Admiral's Nemesis Part II Page 26

  “Oh, he’ll have a captain for sure,” Spalding waved his XO away, “but once he’s aboard to take a look at things I can get back to fine tuning the Clover until she sings just as sweetly as she used to.”

  “Right,” said the XO as the accompanying warships snagged the three spindles and then followed sedately behind the belligerent form of the super Battleship.

  All across the system, in singles and pairs, entire squadrons began to converge on a small planetary body, an oversized asteroid by any other name in the outer system of Capria’s star.

  Thanks to the Spindle’s accuracy they were less than an hour away from Harpoon and within forty five minutes the smaller ships had reached the oversized asteroid with the bigger slower Clover now lumbering along behind them.

  “What’s our status, Sensors?” asked the old engineer.

  “We’re on close approach to Harpoon now, nothing looks to be stealthed or hiding dark,” reported the Sensor Department Head.

  “Tactical what’s our read?” Spalding turned to the next department.

  “We’ve got a couple of Corvettes that were out on a routine patrol about half hour out and a single Destroyer another fifteen minutes behind that, Commander,” the Tactical Officer said crisply, “but we won’t see anything cruiser size or bigger for another two hours.”

  “Battleships?” he questioned sharply old eyes turning intent.

  “A pair of them just broke orbit. If everything goes to plan we’ll be long gone before they ever even get close to here,” he replied confidently.

  “Alright then,” Spalding said settling back in his chair and sticking his big metal legs out to land on their heels with a loud clang, “we’ll just have to make sure those Corvettes and Destroyers steer clear of the Spindles. We can’t lose those things until long after we’ve plumbed them of all their secrets.”

  The Tactical Officer and the Executive Officer exchanged looks.

  “Yes and it’s our only way to complete the mission and leave this star system, note I don’t say escape, without a fight,” said the XO.

  “The Clover has never shirked from a fight,” Spalding said beligerantly running a hand through the hair that was once again, after many years and several regeneration treatments now sticking up behind and around his head like a halo, “but even so this was her original home port and who knows,” he shrugged, “it may even be so again. Best not to tear up the landscape while we’re here. Well…,” he added, “not any more than we were planning on in the first place.”

  “A rational decision,” agreed the XO.

  “You can take a man out of the stonelands but you can’t take the stonelander out of the man, there’s no one more rational than a stonelander,” Spalding said proudly, “one day I may even be buried in capria…. if they don’t shoot me straight into a star just to have done with me!”

  “You mean more knuckle headed and irascible surely, Sir,” said the XO.

  “I said rational and that’s what I mean!” Spalding scowled at him, “but then I wouldn’t expect a man from the suburbs to understand,” he finished with a sneer.

  “The suburbs!” protested the XO.

  “Alright enough of this nonsense,” Spalding gloated as he changed the subject, “it’s time to warm up the main cannon.”

  “Your target, Commander?” Tactical asked turning around professionally to begin setting up targets.

  “I want those Corvettes out of my orbit, Tactical, and scampering back to where they came from. Which is probably the orbital repair yard considering their model,” Spalding, said shaking his head, “they retired the Fiery Duchess class Corvettes fifteen years ago and with good reason. Even the Royalists in the SDF didn’t bother to grumble about it, especially since we were the one’s they generally posted on those little hellions. Those things are cramped, let me tell you the overhead is not three inches above your head and the quarters? You have to hot bunk just to run a full crew and don’t get me started about the continuing maintenance problems!”

  “Target locked on, Sir,” reported Tactical into the sudden silence as most of the bridge looked at their now silently fuming Captain, “we can destroy them as soon as they come into range.”

  “Destroy them?” Spalding looked at him and scowled, “What do I want to destroy a pair of Fiery Duchesses for? I probably served with a bunch of those men and women or their parents. Why, just the maintenance costs alone and the hole they’re eating out of Capria’s budget are enough reason to ignore sentiment and leave them alone! No, I just want a couple of warning shots across their bows, nice and gentle like. I think it’s past time that this part of the Sector learns just what kind of firepower the Lucky Clover is now sporting,” he finished with satisfaction.

