Admiral's Challenge (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 8) Page 5

  Everything he did was for the safety of his people, and the stability of his world.

  “Ah, Captain Heterodimer,” Nikomedes said when the other man appeared on his screen, “how does your company?”

  “Nikomedes,” Heterodimer said suspiciously, “what do you want from me?”

  “We are both men of Tracto, with her interests first in our hearts; I called to make sure your company was well supplied and has everything they needed. It was a harrowing battle, and I know many companies have been scattered around the newly captured ships and wanted to check up,” said the Warlord.

  “Why the sudden concern; it’s been almost a week since the battle?” Heterodimer grunted.

  Nikomedes raised his hands, “It’s nothing off my nose if you need nothing. I’ll just take my captured weaponry, spare rations, and equipment supplies and see if anyone else is in need of help. Sorry to take up your time,” said Nikomedes.

  Heterodimer’s face changed. “Now hold on just a minute; if trading a few extra supplies is all you’re after, don’t be so hasty,” the Captain said quickly. “We’re stuck over here on a ruined citadel with no hot food and growing concern about the air supply failing. Send over a list of what you have and I’ll send you back what I can spare. Worst case, I will owe you a favor and catch you back up even when we get back home.”

  Nikomedes smiled tightly and agreed; one down, a dozen more to go. His war-band had secured a large amount of supplies and gear since they came out to this Sector. Soon the majority of the captains and officers in the Lancer force would owe him favors. After that—and assuming the time continued to be right—he would take the next step. But in the meantime, all he intended to do was help out his fellow Tracto-ans.

  Above all, the planet must be protected—and his holy mission must not be interrupted.

  Chapter Seven: Ready to Depart

  “Ship’s ready to go, Admiral,” Commander Spalding reported in officially.

  “Thank you, Commander,” I nodded.

  “Just give the word and we’ll start charging the hyper drive,” he nodded back. “It’s about time we leave before we wear out our welcome, if you know what I mean,” the old man said with a wink.

  “I think that was worn out the moment the battle was won, if not while it was still actively underway, but I agree with the sentiment; it’s past time we left this Star System,” I agreed with a shake of my head, and then said more formally, “the Captain will relay the order to jump when its time.

  “O’ course, Sir,” the old metal plated Engineer said with a serious expression.

  “Just tell me one thing,” I prompted, giving into the urge to once again ask our status, “is this ship ready to fight?” To my mind, there was nothing more worrying than riding in a ship that couldn’t fight.

  The old Engineer frowned. “She’s as ready as we’re able to get her in the time we had, but there’s only so much an engineer can do—even with an oversized constructor to help out, Admiral. You know I’m always up for a scrap, but if I had my druthers I’d want to steer clear of any major engagements. This ship’s about at her limit hauling another battleship along with her as it is; put any more strain and something’ll give, mark my words,” he said firmly.

  I scowled not liking the report but ultimately not surprised. There’s only so far you can push both men and equipment, and right now both were strained up to—and past—the limit. Battle had damaged the ships and formation of post-battle, prize-collecting teams had stripped the crews down to essential services such as the hyper drives and environmental systems. However, I would have been lying if I said it wasn’t reassuring to be surrounded by the thick armor and robust shields of a proper battleship yet again—even if the ship itself wasn’t up to the Chief Engineer’s bench mark standard of the Caprian Dreadnaught class.

  “It is what it is, Admiral,” the Engineering Commander shrugged. “We’ll keep working on her on the trip back to a yard dock, but…there’s only so much we can do with unfamiliar ships, short crews, and a lack of pre-made replacement parts.”

  “Understood; Montagne, out,” I said, severing the connection.

  “Prize Alpha is ready to leave this system whenever you give the order, Sir,” Acting Captain Hammer jogged my elbow, disapproval clear in her voice.

  I nodded and checked the rest of the fleet on my chair’s readouts. “I know you’d prefer a better name for the new ships, but I don’t want to mess with that until after we see what can be fixed and what can’t,” I said.

  “Honestly, at the moment I’m more worried about those,” she replied pointing at the captured droid ships taking up position in front of the main fleet. “Not that I’m particularly pleased with the names, but these are prize ships so I suppose it fits well enough—and at least we’re not flying nameless wonders out into the cold black.”

  I was leery about using droids from the Sentient Assembly to man the battered-looking Conformity Motherships, but I didn’t have much choice about the matter. My Chief Engineer didn’t want to leave them behind and, from what he relayed, the droids seemed willing enough. Of course, they could just jump off into middle of nowhere with those ships, the constructor, and the rest of their fleet to follow and there was nothing I could do about it—which was a concern. But if I couldn’t trust Spalding, who had personally authored the whole plan, then I was really up a creek without a paddle.

  If he said he needed those ships and had a way to get them home for us, I’d be a fool to just argue for the sake of it. Plus I really didn’t think the Sentient Assembly hijacking the ships was likely. Or, rather, right now the best thing that could happen from this Fleet’s standpoint would be if the droids actually did break their deal with Akantha and take off beyond the Rim.

