Snippet 3 - Admiral Who

And because I just got a comment I'm putting up this bonus snippet.

Have a good one and let me know what you think!  The Good.  The Bad.  And the Ugly.





Chapter 2: What to do?



    When the last monitor showed itself clear of Imperial officers, crew and marine jacks, the last bulkhead and blast door between the two ships had been sealed and the Imperial Command Carrier finally undocked, I slumped back in my chair.  It was real.  This was really happening.  An Imperial Admiral had abandoned the flag ship, turned command over to me, and was even now at this very moment departing in an Imperial Command Carrier for the other side of known space.  The daze I’d been in as my brain tried to process the new reality of things started to clear, and I really began to consider things larger than  myself and my own private worries, no matter how terminal those worries might wind up being for me personally.

    If- no, when Rim Fleet (which was composed almost entirely of Imperial warships) abandoned this region of space, the Spine would be all but completely unguarded.  There was nothing I could do about the loss of the Imperial fleet.  For that matter, there wasn't looking to be much I could do at all.  But that didn’t mean I was destined to just stand by and do nothing.  I took a deep breath.

    For now I just needed to forget about the sudden gigantic problem facing the various sectors of the Spine and focus on something more immediate, like the area of space the flag ship was currently patrolling.

    Most of the Worlds in this sector of space were defended by nothing stronger than a pair of system defense corvettes, able to take care of the occasional converted merchantman turned pirate.  Normally anything bigger than a converted freighter that caused trouble was addressed by the more robust Rim Fleet.  Following the Imperial withdrawal, however, the Rim Fleet was no longer going to be around to do any of that work.  A few of the younger worlds near the border of known space, like my own Commonwealth of Capria, still had some older warships in service as system defense pickets.  Sometimes a world managed to keep a few mothballed but never fully destroyed relics more or less patrol-ready.   They often served as reminders of the chaotic times before signing the  Articles of Confederation and coming under the protection of Rim Fleet.

    For all I knew the ships of this patrol fleet might be the last detachment on this edge of known space still on the lookout for pirates.  I’d been told our orders were fairly standard, a basic commerce protection and piracy suppression packet.  Perhaps we could hold out here until a relief force was assembled, or we were called back home.

    I shook my head in a mixture of resignation and despair.  There was no way this ship could continue to operate out here on the edge of space, at least not with me in actual command.  Certainly not with both myself at the helm, and its currently reduced crew complement manning the ship.  Our best bet was to find the senior most remaining officer, make sure he was at least remotely competent, and turn command of the ship over to him.  I could also order the various individual fleet units to break up and return home where they could do the most good.  That was certainly the best course of action.

    Still, I don’t know why I hesitated.  Perhaps it was because up until this point in my life I’d never had the ability to actually make a difference.   Maybe the temporary power I could wield was going to my head.  I didn’t know then, and I still don’t.  What I do know is that eventually I instructed the computer to connect me with the most senior officer still onboard ship.  Unfortunately, instead of connecting me with the sort of space officer I’d imagined, our distributed computer system took its own sweet time connect me to the ship’s newest Chief Engineer, one Terence Spalding.


    After reluctantly deciding I had no business captaining a battleship or keeping the fleet out here indefinitely, I activated the distributed intelligence, which took longer to respond than expected, as the Imperial Admiral had just whipped the imperial database and removed all the new computer hardware the Imperials had installed when they came aboard. The battleship still had its original Caprian database and distributed intelligence network, but the old network had nothing like the capability of the Imperial systems. A communications technician could have made things work much quicker, but there were no communication techs left on the flag bridge.  Admiral Janeski had taken all of them with him when he left.

    Several frustrating minutes after instructing the computer to connect me to the senior officer still on board ship, the distributed intelligence eventually made a connection.

    "Finally," I muttered, straightening self-consciously. I was uneasily aware of the seat I was sitting in.  Not only was it the Admiral's former chair, but its proportions were entirely too throne-like for me to find a remotely comfortable position.  Visions of what parliamentary investigators could do with video footage of myself sitting in such a command chair flashed through my mind and suddenly the collar of this court outfit felt entirely too tight and I nervously tugged at it to relive the discomfort.