  “Aye aye, Sir,” said Tactical and over the next several minutes they watched as a pair of Corvettes and a Destroyer approached Harpoon.

  “We’re being hailed, Sir,” said the Com-Tech.

  “Put me on with them,” Said Spalding.

  “It’s a prerecorded message, Commander,” reported the Tech.

  Spalding scowled, “Put it on anyway.”

  “Illegal warships in the Caparian Star System, you have crossed our territorial boundaries and now orbit one of our settled asteroids. Please vacate this star system at once. If you fail to leave or are unable you are ordered to step down your fusion generators, eject their cores into cold space and prepare to be boarded for inspection. If you fail to do this as well. the Caprian SDF will have no choice but to destroy you,” said an older looking woman with liberal streaks of white hair all throughout the bun on top of her head, “rest assured we have more than enough fire power to make good our arguments.”

  “They seem serious,” said the XO.

  “Very serious for a pair Corvettes going up against our weight in metal,” joked Tactical.

  “She’s a fiery wench at any rate,” Spalding said fondly staring at the screen for several seconds before rolling his eyes, “not that that’ll do her any good!”

  “What are your orders, Sir?” asked the XO.

  “Fire a shot across their bows and then put me on the main screen, Number One!” Spalding said. ignoring the sudden chill in the eyes of the XO.

  “Fire away!” Tactical said as the ship hummed underneath them and then, with a muted ‘Wwwwhump!’ sound, the main cannon fired.

  “The channel is ready when you are, Sir,” reported the Com-tech as the shot crossed the bows of the little warships and the two Corvettes on the screen scattered in different directions at 45 degree angles away from their previous course.

  Spalding straightened in his chair, ran a hand through his wild hair and almost looked professional for a minute.

  He gave a nod to the com-tech and received a thumbs up in response.

  “This is Terrance P. Spalding, Commander Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, Detached Service, and this is Royal territory; the Caprian SDF is to respect tradition, custom and Royal law and stay away from Harpoon or our next shot will not be as… gentle as our last,” he said stoutly. “By order of his Highness, Prince Jason Montagne, Governor of Planetary Body Harpoon, Grand Admiral of the Confederation, Vice-Admiral of the Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, Admiral of the Tracto-an SDF, Warlord of the Montagne War-band, Protector of Messene, and no doubt a whole host of other titles I can’t be bothered to remember right now.”

  “I’m receiving a hail,” reported the Com-Tech.

  “Ha! That’s more like it, put them on,” ordered the old Engineer.

  “This is rebellion, Junior Lieutenant Spalding,” snapped the older woman as she once again appeared on the screen, “as such I’m going to have to refuse your mutinous instructions.”

  “By order of the Prince, Harpoon is now a sovereign territory and as far as I know he intends to build his palace on the Planetary Body as soon as he has reclaimed his possession. Whether or not it's rebellion, this is a legal action recognized by both Caprian law and the Confederation of the Spine,” retorted Spalding, �
�and I wouldn’t have expected a woman with a reputation like Captain Lightning-Flash Le-Blanca to risk her crew over an old space rock like this one.”

  “This is a King’s Ship, Lieutenant Spalding,” scowled Captain Le-Blanc, “we’re servants of the King, just like every loyal Caprian, royal or not, should be.”

  “You can start calling me 'Commander' or I can take a space wrench to you, Lightning-Flash,” Spalding retorted, “and as for the King? You can keep your king what use do I have for him anyway, eh? I’ve already got a perfectly good prince to manage,” he snorted loudly, “and in case you haven’t noticed that prince is all that stands between you and an Imperial invasion force intent on raping Capria’s wealth and enslaving her people into their working class.”

  “You were a Royalist once. Is your patriotism as pale as your skin and as steadfast as those mechanical contrivances I see scattered all over your body, Engineer?” Le-Blanc asked in a hard voice.

