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

Page 51

by Luke Sky Wachter


  Almost low enough, she thought as she again mirrored his movements.

  This time he launched his own set of long, sweeping leg kicks. They were easy enough to dodge, but the circle was so small that doing so would have brought her very nearly out of the circle. It was a clever enough ploy, but it was also one which she had anticipated.

  She took two steps back, appearing to commit to a third backpedaling step as he launched another long, sweeping kick toward her shins. But before taking that third step, she kicked her foot back and executed a flying punch aimed directly at his kicking leg.

  Clearly surprised by her move, Glaucus had little choice but to plant his leg and accept her mighty, downward punch to the thigh. The wet ‘thwack’ her fist made elicited a chorus of sharp breaths to be drawn by the crowd, and sure enough after she had used her momentum to roll to safety—once again finding herself temporarily behind her foe—she saw his leg briefly fail to obey its owner’s commands as he almost lost balance during his turn to face her.

  This time, his posture straightened and he literally shook his leg out. The look of annoyance on his face was long gone, and in its place was something more befitting a would-be Lancer. Unlike most of his cohorts he did not snarl, growl, or otherwise attempt to intimidate her. Neither was there even a trace of fear present in his visage.

  No, the only emotion she could read from him—if it could be called an emotion—was single-minded focus. And that was what she had endured the past week of these tiresome ‘challenges’ and, she supposed, ‘courtships’ to find.

  “There you are,” she grunted, echoing the words of her long-departed mentor, Walter Joneson when he had reviewed her own ‘application’ to become a Lancer, “nice of you to show up.”

  A quizzical look flashed across his face, and she decided now was the time to do what she had been planning since before the bout’s commencement. She launched her body forward like a missile, extending her knee as though she meant to take him in the chin with one of her signature moves. He was wise to the possibility of such an attack, however, and he blocked her knee precisely as she had expected him to block: with criss-crossed arms.

  She threw her right arm down against her side, pivoting her weight that way as hard as she could. She extended her leg and barely cleared her left shin above Glaucus’ right arm as she used her genetically-engineered speed and reflexes to perform what she had come to think of as a ‘flying question mark kick.’

  Her foot smacked into the side of his head, just behind the ear, with a gratifying crack. But his reflexes were very nearly as good as her own and he somehow managed to trap her leg after flailing up with his arm while his body—briefly robbed of its equilibrium by her perfectly-placed kick—sagged toward the ground.

  Acting purely on instinct, she used his grip as leverage and swung her right shin over his head in a flying roundhouse kick. Her shin buried itself against his wrist, and strong though he was—even for a Tracto-an—the power of her strike, combined with his lack of equilibrium, was enough to break her left leg free of his grip hooked grip.

  He regained his balance just as she got her feet under her, and as he gathered his feet beneath himself she saw her window closing. Lunging forward, she leapt high in the air and grasped for the back of his neck with both hands. He realized her intention too late, however, as she put her vice-like grip on the rippling muscles of his neck. He stiffened his back, leaning back as hard as he could, and to her surprise he actually lifted her several inches.

  But her surprise was short-lived. She curled her arms in toward her ribs and began driving her knees, one after another, into his liver and spleen without losing her iron grip on his neck.

  He struggled—valiantly, she would later admit—to shake her off, but her relatively light, one hundred kilo frame actually served to advantage her in this particular exchange. No matter where he turned, or which way he pivoted, she used his own momentum against him to further tighten her grip on his neck while burying her knees repeatedly into his torso. None of her blows were fight-enders, but all it took was a single well-placed shot to the liver to put even the most valiant warrior down for a few seconds.

  Eventually, she found the sweet spot just beneath his ribs, and landed a blow to his ribs that saw his body briefly go limp—which was all it took to being her toes to the floor for the briefest of moments.

  That was all it took for her to use her unparalleled power-to-weight ratio to launch her left knee into his perfect, pearly white teeth…well, into his previously perfect, pearly white teeth.

  He staggered from the blow, allowing her to touch her feet to the deck again, and this time it was her right knee that rearranged the focal point of the man’s vanity. By now he was well-and-truly defeated, but she saw potential in him which had been absent in the other ‘applicants’ of the day.

