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.”

Snippet 2 - Admiral Who

I'm thinking about reworking this section.  Maybe go back and start with the actual conversation between Spalding and the Imperial Engineer.

Not really sure.  Let me know, especially as you come across the next section with Spalding.  I'm not sure the voice is right on this.





He was the very model of a modern outdated Space Engineer:


Earlier:


    Engineering Officer Terrence Spalding nodded his head dutifully and saluted to acknowledge the new orders from the Imperial Chief Engineer.  He then turned with dignity and - without warning - leapt out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him and activating the manual locking mechanism.  Glancing around wildly he caught sight of an Able Spacehand named Gants.

    Pointing to the machinist shop he yelled, “Gants find me a plasma torch from the shop and bring it here on the double quick.”  When Gants looked at  him with wide eyed, Spalding Roared, “Move it, Spacehand!”

    Gants scrambled to obey.

    Turning back to the control panel, the Engineering officer initiated a class II chemical contamination lock down.  He breathed a sigh of relief when the computer accepted the code and temporarily locked down the room.

    Gants came running back with the torch and the Engineer immediately began welding the door shut.  When he’d done enough to ensure the Imperial Officer was trapped inside, he turned to Gants.  “Good lad, Gants,” Said the grey bearded Engineer, clapping him on the shoulder and struggling to slow his breathing.  “You may have just helped save the ship.”

    Gants eyes widened and his head reared back.  “Sir?” he sounded shocked.  “What’s going on?”

    “Never you mind all that, lad.  Never you mind.   Just rest assured, Engineer Spalding’s got everything well in hand.  Together we’ll save this blasted ship yet,” he said, a wild look in his eye as he indicated the door they’d just welded shut.

    Gants nodded weakly and then uneasily glanced at the welded door.  “If I can ask, sir?”

    “No time.  No time at all for that, Gants,” the engineer said decisively.  “No.  You just run along and hop into that old suit of powered armor I’ve been having the lads refurbish as a surprise for the little admiral.”  He winked, but Gants was visibly shaken.  Irritated, Engineer Spalding barked “Now run along Able Spacehand.  As soon as you’re suited up, join the rest of us in main engineering.  I’m putting out the summons for everyone not currently locked down to get over there for a meeting.  We’ve got a bloody ship to save!”

    Non-regulation length hair flaring out to either side of his head he turned, to activate the overhead comm system.  “All engineering personnel are to gather in Main Engineering.  Repeat all engineering  personnel are to gather in main engineering as soon as possible for an important announcement.”  The Engineer nodded fiercely to himself and headed for main engineering at a run, pausing only to grab a pry bar to complement his still smoking plasma torch,

    When Spalding reached main engineering there were only a few imperial space hands in sight, which was predictable since most of the engineering crew was Caprian born.

    Ignoring the questions shooting at him from all sides, Spalding went to the largest open area on the engineering deck and then used the plasma torch to draw a quick line down the middle of the floor.  Pausing to look at the engineering crew on the catwalk gazing down at him as if he were crazy, he shook his crowbar at them.

    “Get down here,” barked to old grey bearded engineer, pointing with the crowbar at the line he’d just burned into the deck.  “Everyone not doing something critical to ship operations, stop whatever you’re doing and get down here on the double,” he yelled, his eyebrows beetling fiercely.

    When the current duty staff, as well as those few engineering crewmembers who’d started trickling in from outside main engineering reached the floor, he gave them a wild grin and motioned with his crowbar for everyone to go to one side of the line he’d just drawn.  Then waving the plasma torch in the air to emphasize his points, he started speaking.  “Every man who doesn’t love our fine ship Clover step across that line.”  For a moment no one moved, and a few looked at him as if he’d just gone completely bonkers.

    Furious, his glare swept the deck.  “I said, everyman who loves the finest ship the Space Gods saw fit to bestow on mankind stay right where you bloody well are.  The rest of you disloyal dogs let your mates know you’re plannin' to jump ship and cross that bleepin' line!”  He activated the plasma and a great blue flame belched from the tip of the torch, obviously for effect.  When still no one crossed the line (in fact, a few were actively backing away from both it and him as if the space between them were an active mine field) the Engineer gave a grunt of satisfaction.

    Angrily he stomped up and down the line he’d just cut into the floor.  “Looks like we’ll have to do this the hard way,” sighing he pointed to the  Imperial crewmembers, “Lads, I don’t hold yer love of empire against ye,” he said, forcefully indicating they were to cross the line, with his crowbar.  When they hesitated in the face of the visibly angry engineer, he indicated they were to move across the line with the active, hissing plasma torch.

    After they’d scurried across the line (if only to avoid the active plasma torch), the Engineer’s eyes lit on a couple of new arrivals trying to sneak  into the back of the main group and he scowled.  “Spacehands Brence and Castwell!  How good of you to join us so promptly.  Why don’t you two troublemakers go join our imperial brethren on the other side of this here line.”  The spacehands glanced at one another but in the face of the plasma torch wielding  engineer didn’t hesitate for long before moving to comply.

    “Alright,” said the engineer, his voice pitched to carry.  “Anyone else who doesn’t love the Lucky Clover want to go join Brence and Castwell?”

    Alarmed, Spacehand Brence began, “Sir, as the Maker is my witness I love this ship as much as the next man.  I’ll just go join the rest of the crew, if that’s alright with you.”  He started to move to the side with the other crewmembers from Capria.

    “Hold your lazy, slacking tongue and stay right where you are, you poor excuse for an engineering rating,” snarled Spalding, pausing only to spit on the deck.  “Of course you can say you love this ship as well as the next man because the man right next to you is that thieving, no good Castwell!”

    “Sir, I never!” Castwell started indignantly.

