Admiral's War Part Two (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 10) Page 3

  In short, I appeared just like what I’d trained to be: a Prince and Admiral fully in control himself and unshaken—although not unaffected—by the catastrophic events taking place outside this star system.

  “I’d like to thank everyone for gathering here,” I said, stepping up behind the chair with my name plate on the table in front of it, pausing to relay my message and then pulling out the chair sat down and pulled the chair forward until I was a comfortable distance from the edge of the table.

  Reaching for a glass, I carefully poured water into it before looking up at the remainder of the table’s occupants questioningly.

  Just as I’d calculated, the silence was soon replaced by a challenge.

  “So that’s all you have to say for yourself after a debacle that destroyed a full three quarters of your fleet while you were in command? ‘Thanks for gathering’!?” a man with the uniform of an SDF Admiral demanded angrily.

  “Half,” I said, picking up the glass and looking at it for a moment before taking a sip. “Ah, that hits the spot,” I said to no one in particular.

  “I beg your pardon,” growled the Admiral.

  Looking up and glancing at his name plate, I saw that his name was Full Admiral Triam Vextriam of the Praxis SDF.

  “I was only saying, Admiral Vextriam,” I paused to shoot a hard look at him, “that we lost half our fleet against the closet Imperial Reclamationists—not three fourths. But then perhaps you have not yet had the benefit of a full briefing on the original strength of Sector 25’s defensive fleet, or on the battle we just fought?”

  Admiral Vextriam flushed. “I am fully apprised of the trap you led your forces into and the attendant losses. Nor do I appreciate the lack of courtesy implied by referring to me by an improper rank. I, young man, am a Full Admiral in the Praxis SDF!”

  “So it was mere hyperbole and not an arithmetic failure as I had surmised. Although that still doesn’t answer the question of just where exactly you received your ‘full briefing,’ as that is the reason you all are gathered here,” I nodded knowingly before putting down my water with a click as it hit the table. “And as far as courtesy…Admiral,” I said deliberately emphasizing the fact that I was not referring to him as ‘Full Admiral’, “you must first give it in order to get it.”

  “I don’t think that a man who has just lost 3/4ths of the warships entrusted to him—half of them captured or destroyed outright—without doing any appreciable damage to the enemy deserves the respect of being called an Admiral,” glared Admiral Vextriam.

  “That’s entirely your prerogative, old man,” I said simply.

  Full Admiral Triam Vextriam stood up stiffly, “If that’s how our representatives are to be treated the Praxis Contingent is prepared to withdraw.”

  “No, that’s just how you are to be treated,” I said dryly, “and you and your contingent are free to withdraw. I am sure that you will make good use of the month you’ll have before your home world is invaded by the Reclamation Fleet. Ta-ta!” I finished with a false smile.

  “You have no shame, Sir!” declared the Full Admiral, as if this was supposed to mean anything to me.

  “I am unfamiliar with your record, Admiral,” I said firmly. “Did I walk into a trap laid out by the enemy and fail to best them at their own game? Yes. Was it a trap laid with false electronic information intercepts and spurred into by unbridled subordinates who demanded an immediate attack? Yes. Do I regret it to my very bones? Undoubtedly I will remember the men and women I failed to my dying day. That said. it is one loss in a string of battles I’ve been fighting ever since the empire withdrew. I’ve fought Pirates. I’ve fought Bug invasion fleets. I’ve fought Droid invasion fleets. And, yes, the one I lost against the Imperials. Frankly, despite being maligned in the media, I’ve fought battles both inside and outside of this Sector and in the defense of this Sector, the Spine and Humanity as a whole. But again, as I said earlier, I am unfamiliar with your record. Please chastise me with the record of battles you’ve fought to defend our people and this Sector. If I have done you a wrong then I encourage you to please tell me how you’ve fought for the Spine. If it weren’t for me you wouldn’t even be aware of this threat.”

  “Impudence…arrogance—compounded by rank incompetence,” howled the Full Admiral, his face turning redder and redder. “Are we to stand here and allow you to insult us?! No!”