  That fact, more than anything else, was why I had become fatalistically certain that those ships would arrive safe and sound at Tracto—or, if for some reason they didn’t, it wouldn’t be because the Assembly droids did less than their best. That particular outcome would have just been too blasted easy for me, personally, and I’d learned that nothing I got to do as an Admiral was ever easy.

  While it may have saved two Sectors of human space and countless worlds, the alliance with the United Sentient Assembly was coming home to roost and I just couldn’t imagine a positive reaction back home to that particular news. If the very Sectors that were saved wanted to line USA droids up against a wall and have them shot out of hand—now that their usefulness was at an apparent end—the reaction was only going to get worse the further from the conflict we went.

  While I was thinking these sorts of deep thoughts, green and yellow lights all up and down the board—signals from the rest of the ships of the fleet—started indicating that we were as ready as we were going to get. And, much as I hated to admit it, it was time to go. The fact that the only yellow-status—indicating questionable functionality—hyper drive systems were on the droid crewed Motherships was a relief. I didn’t particularly like the fact that one of our ships was less-than-optimal at go-time, but the straight up fact of the matter was that I was a lot less concerned with losing a Mothership with purely mechanical hands aboard than I was about losing a similar number of humans.

  Call me an anti-machinist bigot, but that’s where I was at that moment. And, after several moments of reflection, I was fairly unrepentant about the whole matter.

  “The order is given, Captain: point us at the hyper limit, relay the movement order to the rest of the fleet, and take us out of here,” I ordered, leaning back in my chair.

  “Aye aye, Vice Admiral,” she replied crisply.

  “Hmph,” I muttered in response at the use of my full title but let it pass. The captain and I were still in the process of feeling each other out and, while I didn’t know if we were going to work out long term, one thing I was certain of was that it was past time I put this system behind me. “Bunch of ungrateful blighters,” I muttered belligerently.

  Fortunately for the safety of our prize ship
s—and the continued existence of the Elysium Star System’s infrastructure—the Grand Fleet must have decided against making an overt move against us and we cleared the hyper limit without a hitch.

  Minutes after clearing the limit, the fleet jumped in unison and we left Elysium in our hyper-wake.

  Chapter Eight: Motherly Love

  “I’m glad you could find the time for tea service with your mother,” she said, setting down the tray and proceeding to fill the fine china set with a piping hot special blend of Caprian black tea.

  “Aw, mom,” I protested halfheartedly while thinking that I had to be just about the worst son ever. I hadn’t seen my mother for almost two years and then the first chance I got to sit down with her, I promptly dragged her into a war zone where I couldn’t spend nearly as much time with her as I should have. When it came to terrible, inattentive sons I had to rank in there somewhere close to the top.

  “Pish,” Mom insisted, using a pet word I’d grown up hearing as a scoff, “water under the bridge. The important thing is you’re here now safe and sound and able to spend some time with your mother, which is something that didn’t seem certain would happen again even a short time ago.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said, feeling myself turn green. Again, worst son ever award went to Jason Montagne, I silently thought.

  “Don’t worry about me; we merely locked the door while Duncan stood guard. Safe as a bug in a rug,” she declared, glossing over the fact that she’d been on the Phoenix during the boarding action when droid warrior bots had gone around methodically shooting any crewmember they encountered.

  “Yeah…not my finest hour ever,” I winced in memory and then taking a drink from my cup of tea to try and hide my reaction. “I’ll try to keep you far away from anything like that in the future.”

  “I’m not quite the delicate hot house flower you think of me, Son,” Mom riposted lightly, “and even if I was, I always have Duncan.” A faint smile crossed her face as she said the last part, and I had to take another sip to hide my reaction.

  I loved mom and Duncan—my former sword instructor—had been one of the few people at the palace I could trust during my time there. But since I had left Capria it was clear their relationship had advanced into a place which I, as the son, was uncomfortable with. Not that I was in any position to say anything considering the fact that, unlike me, Duncan had never done anything that had almost gotten Mom killed.

  “You’re a chef at the Palace mom. I don’t care how good you are with cutlery; things out here are on another level entirely, and Duncan can only do so much when companies of battle droids are storming through the corridors,” I groused, still mentally castigating myself. “I never should have brought you out here.”

  Far from looking upset with me, mother shook her head as if I was being particularly dense.

  “As if you could have stopped me after over a year of running around out here trying to get yourself killed on a daily basis,” she scoffed.

  “Huh,” I muttered under my breath. I was an Admiral now, and I was pretty sure that if I gave the order to eject my mother before we left Tracto, my orders would have been carried out. So while I didn’t say anything more to get her angry, neither was I willing to let myself off the hook. I had the power, dang it! That I hadn’t used it was on me.

  “Look at my little man, all serious and grown up now,” Mom said, smiling sadly. “As a parent, you turn around one day and wonder where your little boy went.” She dabbed at a tear in the corner of her eye.

  “Mom!” I protested, feeling both embarrassed and helpless at the same time.

  “When you’re a parent, I guess you just never quite get ready for your kids to leave and grow up while you aren’t looking,” she said.

