Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “Sir, we’ve tentatively identified two main groupings,” said the Tactical Officer.

  My eyes shot around to find the main screen, my cousin and her games momentarily forgotten.

  “Yes, Mr. Laurent,” I replied, gathering my composure as my eyes frantically sought to make sense of the contacts on the main screen. “Please hit the highlights,” I instructed with a bit of irritation that he hadn’t just launched into a presentation. I wasn’t sure if I liked this new procedure of having all new contacts routed through Tactical. We’d done well enough before with the various sensor stations calling out contacts as they discovered them…hadn’t we?

  “The first are broken up into two squadrons of six and five ships respectively. They are squawking the 1st and 2nd Squadron Formations of the 25th Sector Guard, at least according to their transponder codes,” he reported in a respectful voice.

  “The 25th Sector Guard,” I wrinkled my brow, “We’re in Sector 25 right now, but I’ve never heard of any Sector Guard before,” I mused, allowing the puzzlement I felt to creep into my voice.

  “Anything you’d like to add, First Officer,” I asked, turning to look over at Tremblay, “I mean from your perspective as the ship’s former Intelligence Officer, of course.”

  Tremblay looked irritated, which would have been just about perfect, except I was sensing his irritation could mean a dearth of much-needed information for this ship and her leader.

  “I was a junior Intelligence Officer, hardly the ship's only, or even its main or chief Intelligence Officer,” Tremblay corrected me.

  I waved a hand irritably, motioning for him to get to the point. “Just out with it, man,” I frowned.

  “As I recall…,” he said, his fingers tapping away at a console for a moment, “ah yes, in the early days of the Confederacy several of the wealthier Sectors near what was at that time the Rim of human space had their own standing ‘Home Guard’ formations. These guard units were at first on loan whenever they were called up or needed by the Confederation-at-large, and eventually simply absorbed into the Confederation Fleet proper as things got more organized in the post-AI war period."

  I lifted one side of my mouth in what I hoped was a smile. It appeared I wasn’t the only one who could play fast and loose with archaic Confederation military traditions.

  I rested my elbows on the arms of the Throne and steepled my fingers in front of my face. I sensed the fingerprints of a brand new opponent to my continued existence as a Confederation Admiral and still-breathing scion of the Caprian Royal Family. Perhaps what I was seeing here was the handiwork of whatever Admiral had come to Tracto and stolen my Constructor.

  “A breakdown on their ships, if you please,” I asked mildly, determined not to leap to any ill-founded conclusions before actually encountering whatever passed for leadership among these new squadrons of warships.

  “The formation of five consists of four Corvettes of various makes and models with a Light Destroyer at the head of its formation,” said the Tactical Officer.

  “It’s the Flagship for that group, no doubt,” I said, drawing on my vast depth of holo-vid knowledge to reach this complicated conclusion.

  “It could very well be, Sir,” the Tactical Officer Laurent said with a nod that vindicated my leap of holo-knowledge, at least in my eyes. I couldn’t say anything about the rest of them.

  “The second group, the 1st Squadron Formation,” the tactical officer said with a straight face, “consists entirely of Corvettes, CR 92’s.”

  “92’s?” I said quizzically. I didn’t ever remember hearing about the CR 92 class before.

  “A new, well, relatively new model,” cut in First Officer Tremblay, clearly wanting to get in on the action and not pleased the Tactical Officer was hogging the spotlight. “It was the last of the old Confederation concept models to roll off the design boards. The Empire utilized the design with a number of variations over the years before finally moving to retire it from service in favor of a newer, tougher model, the Assassin Class Corvette we on the Rim have heard so much about, yet being away from the Gorgon front, seen so little of.”

  The Tactical officer shrugged at this interruption and nodded his agreement. “The First Officer’s got it right,” he said signaling his agreement.

  I shook my head. We were getting off the main point. It was nice to know there was an entire squadron of 6 Corvettes that made anything we’d run up against so far look like the older models they actually were, but these were still just a bunch of Corvettes and one light Destroyer, weren’t they? What could a nearly dozen of these small units do to a big Battleship like mine?

