Admiral's Revenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 2

  “Outrun the news,” Spalding said flatly, “get us the boys and girls, first and foremost. We can set ‘em straight on Central’s lies,” he finished, clearly indicating himself and the other ‘veteran’ hands in the fleet when he mentioned setting them straight.

  “Still,” I said, starting to feel my wishy-washy lethargy slipping away, as excitement began rising to replace it. However, along with my excitement came a darker, harder feeling—one I wasn’t very familiar with: a cold-blooded desire for revenge. Revenge on Jean Luc, first and foremost; the man who shot me down in my own ready room had to die. Period. End of discussion. Then I would see to all those lying, soon-to-be-blasted politicians at Central, and anyone who had knowingly supported their lies over the truth.

  “Sweet Cryin’ Murphy, boy,” Spalding urged, “I see you’re feeling a mite gun shy.”

  I looked at him and nodded tightly, expecting some kind of ‘it’s not your fault’ pep speech.

  “Look, you got a lot of good boys killed on your watch, and that’s on you,” he said sternly. Not being at all what I had expected, I simultaneously felt the urge to deny the charge and curl up into a ball so I could hide in the corner, “but everyone who made it out the other side—including me—are expecting you to get out front and lead. And you can’t do that sitting in this office, worryin’ about what’ll go wrong.”

  “But what if I get everyone else killed?” I asked, the words almost jerked from my lips.

  “Then we’re all going to die, and it may be a slow death for the less lucky amongst us,” Spalding replied grimly, “however, it’s time to buckle up, bear down, and stop the slacking; it’s time to lead, boy!”

  “What if I become like my Uncle?” I demanded, voicing one of my greatest fears. “What if the only way to win is to become like him? I won’t be a bloodthirsty, treasonous murderer!”

  “Not going to happen, lad,” he assured me with a roll of his single eye.

  “How can you know for sure?” I snapped.

  “Don’t you worry your little head about that, Admiral,” he assured me in a conciliatory tone, “if’n the boys and me see you stray, we’ll put you down before you can do too much damage.”

  Flabbergasted, I stared blankly at my wily old Engineer. The man had basically put me in charge of my own ship—the ship I’d lost more than two months ago—the Lucky Clover. For his part, he met my eyes with a grim determination.

  My fear-filled inner self, the one who had been worried about becoming like an old style Montagne of old, seemed to reach across the aisle to grab hands with the more than slightly suicidal part of me that had survived the Dungeon ship. The latter part desired one thing, and one thing only: revenge. Feeling as if they suddenly shook hands, it was as though a weight I hadn’t even known I had been carrying sloughed off, and I came to a decision.

  Win or lose, at least I could now be sure I wouldn’t become the very thing I had fought against for so long. The old reputation of my family as corrupt, bloodthirsty killers would not become my legacy. Spalding, a man who had walked into a reactor core to save our ship, who had worked more than one miracle to keep us going—and almost literally came back from the dead to help us in our hour of need, not to mention save me from the hangman’s noose—had just personally assured me he wouldn’t let it happen.

  I bowed my head, and I was glad that I was looking down at the desk in that moment, for I could feel the barely-suppressed rage burning in my eyes. I thirsted for revenge with every fiber of my being. Shooting me down, I might have been able to forgive; taking my ship was more difficult, but I could probably have swallowed that also.

  But what I could never stomach was the way those mutineers started killing my loyal crew in cold blood—that was what sent me over the edge. I could never forget, nor would I ever forgive being forced to watch, as a man my Uncle could have stopped with a wave of his hand, tortured and killed innocent people—my people; boys and girls who had placed their trust in me—on video.

  “Alright,” I said, when I felt like I’d finally mastered my emotions, “I don’t know how successful it’ll be,” I continued, raising a hand to cut off any protestations, “but we’ll do it your way. I’ll get with LeGodat, and together we’ll send out a recruiting drive. I’m not sure what ships we’ll use, but we’ll be sure to arrange for an escort,” I finished, my rage at my rapid series of near death experiences at the hands of my pirate uncle and Sir Isaac the Ambassador, slowly tempering from a raging furnace of emotion, into a hardened resolve.