    After glancing down at the computer readout I wondered if I was connected to the right person.  Short, squat, with a receding hairline and long grey hair that flared out to either side of his head and a wild look in the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut, the aging man I saw on screen hardly looked like an officer in the Caprian SDF.  It took the fleet’s newest Admiral a moment of just staring at the disheveled figure to realize that the man was actually wearing an officer’s uniform.  Although the uniform had several large tears and grease stains up and down the arms and legs, and it had just as clearly lost any of the tightly pressed creases it might have once possessed, it was still a Caprian SDF uniform.

    Perhaps worse than his unkempt appearance, the aging engineer also looked like he was coming up hard against mandatory retirement age.  All such musings were shaken from my mind as the Officer’s eyes lost their wild look and lit up, focusing on the vid screen.

    Shaking my head roughly, I once again focused my attention back on the miniature screen set into the arm of the chair.  To my dismay the same disheveled figure was still on screen.

    Unfortunately I knew what the other man was seeing. A short and (thanks to the Royal family's access to early life prolonging techniques) entirely too young a looking young man.  Brown hair and brown eyes were placed in a symmetrical face.  My features weren't striking but I shared the same basic good looks and features as the rest of the royal family, excepting the nose.  Personally I thought my nose wasn't pointed enough.  Entirely too flat looking, thanks mother's side of the family if you asked me.  Of course mother hated her own nose with a passion and while she was much more pleased with the way mine looked,  she still advocated plastic surgery for the both of us, when I was done with my schooling and could afford it of course.  So it was possible some of her bias had rubbed off on me.

    The officer on the screen did a double take. "Thank all the lucky stars!" Exclaimed the wild haired old man, "It’s the little admiral!" he said, giving me a bug eyed stare.

    I gritted my teeth and forced out a smile.  I hated that nickname with a passion, and if it were up to me that particular nickname would never again be used aboard the flag ship.  Ignoring the awful name I refocused on my current duty. "I was just checking the ship's roster and the ship's distributed intelligence indicated you are the senior officer still onboard ship.  It seems everyone senior to you has signed on with the Imperials and left for the other side of known space."

    “Bunch of blue faced blighters," cursed the Officer. "They came and raided the engineering crew for personnel to man that shiny new command ship of theirs. The Maker only knows how many of our boys were wise enough to remain onboard.  Those unlucky welchers who left us in the lurch are going to wind up dead fighting the Gorgons!"  He waved his hands in the air and then snorted before muttering something inaudible under his breath.

    The young Admiral’s eyelids shot up at the tirade but he forced them back down again with effort. "I'm sure they..." He started, but decided it wasn’t worth it and shook his head. "Anyway I don't recall meeting you at any of the ship's formal dinners," I asked, sure I would have remembered a character like this officer if I had met him before.

    The officer stopped muttering and cracked a smile. "Ah yes, well I don't normally have much time for such things. Formal dinners and all that.   Manners, table etiquette and the like not exactly being my strong suit if you know what I mean." He started to put out a hand to shake with before remembering they were talking through a vid-screen.  The wild haired officer ran the hand through his beard instead. "Oh," he exclaimed, with a look of  sudden enlightenment.  "Forgive me, my name is Engineering Officer Terrence Spalding, and I've had the good fortune of being continuously assigned to the  best ship to ever come out of Caprian shipyards.  I even took a cut in rank from Senior Lieutenant back to Junior Lieutenant just to stay on with the Clover for this one last voyage.  You know they offered me early retirement as a Lieutenant Commander, just before the patrol started, but I turned them down flat.   Why, I've been continuously assigned to the Lucky Clover ever since I was a wet behind the ear middie.  Even when they put her in mothballs 30 years ago, I joined the bone yard crew just to stay near the old girl." To say the engineer smiled as he spoke about his service with the ship wouldn't have done his countenance  justice.

    I tried to swallow the hard knot which was quickly forming in my throat, but it only served to make it worse (I've since come to understand this  particular discomfort to be related to an impending, crushing responsibility).  From his looks and the fruits of their conversation so far, this engineering officer was destroying what little confidence I still had in turning the ship over to the senior remaining office. "Officer Spalding.  A current… a Junior Lieutenant who used to be a Senior Lieutenant." I said out loud and then nodded reluctantly.  "Right.  So what's your assessment of the Lucky Clover?  I  mean what's her current condition, and can she get us back to port without any serious trouble," I asked in my most well-composed tone, but all I could think about was how the ship would manage without the more experienced half of her crew.

