Admiral's Gambit (A Spineward Sectors Novel:)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  Once again, I felt the urge to shoot my cousin, or better yet turn her over to Akantha’s tender mercies. Visions of what my wife would do to cousin Cottonmouth brought the first smile to my face since this conversation had begun.

  Seeing that smile, Cousin Bethany took one look and started sidling away. She knew about this little plot and let me walk right into it. I knew she was out to get me but this was beyond the pale. She’d drawn blood, both figuratively and literally, and there would be a reckoning. My eyes silently promised her this.

  Turning back to LeGodat, I tried to force a more genuine smile, “Well isn’t that simply amazing, Commodore LeGodat. Normally requests to the home world take forever and a day. The speed and size of these ‘reinforcements’ is quite astounding, especially in light of the Imperial Withdrawal and the, what did you call it,” I arched an eyebrow, “the chaos on the border,” I finished, trying to cover my desperate mental scrambling by indulging in a little wordiness.

  “Rest assured, Admiral. Now that you have returned, any ‘confusion’ that may have existed is gone and the men and women of the 209th Light Squadron and the Wolf-9 Star Base stand firmly united behind the chain of command,” he stated briskly, somehow managing to roll that load off his tongue as if he said such things every day. But this was a veritable declaration of Alliance in the face of the Sector Guard and its designs on total domination. This Yagar must be every bit the charmer he seemed from my own brief conversation with him.

  “Few as we are,” LeGodat said with a smile on his lips but a dire warning hidden behind his eyes, “whatever we can do to help with the refit and resupply of your Battleship, just let us know,” he finished and for once in this entire conversation that smile, which had almost seemed engraved on his face, eased ever so slightly.

  “Your men have done wonders holding on to this base in the face of every adversity. Make sure they know that Admiral Jason Montagne appreciates their efforts on behalf of Sector 25 and,” I placed extra emphasis on this last part, “the Confederacy as a whole’,” I finished firmly.

  “I’ll relay that to them, Admiral Montagne,” LeGodat said with a short nod. He made as if to continue, but we were interrupted when there was a stir in Tactical and one of my sensor operators stood up.

  “I’ve got a squadron of six Corvettes on close approach, Admiral,” he said, speaking loud enough to carry.

  Almost at the same time, the Ex-Comm technician chimed in, “Sorry Sir, but we’re being hailed by a Commodore Druid. He wishes to inform us that he and his ships should be considered an honor guard, as an expression of gratitude for all our hard work along the Border.”

  I turned back to LeGodat but he cut me off before I could say anything.

  “It seems as if you have your plate full at the moment, Sir. If there’s anything my command can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask,” he said, his eyes conveying an enigmatic promise before he cut the signal and his image disappeared from the main screen.

  I took a deep breath before turning to deal with this new and looming crisis. It was only another in a series, of a series, of a series of highly educational crises, but its urgency was somewhat heightened at the moment.

  As I watched the view screen, six Corvettes (the relatively new CR-92’s, the better-armed of the Corvettes belonging to the 25th Sector Guard) took up position behind us, two lines of three, one line to either side of the Lucky Clover. I noted that at no point did they move within range of our turbolasers.

  This squadron was a guard for us alright, but an honorable one? That remained to be seen. I didn’t like them taking up a position behind us like this but after hearing about the real knife in the dark, the Caprian reinforcements, I no longer viewed it as a prelude to some kind of sneak attack.

  After all, why would Yagar and his Guard units spend themselves in a frontal assault their ships weren’t even really designed for when they could just stand back and watch this Flagship’s slow march to doom? Assuming Capria was in league with Yagar’s government, this rump assembly of his, then all he had to do was sit back and wait. He could watch and laugh as all my loyal crew happily marched off this ship and onto a transport home while their replacements slowly took over key positions all over the ship.

