Admiral's Nemesis (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 11) Read online

  “Interesting,” I said coolly, “you are aware that a wiser man might have waited until he was actually outside of blast range of that shuttle before spouting off at the person he thought had set it to blow? But then, no one’s ever accused you of wisdom, am I correct governor? Intelligence and ruthlessness, almost certainly. But wisdom?” I continued to mock as Isaak stared at me with snake eyes, “Fortunate for everyone involved, then, that there was only ever caviar and wine inside your shuttle. And frankly, a half hour was all I needed anyway. So thank you for that.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere, Admiral Montagne. As the gods are my witness, none of your tricks will save you this time. No man toys with Sir Isaak of Argaon, a fifty year veteran of the Caprian ambassadorial service and the duly elected Governor of Sector 25,” the Governor snapped before once again cutting the connection with the slash of a hand.

  “How rude,” I commented idly, and there was a snort from nearby that was so well disguised I was unable to tell where it came from in response.

  Which was probably fortunate.

  Chapter 7: Now you see it, now you don’t: The Run for the Derelicts

  “Status on the Governor’s battleships, Tactical?” Laurent inquired.

  “Still decelerating in an off course angle from Green Pea, Sir,” Lieutenant Hart reported crisply.

  The Captain nodded,and on the screen one of the Sector Guard Battleships launched bucking cables.

  “Still no new ship movements,” reported Hart in a hardening voice as the Governor's escape pod was pulled into the open launch bay doors of the Sector Battleship.

  Several long minutes passed as the Sector Battleships failed to light engines and renew their course for the waypoint containing the most important captured hulls from the last War.

  “What’s taking them so long?” muttered Laurent and Hart just shook his head.

  I didn’t have the answer.

  Then the bay doors were suddenly decompressed and the escape pod was unceremoniously ejected from the battleship.

  “Interesting,” I mused, placing a finger across my upper lip.

  “No doubt they were concerned with the safety of their shuttle after our Admiral’s repeated assurances of the safety of their shuttle,” remarked Jones.

  “Yes, that was quite obvious to anyone with an active brain, Ensign. Thanks for the timely information,” Laurent said dryly.

  Jones’s expression flattened, but he nodded stiffly accepting the rebuke with more grace than I might have in his place. Of course, I wasn’t in his place and likely never would be. No, it was fortune and glory or the ignominy of total defeat for my future.

  “If only the odds weren’t, and hadn’t been, so heavily stacked against me,” I mumbled unconsciously.

  “Eh?” Laurent cocked an eye my direction.

  I blinked in surprise that I’d spoken aloud. “Nothing, just a stray thought concerning the past,” I deflected brushing aside the question. The middle road might have been long denied me but, as long as this gambit worked and I could secure these hulls in my secret rebel base, I could dare to defy anything in the Spine. Which, honestly, at this point I would.

  “Sector warships have resumed their intercept course with the Waypoint,” Hart reported the instant Isaak’s ships began to move.

  I look at the countdown clock. The governor had been delayed for 42 minutes and 34 seconds, a good twelve minutes more than expected.

  Or needed.

  Chapter 8: The Chase Is On

  “I want the Tyrant’s head handed to me by dawn!” snapped Governor Isaak as he stormed onto the bridge of his flag ship, skinsuit clinging to his body as he tore off the suit’s gloves and mask.

  “There’s nowhere he can run as long as he’s willing to defend those captures, and his window to fly past and run for the hyper limit with his flagship is rapidly closing. He has nowhere to go as long as he’s determined not to hand over those battleship hulls,” the Captain said staunchly.

  “Whoever controls those hulls controls the balance of power in this Sector—and possibly the Spine! He knows that just as well as I do, which is why he’s being so cussed stubborn,” the Governor glared at the screen depicting Jason Montagne and the battered remnants of his 'Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet.' In other words, a former joke of a fleet that no one in the halls of power was laughing at any longer. This might be the one last chance the Government had to crush the ‘Little Admiral,’ as he was known among his closest confidants, and Isaak aimed to put the overgrown blighter and his burgeoning cult of personality permanently in his place or rub it and him out entirely. “It’s high time the Tyrant finally felt the full force and fury of the Rule of Law,” Isaak finished with savage satisfaction.