  Hopefully, I’d never have the chance to find out. I glanced over at cousin Bethany who was back to looking entirely too smug for my comfort and peace of mind.

  If that little serpent wasn’t nestled right here in the heart of my Flag Bridge, I might feel comfortable enough to ask what Tremblay and our Tactical Officer thought of our chances at taking these two squadrons of lighter warships in a fight. As it was, I needed to be careful what I said, lest something untoward get back to the ears of whoever Bethany was reporting to. Such inconvenient information most surely would find its way to wherever it could make the most trouble now that we were back in contact with civilization. Well, what passed for it out here at Easy Haven, the only Confederation Star Base to escape the Empire’s scuttling charges.

  “The remainder seem to either be independent, or are associating themselves with the Wolf-9 Star Base,” said the Tactical Officer.

  I blinked and looked at him blankly for a moment before the nature of what he was saying started to process.

  “The remaining…warships,” I asked my eyes narrowing in thought. “How many do you read," I demanded. As Tactical Officer, he should have known to simply include such information in his report. Was this some kind of subtle turf war action, in response to Tremblay stepping on his cape with the CR 92’s, or was it something else entirely and I missed a signal? Perhaps I was just paranoid, it's not like I was an expert in military reporting.

  “Three purpose-built hulls, ranging from a pair of Corvettes to another old style Hammerhead Medium Cruiser,” at this my ears perked up but the Tactical Officer shook his head. “Not the old Fire of Prometheus, nor according to its transponder, any other member of the Promethean System Defense Force. According to its transponder, it’s from the Aldenburg SDF,” he said.

  “All right,” I said nodding in understanding. I had absolutely no clue what this all meant at the moment.

  Seeing Bethany looking on with keen interest as my officers reported their findings, I forcibly stopped myself from gritting my teeth. If only I could have left her off the Flag Bridge for this transition. Unfortunately, this was the one transition where I didn’t feel I could keep her confined to her cabin or in any other way denied access.

  “The others are all squawking Confederation transponder codes. In addition to the old dungeon ship, that pirate Heavy Cruiser we handed them and the two Corvettes that were here as part of the original Light Squadron stationed, I’m seeing three converted merchant freighters. Thinly armored, but bristling with recently installed weaponry. I’m also seeing three old-style Confederation Destroyers being worked up at the old Star Base’s shipyard complex, a surprising amount of which is active compared to our last visit here. They’ve really been busy,” he said raising his eyebrows.

  “How much of the system industry is back online,” I asked quickly, eager to discover this key point of information.

  I’d specifically ordered the three civilian constructors to work on fixing up the old mothballed Easy Haven infrastructure as long as they remained in this system. Possible kudo points with Confederation High Command and the rump Assembly were in short supply, and anything I could hang my hat on and get extra credit for would be a blessing.

  Unfortunately, before I could get an answer, the external communications technician chimed in.

  “Admiral, we’re being hailed by one o
f the two squadrons of light ships. I have an Admiral Yagar of the 1st Squadron, 25th Sector Guard Detachment on the horn,” he exclaimed, sounding far too chipper for my taste.

  “Admiral Yagar,” I drawled to calm my sudden surge of anxiety, putting a very liberal dose of unhurried senior officer into my voice.

  The Ex-Com Technician must have taken my tone as a personal criticism because he hurried to add. “Yes, Sir, he’s listed as a Rear Admiral, Admiral, sir.”

  I stopped from rolling my eyes as the Ex-Com proceeded to verbally stumble all over himself. Then I smiled. “Rear Admiral, is it?” I asked, unable to keep a hint of satisfaction at this small nugget of information from creeping into my voice. After all, technically speaking, a Vice Admiral outranked a mere Rear Admiral. I was actually quite clear on this part, having made it a priority to look up the various types of Admirals on the table of organization.

  “Put him through, Ex-Com,” I instructed in a firm, no nonsense voice. It was important to begin as you intended to proceed.