    “Don’t pretend I’m a fool who doesn’t know who it was that failed to reverse polarity on the aft beta node because he was too busy working on building himself a liquor still.  Because it was that very same idjit what also tried to sell his fleet issued diagnostic tool to the crew of that poor shot up merchant ship them pirates mauled last month, and for a measly case of rot gut whiskey at that.”  He scowled, unconsciously shaking his crowbar at the  spacehand.

   
    Before he could continue extolling the various misdeeds of the whiskey seeking spacehand, the main set of blast doors leading into main engineering  cycled open and a pair of Imperial Jacks marched into the room closely followed by the Imperial Chief Engineer.  The chief engineer’s lips were white and his face so red it was amazing steam wasn’t shooting out both ears.

    As soon as he saw Spalding he motioned to the Imperial Soldiers.  “Jacks clap that Officer in irons for falsely imprisoning a senior officer and disobeying a direct order!”  He then swept the assembled engineering crew with an icy gaze.  “The rest of you, I don’t know what this officer has told you…”

    Engineer Spalding cut him off, spittle flying from his mouth, “I never disobeyed your illegal orders, although by all the space gods I was sorely tempted to.  Instead, as ordered, I went and asked which ones of this crew wanted to leave their comrades in the lurch during a time of war and join with the Imperial members of this crew in jumping ship!”  He stamped his feet to punctuate the final two words.  “And as far as false imprisonment, that’s in no way  worse than inciting the men and officers of this ship to abandon their posts, renounce their citizenship and go fight a war at the very moment their planet needs them the most!”  Whatever else he’d been about to say was cut off as the Jacks seized him by the arms and picked him up off his feet, impotently flailing arms and all.
   

    “Throw that senile old monkey, that poor, miserable excuse for an addled old space engineer in the brig.  I’ve heard more than enough of his blather.   More than I’d ever care to experience again, without seeking a blood drenched satisfaction,” the imperial chief engineer stated clearly and coldly and then waited until the still struggling engineer had been forcibly removed from the deck before continuing.  He ignored the surprised exclamations coming from the  engineering crew and the questions cut off when he turned to look at men gathered together on the deck. 

    “Now despite whatever that old relic had to say, I’m here to inform you that due to events outside of our control the Empire of Man needs every man willing to join battle fleet and help fight off the Gorgon menace.  You can all rest assured that if they get through the Empire, they’ll be coming here next.  And everyone, including that old fool, will die.”

    There was some muttering among the spacehands at this information.

    “In addition, any man who willingly signs on with the imperial fleet will automatically receive imperial citizenship, as soon as his tour of duty is completed.  No one, I repeat no one, is being asked to give up their planetary citizenship at this time,” he said, shaking his head.  “Finally all ranks will be equivilated without the usual two step downgrade in rank for a standard transfer from a system defense force to the Imperial fleet.”  He paused and swept  the crew with a confident gaze.  “I’m here to enlist everyman willing.  If you sign up with us you can do so knowing you’ll be getting yourself off this  ancient bucket of bolts and onto a proper ‘first class’ warship, fighting to protect you and yours.”

Admiral Who Snippet 1

Alright did some editing with my brother.  Ready for the next pass.  Please read and comment with helpful suggestions or you can e-mail me directly if I've sent you my e-mail.

thanks!



Chapter 1:  Changing of the Guard




    Officially I was the commander of an entire Fleet sent out to guard the borders of the Confederated Empire.  Unofficially I commanded nothing at all.   The ‘fleet’ such as it was consisted of less than 20 ships and was spread out over 7 parsecs of space.  We were busy patrolling the border of the empire as  individual units or penny packets of at most two ships.

    While I stayed out of the way studying in my cabin, Imperial Rear Admiral Arnold Janeski exerted ‘Operational Command and Control’ of the fleet.   Meaning he ran things with an iron fist and I just tried to stay out of his way and out from under foot.  A member of a minority branch of a nearly  irrelevant provincial dynasty (equipped with an honorary commission in its system defense force) was nothing next to a battle hardened imperial fleet  commander.

    In reality, the only thing I controlled was the work station and terminal in my stateroom.  To make certain I understood my real role in this fleet  (as if I’d ever forget) the Admiral had also stationed two Imperial Marine Jacks decked out in full powered armor outside my door.  As an honor guard, of  course.  They escorted me wherever I went and were with me whenever I was outside my quarters.  My quarters where the only real place I had any privacy  during the cruise.

    In truth I was here only as a polite political fiction.  The Empire had ‘asked’ (a much gentler word than demanded) that the individual world states  in our sector of the Confederacy second ships from our individual System Defense Fleets over to the Imperial Rim Fleet.  We were supposed to help patrol the  borders of the Confederated Empire while the regular units of the Imperial Fleet were siphoned away from Rim Fleet and assigned to a Battle Fleet on the  other side of the Empire, where there was a real war raging with the Gorgon Alliance.

    Under intense imperial pressure my world had reluctantly agreed to send more than its fair share of ships to the miniature patrol fleet, but as a point of principle our planetary parliament had wanted something in return, something they could show the voters back home and from which they could generate some political capital, which it seemed was always in short supply.

    A deal was eventually reached and the task of picking the ‘official’ commander for this new Fleet was given over to our planetary parliament. 

    Parliament realized that whoever they sent out wouldn’t actually be in charge of anything whatsoever, so they called upon the branch of the government most  skilled at working under such constrained operating conditions.  A person was needed who was used to having no authority, looked good on camera and was willing to shoulder the burden of responsibility if anything should go wrong.

    So of course the State Department quickly assigned the task to the royal family.  Our ‘Royal Family’ then deliberated long and hard before deciding  no one of any importance within the family actually wanted a job which was so fraught with both political and physical peril.

