Admiral's Nemesis (A Spineward Sectors Novel: Book 11) Page 9

  “The squadron is entering attack range, Governor,” reported Bluetooth.

  Isaak smiled, “I’ll see you in Hades, Vice Admiral.”

  “Not if I see you first,” Jason Montagne replied before cutting the channel with a sharp gesture.

  “Well, it looks like you were right...he’s up to something,” said Governor Isaak. “I assume you’ve been looking ever since I gave you that pad?”

  “Since even before that,” Bluetooth agreed, “we still don’t know what it is but we’ll be ready for it.”

  “You’d better be, Captain, for all our sakes,” said Isaak still not entirely convinced that there was much of anything the young princeling could actually do. He, like Bluetooth, was now convinced that the young Admiral thought he still had cards to play but just exactly what remained a mystery.

  And when it came to dealing with a Montagne, he hated mysteries.

  Chapter 14: Target Practice

  “Blast it, Spalding! We’re sitting ducks out here. You promised me we’d jump fifteen minutes ago,” I snapped just as the image of the cyborg engineer disappeared. “Where did he go? Get him back here now,” I shouted, slapping the side of my holo-screen.

  ****************************************************

  “Sir, can you please slow down?!” exclaimed Bostwell.

  “We don’t have time to repair the relay; we’ve got to go direct!” Spalding said, tossing the data slate still in his hand and laying hands on an emergency bypass line.

  Bostwell opened his mouth and then sighed. “Then what do you want me to tell the Admiral, Sir?” he asked, hurrying alongside the Chief Engineer.

  “Tell him any old thing. Say I’ve gone out to dice with the devil and dance all night with the harpies, or any other fool thing that crosses your mind. Why would I care what you tell him?”

  “Uh...because he’s the Admiral?” Bostwell said.

  “Lad, if I was interested in continuing to waste my time I’d have stayed on the line!” Spalding snorted, deliberately trodding on the data slate crystal matrix shattering under his droid legs. “Wave him off. Or better yet, toss your communicator and grab the other end of this here line.”

  “The things I do for Queen and country,” Bostwell said unhappily.

  “I hate to break it to you, lad, but the Queen’s been overthrown.”

  “Oh, never mind!” Bostwell sighed.

  “Now that’s more like it,” Commander Spalding said as Bostwell grabbed the other end of the emergency bypass and started dragging it down the hall in an attempt to catch up with the Chief Engineer.

  The two of them were soon joined by Parkiney’s work crew but Spalding stayed focused on Bostwell.

  “Put your back into it, lad,” he instructed, lecturing the younger man freely, “you don’t get enough work sitting at a console all day. A real engineer has to get his hands dirty.”

  “Aye aye, Sir,” Bostwell replied with an expression of long-suffering.

  “Overthrown and thrown away, she was,” Spalding said nostalgically, returning to the subject of the old monarchy, “there’s a king sitting on the throne now—and a right proper usurper he is, too,” Spalding rambled as they hauled the heavy power cable down the hall, “which is me going easy on him, but the new king’s definitely got a bit of a temper on him. The Veknas are an old family but no bloodline dates as far back as the Admiral's…I wonder how long he’ll be content to leave us alone? Kings don’t really take kindly to people that flout their authority. On the other hand, o' course, some would say 'better a proper usurper than a line of tyrants' but I’ve always thought that saying held water. I mean, sure, down with the tyrants and all that—but one man’s tyrant is another man’s freedom fighter…am I right or am I right or am I right?” he quizzed Bostwell without ever taking his primary attention off the task at hand.

  The engineering com-tech looked decidedly ill at ease. “I’m not sure I care to comment on home world politics—even now that we’ve separated from Caprian service, Sir,” Bostwell muttered.

  “What? Speak up, son, I almost couldn’t hear you,” Spalding said darkly, “and what’s there to be so timid about?! Why, back in the days of the coup—what your generation likes to call 'reconstruction'—we’d have given a pinky and an elbow to be able to speak freely and say what we liked about our leaders. Why, we used to have a room down in Engineering called the closet, a terrible place full of used oils and grease but we swept it three times daily to ensure we weren’t being monitored…of course, most of the lads used the Closet to smoke but there you have it,” Spalding shrugged helplessly. “You lot take for granted far too much, in my opinion.”

  “Mother always said not to discuss politics or religion in the workplace, Commander,” Bostwell replied, “far too liable to make waves and get you fired she said.”

  “Hmph,” Spalding grunted, “well your mother’s not half wrong, so how about we leave it at that?” he said as they arrived at their destination. “Let's see if we can’t get our little power problem fixed up.”

  “Aye aye, Sir,” Bostwell agreed.

  After attaching the bypass to one of the still-functional mainlines feeding out from Antimatter 2, Spalding instructed Bostwell to follow him around around the corner and into a maintenance closet.

  “This’ll do the trick nicely,” Spalding grunted, eyeing the cramped closet with a delighted eye.

  “Uh, sir?” asked Bostwell.

  “Right about…” Spalding said, stomping his foot on the floor right next to a small electrical outlet used for charging hand held devices.