  “I’m doing okay,” I hurried to say, “I mean, sure, I had a few rough patches along the way but it all worked out for the best. I’ve got a fleet and real power; thousands of people—and even whole worlds—look to me for protection. I’ve come a long way from the boy in the palace that no one liked.”

  Mom stopped and took a deep drink of tea and then carefully set it down.

  “I’m not sure this is the path I would have ever wanted for you,” she replied, looking me straight in the eye before taking my hand and holding it up against her cheek. “But here you are, and you’re everything you were meant to be. It seems blood will tell out no matter what.” For a moment it looked as if her heart was about to break and she blinked away tears.

  “It’s okay mom,” I said with sudden concern.

  “In a way, I blame myself,” she continued almost as if talking to herself, “when I was younger I wanted this for you: the life, the power, the destiny, despite everything. I was a fool,” she finished fiercely.

  “It’s really not that bad,” I hastened to assure her, “it may seem like this last battle was pretty bad…and it was, of course,” I said not wanting to lie outright, “but it’s not always like this and it’s not often you get the chance to save two whole Sectors. I’m more worried about you; I’m going to be fine.”

  “I’m sure you will dear,” she said patting my hand before putting it back down, “but when you raise a boy into a man, a mother…well this mother, anyway, can’t help but worry. I want to see my little boy happy and doing what he wants, above and beyond whatever duty or station or the expectations of others might say.”

  “No one’s forcing me to be out here; I’m out doing this because I want to and because the people need someone to save them and there’s no one else. Maybe in the beginning things weren’t quite so clear-cut, but I could have walked away long before now if this was all about being stuck in a bad situation,” I said seriously.

  “Forgive a mother for her worries,” Mom said once again hiding herself behind her tea cup, then she smiled brightly, “at least I’ve had the chance to get to know your bride; she seems quite determined to succeed.”

  “Succeed at killing me, maybe,” I mumbled but when she raised an eyebrow at me, I winced before forcing out a smile. “She has big plans that one,” I finished lamely.

  “On the whole, I think she’s good for you,” Mom said, laying down the firm stamp of motherly approval on my marriage.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said glumly, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love her. I really do. But sometimes…” I trailed off thinking about the various times being married to her had almost gotten me killed. Challenge circles, angry relative, and other such near catastrophes flitting through my mind.

  Mother nodded wisely.

  “You’ll have to rein her in sometimes but, although some might not agree, I think it’s a fine match,” she said before dropping a genuine bombshell, “and besides, it’s clear that she simply adores you as well. She’ll be good for you; maybe it’s something about how I raised you, but you always were a touch timid when it came to confrontation. With her beside you, somehow I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  “Clear? That’s something that’s as clear as green glass,” I protested loudly, “I’m not saying she doesn’t care for me, but adore? That’s a road too far to go, I think. And timid? I think there are a lot of people out here who would disagree with that label.” Of course, none of those people were my mom and most of them had only known me after I took command of the Lucky Clover and shortly after that became married to Akantha so…No! There was absolutely no point in her assertions. I had only been appropriately cautious while living on a home world where your family name was poison and the slightest misstep could get not only you killed, but maybe your mother as well.

  “Just make sure you don’t let anyone push you into something you aren’t comfortable with—not even me,” Mother warned me seriously.

  “Yes, mom,” I said.

  Mothers they worried about the weirdest things. You’d think most moms would be in a panic, if not about themselves almost being killed, then at least about their son being tortured and almost killed. I mean, I knew my mom wo
rried about me but the upshot of all these near-death experiences was to voice approval about my choice of wife and tell me not to get pushed into anything.

  I knew I didn’t understand women, but now I was pretty sure that Mom was going to stay a mystery to me as well.

  With a sigh, I leaned back and finished my tea as the topics turned away from the serious and back towards lighter topics. Such as when I thought the fleet would arrive back at Tracto and what kind of weather the planet was experiencing right at the moment.

  I was just grateful to be back on firmer conversational footing…. at least I was up until the talk of grandchildren came up. After that, I went right back to sweating bullets—I wasn’t ready to be a father yet!

  Chapter Nine: Surprise Visitors

  “You said what?!” exclaimed Acting Captain Hammer in a tone of voice that instantly sent my blood pressure skyrocketing.

  I quickly looked up at the screen, only to see us in yet another dead-end star system without even so much as a single inhabited planetoid or space station.

  “That’s simply unacceptable,” the Acting Captain said firmly.

  The only thing on any of the screens I could see were our fleet-slash-convoy, and the routine supply shuttles dancing back and forth between the various ships of the MSP Fleet distributing spare parts, supplies and perishable food stuffs that several of our ship’s damaged or destroyed hydroponics plants couldn’t produce on their own.

  “Problem, Captain?” I asked coolly in the sort of voice that said there had better be after all her exclamations.

  “Intruders on the shuttle deck, Sir,” she turned and informed me bracing to attention.

  I blinked and my mind went from petty bridge politics into battle mode. “How many casualties; an enemy boarding force of what size and composition?” I demanded already calling up the links to both the Armory and the Lancer force on my chair’s built in interface with the ship’s DI.