    The imperials would get all the glory and our fleet leader would only share in the blame if anything went wrong.  So naturally the job was given to  the Montagne Branch of the family, who quickly assigned the post to someone they felt best represented the spirit of the post.  Someone who was not powerful enough to cause any real problems, yet high-profile enough to serve as a proper figurehead.  Someone charismatic enough to step in front of the cameras when it was time for a press conference, but too inexperienced to really understand what was going on without a script in front of him.  So it was without fanfare  that they appointed me to the post.

    Prince-Cadet Jason Montagne Vekna, of house Montagne.  Yes, we are the same Montagne’s who caused a great deal of trouble fifty years ago, so much in fact the Imperial Rim Fleet directly intervened for the first and only time in the history of our planetary affairs.

    I was unborn at that time, which is the only reason my neck is still attached to my shoulders but try telling that to the admissions board at a major educational University.  Officially I’d been invested as Governor of Planetary Body Harpoon at the tender age of 15, given the powers of high and low justice  over all upon it.  Unofficially Harpoon was a small asteroid on an elliptical orbit and when a couple of asteroid miners set up an illegal mining operation on it last year, I couldn’t even get the parliamentary courts to give me a portion of their profits as taxes, to help offset my college tuition fees, let alone evict them and their mining operation from the asteroid itself.

    Scholarships are illegal for members of the royal family, even cadet branches outside the official line of succession such as mine.  My family was the impoverished side of an impoverished and virtually powerless dynasty and basically we had no money.

    So in short, life sucked.

    But no more than it did for anyone else; everyone has troubles and trials in their lives after all.  It just so happened that mine included being  told where I was going to be for the next 9 months of my life, with no appeals allowed, and involved a pair of power armored imperial guards following me around wherever I went.

    Things were not entirely the thorn of a rose, occasionally even a Montagne got to smell the flower a time or two.  What I’m saying is onboard ‘my’ flag ship I had access to a full imperial database.  My access codes in the imperial database were the same as those of a midshipman and this unexpected boon of my supposedly high office had allowed me to continue my educational studies without actually paying any tuition fees.  I will admit that I reveled in the pettiness of my personal gain via this miniscule bureaucratic glitch.  Victories were few and far between in that particular period of my life, and I have no shame admitting my sense of triumph.

    Also because the ship was currently seconded to the Empire any courses I completed here received full imperial accreditation.  A free midshipman’s  level of access to the imperial database also meant I was required by the computer network to complete many of the required courses a midshipman would normally have had to take while onboard ship.  That was a small price to pay for the university level education in colonial administration I’d always hoped to be able to afford someday.

    Thus was my life.  I got up, toured the bridge each day at 08:00, stayed no longer than 5 minutes and no shorter than 2, then proceeded over to the  mess hall.  After eating I exercised for no more than 2 hours and no less than 30 minutes.  I then retreated back to my cabin for the remainder of the day to continue my studies.  I left my quarters after that only to go to the mess hall and eat.  The rest of the time I kept to myself.  Hearing members of the crew refer to me as ‘The Little Admiral’ was almost as bad as being addressed as ‘Governor Montagne’ by Admiral Janeski.

    My dream was to complete a master degree in colonial administration and eventually leave my home world behind in search of a place where I could stand on my own two feet and be judged on my own merits.  Not on the many flaws of my long since annihilated ancestors.  I say annihilated because that’s pretty much what happens when the Imperial Rim Fleet orbitally bombards the palace your family resides in.  Personally I’d have been holed up in a fortified bunker with an excellent communications suite and five years worth of life support and food, but then that’s just me.  My ancestors clearly thought otherwise, which is partly why they are all dead.

    Anyway, back on topic.  Those nine months would have been utter tedium if not for my intensive studies program, and they passed relatively uneventfully.  Then one day, without any warning (at least for my part of things) everything changed.  Let me tell you how it went.

    I was sitting at my workstation, pounding away on a particularly tricky problem of resource allocation for a new colony in the early stages of settlement, when Admiral Janeski’s voice sounded from the speakers in my cabin.

    “Governor Montagne to the flag bridge.  Governor Montagne to the flag bridge immediately.  This is the Admiral, out.”  The speaker then cut off.

    My head jerked, the admiral had never ordered me to come to the flag bridge on an immediate basis before.  I’d been told to not waste time, or to move smartly, but immediate had never entered into the vocabulary.  Not even the one time the flag ship had found a pair of heavily armed pirates plundering a drifting merchant vessel.

    Quickly I shrugged off the old coat I’d been wearing for comfort and pulled on the rest of my official monkey suit.  My official court outfit was a much beribboned affair consisting of a formal jacket covered with a fruit salad of ribbons and gilded silver lining.  It also came with old fashioned breeches tight enough to threaten amputation if I sat down wrong, and a genuine leather belt with a pair of thumb sized rubies on the clasp.  There were also a pair of knee-high boots, fairly nondescript save for the ridiculous shine achieved by hours upon hours of rigorous scrubbing and shining with old-style waxes.  So after hopping into my boots, I threw my official jacket half way over my shoulders and charged out of the room.

    I didn’t want to show up in anything less than formal attire while on the flag-bridge, but on the other hand I knew the Imperial Marine Jacks stationed outside my doors were perfectly capable to tearing them down and coming inside to get me if I was too slow in responding to the Admiral’s orders.   They’d never done it before and I didn’t intend to find out if they would ever actually do so in the future.

    Surprisingly though, as soon as I cleared the doorway the two Jacks grabbed a hold on either arm and despite my bewildered protest that I could easily walk under my own power, frog marched me down the corridor.

    My quarters were those of a former Flag Lieutenant’s and were on the same level as the flag bridge.  So in almost no time I was through the first pair of reinforced bulkheads leading into the flag bridge.  The first set of pressure doors closed behind us and the second opened as I was unceremoniously pushed onto the flag bridge.