  After a minute, the image of a balding man with white hair and a strange uniform I’d never seen before appeared on the main screen.

  “Admiral Yagar, I presume,” I greeted, working at projecting a sense of comradery and bonhomie in my voice.

  “Just what have you been playing at, Montagne!” barked the infamous Admiral Yagar. Big, bushy eyebrows beetled on his forehead in a way that told me this man likely had to pluck to keep from having one of the dreaded unibrows. In addition to his eyebrows and strange uniform, this Admiral Yagar was white-skinned, slightly on the portly side and came equipped with an imposing nose that reminded me of nothing so much as a hawk’s beak.

  “Playing,” I asked in mock surprise, drawing back in my chair, my own eyebrows climbing for the ceiling.

  “They give you the keys to a murthering old Battleship, and suddenly you think you can just run around doing whatever the Hades you want, is that it?” he demanded.

  “I’m not sure I care for your tone, ‘Rear’ Admiral,” I said placing heavy emphasis on the first part of his rank. Between his words and his nose, of which the more I looked at it the more insanely jealous I became, I was really beginning to hate this man

  “Let me tell you a thing or two, Mr. Honorary Vice Admiral,” he snapped, “The border of this Sector’s on fire, and here you are running around in granddaddies uniform playing dress up!”

  “I think you need-,” I started to say coldly, only to be cut off yet again.

  “You, Sir, are nothing but a rank imposter! An im-pos-tor-e!” he declared repeating himself for effect. “A pimple-faced little pipsqueak who knows next to nothing about space force operations, and who’s entirely too big for his britches,” sneered Admiral Yagar, leaning forward into the screen. “I don’t know how they do things in that posh little palace of yours, but out here in the real world-” It was his turn to be cut off, as I suddenly found myself out of my chair with a finger leveled at this Sector Admiral.

  “Silence yourself, Mr. Yagar, and do so with all haste. Not one more insubordinate word, do you hear! Lest I suddenly decide to shut down this little Sector Guard experiment you have going on here and put you out of business permanently, like we did with the last set of yahoo’s," I said, jerking a thumb over my shoulder, "who thought they could roll in here and order around a Confederation Admiral in a Confederation held Star System!” I could feel myself going red in the face, and the vein in my forehead popped up and started throbbing. For a split second, I was surprised that I actually had a vein throbbing on my forehead. That never used to happen before I was burned and then fixed against my will.

  “Read. My. Fax,” said Admiral Yagar violently pressing a button on the arm of his command chair. A chair, I noted, that was not nearly as large or imposing as my own Caprian built Admiral’s Throne.

  My mouth twitched superiorly at this pleasant little thought.

  “And you can get that smug little smile off your face right now, Honorary Admiral,” said Admiral Yagar, looking rather smug himself. The man actually had the audacity to throw a smug look in my face!

  The console on my Throne chimed and a body of text appeared on the little screen built into the arm of the chair. I glanced at it with irritation and scornfully shot air out the side of my mouth in a dismissive little gesture before locking gazes with this Yagar individual.

  “For an ‘Admiral’,” I said stressing my rank, “who, according to you, knows next to nothing about ‘space force operations,’ I still managed to hand a top-of-the-line Imperial Cruiser its head! And capture a pair of mutinous Medium Cruisers at the same time. Can you claim anything even remotely similar, Mr. Rear Admiral Yagar of the 'Sector Guard',” I sneered, putting all the Royal chutzpa that had been so laboriously trained into me behind the expression.

  “By order of the 25th Sector’s provisional Confederation Assembly, you, Honorary Vice Admiral Montagne, are hereby ordered to place Lucky Clover, your entire order of battle, and any other assets you have floating around out there at the convenience of Inspectors from my 25th Sector Guard!” Yagar declared triumphantly.

  I opened my mouth for an angry retort but Bethany, sweet Cousin Bethany, our Confederation Representative chose that very moment to inject herself into the conversation.

  “I can confirm that the orders just sent to you by Rear Admiral Yagar are true and accurate, and that they honestly reflect the will of the Provisional Assembly,” she said, her voice sweet as poison, as she tried to break my focus and slip a metaphorical knife between my ribs.