    The engineer looked offended. "The Clover, she's a fine vessel," he said stoutly.  “A fine vessel indeed,” he repeated, with cherry red blossoms erupting on his cheeks.  “Why, with the right engineering crew onboard her and any halfway decent navigator, the ship will practically fly herself!”

    "Lieutenant, let me be blunt,” I said, still clinging to the fraying thread of hope that I might turn the ship over to a trained officer, “this vessel needs a captain.  She can't function without one.  And Admiral Janeski took the old one with him when he boarded that new Command Carrier of his."

    Engineer Spalding looked surprised, and his face seemingly instantly returned to its previous color.  "That's right, all those Imperials were the  first ones to jump ship and the Captain was an imperial officer if ever I’ve seen one.”  He slammed one fist into his open palm.  “Well, fortunately, that's what we have you for, Admiral.  I'm sure you'll do a fine job of captaining the ship, sir.  A very fine job indeed."  He said again, nodding sagely.

    The young Admiral blinked.  "I'm afraid you misunderstand me Lieutenant Spalding.  I'm in no way qualified to command a vessel of this size, or any other vessel for that matter.  I wouldn’t even trust myself with command of a garbage scow!” I caught myself just short of completely losing my composure, realizing I had arrived rather abruptly at the end of my wits.

     The engineering officer nodded slowly.  “Well, if the young admiral thinks a captain other than himself is needed, I’m sure he’ll find one.  And of course you have my full support regarding whoever you select for command.  As for me, I’ll just stick to what I know best.  I’ve got an engineering crew and a starship to put back to rights.  It’s a crying shame you know, the rough way those Imperials ran her engines, and then thieving off with so many of the crew.”

    I drew a deep breath, attempting to regain whatever measure of regal bearing I had remaining.  “Officer Spalding, as the senior remaining officer on the Clover I had intended to place you in command of this ship.”  I raised a hand to forestall the coming protest.  “It is your duty as an officer of the Caprian System Defense Force to carry out your new duties to the best of your abilities.  I’m sorry, but that’s just the way it has to be.”  I said with finality.

    “Aye aye, Admiral.  Which is why I’m going to start in on my new duties as Chief of Engineering right away and delegate all that Captaining stuff to line officers such as yourself,” he paused ever so briefly, “as soon as I get out of this here Brig that is.  Would you be good enough to send over one of my  engineering ratings to bust me out of here?  I'd be most appreciative, sir.”  With that the ancient Engineering Lieutenant turned off the monitor and the screen went blank.


    I sat back in my chair, completely stunned.  My first act, an attempt to turn command of the battleship over to someone at least halfway competent, had just ended in complete and utter failure.  It looked like I, Prince-Cadet Jason Montagne Vekna, Governor of Planetary Body Harpoon, Honorary Admiral in the Caprian System Defense Force and as of a few minutes ago, Admiral-in-actual-command of the Spine’s Multi-Sector Patrol Fleet, was as utterly ineffective and powerless as ever.

    I’d been a fool to think that now that I was in command, things would suddenly change and people would instantly start doing what I told them, just because I’d told them to do it. 

    For a moment I thought about giving up and going back to my stateroom until they all got home.  It looked like once again he had responsibility but no real authority to go along with it.  It seemed to be the story of my life. 

    Unfortunately it then occurred to me that as of right now there wasn’t even anyone present to pilot the ship, or at least point it in the right direction.  Thanks to Rear Admiral Arnold Janeski and the Imperial Triumvirate of Man I had no one competent left to tell me what to do.  I didn’t even know if the ship had enough remaining crew to keep the engines running long enough to get us home.

    A brief moment before a truly debilitating wave of despair crashed into the fragile remains of my psyche, I remembered Engineer Spalding.  He seemed confident that he could put Engineering back together with enough warm bodies.  Of course, Spalding also seemed more than a little unstable and certainly didn't  seem to fit in the mold of a typical naval officer.  Still there was a sliver of hope that the ship wouldn’t just fall apart before we got home, but that sliver depended on one of the most unusual people I'd ever had the occasion to meet.

