Snippet 20 - The Admiral

Chapter:


    I was back on the Admiral’s Throne when Lieutenant Tremblay turned to me.

    “I think that’s everything we can squeeze in, Admiral,” he said with a frown.  “The final tally from the all the ships including ours is…” he glanced  at his handheld, “54,341 survivors loaded in various stages of discomfort.  Every cargo hold and spare crawl space has been packed to the rafters with settlement gear from the Promethean ship,” he finished, sounding relieved.

    “Final sensor sweeps have turned up no life signs and a visual check has been performed by our shuttles?” I asked, still reeling from the disastrous incident involving engineers and an ill-conceived ramming maneuver.

    “Sensor sweeps are negative and visuals turned up no movement.  I think it's safe to say we found everyone who was still alive and transferred them to a functioning ship.  By this point, space suits would have run out of power and since we’ve already done a visual sweep of the Promethean Settler, we can be confident there’s no one left aboard that hulk,” said Tremblay.

    “Alright," I said with more than a hint of relief in my own voice, "then make sure the two Settlers have finished their calculations and locked in the coordinates for our new destination.  I want to make sure there are no problems like we had with our two missing medium cruisers.  Then put me on with the captains in command of the Corvettes,” I said with a wave directed to the communications section.

    “Yes, Admiral,” said Officer Tremblay turning to the console in the signals section he was sitting at.  After a couple minutes he turned back.

    “The Setter ships confirm the calculations have been made and course locked into their navigation computer."  He sighed heavily before continuing, “they also wish to, once again, raise the point that the system we are jumping into is listed as a Protectorate World and on the Imperial Proscribed List banning all merchant marine and provincial government travel of any kind to this world and system.  The Confederated-Imperial Navy and the Confed-Imperial governmental ships are the only ones allowed entry into the system, even in the case of an emergency.”

    I waved a hand dismissively.  “I don’t give two figs for the Empire’s Proscribed List,” Tremblay opened his mouth to continue but I cut him off again, “as for the more realistic, although remote concern of possible automated defenses for this Protectorate World.  That’s why we’re going to point transfer in well away from the world we’re targeting, to give us enough time to scope out the situation,” I finished smoothly.

    “Admiral, I know you disagree.  But in light of the possibility of automated defenses, I have to once again and for the record strongly urge that we choose another system to jump to, while there’s still time to change course,” said the First Officer.

    “Noted,” I said, trying to keep the annoyance from finding its way into my voice.  “Noted and noted again.  I know you think any risk is too great and maybe you’re right, but we won’t know until we get there.  At least we do know this world can support the Prometheans.  Remarkably, we have more information in that regard than they do in their more up-to-date database.  All they have is a great big Restricted sign over any useful information.  We at least have basic geographical and biological compatibility studies in our files.  The same can’t be said for sure about any of our other destinations.  We might think they can make it on some sub-prime, marginal world, but who knows.”

    “I realize that, Sir.  But…” the first officer trailed off in defeat.

    “The final determination is mine to make, and I’ve made it,” I said as kindly as I could to the man who constantly disagreed with me.

    “It's just that every jump, every single point transfer we’ve made since the Imperials have left has taken us,  deeper into the Rim and further away from home,” Tremblay said, his shoulders slumping.

    I pursed my lips and nodded.  I could understand the desire to get home.  It wasn’t as acute for me since I fully expected parliamentary trouble upon my return.  I could sympathize with missing your homeworld and family, though.  It would be nice to see my mother, even if just to touch bases and make sure she was alright.

    “I make the best decisions I can in the time I have to make them.  I know you don’t always agree with me,” I said, trying to build some positive rapport.

    The First Officer snorted.

    “Alright, you almost never agree with me,” I said with a cool smile.  “Still, I like to think we’ve done some good out here.”

    Lieutenant Tremblay gave a reluctant smile.  Then grinned, “Admiral, if you keep going on like this, I think we’ll soon fall off the map,” he exclaimed.

    I gave him a sharp look, unsure if I had just missed a barb of some kind.  I decided to take it at face value as an attempt at humor, and even though it was a poor one, I did my best to smile back.