  “Again, you are free to go and fight the Imperials at a time and place of their choosing—meaning that battle will take place at your home world. When the Imperials have amassed what they think is overwhelming combat power and are confident—as they currently are, evidenced by the battle at New Pacifica—and can stand off with their Command Carrier and bombard your most powerful fixed defenses from outside of their range,” I said with finality, “so sure. Leave. Let’s all see how that works for you—let us see how that works for all of you,” I added, sweeping the rest of the officers at this table with my cold gaze.

  “Hear hear,” said Captain Eastwood of the Messene’s Shield. I was grateful for the show of support from within my own ranks, but sadly I was going to need more than just my own loyal supporters if we were going to pull this off—and that was looking less and less likely by the minute.

  “You realize that without our support, the defense of this star system is doomed. You are doomed,” observed a Rear Admiral in an SDF uniform—a man I was unfamiliar with. Beside him sat a Commodore in the New Sector Guard uniform. I was mildly surprised that they had more units to send, but I’d take them if I could. In the meantime I had to answer the other SDF Admiral, “I doubt the man in charge of that rogue Imperial Fleet will just let you go after the way you mangled his task force in the battle prior to this.”

  “I do realize your contributions to this defense are necessary,” I said agreeably. “Do you also realize that if Easy Haven falls, the rest of the Sector will be knocked over like dominoes? As the Wolf-9 fortifications and Easy Haven stands so stands this Sector. As Easy Haven falls, so falls this Sector. The way I see it you need me even more than I need you.”

  “How do you figure that?” asked the Rear Admiral, sounding amused. Taking a glance at his name plate I saw that he was Grantor Nuttal from a world I didn’t recognize. It must really not be one of the Core Worlds, and yet the men and women around him allowed him to speak. I wondered what qualities he had that granted him that measure of deference.

  “I am a man rejected by his home world and, some would even say, the majority of this very Sector. They even call me a tyrant. But you’ll notice that majority of my assets are mobile. I fight out of a desire for justice and idealism. But other than my wife’s lands on a primitive world, the only thing the Imperials can hit are Easy Haven and a few immobile space stations. Would I miss the Trillium resources? Undoubtedly. Would I stew and regret the loss of several major space stations? No question. But again I could theoretically evacuate those stations as well as the small population on my wife’s lands. So, yes, I’d take a hit and the entire time I was rebuilding out in an isolated, uninhabited star system I’d have plenty of time to plot out my revenge. Meanwhile, they couldn’t find me but the location of all your worlds are well known to them. Within a few months, jack boots would be trodding your soil and marching through your capitols. I can always take another stab at revenge later, if I had to. You guys? Evacuating your worlds is a joke; you simply don’t have the carrying capacity. So if you leave, I’ll leave too,” I shrugged. “I’m not going ask my people to die for another man’s war—a war those very other men refuse to fight. So, by all means, leave if that’s your intent. But if you’re going to stay then remember this is Confederation property—this is my turf and, if you’ll stay, it’s on my terms.”

  “A bold statement. But despite Admiral Vextriam’s perhaps poorly-chosen words, the question remains a legitimate one: why should we throw good money after bad? You lost against the Reclaimers once already—and badly, at that. Why should we count on you to do any better a seco
nd time?” asked Rear Admiral Nuttal.

  “A third time, don’t you mean?” I flashed a false smile. “As I count it, I won the first battle and currently my win loss ratio is 1 to 1.”

  “You only won when you struck from surprise in an ambush situation,” snorted Grantor Nuttal.

  “The exact same could be said for my opponent in the battle I lost, yes? Proving what? That if either of us can attack with surprise on our side, we’ll probably win. Well, this time we won’t walk in fat, dumb and happy straight into an enemy ambush. We’ll let them come to us. No surprise, no ambush except what we have in this star system. Both sides will know exactly what is going on, their massive fleet against our admittedly smaller fleet and formidable fixed defenses. And this time, with your help, we’ll break their teeth on Wolf-9. Or, of course,” I shrugged, “we can always just give up and go home. Frankly if we do that I’m liking my odds and future a lot more than I’m liking yours, as you have to go through a regime change when they conquer your worlds just like they have every planet and star system in three other Sectors. But hey, if you’re with us here at Easy Haven and you’re determined to fight to the finish then we’re prepared to go all in with you and show those Imperials a fight like they’ll never forget.”