    What about the rest of it?  Affairs I'd considered menial to this point, such as basic provisions like food, water and life support suddenly rose to the forefront of my thoughts, creating a second knot in my throat.  Then there were concerns like crew shift schedules, ship security and organizing some sort of temporary chain of command until we could get home.  I had to be honest with myself, right at that moment, I didn’t know how to deal with any of  it.  No one else knew how to do this, and no one onboard even thought they knew, with the possible exception of one very senior, and obviously eccentric engineering character.

    I admit that I thought maybe I should walk away.  Just leave the bridge, walk back to my quarters and wait until things sorted themselves out.  What was the worst that could happen?  These things always seemed to work themselves out before, right?

    Sure it might take a while for the remaining officers and crew to sort things out amongst themselves.  But ultimately no one wanted to be stuck in  deep space.  Not when we were in a perfectly good ship that could take us home.  What did they expect me to do?  I was a Montagne and by Saint Murphy’s wretched wrench, they never trained me to be a leader of men or an admiral of fleets.  I was good at smiling, looking good for the cameras and delivering speeches in an appropriately aristocratic fashion.

    Then I had a horrible thought.  What if things did go wrong because no one was in charge of the Lucky Clover?  The crew might well blame me, the Montagne Admiral who was supposedly in command.  A cold sweat broke out on my forehead.  Throughout recent history my family had made decent scapegoats for all sorts of disasters.  In point of fact, now that I was thinking about it, I remembered reading about a Montagne ship captain, one Jean-luc Montagne who’d  been lynched by his own crew right after the Imperial Fleet bombarded our world.  He hadn’t been responsible for either the royal coup to seize Capria or the  orbital bombardment.  As I recalled it he’d even selflessly sheltered the officers and crew from the various purges initiated by the Montagne’s in the  Palace.  For all the good it did him.  The crew had still thrown him, kicking and screaming into the waste recycler, without any regard for his culpability or lack of it. They’d even gone so far as to broadcast the images via live satellite.  The uninvited image of my own face imposed over his during those final  moments made my head spin.

    I still didn’t know what to do about this whole mess, but after remembering Jean-Luc I now knew one thing for certain.  I had to do something fast, if only to make sure I didn’t end up like poor Jean-luc.

    First thing’s first, I decided.  I used the distributed intelligence system to contact someone down in engineering and instructed them to send a rating over to the brig to release my new Chief Engineer.  That was a logical, necessary first step in keeping the ship in condition to get them back to civilized space.

    Visions of being thrown into the waste recycler still dancing in my head, I was suddenly grateful the crew had been confined to quarters.  I wasn’t  sure how long that would last, but hopefully they would stay shut in long enough for me to get a few things done first.  Using a handheld from one of the work stations on the Flag Bridge, it took me several minutes to download the information I needed from the ship’s original distributed intelligence system.

    After I'd transferred the data I'd found, I left the bridge and returned to my quarters to change.  It was time to get out of the monkey suit.  The pants were incredibly tight and restrictive, besides which I’d be easily recognizable for as long as I was parading around in them.  So instead of court attire I changed into my gym workout suit.  It was the closest thing I had to normal ships attire, and was blessedly far more comfortable than the ridiculous uniform my office required.

    Following the directions I’d downloaded onto my handheld screen, I walked as fast as I could to the ship’s armory.  Regardless of whether I stayed in  command of the ship and fleet or bailed at the first opportunity, no one, not an angry mob, an ambitious officer, or a secret parliamentary hit squad (if such a thing even existed) was going to throw me into a waste recycler!  Not while I was still alive anyway.  They’d have to kill me first.  After that, I figured I wouldn’t care too much about anything.

    Many twists and turns and the use of several stairwells (necessary due to the nonfunctioning nature of the lift systems, apparently a parting gift from Admiral Janeski and the other Imperials) to change decks later, I eventually reached the armory.  It felt like I’d marched all over the ship.  A six hundred meter long ship had a lot of deck plating to cover, as I’d breathlessly discovered.  I gave myself a quick pat on the back for choosing attire  appropriate to the task.  At least I'd made one good decision today, I thought.

    I was somewhat surprised to find that I'd arrived at my destination without encountering any trouble along the way.  Not seeing anyone standing guard outside blast doors or lurking around near them, I pulled out the command crystal the Imperial Captain had ever so graciously lobbed at my feet.  I shook my head and quirked a lip.  I might have tossed the crystal at my feet too, if I’d been a real military professional like the Imperial Captain.