  So when he fell to one knee, clearly addled from her repeated blows to the head, she held him upright and slammed another half dozen blows into his face. The first two were off-target as he vainly struggled to avoid square shots, but after those two it was unlikely he retained any of his senses.

  Her work done, she stepped back and saw a trio of teeth—or the better portions of them—fall out of his mouth and clatter to the deck. He then swayed to the side and crashed to the deck, snoring as loudly as any of her babies had done since arriving aboard this new ship, which apparently suited them better than their previous lodgings had done.

  She doubted more than a few of his front teeth remained plugged into their original sockets, and she knew she would get an earful from her mother after the man reported to Medical to secure her services to repair or replace the lost members. But it had been the right thing to do for him; he had been only the third recruit to step into the circle thus far that had what it took to join a unit which had essentially been created for her by Walter Joneson himself prior to his death.

  Not just anyone could be allowed in, but Glaucus had proven himself worthy of at least a second look. And she fully intended to give him that look—after he got his face fixed, of course.

  “Next?” she asked, standing and wiping her brow with a fresh rag which she pulled from her hip pocket. She swept the assemblage, which had thinned out significantly since the start of the affair an hour earlier. In truth, it had been the most challenging day of the tryouts thus far. She was grateful for the exercise, but a glance at a nearby chronometer told her that it was time to wrap things up.

  When no one stepped forward to accept her invitation, she scowled and made eye contact with a nearby Tracto-an.

  “Take him to Medical,” she said, gesturing to the still-snoring Glaucus before turning on her heel and leaving the circle for the day, “and bring all of his teeth.”

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  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: Let’s See What She’s Got!

  Chapter Two: The Mysterious Man

  Chapter Three: Running Home to Wolf-9

  Chapter Four: Let the Finger Pointing Ensue!

  Chapter Five: A meeting of the minds

  Chapter Six: Discord behind closed doors

  Chapter Seven: The Oleander Perspective

  Chapter Eight: Kong Pao’s Sector 23 Reinforcements

  Chapter Nine: Playtime

  Chapter Ten: The Imperial Side!

  Chapter Eleven: Repairs and concerns

  Chapter Twelve: The Delaying Force

  Chapter Thirteen: Reporting Home

  Chapter Fourteen: Reinforced at Wolf-9

  Chapter Fifteen: A Private Meeting

  Chapter Sixteen: New Arrivals Admiral

  Chapter Seventeen: Oleander Changes Ships!

  Chapter Eighteen: The Arms Dealer from Sector 24

  Chapter Nineteen: As ready as we can be

  Chapter Twenty: Imperials move into position

  Chapter Twenty-one: Slashing Attacks

  Chapter Twenty-two: Survivors arrive

  Chapter Twenty-three: The
Third Battle for Easy Haven

  Chapter Twenty-four: Stuck in Gambit

  Chapter Twenty-five: The Second Battle for Sector 25

  Chapter Twenty-six: Head to Head on the outskirts

  Chapter Twenty-seven: Paying it back

  Chapter Twenty-eight: The Hammer of Man

  Chapter Twenty-nine: Falling Back

  Chapter Thirty: Moving the Main Force

  Chapter Thirty-one: An Imperial Push

  Chapter Thirty-two: Testing the Water

  Chapter Thirty-three: The Wolf-9 Response

  Chapter Thirty-four: The Montagne Initiative

  Chapter Thirty-five: Janeski and the Fighter Strike

  Chapter Thirty-six: Kling and the Light Relief Force

  Chapter Thirty-seven: LeGodat’s Price

  Chapter Thirty-eight: Imperial Cruiser Command

  Chapter Thirty-nine: Fighters Move In

  Chapter Forty: Right up their sterns and fleeing the scene of the crime!

  Chapter Forty-one: Confusion in the Sensor Department

  Chapter Forty-two: Imperial Fighters moving in

  Chapter Forty-three: A hit! A definite hit!

