Admiral's War Part Two (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 10)

by Luke Sky Wachter

  My console buzzed for my attention.

  I hit the silence button. If it was really important then they’d get back to me. Right now I was focused on rearranging our defensive deployment for what had to be the fifth or sixth time, and it needed my full focus if I was to make maximum use of the new ships.

  It buzzed again, so I knew it must be important.

  “Son of Murphy,” I cursed, closing the file I was working on and removing the image of the star system with icons representing all of our ships with a slash of my hand.

  “This is the Admiral,” I said brusquely, silently adding that this had better be good. I wasn’t in the mood right now. Realizing just how outnumbered we were, even if the Imperials ‘only’ had what we knew they’d still had at the end of the last battle, had soured my stomach for lunch and turned my mood foul.

  “Reinforcements, Sir,” said the Comm. Officer on duty, and it was not Lieutenant Steiner. “You asked to be notified anytime anything bigger than a Cruiser or squadron of ships came in system.”

  “We’re sure they’re ours?” I asked, thinking that I wouldn’t have been bothered by this if it had been Steiner on the other end.

  “Oh yeah,” said the Comm. Officer.

  I frowned at the lack of formality in that answer. “Are you sure the Captain can’t pass along my regards for me?” I wondered aloud.

  “You’re going to want to take this one, Admiral,” he replied, and I could all but hear the grin in his voice.

  “Okay, what have we got, Coms?” I asked, putting aside all thoughts of neurotically continuing to try and grind away at the problem until I found some kind of perfect disposition of current forces—which, since we were facing a much larger force, was impossible. This was probably better for me anyways.

  Probably.

  “We’ve got a mixed group, Sir. One squadron from the Border Alliance and Four squadrons from Sector 23. Well, 23 and 24. They claim to be from the Mutual Defense League, Admiral,” said the Comm. Officer.

  “Hot dog!” I said jerking in my chair. “And here I thought we’d been all but forgotten by our friends in the MDL. What kind of force breakdown do we have?” I asked, thinking that even though they’d remembered us we were probably looking at a mixed force of Corvettes and Destroyers in those squadrons. Maybe there were a few Cruisers if we were lucky but I wasn’t counting on it.

  I’d been disappointed too many times by those opportunists in 23 and 24, mainly by the fact that after they’d shown their true colors and I’d countered by out opportunist-ing them on the battlefield that they’d been such poor losers about the whole thing. I mean, I was fine with ‘one for all and all for one’ as a philosophy to live by, but when you threw that by the wayside I was just as fine with saying ‘all for me’ instead. But they’d still been mad that I’d snagged more enemy Battleships than they had. Honestly, if they had just put me in command in the first place…

  “Well, Sir, from the sensor scans it looks like they have three Battleships, four Heavy Cruisers, six Light Cruisers, twelve Heavy Destroyers and four bulk freighters. And that’s in addition to the two Corvettes, one Destroyer, one mine sweeper from the Border Alliance worlds that arrived late in Tracto and decided to link up with the MDL for the trip up here to Easy Haven,” reported the Comm. Officer.

  “Well, well, well,” I leaned back in my chair the breath whooshing out of me in surprise, “I may have misjudged our friends down the Spine and given them too little credit.”

  “Also there’s a Kong Pao requesting to speak with you once they’re deeper in-system and the transmission lag is reduced, Admiral.”

  “Signal me and then put him through as soon as he’s ready, Coms,” I ordered.

  “Will do, Sir.”

  Three Battleships and two squadrons of Cruisers? Now this was going to be interesting.

  It almost made up for the fact that our recent reinforcements coming out of Gambit hadn’t included Commander Spalding or the Furious Phoenix.

  ****************************************************

  “Admiral Montagne, it’s good to see you again,” Kong Pao said cupping his hands and bowing toward my screen.

  “Sector Judge,” I said with a smile, “although it’s good to see you again. I have to say that I’m surprised—very surprised. Although happily so, if I have to admit it.”