    Opening my mouth to protest this rough treatment, I took one look at the Admiral’s tight lipped face and snapped my teeth together with an audible click.  Glancing down, I started buttoning my formal jacket, embarrassed at the disheveled appearance I presented in front of this most formidable Imperial  Officer.

    “Governor Montagne,” he said, acknowledging my presence with a nod.  “It seems we have a bit of a situation.”

    “What happens to be the problem, Admiral?” I asked, suppressing a desire to run a hand through my hair and gulp through sheer force of will.  When combined with the iron clad media training every royal of my home world is taught from birth, I somehow managed to abstain from any other unseemly behaviors as well.  Our training was so rigorous because we didn’t want to embarrass ourselves or the government in front of the public.  Most especially the  government that held our purse strings, but in this case my training did a good job of settling my flutters.  I couldn’t imagine what problem could exist that the admiral would need my assistance with but I was willing to do my figurehead best and help out however I could.

    The Admiral ignored me and pulled out an official looking paper scroll covered with seals.  Looking down at this he started to read.

    Quickly I schooled my features.  This at least was something I was familiar with, receiving and listening to speeches from foreign dignitaries while maintaining an appropriately stoic and regal appearance had been one of the primary skills taught in royal finishing school.  That and making our own  speeches in return of course.  We weren’t really taught that much about the policies, politics or inner workings of the planetary government nor did we have much say in such matters, instead we were taught both how to and how not to behave in formal state functions and also how to receive and entertain important  galactic visitors.  We were really nothing more than the glorified butlers of our parliamentary government.

    “By order of Magnus Gaius Pontifex, Triumvere of the Empire, along with the advice and consent of the Imperial and Republican Senate, all ships, officers, personnel, and portable assets belonging to the Empire of Man, excepting only certain diplomatic envoys and delegations, are hereafter ordered to immediately withdraw from the Spine Ward Sectors of the Confederated Empire and redirected to those provinces along the Gorgon Alliance front as quickly as  possible-”

    I leaned back, eyes widening.  “What!” I burst out, unable to restrain myself.  And not incidentally cutting the Admiral off midsentence.  “You’re  stripping the Spine of all Imperial assets?  What about the Rim Fleet?”

    Fixing me with a thousand meter stare, and consequently freezing me in my tracks, he stopped the next words halfway up my throat.  After a brief, but sufficiently reprimanding pause, the Admiral continued “This proclamation is not yet finished,” he grated between clenched teeth, his eyes boring holes through my skull as efficiently as any cutting torch.

    Realizing how badly I'd broken protocol by cutting off an Imperial Admiral reading an official proclamation from the Triumvirate of Man, I nodded, despite the thousand questions still bubbling up inside me.

    The admiral cleared his throat and continued.  “In addition all assets belonging to the Empire of Man, the Triumvirate and the Senate, which cannot be easily moved out of the indicated sectors but which represent a military or technological asset of importance are to be destroyed.  Also,” he continued grimly, “all private imperial citizens are urged, for their own protection, to abandon the Spine Ward sectors of Confederation Space.  As imperial fleet  units and ground forces will no longer be able to offer an adequate level of protection from piracy and other acts of vandalism nor to provide any form of emergency service until further notice.”

    So saying he rolled up the proclamation and placed it back inside an official looking engraved wooden box.

    Swaying where I stood, I was completely stunned.  This was a complete violation of the Union Treaty, which established the Confederated Empire, and permanently allied both the Confederation and the Empire for time and all eternity.

    “What about the Union Treaty…?  What about the rights of the Spine Ward Sectors to Confederated Empire protection?”  I stumbled out.  “Aren’t we still a part of the Confederated Empire with the right to equal protection, under the United Space Sectors and Provinces Act?”  I ground to a halt, my mouth opening and closing as the potential implications of the Rim Fleet withdrawing from this specific sector of space really started sinking in.

    The Admiral shook his head.  “All of those are very interesting questions.  Questions to which I’m sure you’ll eventually receive answers.  But at this specific moment those are the wrong questions to be asking.  What you should instead be asking, or at least considering, is what I’m going to do with all the imperial officers and personnel currently serving in this ad-hoc patrol fleet.  And whether or not I am planning to turn the entire fleet toward Empire Space.”

    I blinked.  The thought hadn’t even occurred to me.  He could certainly do it, not only did he have the personnel to man the ships but he also had enough imperial marines to seize the vessels by force if necessary.

    “I can see you hadn’t thought about that yet.”  Again he shook his head but this time his upper lip curled as well.  “Taking control of this fleet and moving it to the Empire would be no problem at all.”  He snapped his fingers for emphasis and snorted, then shook his head in negation. “However I am no pirate and even if I were, this outdated fleet is hardly worth the effort.  The cost of upgrading this poor excuse for a star fleet to battle-ready condition, would make it hardly worth the effort.”

    “Fortunately for you, but unfortunately for this patrol fleet, that means that a short while from now you are going to be in full operational command of this fleet… such as it is.”

    Overwhelmed I gasped in dismay.  Feeling lightheaded I carefully walked over to the nearest work station on the flag bridge and collapsed into its form fitting chair.  “There’s no way I can actually take command of this battleship, let alone act as a real Admiral for the entire fleet.” I exclaimed verbalizing the first thing to enter my brain.

    The Imperial Admiral shook his head dismissively.  “You’ve no choice but to fulfill your duty.  Political expediency may have placed you in ceremonial command of this patrol fleet, that’s true.  Unskilled and unfit as you are, you’ll no doubt make a hash of it.  However it is still your duty to carry out the stated will of this fleet’s collective governments and complete its mission and intended purpose before returning safely home.”