  Spalding purpled with rage. “Loyalty, Patriotism? I haven’t seen a single credit of my wages going on five years now—and that’s after saving this entire Sector several times over!” he roared. “Where were you and all of those good patriots when a Prince of the Blood Royal was out there fighting your battles for you. And now! Now you’ve got the gall to lecture an old engineer like me on my duty to a sovereign who turned his back on us and the new mechanical prosthesis I require as a result of that war to keep you safe? Ha! Double HA! Triple…you know what. Fire another shot!” he raged, turning to the Tactical Officer.

  The Lucky Clover hummed and thrummed as another round roared out of the front of the super Battleship towards the Corvette.

  “This is an act of war, Officer Spalding!” shouted Le-Blanc as her Corvette sprinted away from the tract of the expanding plasma ball. Despite its best efforts, the Corvette barely cleared the round.

  “Mark my words: the next one won’t miss,” bellowed Spalding. “And now hear this! Apparently Mrs. Akantha’s visit didn’t do enough to remind the Royal Caprian SDF about the value, honor and duty they owe to their fellows in uniform the same ones that they abandoned out on the Rim. Well I’m here now with a message for those lost souls from those of us from the Lucky Clover. Kneel down before the Sweet Saint and confess your sins so that you yet may be saved, because while those of you here may have forgotten about the rest of us you’d so easily written off, but we haven’t forgot about you!”

  The eyes of the aging Captain on the other screen flashed with regret before they steeled once again.

  “I don’t know how you snuck into this Star System, Engineer, but I can assure you that with an oversized Battleship like that monstrosity you’ll never clear the hyper limit before the entire SDF can catch up with you. Save us all a lot of time and surrender now before we’re forced to destroy your warship,” she said frostily.

  “Monstrosity? MONSTROSITY!!!” Spalding bellowed like a stuck pig. “And we didn’t sneak anywhere—we barged right in through the front door! Furthermore, I’d like to see the warship that can catch the new Super-Dreadnaught Class!”

  The Corvette captain cut the channel in disgust and moments later both of her ships came about and blasted away from Harpoon at their top acceleration.

  “The nerve of that Captain,” Spalding growled like an angry bear.

  “What are your orders, Commander?” asked the Executive Officer.

  Spalding took the better part of a minute glaring at the screen representing the rest of the system, and those two Corvettes in particular, while clenching his fists before baring his teeth.

  “Send out a general hail. I don’t have time for shiftless lay-a-bouts with a questionable sense of duty when there’s proper work to be done. Anyone who cares two figs about preserving Capria from another Invasion Fleet is free to join us, they already know where they can come to sign up,” Spalding growled before cutting the channel and turning to his bridge, “in the meantime, crew, hook us up to those Spindles and start cranking up the antimatter feed. It’s high time we make ready to get while the getting is still good. Just make sure we aren’t going to bump into any of those spare capacitors and then send them on over to help super charge those other two spindles. We don’t have all day to spend powering up the things”

  “Aye-aye, Commander,” said the XO.

  Time passed as the Clover ran a giant bundle of power lines over to the Spindles and started recharging one of the Spindles. Meanwhile shuttles deployed half a dozen cutter sized battery banks to each of the others.

  “How much longer?” Spalding asked the engineering officer stationed on the bridge and then not seeming able to help himself got up and wandered over to the engineering station.

  “Our previous recharge estimates appear to be in error, they were too long,” reported the Engineer as Spalding appeared to hover over his shoulder and peer down at his screen, “we’re still recalculating, Captain.”

  “Well of course they were,” Spalding reproved with professional disdain, “we charged the things up for the first time in who knows how long, maybe ages, when we used it the last time to get to Easy Haven. It was a much faster jump getting home to Gambit on the return trip.”

  “Yes, well, I wasn’t given the time to jump calculations from our last transition for some reason,” remarked the other engineer with a frown, “we were expecting something on the order of 26 hours but with the apparent increase in efficiency and those portable recharge stations you attached to the other two Spindles, I think, though I can’t say for sure, that we’ll be able to charge them up in about 8 hours,” the Engineer cautioned, “and some of that number appears to be from a residual charge that was kept in the Spindles from our jump here.”