    “I’ll get you home, Tremblay,” I promised, then hastened to add, “Although there might be a few side trips along the way.”

    “That’s what I’m afraid of, Sir,” said the First Officer.  “The side trips.”

    An uncomfortable silence followed.  It was a relief when routine ship matters (if anything could be called routine in a ship half filled with crew and the other half filled to the brim with refugee colonists) called the First Officer away.

    Now that every dissenting opinion had once again been heard, and its bearer sent away to deal with other matters, I had nothing to do for several hours but sit back and worry that maybe the naysayers were right.

    As events with the engineers on the hull had proved, I wasn’t infallible.  Unlike in school, when a mistake would only cost me a sharp rebuke from a professor, when I make mistakes as an Admiral, people died.

    "Admiral, the Caprian ship is hailing us," the chief communications officer stated matter-of-factly.  I gestured toward the main screen and the image of the hatchet faced woman Captain appeared.

    “Are you sure I can’t talk you out of this,” asked the Confederate Captain.

    In the last hours I had familiarized myself with her name and rank.  She was Lieutenant Commander Synthia McCruise, and with the death of her fellow ship captain during the pirate boarding action, she was in undisputed command of the two corvette escort.

    I groaned quietly, trying to maintain composure.  “If you disagreed with my decision, why didn’t you say something earlier, Commander McCruise?”

    “I didn’t say anything before because I’m not sure I disagree with you, and besides it's not like I could stop you even if I did,” she said with a shrug.

    I paused and considered her carefully.  “Still, if you thought I could be making a mistake, you should have said something,” I said guardedly.  "You owe that much to your passengers and crew."

    She looked at me seriously.  “Every decision we make as commanding officers could be a mistake.  We have to go forward with the best information we have at the time and make a decision.  Besides,” she gave a smile, that on any other woman I would have called impish, “if I really disagreed with you, all I’d have to do is say that I didn’t and then make sure when you jumped that the two Settler ships and I high tailed it to an alternate location.  There’s no point in picking a fight with a heavy cruiser,” she said pragmatically.

    My mouth hung open, stunned at Commander McCruise's frankness.

    She smiled again, “Its not like you even bothered to slave their Nav systems to your own.”

    I covered my mouth with my hand.  Then coughed.  I hadn’t even known I could do that.

    “That and the genuine rescue effort you guys have been running, clued us in that you weren’t just another cagey pirate with a good line to sell,” she said seriously.

    “You still think we might be pirates,” I said aghast.

    “Nah,” she said leaning back in her chair.  “Real pirates would have posted guards inside the bridges of both settlerships.  If you were a pirate you’ve done a pretty incompetent job of it.”

    Incompetent!  Is that how she thought about me and my ship.  “Well, we did take on around sixteen thousand refugees,” I said, playing devil's advocate in a desperate attempt to regain my footing.  “I suppose if we were real pirates, we’d have sixteen thousand slaves anda hold full of settlement gear right about now,” I said with an arched eyebrow.

    She threw back her head and laughed.  “Real smart there, Mr. Pirate Genius.  You just outnumbered yourself two to one,” for a moment she looked  reflective, “Your prize ship is empty except for a few engineers.  So you just lost that ship right off the bat, as soon as you tell you new slaves what you have planned for them.  There’s no way a bunch of settler types are going to take a little thing like slavery sitting down,” she paused.  “I suppose at two to one odds on your own ship, if you armed your crew before hand you’d have a pretty good chance of putting down the uprising.  However, a lot of your systems are going to be destroyed.  If nothing else, they'll get shot up by your own men.”

    I smiled thinly, but felt absolutely glum.  “Yeah, not the smartest move ever made by a pirate kingpin,” I said playfully.

    “Really, you should think about slaving the navigation of any ships you are jumping with in the future,” she said.  “Just don’t try it with my Settlers.  I’ll be following behind in my Corvette just as soon as we’re able and will deal with any monkey business upon arrival, so be warned,” she said sternly.

    In the end, I didn’t change my mind and when every ship that could make the jump was ready, we simultaneously point transferred into hyperspace.


The Deposed King