  “Gambit Station’s a right sight to see, and that’s a fact,” Spalding said, practically dancing up and down with enthusiasm, now that I had essentially agreed to his plan. “Give her the men and women she needs to keep growing, and she won’t let you down, Sir.”

  “I hope not, Chief,” I said evenly, “right now, we need every ship we’ve got if we’re going to get back the Lucky Clover and pay my Uncle back for his treason.”

  I could see him fight the urge to vent his bile at my traitorous Montagne Uncle, but instead all he did was snort and declare instead, “Give Gambit six months and a full crew to train in on their jobs, Admiral, and fifty credits says she’ll surprise you. I gauran-blasted-tee that within six months the last of those pirate clunkers Lady Akantha brought will be out in Confederation service, or waitin’ for crew. More, if ye let me have my head with her—after we finish getting back the Clover, o’ course. Then, with Murphy as my Witness, I promise that she’ll be ready to start producing ships of the line!”

  “Real warships?” I inquired, leaning back in my chair at this new information.

  “May the evil gods of cold space strike me down if I lie,” Spalding snapped irritably.

  “I almost can’t believe it,” I muttered under my breath.

  “To the tune of one to two a year, if we don’t just keep expanding,” Spalding said triumphantly, “put a proper Engineer in charge of a project—and not some blasted space committee—and we can work wonders.”

  I silently started to factor this new information into my calculations. According to the information Spalding had brought with him, they still had a pair of Dreadnaught Class, Caprian-built Battleships out at Gambit station. The rest of the small fry had either come out here to rescue me, or gone with Akantha to Capria.

  At the thought of Akantha going to Capria I wanted to cringe, or be dismayed, or feel some kind of negative emotional reaction, because that’s what the old me would have felt. As it was, all I felt was a faint, nagging concern for the well-being of my wife. That and a feeling of thwarted satisfaction that it was going to be her, and not me, that got to put a bit of a scare into them. I didn’t think one Imperial Cruiser—no matter how hot, either under the collar or technologically—was going to be able to deal with a full squadron of the Wall and its supporting elements.

  So all they were likely to get was a big surprise and shock to their system. But then again, I’d been wrong about a lot of things in the past, not the least of which was my beloved wife. Let them deal with the pit viper for a while; it would probably do them—and her—a world of good.

  In the meantime…I had some revenge to plan, and as they say: the best revenge is always served cold. It’s very cold in space, I reminded myself with a savage grin.

  When Spalding and I had outlined our future recruiting drive, and finished going through the updates on Gambit’s current and future building capacity, I leaned back in my chair.

  “It’s probably best I get back on deck, and make sure the repairs are running smoothly,” Spalding said, with a look of relief at the meeting’s end. I didn’t kid myself that he was uncomfortable with either me or the material we were covering; the man just seemed to have a natural aversion to meetings of any kind. He would much rather be working.

  “Dismissed,” I said, with a two fingered salute.

  Turning around and eyeing me for a moment, the old engineer slowly brought up his arm and gave me a Confederation-style salute.

  Bli
nking in surprise at the sudden seriousness of the moment, I gave him back a passable imitation of a proper salute—the same one I’d been practicing in the mirror ever since I was put in prison. There had literally been nothing else to do with my time, so I had practiced until if felt like my arm was about to fall off, but at least I no longer needed to be worried about looking like a fool in this particular regard.

  “Oh, and on your way out, I’d be most appreciative if you’d let the Commodore in,” I said with a grim smile.

  “LeGodat’s waiting outside?” Spalding scowled. “You should have told me, and we could have cut this little get together short.”

  “LeGodat’s not the only Commodore on Wolf-9,” I said pointedly with a shark-like grin.