  “I am glad if anything I am able to do can help in the chaotic and uncertain situation,” he replied with a smile.

  “Three Battleships and two squadrons of Cruisers?” I quirked a brow. “If that’s the sort of help you can offer I have to say that that’s the sort of help we could use more of. I just wish everyone was as willing to put their skin in the game as you and your people.”

  “The Mutual Defense League, including my own world Harmony, has sent this expeditionary force. I am, if anything, a mere facilitator,” Kong Pao said modestly.

  “Considering your people were all but calling me and the entire MSP traitors to humanity the last time we were in your two Sectors of space, I think that there’s a bit more to this story than you being a mere facilitator. But,” I lifted a hand, “I’m willing to let that pass.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” said Judge Kong.

  “So what can I do for you, as it should be pretty obvious what you can do for me? Or dare I hope that the MDL has come out of the goodness of its heart and is here in the spirit of reciprocity after the good work the MSP and Tracto-an Defense force has done for the MDL?” I asked, cocking my head pointedly.

  “With regret,” the Sector Judge said with a moue of displeasure, “my people, the MDL, and this Expeditionary Force do not entirely come without strings attached. Not that we are not here to help, we are, except…” he trailed off.

  “I see,” I straightened in my chair and leaned back, “what can the MSP and Sector 25 do for our neighbors in 23 and 24?” I asked neutrally.

  “Nothing so large that you’ll find it burdensome enough to turn us away, I hope,” said Kong Pao.

  “Now I’m starting to get nervous,” I drawled.

  “Don’t be,” he said waving a hand, “in truth, our main interest here is not in this war. Oh, certainly, as observers we can assess a potential threat to our systems and hopefully avert it before it comes to us. But the main reason the Mutual Defense League was so willing to send its forces here to assist—in addition to you being, I hope, a friend and former ally—is the carrying trade.”

  “The carrying trade?” I blinked, letting the rest of the mealy-mouthed utterings float past.

  “Friendship and past debts as important as they are,” Kong Pao looked mildly distressed, “it means little when we still have planets in a state of massive depression and people literally starving in the streets because we haven’t the trillium to send in the fleets of merchant freighters necessary to alleviate the problem and jump start our economies.”

  “Ah,” I said, seeing it now. They wanted our trillium. Maybe for their relief fleets but certainly for trade and their merchant ships to say nothing of their SDF’s, “Although I’m inclined to say yes…what if I said no?”

  Kong Pao sighed. “I have been appointed as Second Ambassador by my people and the MDL because our economies are in a tailspin. I am afraid that if you cannot approve a long-term trade treaty then we won’t be able to afford for our warships to do anything except defend themselves and observe your war. I am truly sorry,” he sighed.

  “I see,” I said, and I did. They had a need, we had a different need, and since they were in a pinch and they knew we were fighting for our lives they were putting the squeeze on us.

  “Don’t mistake our good intentions for mere attempting to profit from another’s difficulties. Although we would of course want to work out the exact details between the members of our trade delegation and whoever you appoint to yours, we are willing to pay for the trillium based on current market prices—so long as we can get a guaranteed amount. Either fixed or as a percentage of your production, althoug
h ideally it would be some kind of combination between the two,” said Judge Kong.

  “I am not a trade specialist and Tracto is not my sole possession to do with as I wish,” I said flatly. “Besides, if we lose this war you will lose access to our markets anyway.”

  “Which is why, for a mere promise and whatever we can purchase at market value right now, we are willing to stake the survival of our expedition on your success,” said the Judge.

  “’Survival’ is more like it right now, but I don’t want to lose those Battleships you brought with you. I’ll pass along your request along with my recommendation to my wife. But she’s her own woman, so I make no promises,” I said.

  “All we desire is a chance to save our economies and inject enough trillium to get things moving again until our own native trillium mines are back up to fully operational. And, as I said, we are willing to pay a rate based on market price,” Judge Kong vowed.