  Chapter Forty-four: Riding it out

  Chapter Forty-five: Fighting for the lives of their comrades

  Chapter Forty-six: An Imperial Push: Destroyer Style

  Chapter Forty-seven: Moves like a Primarch

  Chapter Forty-eight: Moving in for the Kill

  Chapter Forty-nine: Jason Swings his squadron of Battleships around Wolf-9

  Chapter Fifty: Grinding them down

  Chapter Fifty-one: Serge’s Strike

  Chapter Fifty-two: Klinging to Hope

  Chapter Fifty-three: Led by the nose

  Chapter Fifty-four: Caught Out

  Chapter Fifty-five: The Imperial Flag Bridge

  Chapter Fifty-six: Admiral’s Choices

  Chapter Fifty-seven: The Clover Lives!

  Chapter Fifty-eight: In the Outer System

  Chapter Fifty-nine: Attacking the Starbase

  Chapter Sixty: Dark Matter’s Second Ride

  Chapter Sixty-one: Droid Conflict: A Weak Link on the Chain of Command

  Chapter Sixty-two: MSP to the Rescue?

  Chapter Sixty-three: Firing Main Cannon

  Chapter Sixty-four: On the Starbase

  Chapter Sixty-five: Reaction on the Invictus

  Chapter Sixty-six: The Montagne Maneuver!

  Chapter Sixty-seven: Without a flank to turn

  Chapter Sixty-eight: Forced Duty

  Chapter Sixty-nine: Dark Matter: Coming to Grips

  Chapter Seventy: The Eye of the Tiger

  Chapter Seventy-one: Imperial Reaction

  Chapter Seventy-two: The opening

  Chapter Seventy-three: Rage on the Flag Bridge

  Chapter Seventy-four: On the Gun Deck

  Chapter Seventy-five: Desperate times

  Chapter Seventy-six: The Tide Turns

  Chapter Seventy-seven: Chaos on the Gun Deck

  Chapter Seventy-eight: The Imperial Flag unfurled

  Chapter Seventy-nine: Lancers on the Invictus Rising

  Chapter Eighty: Desperate Times on the Hull

  Chapter Eighty-one: Akantha on close approach

  Chapter Eighty-two: Imperial Irritation

  Chapter Eighty-three: General McMann

  Chapter Eighty-four: The Brunt

  Chapter Eighty-five: Nottingham’s Plan

  Chapter Eighty-six: A Little Elbow Grease

  Chapter Eighty-seven: The Boats Arrive

  Chapter Eighty-eight: Into the Burrow

  Chapter Eighty-nine: The second shot

  Chapter Ninety: Wolf-9 Falls?

  Chapter Ninety-one: Dark Matter vs. Entropy

  Chapter Ninety-two: Imperial Command II

  Chapter Ninety-three: Dark Matter

  Chapter Ninety-four: Chaos on the move!

  Chapter Ninety-five: Just a Shrub in the Office

  Chapter Ninety-six: Breaking into the Breakout

  Chapter Ninety-seven: The Battle Turns

  Chapter Ninety-eight: Pride of the Imperial Hunter

  Chapter Ninety-nine: A Late Start: It’s a Spalding!

  Chapter One hundred: Hold! Push!

  Chapter One hundred one: Out of Moves?

  Chapter One hundred two: Arnold Janeski

  Chapter One hundred three: Moving into Firing Position

  Chapter One hundred four: Rivals Rage

  Chapter One hundred five: Bad news from the Carrier

  Chapter One hundred six: She was the very model of dangerously outdated space technology.

  Chapter One hundred seven: Fire and Fury on the Command Deck

  Chapter One hundred eight: Admiral’s Trouble

  Chapter One hundred nine: Gunboats to the rescue…is it enough?

  Chapter One hundred ten: Under Threat

  Chapter One hundred eleven: On the Command Carrier

  Chapter One hundred twelve: The Tide Turns

  Chapter One hundred thirteen: The Furious Phoenix

  Chapter One hundred fourteen: Heroic Measures

  Chapter One hundred fifteen: He was the very model of an old, outdated space engineer

  Chapter One hundred sixteen: The Metal Titan

  Chapter One hundred seventeen: Rivals Rage Redux

  Chapter One hundred eighteen: Hard Decisions

  Chapter One hundred nineteen: A simple engineering problem

  Chapter One hundred twenty: Is it Victory?

  Chapter One hundred twenty-one: Survivors

  Chapter One hundred twenty-two: Counting the Cost and Tallying the Gains

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