  “A bit longer than I’d hoped,” Spalding grumped.

  The other engineer looked at him in disbelief.

  “Initial estimates were 22-26 hours,” the other man looked at him in disbelief.

  “Look, man,” Spalding shook his head sadly, “those were worst case estimates. You don’t get a reputation as a miracle worker if you post your best case scenarios over the data-link!”

  “That’s not protocol, Sir,” warned the Engineer.

  “I wrote the protocol! Besides,” Spalding continued seriously, “did you really think we could stand off the entire Caprian SDF for a whole day without endangering our ride home?”

  “Not my job, Sir,” the Engineer said stiff with disapproval.

  “Now that’s what I like to hear, a man eager to get back to his real work,” Spalding approved clouting the other man on the shoulder with enough force to almost launch him out of his chair, “monitor those antimatter readings like a hawk and ensure the power feeds are stable.”

  “Aye-aye, Sir,” said the Engineer.

  “Meanwhile I’ll see what we can do to keep the buzzards off,” Spalding said with relish.

  The old engineer marched over to the weapons console.

  “Load up the main cannon,” he instructed eagerly, “we’ve never really had a chance to let her strut her stuff; it's time to find out what she can really do. We’re going to go…rapid fire!”

  “Commander, are you sure that’s wise?” asked the Executive Officer. “The Corvettes will soon be entering extreme range and even that Destroyer has begun to turn course to bypass Harpoon at an oblique angle, all twenty Cruisers and that pair of Battleships that just broke orbit are well beyond any conceivable range.”

  “I have a plan,” Spalding dismissed instantly but the Executive Officer wasn’t done yet.

  “And that’s not even mentioning any difficulty this Super Battleship might have maintaining its position relative to Harpoon due to excessive use of our main cannon. Nor the very real possibility of yanking our trunk lines free from the Jump Spindles!” exclaimed the XO.

  “Now will you hold on a cotton picking second we’re not pulling or yanking free from anything,” Spalding rounded on the First Officer.

  “We’re not?” demanded the XO.

  Spalding sn
eered. “Now that we’ve finally got enough power, the gravity system will hold us in place,” he said.

  “But I thought…” the XO trailed off before rallying, “how sure are you?”

  The old Engineer bestowed a withering look. “Now that all of our antimatter generators are up to snuff it won’t be a problem,” he said definitively, “you think I like being jerked around by that cannon whenever it fires?” he asked incredulously.

  “No!” the old engineer continued righteously before slightly moderating his tune, “oh it won’t be perfect and we might still bounce around a small bit,” he finally admitted, “but we won’t be running into any asteroids!”

  The XO nodded and then coughed.

  “Hah…planetary bodies you mean,” the other man said.

  Spalding rolled his eyes but didn’t correct the other man. “Now if you’re done disputing my orders?” he said gesturing toward the weapons console.

  “You’re the commander,” the XO said stepping back reluctantly.

  The Lucky Clover then began a live fire drill that sent the Corvettes and Destroyer into full on flight and caused many of the other ships that had just started toward Harpoon to slow down.

  It was only for less than a half an hour but by the time they started moving at full speed again the only thing that could reach the Lucky Clover in time to try and stop her were two squadrons of Corvettes and a Light Cruiser.

  Neither of which showed any interest in approaching to within range of the main cannon.

  Seven and a half hours after reaching Harpoon and eight hours after entering the Caprian Star System the Lucky Clover and her accompanying escorts took up position around the asteroid and along with Planetary Body Harpoon the Jump Spindles moved every star ship and Harpoon to another star system in one jump.

  Chapter 25: The Re-Return of Crazy Ivan

  “Captain, I’m reading something strange on my sensor read out,” reported a Sensor technician.

  “What have you got?” asked Commander Dimitri Ivan of the Crazy Ivan, hopping out of his chair and stepping across the relatively small bridge to the sensor section.