  “And what if we like everything about this plan of yours except for the man in charge of implementing it?” asked Rear Admiral Grantor Nuttal, his face hard and unyielding.

  “You can go home and pound sand for all I care. It’s my way or the highway,” I said flatly, “this is my star system, boys and girls—my rodeo—and this late in the game I figure I’m all you’ve got left.”

  Nuttal slowly shook his head, “I’m not sure if I agree with that last statement of yours.”

  “There’s the door,” I said pointing to the conference room entrance, “feel free to show yourself out if that’s really how you feel.”

  “I don’t agree,” Rear Admiral Grantor Nuttal repeated with force, “but at the same time, though I hate to say it, you’re probably still our best shot.”

  I shrugged while the room erupted around me. “Whatever gets you through the night,” I flippantly returned.

  The Rear Admiral stood up and tapped the first two knuckles of his left hand against the table. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Admiral Montagne,” he warned.

  I glared at him. “I disagree. This is exactly as hard as it needs to be—or maybe I’m even being a bit too soft and wishy-washy with the lot of you,” I said flatly. I was serious. Color me a coward, but I was ready to pull out and fight another time if I had to. There might have been someone who’d done more for this Sector since the Imperials performed their magic trick with the stellar ComStat network and pulled out, but I didn’t know him. So while I’d hate to lose the Wolf-9 yards, star base, and potentially Commodore LeGodat who would scream bloody murder and maybe even decide to pull out and fight to the bitter end at Easy Haven, I couldn’t stomach another blunder like our last battle. Either we did this right or we pulled back, reconsolidated, and looked for another chance to even the score.

  I refused to let another committee run or committee influenced operation happen on my watch. Even more, I refused to allow thousands of good men and women to follow me to their death.

  I closed my eyes tightly before opening them. The iron had entered my spine, and it felt like it was there to stay. I’d long since come to terms with people following the flawed me and then dying because I wasn’t good enough, or fast enough, or even competent enough. I didn’t like it but I could do so because this was an at will organization where every sentient had the right to be asked the question ‘who was the greater fool: the fool or the fool who followed him?’ by a skeptical critic. But even more importantly than their right to self-determination, I was able to sleep at night because when I stood up and looked around I literally couldn’t see anyone else who was willing to standing up for the helpless people of the Spineward Sectors and place their ships, crews and fleets between them and danger.

  The SDF’s were great but ultimately limited to protecting their narrow scope of self-interest—and weeping great big alligator tears in front of the media cameras to drive up ratings unless their own personal worlds were at risk. As for the Sector Guard, in my somewhat informed opinion, they were just about as likely to oppress the innocent as they were to go up against guilty.

  If you didn’t mind fifty-fifty odds then, as far as I was concerned, you might as well join the MSP—at least we didn’t deliberately target the innocent.

  “The Star Nation of Praxis will not sit still for this!” Full Admiral Triam Vextriam finally burst like a dam too long under pressure.

  “Please enhance your calm, Full Admiral,” Grantor Nuttal tried to smooth the troubled waters, but the Full Admiral was having none of it.

  “I will not be silent,” thundered Triam Vextriam, “and we will not be lectured to—least of all not by a young man who knows more about criminal behavior than he does about how to run a fleet or fight battles!”

  I set my jaw. For a moment I almost sympathized with my Tracto-an mutineers. Knowing that this was the inevitable result of ‘civilized’ behavior where no one was allowed to settle their differences by mutual agreement within a challenge circle, thus allowing every fool to wax long and stridently about things he literally knew nothing about. It stuck in my craw.