  “Like I said: I’ll pass it on. But whether your ships stay or go, your deal will be with Akantha,” I said.

  “That should not be a problem. I shall eagerly await the chance to speak with her,” said Kong Pao, “thank you for the chance to speak with you again, my friend. At least I hope that I can still call you that.”

  “You’re free to call me whatever you want and we’ll speak again soon,” I said cutting the transmission. For three Battleships he could call me the Tyrant of Cold Space every time he addressed me for all I cared. But strong-arming us for trillium? Even though, in truth, we could use the market and trade in 23 and 24 I still didn’t like it. A price based on current market price? What did that mean anyway? That they were going to pay fifty percent of market value? That they were anticipating a skyrocketing trade in trillium and they wanted to hedge the market?

  While I was going to advise Akantha to sign the deal, I was glad that I wasn’t going to be signing on it. Because, unless it was a very good deal, I was also going to advise her to break it as soon as it was convenient if the terms were too onerous.

  Negotiating with me while there was a gun to my head—even if it wasn’t your gun—wasn’t what I considered the basis for a long lasting deal.

  Unless of course the terms really where just that good. Then, whatever…we could live with it.

  But after the way they’d lied when they offered me fleet command, used my ships to help save their worlds, and then all but run us out of town while shouting ‘Man not Machine’ and calling us droid lovers after we seized a generous share of the post battle prizes? We’d worked hard for everything we’d earned and we’d played it straight with them. They hadn’t had the courtesy to do the same.

  So, whatever happened with the MDL, I honestly didn’t mind. They used us, so we could feel free to use them in turn. I wasn’t going to lose any sleep if we had to ‘renegotiate’ the trade deal later.

  Meanwhile, I had a war to win—or else all of this became moot.

  Chapter Seventeen: Oleander Changes Ships!

  “Thank you for arranging this so quickly,” said Nerium O. Shrub.

  “A simple crew transfer during a time of war, and when the ship you came off of had a full complement and just about every other ship in the MSP and Border Alliance fleet has been damaged and taken crew losses? Don’t joke with me,” scoffed Oleander’s contact.

  “Well, I appreciate it all the same,” said Agent Oleander.

  “Still, Nerium O. Shrub? The home office couldn’t have given you a better cover name,” sneered the man in personnel.

  “Ours is not to reason why,” Oleander said flatly, “so where will I be going after this?”

  “You’ll be transferring aboard to the Messene’s Shield. I can’t get you on the flagship directly from a Border Alliance warship, so don’t even bother asking. But once you been on board a Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet warships for a period of time, you can regularize and then—assuming you can get your supervising officer to approve the move—we can transfer you over to the flagship,” explained the personnel officer.

  “We might not have that kind of time,” Oleander grunted.

  “Why, because your target has been destroyed before you could reach him/it or her?” mocked the petty officer. “Don’t try to kid a kidder, old son.”

  “Even so, the sooner I can accomplish my mission the better a lot of people will be able to sleep at night. I think that’s worth quite a bit,” said Oleander. “Now do you have a list of people I can count on for support, or should I consider myself on my own from this point on?”

  “There’s a growing undercurrent of concern within the fleet. No one wants a pro-Machinist to be their commanding officer, but the older hands worship the ground their ‘Little Admiral’ walks upon. So right now discontent is mainly limited to a small subset among the newer crewmembers. That said, we do have a few people sympathetic to the idea of removing the Admiral—or at least the Droids even though most of them still want to keep the fleet intact, so I can give you a few names but tread lightly with them or they’ll flip,” said the petty officer.

  “They want to have their cake and eat it too?” Oleander scoffed. “Don’t they realize that without him there is no fleet?”

  “It’s something we can work with, at least until they get themselves in so deep there’s no way out or turning back,” the petty officer said with a shrug. “Personally, I wouldn’t give it two weeks before everything fell apart once the Little Admiral’s gone. But then, in the beginning I wouldn’t have given it two hours and that’s with him still alive, so what do I know?”