  “Are you sure he won’t run? It won’t sit well with some of the officers and crew that served during the Amalgamated Campaign,” the Captain warned, “they’ll do their duty to Central and the Sector even if it turns their stomach sour, and I’ll not claim there aren’t any number of hands old and new itching to blow the Tyrant to Kingdom Come. But even though it’ll raise morale in some areas it’ll hit it in others; stabbing our allies during the campaign in the back like this won't sit well across the board.”

  “Murphy blast it, Captain Bluetooth,” swore Isaak, “those were not allies of our Sector serving alongside the Guard, they were constituents! They did their duty then and they’ll do their duty now or face justice like any other traitorous unit. Set aside your precious Spacer’s Honor for one hot second and look at the bigger picture.”

  “I am! And I do, Your Excellency,” flared the other man, “but you would be ill-served if I failed to point out the consequences to the Guard before dutifully carrying out your orders.”

  Sir Isaak gritted his teeth, looking like he was about to explode and then finally nodded before relaxing fractionally. “While it’s certainly not music to my ears, I recognize the service you do by speaking it, Captain. Do not think for an instant that I fail to recognize the gravity of this situation or the impact upon the Guard and our Sector if we succeed or if we were to fail. However, I would be remiss in my duties as Governor if I let a rogue operator like the Tyrant of Cold Space run off with enough firepower to dictate terms to the government,” Isaak said smooth finality. “I’m sure that despite whatever qualms you or your men feel they will carry out their duty to the best of their abilities.”

  “Of course, Sir. We are the Sector Guard,” Bluetooth said with obvious pride in his statement.

  “Good man,” Isaak said clapping the Captain on the shoulder. “Now if that is quite enough, let us go and bag a Tyrant why don’t we?”

  “With pleasure, Governor,” Bluetooth bared his teeth.

  “Why, Captain, for a moment there I almost thought you shared the qualms of certain of your crew,” Isaak observed with surprise.

  The Captain shook his head stoically. “While I would be a poor captain if I didn’t understand my men, I have no love for criminals who cut the heads off Sector Guard service Admirals or execute their flag rank detractors inside briefing rooms, Governor. No, this is one order I will be quite satisfied carrying out,” Bluetooth said flatly.

  “Captain, it appears you just might have had hidden depths overlooked by my staff during your last several yearly reviews,” Isaak said, his eyes narrowing.

  “That’s not why I’m doing this, Governor,” the Captain frowned.

  “All the better,” Isaak mused, one corner of his mouth climbing upward, “I always have a place set aside in my administration for a principled man who hates my enemies just as badly as I do.”

  Bluetooth’s brow lowered. “I serve the Sector, not any one leader. I try to put aside any personal grudges I have for the good of the service, your Excellency,” the Captain demurred stoutly, “that’s one of the key difference between a guardsman like myself and the hired thugs of a two bit warlord like Montagne.”

  “An excellent outlook for a Guard officer,” Sir Isaak approved, “keep telling your
self that when the times get rough, Captain, and you’ll go far in this man’s Sector defense force,” he turned away with a smile.

  After Governor Isaak left to look over the battle-space plot, he left behind a disgruntled-looking ship captain who opened his mouth several times as if to speak before ultimately closing his mouth with a snap before turning away himself.

  “Message to the Governor’s Escort Squadron,” growled Captain Bluetooth, “all ships are to resume previous orders. The governor wants the Tyrant’s head if he refuses to surrender and recognize Sector authority. I recognize that this might not sit well with some, however I expect every man to do his sworn duty and follow every lawful order despite personal preferences. That is why, in the name of the Sector Guard and all the guardsmen who lost their lives at the hands of this rogue Admiral and our former illustrious Sector Commandant,” he scoffed, sneering as he added his latest most previous title. “As well as those who died because of the men and women who sold their souls to the space demons in order to follow him into this infamy. I say enough is enough! Enough is more than too much! Enough with the Warlords, both those sent by the Empire and those who are home-grown! Enough with the chaos and darkness that has swept our people, our worlds, and our Sector! Enough with the lies and death and carnage and chaos. It is time and past someone stood up and took a stand!”