  “I don’t think that plug can handle the line, Sir,” Bostwell pointed out.

  Spalding blinked. “Well of course it can’t,” he scoffed, activating his plasma torch and bending down, “it’ll just take a minute now,” he explained as he started cutting through the floor.

  “I’m no expert, but…” Bostwell trailed off.

  Spalding was happily cutting away and about half way through creating a circle large enough to fit a man when Parkiney and his work crew arrived.

  “We almost lost you, Sir,” said the Petty Officer.

  “Be faster next time,” Spalding advised, “this is a time-critical job. No time to lay about!”

  “What are we doing in the Closet, Commander?” Parkiney asked respectfully.

  “What do you think we’re doing? We’re bypassing the damaged power lines,” Spalding snapped.

  “As I recall, the distribution network is the other way, Sir,” the petty officer observed.

  “The burned-out relays for the Antimatter 1 and Antimatter 2 generators, you mean,” Spalding nodded.

  Parkiney blinked and then agreed.

  Spalding shot him a sharp look. “You can’t tell me I’m the only one in this room who can read a schematic?” he groused as he continued to cut and rant at the same time. “Since the distribution network for those two generators is either damaged or fried, we have to reroute.”

  “What are you rerouting to, sir, if I may be so bold?” asked Parkiney.

  “Anti-matter 1 and 2 may be down or damaged, but since we never installed her the power lines running out from Antimatter 3 should work just fine,” Spalding explained, and then hesitated, “of course, since we never installed the blasted thing the power lines have never been fully tested…”

  “Oh...” Parkiney said and the two men shared a look.

  The moment was broken seconds later when the torch completed its task and a large metal disk fell to the deck below with a resounding clang.

  “Alright, lads, here we go,” Spalding said grabbing a hold of the end of the bypass line and then jumping down into the hole, “Geronimo!”

  “Sir, since we never actually installed the generator do you want me and the rest of the team to start running the load bearing test now?” Parkiney called down.

  “No time, Parkiney,” Spalding shouted back, “those battleships will be on top of us any minute now.”

  “The comp
uter will automatically shut it down unless we input the override, Sir,” Parkiney reminded.

  “Stop botherin' me with trifles! Take a work party to the sub-node and shut it down, then have the rest of your team start manually throwing open the circuit breakers. We’ll just have to go direct with the power without computer oversight and hope nothing burns out before we are able to jump!”

  “Aye aye,” shouted Parkiney turning back to his crew, “follow me boys!”

  Minutes later, the line running from Antimatter 2 main trunk line had been tied into the missing antimatter 3’s power network.

  And shortly after that, Parkiney reported that his part of the operation was completed.

  “Here we go!” shouted Spalding as he closed the circuit.

  Chapter 15: In Range

  “We have them now, Governor,” reported Bluetooth.

  “You have permission to fire, Captain,” Sir Isaak said coldly.

  “With pleasure, Sir,” the Captain replied hungrily.

  ****************************************************

  “The enemy ships are presenting their broadsides,” said Laurent’s Tactical Officer.

  “Your orders, Admiral?” Laurent asked.

  “Hold position and full power to shields!” I commanded.

  “Sir, that will leave us sitting ducks,” observed the ship’s first officer, “the least we could do is fire back.”

  “Our only hope is to buy enough time for those Spindles to charge,” I said flatly, “nothing else matters.”

  “If they’ll charge,” said the XO.

  “We can’t fight our way out of this, Executive Officer,” I said harshly, “so you’d better pray the Commander comes through in time.”

  There was no further argument from the bridge.

  ****************************************************

  Beam after beam slammed into the Furious Phoenix, and the few other fully-functional warships as the Sector Guard Flotilla entered striking distance.

  “Yes! Target engines and shield generators. Tell Gunnery I want them on their knees, Tactical,” crowed Bluetooth.

  “Excellent work,” Isaak said with a hard-edged smile.

  “Its just a matter of time now, Sir,” said Bluetooth.

  ****************************************************

  “Twenty nine casualties on deck 9,” reported Damage control, “and one of our secondary engines just went offline.”

  “Not that we were using it,” muttered the XO.

  “We’re getting killed out here, Sir,” said Laurent.

  “Tell me something I don’t know, Captain,” I growled, turning to the com-section, “any word from the Commander?”

  “None, Sir,” said the Com-Officer, “he’s still unreachable.

  “This isn’t working, Admiral. We must withdraw! If we maneuver around behind the derelicts, placing them between us and the battleships, they’ve slowed down enough that we might have a chance at a run for the hyper limit,” Laurent’s XO said urgently.

  “Its too late for half measures, Officer,” I said flatly, “but you’re welcome to jump into an escape pod and ride this out from there any time you like.”

  Laurent’s number one officer actually had the gall to look offended, prompting me to shake my head.

  Come on! I silently urged.

  ****************************************************

  “Spindles are charging, Sir,” the crewman manning the console controlling the Elder Tech jump engines on the bridge of the Lucky Clover reported, “and according to the interface will be ready to make the jump in another 30 seconds. Your orders?”

