedies won’t happen, however, once the women get personally involved this thing could escalate out of control. As long as the Hold-Mistress of Messene does not beard the Hold-Mistress of Lyconese in her lair over these raids, the Lyconese can pretend this is just the action of small bands of warriors overeager to prove themselves.”

  “I don’t see how that matters. If the Lyconese give us enough trouble, our men can crush them,” Akantha said fiercely. “We’ll storm their citadel, tear down the walls and geld any man who won’t swear fealty, then cast out those of the women who refuse to do the same. The survivors can wander, lost in the wilderness together for the next twenty years.”

  Polymnia Sapphira Zosime drew herself up, looking every inch the Hold-Mistress. “The Lyconese Mistress is not stupid, at least not entirely so. There has always been a sort of base cunning to her designs.”

  Akantha snorted, but when her mother shot a stern in her direction she reluctantly subsided.

  “Adonia, my daughter,” began her mother, and Akantha looked slightly more rebellious at the use of this, her first name, but Sapphira continued, “if you make this a matter between Mistresses, then Hepatia of Lyconesia will just wait until you are away from your Holding and back among the stars. Like a barb-snake hidden in the grass, only then will she attack. It won’t matter who wins, whose claim is superior, or whose warriors are stronger. Eventually you’ll come home, and when you do, you will retaliate by conquering or destroying her city with your magic weapons.”

  “As would be my right!” Akantha said with cold fury. That was my girl, always eager to destroy things. Although this bit about gelding the men and casting the women out to live with the bears and creatures of the wild lands was new and disturbing.

  “And you would succeed,” Sapphira said agreeably, an arch expression on her face. “Your Protector would be hailed as a lion on the battlefield, and you a veritable mammoth among womankind. Meanwhile, every single possible enemy on our world would be sharpening their knives, as they plotted your fall in every Polis across the land.”

  Akantha folded her arms and looked infuriated as she stared at something on the floor.

  For my part, I would have liked to say I was only mildly interested in what was going on, but that would have been a lie. I know it was just local politics and we could crush every Tracto-an city on this entire world if we wanted, but something about the clandestine plotting and scheming seemed to get the juices flowing.

  Unfortunately it did more than just sharpen my attention, it also c
aused me to unconsciously shift position. Scraping the bum of my battle-suit across the raised stone of the fireplace I was sitting on caused a very audible screech. Unfortunately, it was too loud to be passed off as something else.

  Making a show of yawning and waving my gauntleted hand in front of my face as if covering my mouth, incidentally hiding my face from searching looks for any betraying expressions indicating I’d been eavesdropping. I looked over at the pair of them as if for the first time realizing they were in the room, the faintest hint of surprise plastered on my face.

  Akantha’s mother glanced at me before looking at her daughter, “Close up he looks much better than he did the first time he came here. The scars add flavor to his face instead of making him look grotesque,” she said in a normal tone of voice, a faint smile on her voice. In other words, she looked like someone unaware that I could understand her.

  Akantha closed her eyes briefly.

  “Glad you like the new look, my Lady’s mother,” I replied in that language I had always thought to be a family secret.

  Polymnia’s eye lids shot up and she turned to me in surprise. “I didn’t know you spoke the language of Men,” she said, her expression gradually changing until it returned to it that strange ethereal look she showed her court and the rest of the outside world.

  “Learned it as a child,” I said, waving off the issue as if it was of little importance.

  “Well. Since we can communicate without the need of that strangely stiff-sounding mechanical translating devise, how about we get acquainted,” she said.

  “Of course,” I replied agreeably.

  Akantha’s mother then proceeded to ask me a series of questions about my parents, my family, and what it was like growing up. Any attempts I made to try changing the subject were deftly diverted back to me. Akantha mostly observed as her mother conducted this familial grilling, however I don’t think I go too far when I say she had the demeanor of a cat lapping up the last bit of milk.