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

by Luke Sky Wachter

  “What the blazes just happened?” snapped Admiral Norfolk. He could only wonder what mischief the provincials were up to now as he felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that said he knew exactly what it was.

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

  The Super Battleship shuddered slightly as the antimatter generator self-destructed and the sensor readouts went crazy. In an instant, the Lucky Clover 2.0 lost its entire sensor picture

  “Forward shields to full power,” Spalding belatedly and unnecessarily commanded.

  “On it,” said the Shield Operator.

  When the picture cleared, half the Imperial strike fighters had disappeared completely and the other half, seemingly undamaged, floated powerlessly in space.

  “What’s the status on our gunboats?” Spalding asked rapidly.

  “They were undamaged from within the shadow of the Phoenix, Commander,” reported Sensors.

  “Send in the gunboats to deal with the remaining fighters,” he commanded.

  After receiving the message, the little gunboats arrived on scene and confirmed that something on the order of one hundred and sixty Imperial strike fighters had been knocked out, their computers sent into automatic shutdown and half their electronics fried. The other half appeared to have been completely annihilated.

  The bridge of the Lucky Clover broke out in spontaneous cheers.

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

  “We can confirm it?” Norfolk asked bitterly.

  “Yes, Admiral. We just punched a two way com-channel out to one of the pilots at the rear of the formation who still had com’s available. The entire fighter force is gone. Half dead and the other half neutralized,” the Task Force Communication’s Officer said heavily.

  “What did they hit us with?” the Admiral asked.

  There was visible hesitation as Sensors, Tactical and Engineering shared a look before the Engineering watch stander on the bridge cleared his throat and stepped forward.

  “All of the sensor readings appear to be consistent with…” he paused, still visibly hesitating.

  “Just spit it out, Lieutenant,” growled Norfolk, “we’re all adults here. We can handle it.”

  “Although we cannot confirm it with our current sensor suite and distance from the event site, it appears to have been an antimatter explosion. In other words, a bomb of some kind,” he said.

  Breaths were sucked in around the bridge. “Those blighters!” screamed the Flag Captain, looking like he wished he could wrap his hands around the neck of one of their provincial counter parts and squeeze until his—or her—head popped off.

  “Technically that’s a war crime, Sir,” Norfolk’s head snapped around, “the use of antimatter weapons has been banned by every major—and most minor—powers throughout Human space.”

  The engineer tentatively raised his hand. “What is it Frank?” Admiral Norfolk glared, not so much mad at the engineer as he was at the whole situation. The interruption was just more fuel to the fire.

  “Technically it wasn’t…sir,” said the Engineer.

  “Wasn’t what?” snapped the Chief of Staff.

  “Wasn’t a violation of the antimatter weapons statutes, Commodore,” said the Engineer, looking like he wished he could crawl under a rock.

  “You’re taking their side!” roared the Captain. “They attacked us with a banned weapon. I will not allow quizzlers to—!”

  “No, Sir. I agree with you, but…” he stuttered.

  “What are you blathering about, Engineer?” roared the Flag Captain. “This was clearly an attack using weapons of mass destruction on the banned weapons list! The whole galaxy will be up in arms after they hear of this.”

  Norfolk raised a hand.

  “No, let him speak, Captain” he said, giving the Engineering Lieutenant a nod. “Just make it quick, engineer.”

  The engineer appeared very nervous. “Thank you, sir,” the engineer said, wiping his forehead with sweat, “I agree that it was a premeditated attack. However, they declared an engineering emergency prior to our people entering engagement range and gave us an official warn-off.”

  “The fact they warned us off makes no difference,” Norfolk said dismissively and turned away, “even if we no longer have the forces available to take the Spine under the original Reclamation plan, they’ve just handed the Empire the perfect pretext to get directly involved. A premeditated attack with an antimatter bomb? Once the Senate gets a hold of this—piracy, droids and rogue governments running rampant, attacking Imperial warships with banned weapons—this will be a clear case of a failed state requiring Imperial action to return order to—”

  “Not if they claim it was an out-of-control antimatter generator they warned us off from before we engaged them in combat!” the Engineer said desperately. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. They gave us a legal warn-off regarding an out-of-control generator. If they send the records to the Confederation Assembly, we won’t have the sensor records to say they’re wrong—we’re still too far away!”