    “Of course I’ll make a hash of it,” I muttered.  “I have no actual training in space force operations.”  Then another thought came to me and I  jumped out of the chair.  “I could be thrown in jail just for taking real command of the fleet.  I might even be charged with treason against the planetary  parliamentary!” I exclaimed, pacing back and forth.  “They never actually meant for me to command this fleet.  You’re supposed to do that.”  I finished, unable to stop myself from glaring at the Imperial Admiral accusingly.  “That is your job, Admiral.” I flared as only someone already facing the prospect of an unpleasant execution can.

    Turning his back, the Imperial Admiral activated the forward view screen.  “That was my job.”  The Admiral corrected me with military precision.   “I’ve since been reassigned by the Triumvere.  You can either do your duty and take command of this fleet or else let someone else do it for you.  Whatever  happens to the fleet from the point I step out this ship’s airlock is no longer any of my concern.”  He gestured to the main view screen and one of the many  Imperial Technicians assigned to the flag ship shunted a sensor feed through to the screen.  On it an Imperial Carrier appeared, and according to the estimated course shown on the screen, the carrier was due to dock with our aging battleship within the hour.

    “The Imperial Command Carrier, Invictus Rising, will be docking with us shortly.  At that time I will transfer both my flag and all Imperial Personnel currently onboard this ship to Invictus Rising.  Any other personnel who chose to sign on with the Empire of Man’s space fleet prior to undock will also transfer to Invictus Rising.  After that this ship and its remaining personnel will be exclusively under your orders.”

    Unable to think of any protest I could utter that would convince an Imperial Admiral to disobey the direct order of an Imperial Triumvere, I slumped  back in my chair, overwhelmed by the enormity of what was happening.  The entire Spine Ward sectors of confederate space were being abandoned in favor of protecting the Empire’s Provinces along the war front.

    Careful to make no sudden motions which might upset the Imperial Jacks stationed in the room, I watched dully as the Imperial Command Carrier came closer and closer.  My mind numb, all I could manage was to stare at the screen.  Not only was the sector my planet was located in being stripped of protection, but on a more personal level I was in deep, deep trouble.

    Fifty years ago members of my planet’s royal family, specifically those royal members belonging to the Montagne branch (of which I was a reluctant part) had temporarily seized power from the parliament in a bloody coup.  A coup, which months later, was ultimately suppressed by elements of the Confederated Empire’s Rim Fleet.

    The current parliamentary government had sent me out here knowing with total certainty that I’d never have any hint of real authority within an Imperial Fleet.  I was just here to look good on camera and show how important supporting the Empire was to our planet.

    When they found out things were otherwise, heads would roll.  Perhaps even literally, and it was quickly sinking in that almost certainly one of those heads would be my own.  I’d never be allowed to renounce my citizenship and leave for a new colony after this.  I’d be carefully watched for the rest of my days and if I was very unlucky I could even be permanently assigned to the royal retreat, which wasn't so very different from a prison sentence.   Consumed with these thoughts, the hour until docking passed by like a dream.

    When the Imperial Command Carrier actually docked with our ship I imagined I could feel the whole world shudder along with the ship.  The next two hours also passed in a blur as Admiral Janeski ordered the entire crew confined to quarters and then started transferring all our Imperial officers and  personnel off ship, along with the equipment they’d brought with them.  After that he ordered the main imperial database wiped and prepared to leave the flag bridge for the last time.

    The captain of the Battleship, also an imperial officer, soon arrived on the flag bridge.  Ceremonially and together the Captain and Admiral  carefully cased the Admiral’s flag, which was a metal standard made of Duralloy and had been personally given to the Admiral by an Imperial Triumvere when he’d originally made flag rank.  Then they began to leave.

    As they pivoted on their heels and took the first step towards the door, I wondered if this was it.  If they were just going to walk off and leave me with this terrible mess.  Unsure if I was supposed to do anything other than just watch them leave the flag bridge I was suddenly reminded of the many holo- vids I’d watched back home, where the departing captain or admiral would ceremonially turned the command codes and keys for the ship over to the new officer about to take command of the ship.  Finally seeing something I could do, my royal training kicked in and quickly I cleared my throat.

    The Admiral glanced back in my direction.

    Seeing him looking at me, my courage went up a notch and I hopped out of the chair drawing myself up at full attention, I resolved to play this thing  out just like I was a real royal about to receive actual command of a space fleet.  “Admiral Janeski, I am prepared to receive the command key and codes for both the flagship and patrol fleet at this time.”

    The Captain looked at the Admiral, who in turn looked at me with narrowed eyes.  Then after taking two abrupt strides the admiral stopped in front of me and pulled out a clear crystal from a vest pocket on the front of his uniform.  Slapping it in my hand he turned and without any further ceremony strode out of the flag bridge and off the ship.  The Captain, with the corner of one lip pulled up in a sneer, drew out a similar crystal and tossed at my feet  before he to departed.

    As quickly as that, I was the Master and Commander of an entire fleet of warships.  At least briefly, I was in total control of my own fate and my destiny was entirely in my own hands… who knew how long that would last?


The Deposed King

I've hired an Artist! and pumped out 1400 on a fiddle fart side project

Well its official.  Unless the guy quites I've got an artist for the month.  goal is 4 different finished covers.

If he does me any good I'll post the link to his deviant art account here on my blog.


have a good one people,

The Deposed King

Gosh I'm Scattered! 3rd Tomeworm Snippet

58k and stalled out on the Admiral's Gambit front.

I just wrote 10K on a work that's mis-titled.  I'm calling it Intergalactic Assassin.  The only thing is while she's a trained assassin, she's trying to get out of the game.

Meanwhile due to comments here I'm posting the 3rd Snippet of the Tome-worm librarian.

here it is!

