Snippet 18 - The Admiral

Chapter:  An Outraged Engineer


    I had expected to see Lieutenant Tremblay with a well armed detail of men, or perhaps just an armed detail of men so Tremblay could maintain the polite fiction that he wasn’t involved.  I was holding out hope that my surprise for Tremblay, should the First Officer be launching a mutiny, might arrive first.

    Instead of an arrest squad, the blast doors burst opened to reveal the Chief Engineer, bald dome at the top of his head gleaming with sweat and what hair he still had flaring wildly out to either side.  The half-crazed eyes of the old engineer scanned the room before settling on me.  His uniform was dripping with sweat and his left leg was at least twice the size of the other, due to some kind of cast, I guessed.

    The wrinkled old officer straddling the line between old and ancient, locked his eyes with mine in a furious glare.  In one hand he held an unlit plasma torch, his other hand produced a finger pointed right at me.

    “Ask for miracles without limit,” he roared, stabbing an accusing finger as he slowly rounded on me.  “Engineering can do it.” His gnarled finger thrust accusingly at me yet again.  “Ask us to keep the ship running with half the men we need and almost no trained crew,” his finger stabbed once again and he took a step  onto the bridge,  “Engineering can do it."

    "Ask for impossible warp bubbles to haul prize ships too large for any sane spacer to even think about taking with them,” his finger pointed at me like an exclamation mark, and oddly I was quite thrilled that it was the open hand he continued to gesture with, apparently having forgotten the plasma torch in his other.  He continued to roar, taking another step into the bridge, “Engineering can do it!   Ask us to re-install weapon systems that are only there because we lied, cheated, stole and schemed to keep them on this ship when the Imperials threw them away for junk!”  By now he was very close to the Admiral’s Throne,  standing almost right next to it.  “Engineering can blasted well do that, too!”

    “I understand you’re upset,” I started, trying to gain some control over the situation.  “We have shuttles out right now-”

    “Upset?  Upset,” screamed the Chief Engineer, cutting me off abruptly.

    By now several members of the Bridge Crew stood on their feet, looking uncertainly at the exchange.  I could understand the shame on their faces because I felt it just as keenly as anyone else on board.  No one had thought to warn engineering to get off the hull, and as the Admiral who had ordered the ramming, I was most responsible for the results, both good and bad.

    “You can demote us, work us till our hands bleed and we can’t remember the last time we saw a bunk.  Send us out on the hull during combat to fix things that should very blasted well have been fixed before this ship even thought about getting into combat in the first place!”

    By this time the Chief Engineer was so red in the face, that had I not feared the impending introduction of the plasma torch to the conversation (as a club, at the very least), I would have called for station medical with a sedative.

     “But as the Demon Murphy is my witness, what you cannot do is leave an entire engineering shift out on the hull to act as human bumper cushions, when you know good and well that you’re planning to ram an enemy vessel!”  A vein in the old engineer's forehead was becoming more prominent with every passing second.

    “I offered to make you Captain of the ship once before.  I repeat the offer," I said, trying to defuse the situation by maintaining a calm, even tone.  "If you think the ship would be handled bett-”

    That was as far as I got before Lieutenant Spalding’s fist connected with my jaw. 

    I fell against the Admiral’s Throne, seeing more stars than just the ones depicted on the viewscreen.  Before I could regain my footing, a boot hit me in the stomach.  The funny part is that even though I was having difficulty with most of my senses, my hearing was remarkably clear.  I know that it was uncompromised because I suddenly snapped to full attention at the sound of a plasma torch activating.

    “Back!  Back, all ye murderin' idiots,” snarled the Chief Engineer, the last word sounding more like 'idjits' than usual, likely owing to the engineer's rage and uneven breathing.  Nobody seemed to notice the blast doors opening in the middle of the scene.

    There was a gasp.  “This is Mutiny!” Declared Officer Tremblay.

    He must have just entered the flag-bridge, I thought, still gasping for air and surprised at the pain in my jaw from just one punch thrown by a man many times my age.

    “Seize the Chief Engineer and clap him in irons!” yelled Tremblay.

    There was the sound of a plasma torch being swung back and forth.  “I also hold you responsible for my men on the Hull, Mr. First Officer,” cried Spalding, the pure rage in his voice now accompanied by something less furious and more accusatory.  “You left them out there to die.”

    “Sir, think about what are you doing,” pleaded Gants to the chief engineer.  A new voice on the Flag Bridge, and not a moment too soon.  It looked like the surprise I had called up from the armory had met with Officer Tremblay on his way back to the Flag Bridge from his quarters.

    “So you’re against me too, Gants,” Spalding coughed.  “Arghh,” Then there was a gasp and the sound of the plasma torch hitting the floor followed by the thud of a body.  Metal popped and bubbled where the plasma flame touched the floor.