  “Man’s sake…” muttered Norfolk.

  “You know…if it was an antimatter generator, it would explain how they were powering that giant abortion of a ship. Even the Empire had to do some pretty tricky power logistics to get a Command Carrier running at full power. If they just lost one…they might not have the power to fire again,” pointed out the Commodore.

  “Send in a pair of Cruisers,” instructed the Admiral, instantly seizing on the Commodore’s meaning.

  A minute later, the Cruiser entered attack range of the Super Battleship. The staff of the flag bridge started to breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Prepare to take in the Task Force,” Norfolk seethed as he felt a triumphant thrill run down his body. “Even though they died doing it, the fighters’ sacrifice—”

  “Power spike!” cried Sensors.

  “Enemy plasma cannon platform tentatively identified as the Super Battleship Lucky Clover has just fired,” said Tactical moments before the rapidly-moving, super-powered plasma ball slammed into the Cruiser, slicing it in half.

  “So much for the fighters having pulled their teeth,” Norfolk said bitterly, sinking back into his chair.

  “The loss of a generator could have extended the timing between their shots. Their ability to fire—and thus our losses—could have been cut down to as much as half or more,” the Flag Captain said desperately.

  “No, Captain,” Norfolk said curtly, “Janeski’s dead, the Command Carrier is gone, and we’ve lost our bid to control the Spine. I refuse to see any more good men or women die today because I wanted to engage in some kind of self-vindicating orgy of death and destruction for a lost cause. It’s over, Captain.”

  “Three years! Three years bloody years we destabilized the Spine, invited in the wolf at the door and watched as entire worlds went dark. Doing nothing! It hasn’t all been for nothing, Sir. It can’t have all been for nothing—I won’t let it!” the Captain shouted, reaching for his sidearm and aiming it at Norfolk. “First, these provincials are going to die exactly as planned. Then we’re going to continue on our mission exactly the same as before. Maybe we’ll win and maybe we’ll lose. But if you don’t have the stomach for it any more, I certainly do. My honor—and the honor of the Empire—will not allow the thousands of sacrifices lost aboard our ships, and millions on helpless worlds of this region of space, to all be for nothing or for some political calcu—”

  “Master-at-arms,” Norfolk said coldly.

  “Sir,” said the warrant officer, and moments later two blaster bolts fired almost simultaneously.

  Admiral Norfolk staggered, clutching his arm while the Captain fell over backward with a steaming hole in his forehead.

  It took the Admiral a few deep, hunched-over breaths to steady himself before he stood up straight again.

  “Mutiny will not be tolerated in this fleet,” he said flatly, “the Captain was overwrought, an
d if that had been all I would have let it pass with a stern warning. But if you draw a weapon upon your superior officer, you will be shot,” he turned to the Master-at-arms, “good work, Warrant.”

  “Thank you, Sir,” acknowledged the Master-at-arms.

  “Despite what the Captain was saying, neither our honor nor the Empire’s has ever been at stake. We’ve followed orders and done our duty to humanity—indeed, to all of Mankind—and we will continue to do so to the best of our abilities. However, our mission, as it stands, is currently compromised and can no longer be accomplished. Now carry out my orders and signal the rest of the fleet,” said the Admiral.

  “Yes, sir,” several officers jumped, as if stung, and still others looked spooked.

  Norfolk knew that the Captain wasn’t going to be the only Imperial with an issue with what a number of hotheads would view as giving up and going home. Not to mention how the largely provincial crews onboard his ships were going to view this loss.

  The last thing they needed right now was to be fighting a dug-in and dogged enemy while worrying if the lower decks were going to break out in a spontaneous mutiny.