Chapter:  Back Home


    Back in my little four room apartment I kicked off my shoes and grabbed hold of my copper grounding rod.  Iron made the best grounding rods but for a practicing magic user, and even if I wasn’t the strongest one you’d ever seen I still considered myself one, copper worked good enough and it didn’t have the nasty side effect of draining away your personal energy at the same time it got rid of all the bad vibes outside.
    Four rooms might seem like a lot to a member of the pre-crash world but post-crash it was positively Spartan.  There were entire building available for squatting rights and I was stuck in a measly little four room apartment.
    Nothing would make it better than it actually was but on the other hand it had been renovated post-crash by a practicing hedge-witch and came with all sorts of those nifty little add-ons a girl needed in this modern new world.
    Gripping my feet into the nice thick throw rug covering a hardwood floor in need of a fresh coat of varnish, I leaned my head back and sighed.
    Then I went over to the green monster and lay down.  The green monster looked like something straight out of the late 70’s or early eighties but was simply the most comfortable couch I’d ever come across.  That and the fact I wasn’t strong enough to both get it out of the apartment and a new couch installed inside, let alone pay for a luxury like that, meant that the green monster was here for the duration.  Oh it had been moved from one end of the apartment to the other and planed in just about every position imaginable within my little living space.  Unfortunately nothing made it any smaller and even bleach applied in the name of disinfectant, had failed to make it look like anything other than eye sore it was.
    The arms of the green monster were definitely scratchy, I though as I squirmed around in search of that perfect position.  Currently I was using pillows to cover those scratchy arms but had designs on some kind of hand sewn coverings for the arms.
    As much as pink would have been a wonderful power color to add to the main room, this green monster of mine was such an ugly color of dark snot green that even a certifiable pink-aholic like myself just couldn’t imagine pink coverlets doing anything but clashing with this couch of mine.
    I’d inherited the couch from the previous owner of my little four room apartment and while I could understand why she’d left it behind when she moved out, for the life of me I couldn’t understand how she came to possess it in the first place.
    No matter what I tried the couch just looked big and ugly.
    Then I finally squirmed myself into that perfect spot and all my gripes about the green-monster faded into the back ground.  I once again learned why it had survived multiple owners and never once been broken up for kindling and thrown into the garbage to make room for a newer, more color coordinated model.
    With a sigh I told myself I’d just take a little nap and least until my feet and back stopped aching.
    I woke up with a start and realized it was some time after midnight.  The deceptive green monster had once again worked its wiles on me and I was both hungry and in dire need of scanning the work book of Heironeous the Mis-Enchanter so I could write my money making paper tomorrow during work.
    I groaned and stuck a foot outside dark green afghan blanket that was the only thing I’d found so far that hadn’t clashed or been color dominated by the green monster.  As things stood it was a battle to the death of ugly green and something that I’d be ashamed of if anyone ever saw it in my living room.  But since I never had any visitors I think I was safe from humiliation at lest for the moment.
    It was cold out from under my ugly little afghan and I hurriedly retracted my foot.  I tried a hand.  Yep, still too cold for my liking.
    Visions of freezing to death on the way to my room in search of something warm to put on warred with the knowledge that a paper for the odious little T.B. could mean the difference between having food or not having food the last week of the month.
    I hesitated and looked at my brown satchel carelessly tossed next to the doorway.  I’d meant to come back and arrange it properly but first the throw rug had called out to my aching feet and then the green monster had seduced me with its comforts until I’d fallen fast asleep, the satchel and its contents completely forgotten.
    With a sudden move I jerked the afghan over the back of the couch and jumped into the cold.  Dancing from foot to foot, as even the nice thick throw rug was freezing to the touch, I danced into my bedroom.
    Cuddled within its warm pink embrace I jumped into bed and pulled the blankets up over my head until my body head warmed things enough that I stopped shivering.  Re-fortified with warmth and certain I’d never be able to write a paper under here, I once again braved the cold.
    Scrambling for my closet I pulled out the first warm thing hanging on the rack.
    Several minutes later I was layered in three layers of sweatshirts and two pair of sweat pants.  Once again warmed up, I pulled out my nice little pink gloves and returned to retrieve my satchel before making for the kitchen.
    A peanut butter sandwich in hand and two day old left over dim-sum noodles on the burner to heat up and I was now ready to tackle the works of this mysterious mis-enchanter.   
    A lot of whining and blathering about how misunderstood and oppressed he was later, I was jaw crackingly tired.  Looking up I saw that I’d just burned over four hours reading the books of a self-important little whiner.
    It was obvious from reading his work that Heironeous had a lot of the same problems I did.  No money, no materials and a limited innate magical power supply.  The world wasn’t out to suppress his genius, as far as I could tell he just wasn’t any good at enchanting thing.  On the other hand it seemed he’d had to cope up with many of the same problems I did, being a person with low magic power.      While his skills as an enchanter hadn’t been misunderstood as far as I could tell from reading behind the lines and looking at his descriptions of how to go about enchanting objects.  Maybe his ideas of how to overcome the power deficit had been.
    You’d never know until you tried and as a starving magic student I was desperate for any edge I could get.  Maybe I’d try out a few of his less off the wall theories and see what happened.  Even if they didn’t pan out, the theories would make the fine basis of a paper for my Advanced Magical Theory class and now that I thought about it for T.B. as well.  There was no need to burden the little skeeve’s head with the whining of Heironeous when there were a few perfectly unproven theories to gush about instead.
    This way I could kill three proverbial birds with one well written stone.  I could writing a paper that would both earn me money, give me some ideas that might be useful in passing my currently stalled out Advanced Magical Practice classes and earn me direct credit in Advanced Magical Theory.
    Too bad every side project of mine didn’t turn out to be as profitable.