  “I hear you,” Oleander sighed, “they’re like cockroaches. First they simply refuse to die and then, even if and when do manage to squish one, another immediately rises up to take his place.”

  “Just make sure if you survive to make it back to Capria that you that send my files onward to the home office. I want my hazard pay ratified before I get home, not six months after,” grunted the petty officer. He then lifted his fist, “Down with the Monarchy.”

  “Free elections for all,” Oleander replied, lifting his own hand for a fist bump before confirming the transfer orders were loaded into his plate and moving on.

  Chapter Eighteen: The Arms Dealer from Sector 24

  My console chimed. “We’ve got some more arrivals, Admiral,” Steiner said over the built-in speaker.

  “Not our long belated Imperial brethren, I would presume from the lack of concern in your voice, Lieutenant,” I said dryly.

  There was a pause. “Sorry Admiral,” her voice came a beat later.

  “Not a problem, Lisa,” I said easily, “just keep it in mind for next time and send me their data.”

  “Yes, Sir,” said the Lieutenant and moments later there was a buzz as the sensor files on the new contacts appeared on my screen.

  “Interesting,” I muttered opening the scans. Another couple squadrons of smaller ships, while not game-changers in and of themselves, would never be turned away. Running the numbers I came up one Cruiser, two Destroyers, six Corvettes and a handful of Cutters. All in all, twelve new warships to add to the cause, along with an equal number of freighters of all shapes and sizes. While I could have wished that Cruiser was a Battleship and those Destroyers were Cruisers, beggars can’t be choosers.

  Then I frowned.

  “I don’t recognize those transponder codes,” I said, keying back open the line to Steiner using my priority override.

  “Pardon me, Sir…ah, yes, I see it,” Steiner said after a split second of confusion. “Looks like they’re squawking Sector 24 IFF codes—old IFF codes,” she added.

  “How old are we talking about?” I couldn’t help but tense up as I uttered the question.

  “Um,” there was the sound of a keyboard tapping in the background, “from back before the Imperial Withdrawal by at least a year, Sir.”

  “Get with Ambassador Kong and see if the MDL has any of those ships on record,” I ordered.

  “On it,” Lieutenant said tersely.

  “Blazes,
” I swore, thinking about those strange ships and wondering what business anyone from those Sectors outside of the MDL contingent that was already here had in this Sector and more importantly the upcoming battle.

  “The tactical department of the MDL flagship says that those transponder codes are ones suspected, but not confirmed, of being hacked and used either by pirates or members of the local black market back in 24,” Steiner said after her concerned face suddenly popped up on my screen.

  “Just the local black market, or would you say possibly Imperial Reclamation agents as well,” I asked rhetorically.

  “You want me to notify the rest of the fleet that potential hostiles are in system?” Steiner asked crisply.

  “I think that would be—” I started, but was cut off by a beep.

  “One second…I’m receiving a transmission from the new arrivals…” she stopped and looked up at me with surprise. “I’m receiving a number of open and encrypted files, Sir. MSP encryption, Admiral! It’s the codes we gave to Captains Archibald and McKnight.”

  “What in the blue blazes…have we just been hacked?” I asked, wondering if the Imperials had somehow got their hands on our people along the border of Sector 24 and cracked our codes.

  “And Sir!” Steiner exclaimed.

  “What is it now, Lieutenant,” I demanded as she looked at me wide-eyed. To help calm my nerves, I reached for a pot of tea.

  “I’ve got a priority message from your cousin Bethany at the top of the message queue, Sir,” she said. “I also have a vid-file message one from McKnight using our standard encryption.”

  My hand, which had been about to pour and freshen up my cup, froze in midair

  “My cousin,” I asked careful and deliberately. Tremblay and Cottonmouth had been dumped in Sector 24 on Capital—hopefully to never be seen or heard from again.

  That I was hearing from one of them now—and right before the advent of a major battle—made me suddenly feel certain that, in choosing not to kill the two slippery snakes while I’d had the chance, I’d made a very big mistake.