    Another quick look down both sides of the corridor and I plugged the crystal into the emergency override slot on the panel.  After several beeps and an unnerving whirring sound the door slowly slid open.

    After stepping inside, the first thing I heard was the click of a weapon unlocking and the whine of its energy capacitor rapidly charging up.  I immediately froze in place, some twisted version of the fight or flight response more suited to rabbits than planetary royalty, taking hold.

    “What are you doing in here,” demanded a gruff voice to my right.

    My head slowly turned so I could look at the source of the voice.  I readily admit that my heart nearly stopped at the sight of a man in a suit of  power armor crouching down with a heavy sonic rifle pointed directly at what appeared to be every inch of my body.

    “Umm… Uh...” I stammered.  I’m so dead, I thought, so much for a career as a mighty fleet admiral.  This end would rate right up there with Jean- Luc's infamy.  I wondered momentarily how this particular scene would play out on my headstone.  Perhaps 'Shot in the armory of his own ship less than an  hour after assuming command.'

    How did the crew get here before me anyway?  They were all supposed to be in their quarters.
 
    “This is a restricted area,” Said the man in power armor, rousing me from my momentary stupor.

    I gulped hard, then decided to brazen it out.  If I was already caught, at least I’d go out with style.  I took a deep breath to steady my understandably shaky nerves.

    “I’m here to check out a suit of powered armor.  I’m in command of the fleet, now that the Imperials have left,”  I said, trying to disguise the quiver in my voice and project an aura of confidence instead.  “Admiral Jason Montagne Vekna, Prince-Cadet of the Realm, Governor of Planetary Body Harpoon, Commander of the Lucky Clover at your service,” media training came back to save me and I clicked my heels together before performing an arm waving courtly bow.  Hoping against hope I was successful at hiding just how very fearful I was at that exact moment.

    It was hard to read the expression of the man inside the powered armor because the faceplate wasn’t entirely made out of a clear substance, but the way the sonic rifle wavered for a split second before steadying again, didn’t do anything to help my confidence.

    Then the power armored figure pointed the rifle up in the air and popped open his face plate.

    Under the weight of the crewman’s suspicious gaze, the fleet’s newest and as far as I was concerned least competent Admiral, nearly wilted.  Nearly but not quite.  As it was, I struggled to maintain a stoic face as sweat beaded on my forehead.

    Then suspicion turned to recognition and a dawning surprise.  “Why if it isn’t the little admiral himself!” Exclaimed the armored figure.  “I never  thought I’d get to see you in person.  Unless I was assigned KP duty in the officers mess,” the crewman said with a smile.

    “Yes.  I suppose that would have been the most predictable forum for our meeting,” I said, trying to hide the puzzlement in my voice.  This wasn’t going quite how I’d thought things would go when I had originally planned this trip to the armory.  “So what brings you here to the main armory.  Crewman…?”  I asked in my most level voice.

    A look of horror crossed the face of the crewman in the power armor and the man quickly set down the heavy sonic rifle and leaned it against the  wall.  “Sir!  Crewman Gants, Sir! I’m an Able-Spacer in engineering,” he said, verbally stumbling all over himself.  “Sorry I didn’t recognize you as soon as  you came in,” he bit his lip, but seemed not to notice as he continued his apologies, “I hope I’m not in trouble for not Sir-ing you right away, as soon as  you came in the armory Prince… Umm, your Highness… I mean Admiral, Sir.”

    It took a moment for the impact of what the crewman had said to sink in and when it did, the breath I’d been unconsciously holding whooshed out.  Along with it went the nearly paranoid fear that the entire remaining crew was out to get me.  Seeing the semi-horrified look stealing across Gants face, I couldn’t help it and burst out laughing in relief.

    When I could control myself again, I hastened to reassure the crewman.  “It’s okay, Gants.  Completely understandable.  Sorry I laughed there, its  just been a stressful day.  I think I needed a good laugh to release some of the tension.”

    Gants appeared puzzled for a moment.  “Of course, sir,” he said, obviously confused.  “Completely understandable.”

    I couldn’t help a small smile.  Things might not have been as bleak as they’d seemed at first.

    “So, Gants… about that power armor I was looking for,” I said.