  He paused to assess the room.

  “Never doubt for a moment people that that someone is us. The Sector Guard. As the Governor himself says: this may be our only, last, and final chance to stop this Warlord in his tracks—and I aim to take it. Which is why I ask you, the men and women of this squadron, to help me stand on the side of law, order and proper discipline as I deliver the latest in a long series of would be warlords, men who shook the Spine and nearly brought our Sector to its knees, to the Governor on a silver platter! Thank you in advance for your support. That will be all.” He finished with a sharp resounding nod before stepping back and sitting down in his Captain's Chair, his back ramrod straight.

  After the captain’s words, a pall hung over the bridge until suddenly one operator broke it by standing up and saluting. After him, as if a dam had broken, two others stood up saluted and started clapping. Soon a groundswell of support swept the bridge as every member of the crew and nearly every officer stood up in wholehearted support of their leader and the task he’d set them until their cheers literally shook the walls.

  “The MSP can disband or die. Up the Sector! Down the Tyrant! And long live the people of the Spine and Sector 25! Huzzah!!!”

  “Huzzah!!!” shouted the bridge crew.

  “Huzzah!!!”

  “Huzzah!!!”

  After a penetrating look followed by a sharp nod from the Captain the ship’s Executive Officer stepped forward.

  “That’s enough, people; get back to your work. Attention on deck!” he barked.

  With an assessing look, Governor Isaak stood silently off to the side as he observed the Captain and the state of the Sector Guard officers present on the bridge.

  Engines flaring, the warships of the Sector Guard resumed their top pursuit speed. Like six angry pylons of death they tore through space, eager to bring down pain and punishment to all those who would defy their legal authority.

  Chapter 9: Finished, or the Finish Line?

  “The Sector Guard has entirely changed their encryption protocol, Sir,” reported the Com-Officer.

  I gave the man a penetrating look, wishing for a moment I was dealing with Lieutenant Steiner instead of the current head of the Furious Phoenix ’s com-department. But beggars cannot be choosers, and Lisa Steiner was currently on the 2.0 with Commander Spalding updating its fleet com-protocols for future command and control operations and ensuring by her very presence that I would have communications with that most critical of warships if the need arose. Saint Murphy knew it was hard enough dealing with Spalding when he was on the same ship; how much worse would it be when he was off in another part of the system?

  “Understood,” I answered the com-officer, “how many ships in the rest of the system have changed protocols to match?” I inquired curiously.

  The Com-Officer blanked for a moment and then nodded.

  “I’ll check, Admiral,” he said respectfully and then turned away.

  “You do that,” I said.

  “Good catch, Sir,” said Laurent.

  “No one likes a suck-up, Captain,” I rebuked mildly.

  “Of course, Sir. It won’t happen again,” Laurent promised with what sounded like anything but true sincerity.

  I looked at him sideways and had to resist an eye roll at the faint smirk on his face.

  The answer when it came back wasn’t as bad as I’d feared, but still much worse than I’d hoped. I was looking at more than twenty starships which had already changed their transponder code to the new Sector Level Encryption. As I watched, two more transponders blinked and then changed their encryption.

  “If this is not the very definition of 'fair weather friends' then I know not what it is,” I said damningly as yet another ship changed its transponder slowly edging the number of newly self-declared Sector loyalists, and finally my temper started rising. I closed my eyes, trying to center myself out of this sudden storm of wild emotion. “Mama, they try and break me,” I whispered as a fury like a rising tide welled up from deep within me until I felt I was about to burst, “relentless and without shame or consideration they just...keep...TRYING.”