  Spalding’s face set into a mask of poorly disguised distaste. “I’ll let the Guardsman know you’re waiting,” he said flatly, before clumping out the door, his servos giving off a low pitched whining with every step.

  “Blast these infernal things. They’re not factory spec; they’re factory defective, is what they are!” the old engineer said thunderously into the waiting area, as the door closed behind him.

  Chapter 2: It’s Time to Move On

  “Admiral,” the Sector Guard Officer acknowledged, stepping into the room and saluting before taking off his cap and placing it under his arm. The way he looked at the wall straight over my head would have been more intimidating if I hadn’t just spent the better part of a year in the belly of a military organization and going head to head with some of the worst criminals and galactic threats in the galaxy.

  “Commodore Druid,” I replied, giving him an official nod and then waving the other man to a chair, “please have a seat.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” he replied, stepping around the chair and lowering himself stiffly into the chair opposite my own.

  I looked at him for a long moment, but when all he did in response to this was to shift his gaze from the wall to my face, I figured I was going to have to be the one to move the conversation forward.

  “Before we start, I’d just like to say one thing,” I began, leaning back in my chair with a pleasant expression on my face. Despite my courtly trained mask, my eyes were like those of a hawk—monitoring the man for any indication of what he was thinking. I thought I could trust the man enough to have a private meeting without fear that he would leap on me from over the table, but that was just it: trust. It was something I wasn’t feeling too particularly full of after what one might call ‘a harrowing experience’ in the Dungeon Ship of Captain Synthia McCruise.

  “Sir?” Druid asked, his stony face gaining a perplexed appearance, and that’s when I realized my inner ruminations had caused me to time out.

  I suppressed a growl; this sort of thing would never have happened before my incarceration. With deliberate effort, I maintained my current pleasant expression and, if anything, leaned even further back in my chair.

  “I’m sure you have some concerns,” I started, feeling a vindictive surge of delight at the fear that must be shooting through him at these words. I was actually more than a little dismayed with myself for a moment, and as a result, I refrained from toying with him as I once might have, “that’s why I’ve summoned you here: to reassure you.”

  “Thank you, Admiral,” Commodore Druid, said his shoulders relaxing fractionally.

  When he didn’t continue, I shrugged my shoulders and decided to just take the plunge. The worst thing that could happen was I came off as a fool.

  “You’ve kept your side of the bargain and dealt fairly with me from the get go and, unlike some of your superiors, you’ve acted honorably and kept your word,” I finished darkly and then gave my head a shake, “regardless of Rear Admiral Yagar and the rest, you and I came to an understanding back in Central. Did we not?”

  “Yes, Admiral Montagne, we did,” he bit off those last two words, his shoulders tightening once again, “or at least, I thought so.”

  “But now, being summoned back here, you’re feeling doubtful once again,” I said with a nod of understanding, “well, ease your mind.”

  “I would feel much more grateful if you could tell me the exact purpose of my summons here,” Druid said tightly.

  My eyebrows lifted, and I realized that despite my best efforts and intention to get right to the point and not beat about the bush, I had started to drag this thing out.

  “Right,” I said flatly, and I could see the Commodore’s shoulders tightening even further, even though his face continued to be an impassive professional mask. “Well, anyway, you’re free to go,” I said, tossing a data wafer on the desk.

  Druid’s eyes widened and his nostrils flared, as almost despite himself, he seemed to stare down at the wafer in front of him with suspicion. “That’s it?” he asked incredulously. “We’re free to go? You throw me a data storage device, and that wraps it all up?!”

  “I know what it’s like to be a prisoner, and I wouldn’t wish that fate on any person for longer than is absolutely necessary,” I said flatly, and when my stare met his, I could tell he saw the absolute, dead level truth in them. Then I leaned back and my courtly mask of smooth pleasantry reasserted itself.

  “I-I don’t know what to say,” Druid stumbled at first, but quickly regained his poise.