    Crewman Gants immediately began stripping off the powered armor he was wearing.  “Engineer Spalding sent you over for the Battle Suite he’s been working on, didn’t he?”  He paused and looked earnestly at me.  “I know he told me to come to engineering right away as soon as I had it on, but there were just so many Marine Jacks running around the ship I figured they’d shoot me for sure and certain if they saw me running around outside my quarters in this battle suit,” he said, his speech returning to a frantic rush of words.

    “I’m sure you made the right choice,”  I answered, not quite sure what the other guy was talking about.  “Just so we’re on the same page.  Spalding’s been working on a suit of power armor and sent you to the main armory to get it for him?”

    “Aye, aye, Sir.  After he locked the Chief Engineer in his office, he sent me over here to get this Battle Suit.  The one I’m taking off right now,  he’s been working on it for months.  It’s supposed to be a surprise.  We’ve been fixing it up special just for you, your Admiralship.”  Gants was positively  beaming now.

    My eyebrows shot nearly through the roof.

    “Well, I have to admit that I've never had a custom-tailored suit of power armor, Gants,” I said, trying to find the right words to convey my feelings without looking like a fool.  I was genuinely surprised that anyone would  secretly make me a custom suit of power armor, and of all the people who might have undertaken such a task, it turned out to be Spalding.  It seemed a man I’d never even met before today had apparently spent a lot of time on it.  I never would have guessed it from my first impression of the old engineering officer.

    “But this isn’t the main armory, Sir.”  Gants said.

    My heart sank.  “It’s not?  My handheld it said it was and lead me right here.”

    “Oh, you must be using the old internal ship’s map.  This used to be the main armory back before the Imperials came onboard for the patrol cruise.   You see, they built a brand new armory on the other side of the ship and put all their shiny battle suits and personal weapons in it.  This here is the original main armory,” Gants said.

    “Ah, of course.  I must have downloaded the wrong map,” was all I could think to say in response.  The Imperials had already left and by order of the  Triumvere they were supposed to take all of their equipment with them.  In a way it was fortunate I’d come to this armory instead of the one on the new maps.   On the other hand Gants clarification was almost completely irrelevant.  This used to be and, with the departure of the Imperials, once again was the main  armory.  I made a mental note of this.  The Imperial Admiral had whipped the new database, which apparently included the ship’s internal map, so at some point the crew would need to update the old ship’s map.

    Unnecessary clarifications aside, Gants provided a helpful set of hands, assisting me in donning the suit, after the crewman had finished taking the armor off his own person first.  In no time at all I was strapped, clamped, latched and buttoned up inside a suit of recently upgraded powered armor.

    Gants stepped back to take a look at his handiwork.  “You look a fine sight, sir,” he said, pride in his workmanship evident in the tone of his  voice.  “The armor looks good on you, if I do say so myself.”

    “Thanks, Gant.  I appreciate the work you’ve done on it,” I said awkwardly.  I’d come down to steal or appropriate, take your pick, a suit of powered  armor and instead wound up getting an early gift instead.  I couldn’t really appreciate the work the two (or however many it might have been) members of the engineering department had done on the armor.  I’d never done anything remotely like that kind of work myself, so I had no real frame of reference.  But I could appreciate the time they’d spent on it and the massive benefit it provided to me now, even if it was only a few hours of work here and there, that kind of  time added up and for all I knew they’d been working on it for months.

    I looked around the main lobby of the armory, and the servos in the neck of the suit whirred in response to the movement.  There were rooms and more rooms further in that I hadn’t opened or explored yet but was certain there must be lots more weapons in here than what could be seen in this one, mostly empty, room.

    “Gants.  Do you have any friends in the crew you can trust to back you up, if push comes to shove?”  Maybe it was the power armor, or maybe it was Gants' welcoming demeanor, but I found myself suddenly more decisive and confident.

    He eyed me and then nodded slowly.

    “I need to head back to the bridge for now, but I’d like it if you would call over a few of your mates and lock down armory.  Nobody in or out without my express permission.  At least until things settle down and the ship gets reorganized,” I said, leveling my best piercing stare straight in Gants' eyes.

    Gants hesitated, “Okay, I guess I can do that, Admiral,” he said.  He visibly started and then corrected himself "Yes sir, Admiral sir!  I won't let you  down."

    “Thank you, Spacehand.  I won’t forget this.”