  For a long while I honestly considered consigning the lot of them to the Demon Murphy and jumping the Ship out of there. But even with our new and improved cycle time, it still took us a little over six hours to make a jump and I seriously doubted that a large enough portion of the crew would fail to take this opportunity to stage a mutiny.

  Unless I could think of something fast, some rabbit I could pull out of my hat, some miracle I could put in the works, then in less than a handful of hours it would be all over but the crying.

  I tried to figure some way out of this maneuver of theirs, but it looked like any way I turned they had me boxed in. My Promethean and Caprian Royalists just couldn’t run this ship all by themselves, and with Spalding, Gants and everyone else I knew and trusted gone, I not only didn’t know the general mood of the crew, but I couldn’t trust they wouldn’t turn on me like an angry slash lizard if I tried to deny them a trip home after all the hazard and peril I’d put them through.

  Resolutely, I pulled up a list of system forces and transferred those three armed conversions from LeGodat’s Easy Haven forces back where they belonged, as stealth Caprian SDF units. At least, that’s how it read on my own private screen.

  Then I sat back and pondered the situation. LeGodat had two Corvettes, a dungeon ship, and a number of semi-automated defensive works scattered around the star base. The additional three Destroyers and Heavy Cruiser would have been nice if they were fully functional and there were crew for them, but as things stood….now there was a thought.

  I knew there must be a way out of this bear trap they’d sprung on me, I just had to find it.

  Chapter 50: Facing The Inevitable

  The ship continued to slide ever closer to Wolf-9 and nothing was coming to me. There was no flash of brilliance. No miraculous ‘Montagne magic’ that shone a light on an easy path to outright victory.

  Although maybe that was it, I thought sitting bolt upright in my chair back in the Admiral’s ready room. I could engage in a knockdown, dragout brawl, but these Corvettes weren't likely to indulge me. Instead, they were more likely to try to pick me to pieces at extreme range.

  I was getting close enough that I could sit behind LeGodat’s defenses and hold out for a time, assuming my crew didn’t mutiny of course, but eventually I’d have to leave to protect Tracto. If I hid behind those defenses, then Tracto would eventually be eaten by the Bugs and my Lancers would riot, probably destroying the ship, to say nothing of the reaction of my wife to this plan. On the other hand, as soon as I left, Rear Admiral Yagar could come in and slowly take apart LeGodat’s defenses until once again there was nothing left, at which point he could move in and claim whatever remained for himself and his Sector Guard.

  Either way I went led to a defeat in detail. On the other hand, what if I accepted enough of these ‘reinforcements’ onto the ship to bring our compliment up to full strength? If I appealed directly to the crew so that enough of them stayed alongside my Promethean and older Caprian Royalists, and then refused any marines, only allowing my loyal Lancers onboard the ship….

  It lacked something. Even after defanging these new arrivals of whatever Marine continent my cousin James had oh-so-thoughtfully provided, once they were onboard how was I going to stall whatever new plan they cooked up to take me down?

  I was at a loss. Then I snapped my fingers as the idea I had been searching for dawned on me. Primarch Glue and his farfetched plan to take out the large Pirate base he claimed to know the location to! If we were either in combat against pirates or, better yet, snuck in and boarded their station... Yes, it was even possible I could get these reinforcements out from under the skin of the Clover on a perfectly reasonable pretext. Prize crews for the station, if nothing else.

  I’d ju
st have to position Lancers at key locations all over the ship and keep them there 24/7 until we arrived on target. After that, it was a toss of the dice and another Victory or Death situation but in the meantime…yes, this might actually work!

  It was certainly a better plan than going down in flames trying to take out Admiral Yagar and as many of his warships as possible. It also beat sparking a mutiny among my own crew, which had stuck with me through thick and thin and gone along with me so far. That’s not to say this new idea didn’t have its holes or that I wasn’t going to be looking for better options along the way. But at least it was a plan. It didn’t matter if everyone cursed and hollered and then tore out their hair, it was better than floundering around in the dark until it all fell apart. At least it gave us a fighting chance.