  They were going to have to fall back and hold what they could until they received direction from higher up—which might necessitate a full withdrawal from Sector 26 all the way back to the 28th Provisional. Hopefully they could hold their lines somewhere in the 26th or 27th, but only time would tell.

  That was if they weren’t called back home or completely disavowed before that. Only time would tell on that front.

  He was already trying to work out how to salvage as much as he could out of this. The one thing he was clear on, however, was that he was going to need as many Imperial officers and crew as possible to stay loyal while he figured that out.

  “Open a channel to the enemy fleet commander. Ask if he’s amenable to a prisoner exchange. If so, tell him I’m willing to hand over all native personnel captured in this Sector if he’ll guarantee the safe treatment of our people lost here until the exchange,” said Admiral Norfolk.

  “You don’t want to speak to him directly?” asked the Comm. Officer.

  Norfolk shook his head. “What’s the point?” he asked.

  “One question, sir: where are we to make the exchange?” asked Commodore Dietweiler, acting in his role as a good Chief of Staff.

  Chapter One hundred twenty: Is it Victory?

  “New Tau Ceti??!” I couldn’t help but exclaim as every single remaining Imperial warship in Easy Haven turned tail and ran for the hyper limit.

  Lieutenant Steiner nodded, “That’s what the message says, Admiral.”

  “This makes no sense,” I reiterated, turning to Navigation, “are you sure they’re actually heading out of the system?”

  “That’s the course they are on, Admiral,” Brightenbauc sniffed, “whether that’s really their intention, I leave that up to you.”

  “You think this is a ploy?” asked Captain Hammer.

  “Why would they just up and leave when their victory was all but assured?” I asked her. “The 2.0 is down a generator and, in any case, they could destroy it in one pass. The Battleships near the Starbase took heavy engine damage, and although the numbers are closer to even thanks to those mutinies within their fleet, almost all of our ships are heavily damaged. They’d have the advantage in numbers and undamaged warships.”

  “Maybe that’s exactly it…they’re worried about further mutinies now that we’ve gutted their fleet? Or maybe they don’t realize how badly damaged we are? Or they could be expecting us to have yet another ace up our sleeves, possibly at the Starbase,” she said.

  “Their fighters pretty much demolished everything Commodore LeGodat and the Reserve Squadron have built these past years. The complex is even worse now than then, because they shot up everything else that was here before too. Somehow I doubt they think we held something back there,” I said slumping back in my chair. I’d been expecting a final fight to the death and now…this?

  “Maybe they’re engaged in some kind of deception, we can’t know that until they either leave…” she took a deep breath. “However, the question before you right now is: are you going to agree to the prisoner exchange or not?”

  “And risk enraging them to the point they decide to come back and finish us off?” I asked bitterly. Was this a victory? Because if so, I wanted no part of it.

  “Your call, Admiral,” she said, emphasizing my rank and reminding me that the buck stopped with me. It was her not-so-subtle hint that it was time I got my head out of my hind end and did my job.

  “Fine. Assuming they actually leave, I’ll agree,” I said bitterly. “It’s not like I’d have much of a choice, even if they didn’t have us over a barrel. They have the officers and crew of the Parliamentary Power.” I paused and then looked over at Steiner, “Remind them that they have the crew of one of our warships and tell them we’ll need time to round up everyone here and prepare them for transport. Then ask when they would like to set up the prisoner exchange.”

  “On it,” she said.

  “In the meantime, get engineering on emergency repairs—both on the Royal Rage and around the fleet—just in case my untrusting nature proves out,” I said.

  “Will do,” said Adrianne Blythe, and Captain Hammer also nodded.

  I ran a hand across my face. “Then I suppose we need to consolidate the fleet and begin emergency rescue services with our remaining shuttles…and I need to find out if I still have a wife. Not to mention a Lancer force, Marine brigade, and whatever other Space Commandos and such were over there engaged in trying to disable Invictus Rising before Spalding and the 2.0 blew it to kingdom come,” I said eventually.