  “Then say nothing,” I suggested with a twist of my wrist and then sighed, “I pressed your men into service for the duration of the emergency.”

  Druid snorted at this and I quirked a smile in return.

  “Well, the emergency is now over and I am returned safely into the arms of Confederation service,” I said, throwing my arms wide to indicate all the recently re-commissioned levels above and below us, as well as the run down corridors he had taken to arrive at my office, “as such, I’m declaring the emergency over.”

  “You’re really just cutting us loose…this isn’t some kind of deep trick?” the Sector Guard Commodore asked suspiciously.

  “Really, and truly,” I said gamely, “it’s not that I want you to leave. Far from it; I could use an officer like you in my organization, and those six corvettes…well, let’s just say they could save lives.”

  There was a lengthy pause. “I don’t know what to say,” Druid said finally, clearly floored by my words, “you have to realize that under Rear Admiral Yagar, this squadron is just as likely to turn right around and come back here to Easy Haven, as it is to do anything more productive.”

  I leaned forward in my chair. “I don’t need—nor do I want—unwilling men inside my organization. I tried that in the past, the whole ‘keep your friends close, and your enemies closer’ technique and, well…you know just how that worked out for me.” I frowned before continuing. “I don’t want to end up fighting you, and while I do know that the most expedient thing would be to take your ships and imprison your men so I don’t have to fight them again at a later date, I gave you my word.”

  For the first time in the conversation, the Commodore looked troubled. “I hope my own Superiors feel the same way.”

  “They don’t,” I said flatly, and Druid looked up at me in surprise and then winced.

  “I will pray that you’re wrong,” he said finally.

  “Look, Commodore,” I said evenly, “the last thing I desire is to waste resources fighting amongst ourselves when there are real, legitimate threats out on the border of this Sector.”

  Druid looked at me skeptically, and I could feel myself start to turn red. Instead of suppressing it, I just stared at him and let the color tint my face.

  “I don’t deny that both your government and my Uncle have earned a special place in my consideration,” I said as truthfully as I could, “however, the pirates are killing and enslaving civilian populations along the border, while all your government has done is attack myself and my crew. As such, the pirates and any other external threats have to come first for my forces.”

  Druid didn’t wince or show any sign of remorse—or disagreement with my accusations regarding his pe
ople’s attacks on me or my men—and I could feel my heart harden. Taking a deep breath in through my mouth and letting it out through my nose, I pursed my lips before deciding to move on. However, Druid beat me to the punch.

  “At least until Central moves on you again, I’m sure, Admiral,” the Sector Guard Officer said with a scowl.

  “We’ve done nothing wrong,” I said flatly, as I let a smirk cross my lips, “except perhaps make them feel guilty at how much good work we’ve been doing out here. They, on the other hand, have preferred to stay at home playing politics while entire worlds burn. As such, we have every right to defend ourselves against all enemies who would attack us, be they foreign…or domestic.”

  “You would fire on your own government, Admiral Montagne?” Druid demanded stiffly.

  “I’ll fire on anyone who fires on me first,” I flared angrily, “in the meantime I have more important things to deal with than ‘your’ government, ‘your’ Guard, or their unifying lack of concern for the Border Worlds.”

  “Not all of us are happy at the need to consolidate the Core of the Sector before moving outward to the colonies and outposts,” Druid said tightly.

  “Well, whoever it is that thinks that way has been doing a real sweet job of showing it,” I replied damningly, “because, from where I sit, I can’t see that they’ve done a single thing to make a difference.”

  “The Sector Guard—” he started but I cut him off at the pass.

  “Central lied, people died,” I growled mockingly, “they may have claimed their Guard was mobilized for the purpose of helping everyone, not just the Core Worlds. As far as I can tell, all they’ve been doing is trying to blockade Easy Haven so that Commodore LeGodat can’t send out anti-piracy patrols of his own. Of course, that was before they attacked me with an eye toward a pay-per-view execution.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” Druid said flatly.