  Plus, if I actually took out this pirate base and stopped the attacks along the border, how could the Provisional Assembly see its way clear to executing such a ‘hero’ for treason, mutiny and whatever trumped-up charges Rear Admiral Yagar managed to get them to sign off on!

  Even I was starting to think I sounded like a bit of a broken record; stop the pirates, stop the pirates, stop the pirates, but honestly if I could just do that!

  Perhaps the name of the game was 'just play along for now and bide my time until one of my longshot Gambits eventually paid off.'

  Chapter 51: Stabbed In The Back, Again

  I marched onto the bridge to see a furious Akantha standing with her sword drawn, and a pair of Lancer guards acting as human shields between her and my sweet Cousin.

  “What’s going on here,” I growled, making my way to the Throne. “Akantha, put away Bandersnatch, that sword wasn’t made for just waving around like that.” To emphasize my point, I made a sharp slashing gesture with my arm.

  After a moment of hesitation, Akantha sheathed her sword and stalked over to the Throne.

  “The Representative, with the assistance of your First Officer,” she said pausing to throw a burning look at Raphael Tremblay, “have just announced that reinforcements have arrived in Easy Haven for your fleet, and that there are now enough crew that those crewmen who have been with you can go home to Capria,” she hissed at me before turning and striding off the Flag Bridge.

  I stared at her shapely figure as she stalked off the bridge in an appreciative silence before snapping out of it. “Is this true,” I barked, turning to face Officer Tremblay and the Princess-Cadet, Ms. Vekna.

  Tremblay arched an eye brow, “Is what true, your Admiralship,” he asked in a smooth voice. Butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, from the expression on his face. For her part, Bethany just smirked.

  “Just helping out where I can, Cousin,” she gloated.

  “You know very well what I’m talking about, Mr. Tremblay,” I said harshly. All around I could see shoulders on the bridge tighten as if sensing a gathering storm.

  I had to bring myself up short to ensure I didn’t say anything to ruin morale. Blast Tremblay and Bethany both.

  “If your Admiralship is referring to the wonderful news that Capria has sent additional personnel, enough that this ship can continue on fully crewed without requiring our crew to forgo their right to a well-deserved shore leave, it is very much true,” Tremblay said, and I was certain the crew could hear the gloating all the way across the Flagship.

  I forced myself to do nothing more active than frown for fear of estranging the Bridge Crew. Looking around the room, I could all but feel their confidence in my leadership wavering on a knife’s edge.

  At my failure to interject anything further, Tremblay raised the corner of one mouth and struck a pose before continuing. “As we have discussed many times, and the Admiral has assured me he feels as I do, the crew should be given some downtime as soon as humanly possible. I have merely taken it upon my own authority to share the happy news with the crew. Though a series of unfortunate events has caused us to spurn every single opportunity presented thus far for going home, casting our chance for some downtime and a return to Capria to the wayside in favor of the emergency of the day, these reinforcements in both ships and men that have appeared seem an ideal turn of events,” he declaimed, and while he didn’t come off as smoothly as myself, with the wordiness of his speech and poise of his carriage I was momentarily taken aback.

  These were not the words normally used by my First Officer, they sounded almost rehearsed. Almost as if he’d been coached, I thought. I narrowed my eyes and turned my gaze on my Cousin.

  “A most fortuitous turn of events, if indeed we can assume all is as it appears to be,” I temporized, stalling for time while I scrambled for the exact right way to frame things to both verbally slap Tremblay and Bethany in the back of the head while simultaneously maintaining my grasp on the wavering loyalty of the crew. A crew that very badly wanted to go home. I had to thread this needle perfectly.

  “However, considering the recent…turmoil back home, as Officers and Gentlemen,” I said, feeling inspired and using that last word loosely, as far as it concerned Tremblay, “it is not only our responsibility, but also our solemn duty to ensure that all is as it appears before raising high the hopes of the crew. I would have thought a military man such as yourself would understand this,” I finished sharply.