  “If by ‘criminal’ you mean you mean a potential violation of finance laws by personally funding the defense of this Sector through a series of loans taken out against my wife’s great personal wealth—when as you well know the various worlds of the Spine, including Praxis, for whatever reason, refused their legal obligation to pay the very taxes that support the Confederation Fleet—then I commend your auditors for their due diligence. At the same time I am left aghast at the hypocritical stance taken by the Praxis Government. Which is why at this point I must reluctantly direct your attention to sub-section three hundred and thirty two of the same statute—” I said with a straight face.

  The Full Admiral’s face had by now turned purple. “I don’t care how you fund that abortion of a pirate fleet you’ve raised!” he cut me off. “The last thing I’m interested in is how you’re spending your ill-gotten gains! The sad and sorry fact of this matter is—”

  I jumped to my feet, “Pirate Fleet?!”

  “You’ve been lambasted across the Sector by the media. Oh yes,” Full Admiral Vextriam gloated, “we on Praxis know full well the tally of the Tyrant’s foul misdeeds. We were willing to stomach the foul taste of working with you at the direct urging of the Sector Government and in the face of a full-blown invasion. But no longer! We will not sit silently by while the Tyrant of Cold Space, a Montagne from a family just as cruel and brutal on their home world as he ever was in the space lanes, tramples over our rights and privileges, happily slaughtering the very good men and women who were the true heroes who defended this sector. I wonder what Admiral Silverback and the countless officers and crew that died would say regarding your rank incompetence, Vice Admiral!” he said, leveling a murderous glare my direction.

  This was the moment when I would have shot him if he’d been a Tracto-an, or an enemy like Jean Luc. I could all but see myself pointing my pointer finger at him, pulling back my thumb, and shooting him with the miniature one shot blaster pistol implanted in my hand. I could see it but, of course, I did nothing of the sort. After all I was ‘civilized’ and when a man slandered and libeled you, in a ‘civilized’ society while you could say whatever you wanted in return ultimately instead of settling things with swords you just had to grin and bear it.

  I drummed my fingers on the edge of the table in a rapid, repeated beat. Maybe after all this time fighting on the ragged edge of these Sectors, I wasn’t as civilized as I would like to assume anymore.

  “I’m not going to bandy words with a man who wasn’t there when Governor Isaak threw me in jail on trumped up charges and then slandered me in front of the media when I was con
strained from defending myself. All for the sole crime of daring to fight off the very pirates he accused me of being. A governor who wasn’t there when the pirates, bugs, droids or…” I sneered, “closet Imperials reared their ugly heads when they tried to conquer us!”

  “Why you little basta—“ roared the Full Admiral.

  “No you, Sir!” I shouted, “you don’t have a clue what’s been done to protect this Sector and clearly you couldn’t care less. ‘Little’, ‘Young’ and ‘Boy’? I’ve been fighting both fleet and ship actions for the past three and a half years—which is way more combat experience, I’d wager, than most of the captains in this room—yet still you continually try to mock or demean me. Why is that? I lost one battle. One. And so what?! I’m the only one in this entire Sector who has actually beaten these Reclaimer Imperials at their own game. But just because you cannot bear the thought of the losses from that one last battle, you want to pull out—under the pretext that I’m an incompetent, young, little, boyish, lying Tyrant from a bad family who is terrorizing the space lanes? Pick a narrative and stick with it, Full Admiral! Either I’m an incompetent or a serious tyrannical threat. Either way, I’ve had enough of your blather. Man up or get lost in Murphy’s demonic realm for all I care. I don’t have time set aside for imbeciles on this meeting’s schedule!”

  “What are you going to do, punk?” he demanded, his jaw jutting out. “A little bit of heat and you don’t have the stomach to stay in the kitchen? You might as well quit now.”

  “You can’t speak out both sides of your mouth on my deck, old man,” I retorted fiercely. “Maybe that kind of double speak flies back on Praxis but it doesn’t work here.”

  “I move that we immediately vote to select a new leader to lead us in this upcoming battle and nominate myself,” Full Admiral Triam Vextriam said, turning away from me and appealing to the rest of the officers assembled here. “With your support and that of your various ships and Marine contingents, we can clap the Tyrant in irons, send him back for the trial he so richly deserves, and still keeping the ships and defenses he has assembled here for use against the—”