  I ignored her and stayed focused on Rear Admiral Yagar. If I’d learned anything in my time out here, it was how to spot trouble. He was the real threat out here. Bethany was just another annoying distraction, any physical threat she might have posed from her relatively close proximity to my person was negated by the guards I had stationed around her.

  No, this Yagar was the problem here, him and his two squadrons of light warships. But I was hoping it didn’t come to that. I mean, I really couldn’t afford to pick a fight with the rump assembly too. Not after the way I’d shown my middle finger to the Imperials and burned a lot of bridges with Capria.

  My mind raced as Yagar and I continued to lock gazes. It was the slightly contemptuous look he was giving me that sent my mouth shooting off, where a wiser man would have feared to tread.

  “Oh?” I said a hint of mockery in my tone, “I’m surprised the representatives from Sector 24 are so eager to return the Medium Cruiser I dispatched to investigate their section of the border,” I said, turning the palms of my hands up. In truth I hadn’t sent a Medium Cruiser to check the border of Sector 24. I hadn’t sent anything, in fact I’d specifically given orders to the captain of the Pride of Prometheus to stop going in that direction if things got too hot. But no one here knew that. Even on the bridge, no one could gainsay me. After all, I could have given the Captain of the Pride secret orders before they left.

  In short, I lied. But it was really good lie, because no one could call me on it.

  At this new piece of information, Yagar blinked. That’s when I knew I was going to survive this thing. This inquisition, or whatever they wanted to call it. I really could use an update on LeGodat and his situation out here vis-à-vis the Sector Guard, I thought furiously. Was he still the Commander of Wolf-9 and Easy Haven, or had Admiral Yagar taken over? Was LeGodat locked up in the pokey, perhaps riding things out in his own dungeon ship along with the Imperials, or was he still in command of this system and manning a Corvette of his own?

  I suddenly started to sweat. If LeGodat’s ships were really just puppets of this Admiral Yagar, and LeGodat was out or had rolled over for this new Guard Unit, the Clover could be swarmed by a combination of Yagar’s lighter units and Easy Haven’s aged larger combatants and repaired system defenses.

  Was I being played? Perhaps my initial confidence was the sort of false reading I’d accused Bethany of not but mere minutes ago.

  “I can’t speak as
to the private deliberations of the Provisional Assembly. Nor to the makeup of its current membership,” Yagar said, a hint of stiffness in his voice.

  Eyes that had drifted off into space as I second-guessed myself snapped back to his face. I searched his features for the slightest hint, the barest indication as to what was going on behind his eyes. My attempt to learn his thoughts failed to suddenly turn me into a mind reader, but I did get something from his reply.

  Then I had it. The 25th Sector Provisional Confederation Assembly, the 25th Sector Guard Detachments. Everything so far was all 25th Sector, all the time. So either the rump assembly as it was currently constructed consisted entirely of representatives from the 25th Sector, or mostly from there with a few representatives from the worlds along the borders sprinkled in for flavor. There were plenty of sovereign sectors running along either side of us.

  My eyes suddenly narrowed.

  “While any and all forces currently under my command are more than willing to cooperate with and take advisement from the Sector 25 Provisional Assembly,” I held up a finger as Yagar opened his mouth to protest, “and we are of course with the newly-formed Sector Guard in the defense and patrolling of this Sector. Including,” I hastened to add before Yagar blew a blood vessel, his face was getting so red, “welcoming any and all reasonable inspection forces designated by the Provisional Assembly.”

  “Glad to hear it,” growled Yagar losing some of his redness and starting to sound mollified. “You’re finally starting to see sense, it was time you pulled that young untrained head out of your-”

  I gritted my teeth and cut him off before he said something I was forced to make him regret. “That said,” I stated forcefully, “until such a time as the current Rump Assembly represents more than just Sector 25, I have to consider any and all Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet forces beyond the borders of this Sector as outside its current jurisdiction.”