  “Where is that crazy old man when you need him?” Baldwin asked exasperatedly.

  “Do you want me to try and reach him while we wait for orders?” the operator asked nervously as the Clover took a glancing hit to its forward armor.

  “Are you daft? I’m not waiting around while the commander takes his sweet time playing with his toys,” Baldwin exclaimed, but just to be sure she asked, “Navigation?”

  “C-c-course laid in. Get us out of h-h-here, Sir!” exclaimed Navigator Shepherd

  “Alright jump us!” ordered Glenda Baldwin.

  ****************************************************

  “There goes the Phoenix’s port shield generator,” Bluetooth said with satisfaction.

  “Coms, bypass the MSP Flagship and inform the rest of his fleet that we are willing to accept their surrender. Its already over and I’d hate to see their ships destroyed and crews killed over nothing but pure stubbornness,” Governor Isaak said.

  “Relaying message,” said the Com-Officer.

  “Not that I expect them to surrender, but at least no one can say I didn’t try...and who knows, we might get lucky,” said Isaak.

  “Reading a power surge at these points around the derelict formation, Governor,” reported Tactical.

  “What are they, Captain?” Isaak asked.

  “At first we thought they were some kind of defensive emplacements but so far all they’ve done is sit there and soak up the occasional stray shot,” said Bluetooth.

  “Power curve is climbing,” reported Sensors in a rising voice, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  Bluetooth’s eyes bulged. “Spinal lasers! We heard the MSP captured several antimatter-pumped spinal lasers. Tactical! Open fire on suspected defense cannons,” Bluetooth yelled.

  “Gunnery, you are receiving new priority targeting instructions. I repeat: new targeting instructions,” Tactical said urgently.

  Gunnery was still re-targeting when space around the derelicts and MSP warships seemed to ripple.

  “Full power to shields!” shouted Bluetooth, fully expecting a spinal laser strike.

  ****************************************************

  “2.0 reports Spindle Jump Engines activating!” cried the Engineering watch-stander.

  “Yes!” I clenched my fists—and then the galaxy blinked.

  Chapter 16: Strange Bedfellows

  Commander Spalding felt it the moment the Elder Tech Engines engaged.

  He knew it because something felt horribly indescribably wrong.

  “Gah!” he grunted, clutching his midsection and starting to hunch over. But when he blinked later the pain was gone just as suddenly as it had arrived.

  “Blasted things need to be re-calibrated, that’s for darned sure,” Spalding snapped, looking over at Bostwell. “Come on, lad, don’t just stand there; we need to get to the bridge…” the old engineer trailed off, because he suddenly realized everyone was gone—they had all just completely disappeared!

  “Greetings, Commander,” said a suspiciously familiar voice as if speaking through a haze of static.

  “What the blazes are you doing here? Go on, get out of here,” Spalding barked and then turned, but instead of seeing the figure he was expecting he saw a large, giant spider made out of dark blue, glowing crystals crawling out of the wall.

  The Spider looked at him and hissed. The noise seeming to bypass his ears and lance straight into his brain, causing a pain worse than a migraine headache—and after the way his brain had been almost turned into Swiss cheese before they were regenerated, he ought to be considered an expert on just exactly how a painful head felt. That mandatory regeneration service ought to have been called '20 Different Ways To Suffer A Vicious Combination Of Diarrhea And Migraines' instead!

  “Blasted creature!” Spalding swore, and the thing jumped. Well-prepared, his plasma torch was in his hand and active in an instant. “Gah!” he cried ,and then almost over-balanced as the torch passed right through the infernal creation. “What the blazes?” he cried, scrambling to recover his hand passing through the creature yet again.

  The leap of the spider-like creature continued unimpeded by the ineffective torch, and gave lie to the idea that it might be a proper illusion when it raked the front of his uniform, cutting through blaster-resistant clothing and lacerated his
flesh.

  Landing on the ground beside him, the glowing crystal monstrosity looked up at him and hissed, once again gathering itself for a jump.

  “The Demonic Saint!” Spalding bellowed, pure murder in his eyes as he touched his now bleeding belly and then lifted his blood-coated lips to his tongue. His mouth twisted; yep, it was definitely his blood and, unless he’d turned into a complete and proper loon, there was nothing he could do.

  With eyes seasoned by several boarding actions—and more mutinies than he cared to remember—he saw the way the creature’s claw tips went through the Duralloy decking like some kind of optical illusion—that is, when they weren’t digging great big gouges through solid metal.

  The old engineer furiously lifted his foot, as if to stomp the thing to death, before turning on his heel and running down the corridor as fast as his power-assisted legs would carry him. Like a fresh crewman fleeing a reactor breach, the old engineer cast propriety to the wind, put his head down to increase his speed, and flat-out ran.

  The spider creature gave an infuriated hiss, and he could hear the sound of its claws digging into the wall and decking as it chased him.

  Up one corridor and down the next the old engineer ran, and the monster pursued until he finally saw exactly what he was looking for: a grav-cart.

  “Report for duty, you blasted loons!” Spalding shouted, raising a ruckus as he skidded to a halt on the metal decking and jumped on the cart.