    “Never, Mr. Spalding, sir,” cried Gants, incredulous at the implication and sounding hurt.  I could hear him moving towards our position, but I was still having some degree of difficulty with my vision.

    There was the sound of a scuffle.  “Keep your blasted hands off him,” yelled Gants.

    “He struck a superior officer in a war-zone.  An Admiral, no less!  He even tried to kill him with a plasma torch.  He’s nothing but a miserable old Mutineer,” said Tremblay, the sneer on his face easily visible in my mind's eye.

    “He’s an old man with a bad heart and he needs a medic.  Medic.  Medic!” cried Gants.  “He’s never killed anyone with that plasma torch.  Only burned a few arses that needed it,” Gants said furiously.  It was obvious that he wasn't used to defending the old man, but the hero worship in his voice was evident and it was clear as day that the man felt absolute conviction standing alongside Engineer Spalding in this, perhaps his lowest moment.

    There was the sound of another blow.  “How dare you," Officer Tremblay said, ice in his voice.

    “You want to talk about some more mutiny, do you Mr. First Officer?  Well, let's talk and don’t think for a minute I haven’t heard all about you asking the crew their opinions about having a Montagne in command of us all,” Gants said hotly.

    It seemed even though he had been willing to bring a couple of his armory buddies to the Flag Bridge to back me up, the former engineering rating was still holding out on me.  Oh well, at least he came when asked and was about as opposed to anything the former Intelligence Officer was up to as he would ever be right at this minute, which was exactly what I needed.

    I decided something while laying on the deck, listening to the crisis unfolding around me.  The young person who had stood up to confront an irate chief of engineering may have fallen to the deck thinking he was nothing more than just another young man from Capria, someone helpless who had been thrust into something he wanted out of so badly he could almost scream, but for all of that was still just a pawn at the mercy of powerful men who were very far  away.  I decided that the man who got up off this decking was going to be something entirely different from that other young person.  Up until this moment everything had felt like a role I was playing, a game, albeit one with deadly results, but for all of that still just a game.  But now people had died and I was responsible.  Thousands had lived that wouldn’t otherwise, and I was responsible for that too.

    From now on, I wasn’t just Jason Montagne, a two-bit nothing royal with a martyr complex who was so persecuted I couldn’t even get a student loan because the world really was out to get him.  Instead, I was going to be (and refuse to think of myself as anything other than) Admiral Jason Montagne, a Prince-Cadet of the Caprian Realm.  Demon-Murphy take anyone who thought differently!

    “Enough,” I said firmly, using a hand on the throne to help myself to my feet.  My vision seemed to return with the discovery of my newfound purpose.

    “Striking a superior officer is a court-martial offence,” said Officer Tremblay.  “In a war zone, it's execution!”

    “That dirty good for nothing, skunk.  Kicking a man when he’s down having a heart attack," said Gants, emotion starting to get the better of him.   "Admiral, sir!” pleaded Gants.

    “I said enough.  That goes for the both of you,” I repeated.

    The two men were standing over the stricken form of the chief of engineering like two dogs fighting over a scrap of bone.  Behind them were a gaggle of men with sonic weapons.  I knew I should check to see if they were all from the armory, or if Mr. Tremblay had finally decided to make his move.  Instead, I made a snap decision.

    “I’m pardoning all of you.  The whole lot,” I said.  “Everything that happened up until this moment is forgiven.”

    “What,” asked Officer Tremblay his forehead wrinkling as he looked at the me for the first time since bursting onto the scene.

    “Thank you, sir,” said Gants knuckling his forehead.  “Much obliged.”  He didn’t look very obliged, he rather looked like an angry hornet.

    “Admirals can’t just pardon anyone they please, they don’t have that power.” Said Tremblay, scowling fiercely.

    “I have the right and the power and I dare anyone to test me,” I said, sticking my chin out, then wincing at the pain the gesture produced.  For an old man, the Chief Engineer sure packed a punch.  “Anyone who disagrees with my decisions and actions is free to get off at the next stop.  Until then, he’s to keep his mouth shut and obey my orders.”

    I kept speaking, pointedly talking over several different people who wanted to inject their say into the conversation.  “The first order you’re all to obey is get this man down to the infirmary,” I said, pointing to the Chief Engineer who looked like he was having a heart attack or a stroke.  “Everyone not doing that is to start preparing this ship for a disaster relief effort, immediately.  Those settlers out there don’t care about anyone’s ego, or who made what mistake, they only care how long they can keep breathing.  I aim to see to that issue, first and foremost.  Everything we’ve done here is for nothing if we stand by and let them die.”

    I turned and sat down in my chair, deliberately showing my back.  I was trying to make it obvious that I expected them to deal with it.   “Everything,” I repeated with finality.