    Satisfied that I’d found the most elegant solution to this little mess, I jotted down a few notes on things I wanted to remember for the paper and after a few jaw cracking yawns acceded to the seductive call of my pink covered twin bed.
    The little coocko clock screamed its dire little warning that I was late for class and it took me a moment to realize I’d slept through its more softly voiced wake up calls.
    With a jerk I rolled over and fell out of bed.  Landing with a thump I grumbled at the coocko clock and hurried to the shower stall.
    An ice cold shower later proved that the hot water heater had once again failed to magically fix itself and if I wanted warm water I’d either have to heat it on burner and ladle it onto myself or hire someone to fix the busted water heater.
    With little hoping shrieks of dismay I grabbed a towel and did my best to rub off all the freezing water, rapidly destroying my body temperature.
    Hopping from foot to foot, I pulled on my clothing as fast a girl possibly could.  Dressed again in my work outfit, I grabbed my rain coat and set out to the kitchen for my satchel and backpack.
    The weekend was over and it was time to go back to school in the morning and library work in the evening.  This business of only working a straight eight hour shift in the library and going home was once again a thing of the past.  It was time to go back to four hours of school and eight hours of work, with travel time thrown in on top.
    I grunted as I locked the door behind me.  My hidden wealth wasn’t in active magical department, although I seemed to do pretty alright when it came to the theory business.  Maybe my hidden wealth lay in the stubbornness department, that’s the only reason I could come up with why I was still sloughing through text books at school and magical tomes at work, after all my batch mates from magic 101 had either graduated with an Advanced Degree or given up on the study of magic and switched majors or gotten married.
    My scholarships may have run out and I was ten years into what should have been a four-to-six year degree but I was dogged and relentless.  Or so I told myself.  It was hard though, I thought as my stomach grumbled, to be both dogged and relentless when you were short on money, food and just about everything else in the world that made life worth living.  The thought of another two-four years of part time schooling followed by two master thesis that needed to be peer reviewed, was enough to make the most dedicated of students doubt herself.
    If I was only able to spend more time studying instead of dealing with runaway books, some wizard or sorceress had thought would be a great legacy to leave behind for future generations to chase down, and re-file.  Then I could pay the fees and challenge the course for accreditation instead of sitting in a hardwood chair for hours on end…
    I had to laugh at myself.  Once again my life had degenerated into a series of hopeless dreams.  If I didn’t even have the money to fix my hot water tank, there was no way I could afford to pay for more classes, all so I could dream of challenging them for instant credit.
    Back in the daily grind, my Advanced Theory class was as dull and boring as I’d feared.  Magic Storage was a rehash of things I’d already learned at school in other classes or on the job at the library.  Really I just was making time in Magic Storage until I earned an associate degree and qualify for one dollar an hour bump for holding the position I was currently filling, only with an associates degree.
    I knew I’d set my sights low but at least the Mondale Foundation was paying for the class under their job training program and I received an automatic waiver for not taking a full load of classes.  One of the few perks of working for at the Emporium.
    Then it was off to the corner of the campus to catch a bus.  All the good mechanical ones were taken by larger or more pushy students, all super eager to get home and unwind.  My lack of enthusiasm to get to work meant I got stuck with an old flat bed, pulled by some kind of giant lizard.  The seats looked like they’d been torn out of something else and bolted to the floor.
    The first time the great big lizard passed gas a giant a six foot fireball launched out of its back side and gave the last of the pushy students sitting in the front a real fright.  It also made clear that on this bus sitting near the front wasn’t the advantage it might have been on another carrier.
    The driver of course hastened to assure us, it was just a harmless bit of indigestion and after a few more fireballs harmlessly passed, where one was actually singed or hurt, the passengers in the front settled down enough to resume the usual sort of back biting comments that go on at a magical academy.
    Other than a few nasty looks at those of us in the back, as if it was our fault they’d pushed us aside in their rush to claim the loser seats, they chose to ignore us in favor of the continual whose-who of active college risers.
    I gathered from the snippets I overheard there was a new child prodigy on campus and he was looking to complete the Advanced Magical Practice four year degree in two and a half and then challenge for his masteral thesis paper if the dean and magical advisory board would sign a waiver.
    I firmly instructed myself to ignore them and turned my head to look at the streets as they passed bye.
    Being open sided it was cold and a few of passengers complained until the driver offered to try and excite the lizard into producing more heat giving flames.  The passengers in the front shouted those in the back down and soon the bus had settled into a sullen unhappy silence.
    The old timers like to complain about how public transportation was alternately faster, slower and more terrifying back in the good old, pre-crash, day but I for one couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying than some of the public transportation options available along my various routes.  Compared to some of these, a gassy lizard with a penchant for fireballs from out its hind quarters was far from taking the cake.
    Remind me to tell you about the gelatinous cube that doubled as a part time emergency elevator and everyone was issued breathing masks.
    I was one of the last ones off by the time the bus hit the library.  And by hit I mean it ran up over the curb and side swiped a news paper stand.  It didn’t actually run into the library itself.  The wards on the old building must have been recharged recently.
    Heading inside the library was almost like coming home.  The dry, slightly musty smell of all those books stored inside its walls welcomed me.  As did the level stare of Mrs. Pruitt, she glanced down at her the water clock on her desk and then looked back up at me.
    I gave her a cheeky grin and went to punch in my time card.  Sneaking a surreptitious glance at the card I felt a surge of triumph.  Mrs. Pruitt might like to make everyone feel like they were late to work but I was rarely late and today was not one of those days.
    Taking off my rain coat and hanging it on an old style standing rack made of wood, I quickly redid my hard into a tight bun and after straightening my dress and button up shirt I felt ready to face the world.
    Marching over to the giant sort rack I sat down behind my little pigeonhole of a desk and glanced over the night slips.