  When Tremblay looked momentarily taken aback, Bethany glanced at him before going on the attack. “Cousin,” she started, but I cut her off before she could go any further.

  “That’s Admiral Montagne, esteemed Representative,” I corrected pointedly.

  “Quite,” she said smoothly, before continuing as if I hadn’t interrupted, “As I was saying, I can assure the ‘Admiral’, just as I have his First Officer, that everything here is exactly as it appears to be,” she said with the sort of smile that made her look like a cat that ate the cream.

  The double meanings in that little statement were such that I could feel my ears turning red, but I think I managed to suppress the sensation through dint of my Royal training. The very same training my adversary here possessed, I forcibly reminded myself.

  “As you yourself complained so vociferously not long ago in the Tracto System, you’ve been out of contact with the home office for much longer than anyone expected. I’m sure you ‘feel’ able to assure us but the sad fact is that, in your own words, you’ve been cooling your heels and out of the loop, to my mind long enough that things could have changed,” I said, trying to keep the bite I wanted to put in those words out, and project a cool and studied demeanor instead.

  By now Tremblay was back on his feet and into the fray. “I acted on the best information I had at the time. However, if the Admiral disagrees with my decision, I swear to take it into consideration during any such future…occurrences, should they take place,” he said formally.

  Yeah, so he could find the right way to slip another blade between my ribs while maintaining he only did so because of my direction.

  I gave him a grin that promised revenge and shrugged. “Perhaps my time on the border fighting Bugs, pirates and angry natives has made me overly cautious,” I said as if laughing the matter off, “time will tell, and all that.” I shrugged as if this were the end of the matter, while everyone in the command circuit on this ship knew that was anything but the case. Still, it was important to keep up appearances for the bridge staff, and by extension the crew at large.

  “Anyone with eyes can see you’re all worn down from an extended period without relief. That’s part of why King James and the Privy Council dispatched me all the way out here, to address a situation that has gone uncorrected for far too long,” Cousin Bethany bared her teeth, as she went for and had the last word on the subject.

  I wouldn’t have conceded the field to her, but at that moment there was a stir in the sensor section. “Two of the three armed merchant freighters from Capria have just engaged their drives,” barked a sensor operator. A slight pause while the whole section scurried to update the tactical picture on the main screen. “It looks like they’ve set a course for….us, si
r. They're moving in this direction, Admiral.”

  I opened my mouth only to be cut off once again, this time by the Communications section. “Incoming transmission, Admiral. I have a Colonel Wainwright of the Royal Caprian Marines on the line, Sir,” the Ex-Com Technician said crisply.

  I closed my eyes for half a second while I reordered my thoughts. Raising a hand I rolled my wrist, indicating the Comm. Tech should patch the call through.

  “Put it through to the screen on my chair,” I said. I straightened my shoulders and refrained from rolling my head to ease the tension, only because of the hawk-like eyes of my cousin and my First Officer. I couldn’t afford even the momentary appearance of weakness. Not right now.

  A moment later, I was presented with the image of an older man with gunmetal colored hair, brown skin, and the sort of pockmarks on your face one only earns from shrapnel in a firefight. I knew this, because I’d seen similar such wounds on my Lancers after we stormed the Imperial Medium Cruiser.

  “Your Highness,” the man, presumably this Wainwright, said.

  “You can call me Admiral, Colonel Wainwright I presume?” I said aiming for my most regal. There was an art to facing down men many times your age and experience over a communications system: you had to project an aura of untouchable authority both on the inside and out.

  “I’ve come to take your oath of fealty to the King as well as escort your reinforcements, your Highness,” said the man I presumed was the Colonel, stubbornly insisting on using my almost meaningless honorific for my ceremonial title as prince-cadet.

  “Admiral or Sir, if you please, Colonel Wainwright,” I laughed as my mind scrambled, “I fear we are more of a military bent out here in the Confederation Fleet than perhaps you’re used to back on Capria.”