  “Calmness, Sir,” Laurent said, sounding more concerned and urgent than I’d ever heard him as he stepped closer. “This wasn’t entirely unexpected; we knew they had partisans among the remnants of the 25th Amalgamated defense fleet lingering here for repairs. This is exactly why we made contingency orders, Sir.”

  “Planet after System after Sector, we have continuously saved them from themselves—entire bloody Sectors, Laurent!” my voice rose with a growing sense of outrage or, in all honesty, probably just plain rage, “how many times must I offer my people up, a sacrifice upon the altar of their own stupidity? No, stupidity doesn’t take it far enough. ‘Blatant stupidity' works so much better, Laurent. “Well?” I demanded of no one in particular. “Exactly how many times will they demand we cut our own throats for their greater good so that they may sleep better at night? How many times!?” I shouted, realizing I was totally out of control but unable to stop myself.

  Laurent looked at me with a wide-eyed and alarmed expression. “I don’t know what to tell you, Sir,” he said cautiously, and even through the almost red haze of fury I was feeling, I hated to see the suddenly hooded look in his eyes, “we’re space officers. This is literally what we do: we fight, we bleed and—when necessary—we die. We serve at the pleasure of the president, governor, government, assembly…or whatsoever it is we swear loyalty to, Admiral. That is who and what we are. A true fleet are the people’s protector, the stout shield and sharp sword that stand between darkness and the light, between life and the machine death. We are all colors and creeds but though we may fight each other ultimately it is our blood and our sacrifice that keeps humanity free.”

  The breath whooshed out of me as he drove his counterpoint home. Feeling like I’d been hit in the gut, the wind went out of my proverbial sails.

  “We serve not for a 'thank you' nor for recognition, although being only human we can’t help at times but to greatly crave it. For myself it is rather the simple conundrum of 'if not us then who?’ that keeps me at my post. To my mind, better a known person of grit and principle than a blank slate wild card who might do any blasted thing,” he suddenly grinned, “sorry as I am to say that to you of all people, Admiral. But that’s why I serve, sacrificing myself upon the altar of my leader’s stupidity, as you say, in a nutshell.”

  I placed my face in my hands and rubbed the inner corners of my eyes clean before once again looking up. “I'm ashamed...and greatly embarrassed,” I admitted, reaching out to clasp his shoulder, “thank you for the timely reminder that
it is the duty of spacers, up to and including Vice Admirals, to make that sacrifice.”

  “It’s my duty, Sir,” the Captain crisply replied.

  For a moment I looked around the bridge, and despite the wide eyed concern and doubt on the faces of the crew, I took strength from the fact that I was leading people such as these. Men and women of this quality demanded that I give nothing less than my best. I might be angry, stressed, once again betrayed (that it was a highly expected betrayal did little to remove the sting after the number of lives we’d lost in the service of this sector) and ever-so-tempted to do something rash (well...more rash than my current plan entailed, at any rate) but however tempting it was to vent my spleen, do some damage, and then thumb my nose on the way out, I just simply couldn’t.

  Not the least because the Imperials were still out there. Somewhere. Waiting. In the darkness they were lurking like a bad uncle with evil intentions.

  “I’m glad to see you’re more yourself, Sir?” Laurent made the statement into a question.

  “For far too many reasons to elucidate, we have to stay the course, Captain,” I said, grimacing to show the measure of my determination. “Please get me a tight beam laser link to Captain McCruise. I’ll need to speak with her one last time.”

  “Of course, Sir,” Laurent said giving me a measured look before turning and motioning with his head to his Comm. Department, and then instructing his helmsman to bring the ship’s engines to 110% of maximum.

  I grimaced at being forced to rely upon another person’s staff to get anything done—and the fact that we were squeezing every extra second we could out of our engines chafed no small measure as well. While Laurent could be trusted to drive his ship, I liked my own setup perfectly fine thank you and good night. Sadly, the galaxy was not how I’d like it to be but rather how it actually was—and needs must when the demon drives. In the end I guess I was just spoiled, used to having my own flag bridge and personalized bridge crew.