    I suppressed a frown.  Once again the night shift had failed to do any sorting.  Leaving the unenviable task to my.  The night assistant librarian, the young man responsible for sorting new books as they came in and filing recently re-discovered and misfiled works, like the black magic book I’d found hiding out in the slightly restricted section, claimed that they were too understaffed at night for him to safely do his work.
    So instead of doing his job like he was paid for, he instead left all of it for me to do on the day shift.  Which was just unfair.  While I might be forced to admit that they had less staff on nights, even so, that was no excuse for not doing you job.  What was the foundation paying him for anyway if they were just going to let him slack off like this?
    Personally I think he was just too lazy and busy sleeping when he should be working but all my reports to Mrs. Pruitt so far, had engendered no relief.
    Its just as well I told myself with a sigh.  This way you have more to do and will be busy wrangling unhappy books instead of building love handles.  Although with an assistant librarian’s salary I didn’t know how I was going afford enough in the way of junk food to get fat in the first place.  Still it would have been a neat solution to a problem it might have been nice to have.
    Another day of sorting and surreptitiously writing T.B.’s report on the odd techniques of Hieroneous the Mis-Enchanter.
    A second day passed, since my little adventure in the slightly restricted stack, and with my report for T.B. completed I rubbed my back and clocked out.
    Taking the same decrepit looking flat bed and giant lizard set up I’d arrived in this morning, I gave the driver a flat stare.  Riding the thing once had at least had some comedy value.  I could only hope this rickety set up wasn’t going to become a permanent fixture on my route.
    Securing a seat well in the back, I silently laughed at all the pushy people who jumped onto the bus, only to stop in delighted dismay at the sight of all the empty front seats, the seats normally in such hot demand on a public transportation route.
    Being for the most part hardened denizens of the city’s public transportation system, they immediately suspected something was up and reluctantly moved to the middle of the bus.
    A few people started and jumped the first time a fireball shot their direction but at the studiously unconcerned looks of the rest of us in the back, they suppressed their natural urge to dive under their seats and scream.
    I have to admit it was mildly amusing to watch there reaction to a little bit or harmless flammable gas.
    Still chuckling to myself when I hopped off the bus, I trudged through water deep enough to get my feet wet.
    Grimacing I determined to change my socks as soon as I got home.
    At home I started studying for class tomorrow.  This was accomplished by activating a finger joint sized little magic recording stone I’d way purchased back when I’d still been on scholarship.  It recorded whatever the teacher said and could replay it for only you to hear.  Making it a neat little piece of magic that helped a struggling young student stay up with her more talented classmates.  It was also harder for a teacher to set off than you standard hear all play all stones.
    So while I did my laundry for the last two days by hand, my washing machine was also broken and the cost of hiring a brownie was way out of my price range, I sat and listened to the little recording device.  Its only draw back was also part of its security feature, only the person holding it could hear what was recorded.  If you were holding it your instructor’s voice came in as clear as if you were sitting in your chair in class but if you weren’t holding it was the same as if it was turned off.
    The main drawback of this recording stone was that you could only hear what was stored on the little stone once.  It stored the words and then released them.  Once the little stone spoke a word it was gone from its little memory bank forever.
    Plunging and scrubbing my clothes in some nicely pre-warmed water courtesy of my little oven burner, I soaped and rung out my clothes to the tune of the same boring class I’d sat through earlier in the day.
    I didn’t care, knowledge was knowledge and tomorrow I had an Advanced Theory class that might actually be interesting.  I wasn’t about to leave my little stone’s memory full of a stupid Magic Storage lecture.  Not when it could only hold about one lecture at a time.
    Since there was no way to instantly erase the lecture, doing something productive while I was forced to listen to the same boring lecture a second time was the lesser of two evils.
    If only I could channel more magic I thought dispiritedly.  Kelsey McBride had graduated with a Masters  Degree in Advanced Magical     Practice just over two years ago and had established her own practice in the city.  She’d been almost half a year behind me before we became friends and I started helping her with her homework.  Now she had her own shop and small business, while I had a temporary job as a full time Assistant Librarian.
    I mentally went through the tally of former schoolmates who’d already graduated or moved on to something better.
    Maybe I’d try for another familiar again tomorrow.  Most of the Library staff had mice or rats although one night shifter had a small garden snake.  I shuddered at the thought of getting a snake.  The last two times I’d summoned a familiar I’d ended up with alternately a field mouse and then a small sewer rat.
    I shuddered remembering how I’d kept the sewer rat in a small aquarium within the apartment until our familiar bond had withered from disuse and I could finally set it free.
    I was secretly hoping for a Cat.  Preferably a cute little kitten that would grow and add a significant bump to my ability to draw magical power.  Although at this point I’d take a mangy street cat if that was what it took.
    A mouse or rat just couldn’t channel the kinds of power I needed to perform the next level of power spells I’d been itching to try every since the middle of my second year at school.
    I’d already flunked out on the familiar front twice now, I suppose nothing would hurt if I tried one or two of those power enhancing techniques postulated by the Mis-Enchanter.  Then I caught myself.  Maybe I would just study them as a theoretical application in my Advanced Theory Class before testing out anything dreamed up by a man known as the Mis-Enchanter.
    With a new goal to keep my modest hopes alive, I decided not to wait for theory class to run the idea by my instructor.  I’d just do a little research on my own before presenting the idea.
    By the end of the day, I’d disproved most of the ideas Hieroneous had presented in his work book, but in the process had come up with a few ideas of my own.  Even if completely on the wrong track, they should be good for some additional credit in Advanced Theory.
    Humming to myself as I cross referenced my current school book with several others from past classes, I jotted down what I thought was a credible attempt at a work around for a magic user of limited power.


The Deposed King