  “Yes, we should find that out,” agreed Captain Hammer, looking at me with concern after the point I reminded her that my wife had been on the Imperial Command Carrier at the point it broke in half. “I’ll let you know as soon as we have something,” she said.

  “Please do,” I said, my built-in manners coming back to the fro now that the action had—at least temporarily—abated.

  As those ships that could move got underway, and shuttles started flying this way and that picking up stranded spacers, the survivors of the Imperial Reclamation Fleet got further and further away. Finally, they went and actually jumped out of Easy Haven entirely.

  Red-eyed and hands shaking from a lack of sleep, I put my face into my trembling hands. I was still unable to believe that I’d done it. Somehow I’d won. Either we broke the will of the enemy commander with our spirited defense, the threat of internal mutiny, or some other factor—like the fact they would have been wrecked after the win—had caused them to run away.

  Despite the taste of sour grapes in my mouth, until now the fact that they’d left and we’d won—at least the battle for the Star System if not the entire Sector—finally penetrated my sleep-deprived mind and I allowed myself to gingerly taste the sweetness of victory.

  More like a drink about to turn to vinegar than any kind of fine wine, it was still a victory drink. And for all its bitterness, it was still the sweetest thing imaginable.

  We’d been beaten but we hadn’t lost.

  We.

  Hadn’t.

  Lost.

  The Sector was saved. Janeski was dead, and after everything we lived on to fight another day. Moreover, after everything was cleaned up and repaired, we’d come back out swinging and stronger than ever.

  For a moment Janeski’s last words—literally spoken moments before he died—came back like a ghostly voice to haunt me, but I firmly pushed it back down.

  Either he’d been lying to break my will or the Empire was still going to come after us. Not that this was anything new. Pulling up a galactic map, I cast a worried look at Imperial territory.

  Thankfully, we had most of the old Confederation heartland territory—not to mention the Overton Expanse—between us and the Empire proper. Not that that would stop them, of course. If the Empire was coming for us, they would keep co
ming—and there was nothing we could do about it.

  Nothing the now-proven-toothless Old Confederation would do to stop them either. They might even laud and applaud them for their ‘humanitarian’ efforts, as they did what the Confederation was too gutless, toothless, or disinterested in doing anything to stop them.

  Giving myself a shake, I pulled back up the map Easy Haven. My eye caught on the battered and broken-in-half Wolf-9 Starbase, surrounded by decimated repair slips. I then scanned back over to all the battered, broken, and in dire need of repair Battleships and other warships scattered throughout the system.

  I was going to need to get a Constructor ship back over here first thing, and not just for the broken Starbase—which was going to cost a fortune in time, labor and materials to put right…if it even could be repaired.

  I didn’t have time to worry about whatever Janeski had been raving about. The Empire, Imperial-held territories here in the Spine, and even the remainder of the Reclamation Fleet were just going to have to wait.

  I needed to get some shut-eye.

  Chapter One hundred twenty-one: Survivors

  “Don’t worry, Bush, we’ve got you,” came the most infuriating voice in recent memory. and Oleander’s eyes snapped back open. Or at least they tried to. Unfortunately, they were glued shut thanks to a scalp wound when he’d struck his head on the edge of a table after the ship had been hit by what felt like a pocket nuke or high-velocity kinetic round.

  He knew that it felt exactly like that, because he’d been in close proximity to a series of kinetic strikes the last time the Empire had felt the need to help settle the internal dispute on Capria in the elected government’s favor. Back then, he’d been a spotter for the land strikes and…well, none of that was relevant right now, and he shook himself to improve his focus.

  “I must be more shook up than I thought,” he groaned.

  “A couple of Lancers said you got the fear and lit off like a deer in the headlights for the inside of the ship. Everyone thought you were dead but I knew that a shifty smuggler type like my newest favorite shuttle pilot wouldn’t just up and die that easily—not while I still had a use for him,” said the ornery old royalist, who thought he’d shanghaied Oleander into trying to land a platoon of power armor on the Command Carrier.