Admiral's Trial (A Spineward Sectors Novel:) Page 10

  The Orderly looked alarmed. “Thank goodness, you’re here, Sir,” the Orderly babbled. “I’m the one that got you into the tank after Tremblay carried you to the corridor I was working in!”

  “Tremblay! Why, that good for nothing, no-good weasel,” I exclaimed. “If he’s not neck deep in this disaster, then I’m a grease-monkey’s uncle!”

  The Orderly now looked alarmed and worried. “I don’t know about things like that; too far above my pay grade. I just know he dropped you at my feet and then took off.” Then his face brightened, “but I got you into a tank right away, lickity-split!”

  “I’m not sure how much of this I believe,” I declared and turned to Heirophant. “Secure him,” I ordered, and at the Tracto-an’s overeager look, I hastened to add, “but be as gentle as you can. He might be on our side,” I finished in a half scoffing voice. I mean, someone had definitely sent him, and if there were guards around the corner, they should have come by now. On the other hand, just who had sent him…secret royalist sympathizers from my old crew? Or parliamentary double agents determined to penetrate and break any such nascent little organizations still at large on the ship!

  Heirophant jumped over the cart—landing on his good leg—and grabbed the Orderly. For the other man’s part, other than looking terrified, he made no effort to resist while the gunnery rating patted him down, producing a data slate and a few memory crystals from his pockets, along with a hand-com.

  “Sweet Crying Murphy, Admiral, I had to dump a member of our crew out of the Tank and put you in. You wouldn’t have made it, otherwise,” the Orderly sounded genuinely concerned and near tears.

  “Then why did you do it,” I asked suspiciously, not willing to be fooled by the first sob story to grace my ears.

  “You’re the Little Admiral; you’ve got priority! I had to save you, even if Dr. Torgeson told us the new crew had priority over those of us who had been here all along,” he explained, actually sounding indignant.

  Torgeson. My face darkened as I added another name to my expanding hit list.

  “Like we were a moldy cheese, too long on patrol…to be thrown out like we were nothing!” he continued.

  “Who are you working for,” I demanded.

  “The head of Medical?” the orderly said after a confused pause.

  “Torgeson sent you?” I demanded, ready to rip his throat out, as befit a double-dealing spy!

  “No! I mean yes—normally…but not for this!” he hissed. I was starting to believe his story; I mean, no one could be as big a fool as this guy was starting to sound, and not be telling the truth.

  “So who sent you down to the Brig to set us free?” I asked harshly.

  “Not the both of you; this stretcher can only hold one,” protested the Orderly anxiously, pointing at Heirophant, “I’m just supposed to get him.”

  My world view was instantly shaken; despite all my cold-blooded logic, I still had thought he’d come for me. I was the Admiral, of course, so naturally any rescue/escape attempt had to be centered around setting me free. When I finally processed the words that he was just here for the other guy, my ego took a blow. That’s when I realized that, despite my bemoaning how I was a failure as an Admiral, I still unconsciously thought of myself as one. Well, it was time to nip that unconscious assumption right in the bud.

  “Of course you are,” I said, struggling to keep my voice conversational. I had to draw on all my royal training to keep the emotional turmoil I was feeling off of my face as I unconsciously straightened my posture.

  The Orderly looked relieved. “If you’ll just lay down here,” he said to Heirophant, “I’ll inject you with an agent to knock you out, making you appear dead. As soon as we get into the lift, I’ll give you the counter agent, and take you to a secure location.”

  “Not so fast,” I said sternly, even though all I wanted to do right at the moment was get rid of Heirophant and this Orderly—both of whom still viewed me as a legitimate Admiral. Worse than that, I realized, they still thought of me as their Admiral. I needed to get them away from me as quickly as possible before I got sucked into believing I was the real deal, and got even more men killed in a hopeless cause. I mean, the Confederation Fleet—a construct entirely of my own creation—was supposed to destroy the pirate threat along the border, but I couldn’t even catch the pirates I had bearded in their own lair…that was how I’d lost my ship!

  “I want to know who you’re working for; and don’t feed me any more lines about the Head of Medical,” I said angrily.

  “I’m not supposed to tell you…operational security,” the Orderly said in a soft, weak voice before Heirophant grabbed him by the scruff of the neck.

  “Who is it?” I demanded, projecting royal command into my voice. At that moment, I needed to channel every bit of the False Admiral that men like Justin Suddian had rightfully despised.

  “It’s the First Officer,” he squealed.

  “One of the new officers,” I said in surprise, and I quickly tried to decide if this was a trap, or genuine. Then the look on his face drew my mental jumble to a sudden halt.

  “Not former First Officer Tremblay,” I seethed menacingly. My demeanor—as someone unaffected by near death, torture and family beatings—threatened to shatter into pieces at the thought of Tremblay. “Not that man.”

  I could tell from the expression on his face that I had arrived at the correct conclusion.

  “It’s probably a trap,” I said, turning to the former Lancer, “let’s open the cells and raise a storm.”

  The Tracto Native Warrior hesitated, and I could see instant desire leap into his face at my words. Then, as if a great weight had dragged it from him, he opened his mouth.

  “It was the former First Officer who unlocked my cell, so that I could stop those two from killing you,” he said reluctantly.

  “How long have you known the First Officer,” I growled at the orderly, who looked worried at my sudden change in affect.

  “I’ve seen him in the mess hall or around the ship before…but we’ve never so much as exchanged words. At least, not until he dropped you off outside Medical, and then again when he told me I had to do my duty by coming down here.” When my eyes conveyed just how little I believed him, the orderly looked like he was very near to his breaking point, as he blurted, “He even threatened to report me to the Commodore!”

  “Now, that sounds like the man I know,” I admitted, throwing my hands in the air and walking back into my cell. The holo-montage was still playing inside, causing me to turn back around, just as if I had been stung.

  “Blast him! Blast that man,” I cried to Heirophant. “First Officer Tremblay has been against me from the start,” I pushed a finger into the palm of my hand for emphasis, “From…the…start. And now, we’re to believe that on the eve of gaining everything he’s been dreaming about for the past six months, he wants to help us? Now he’s no longer working against me? Now he has the best interests of our crew at heart?! Murphy Weeps but there are lies, blasted lies, and Parliamentary First Officers!”

  “What should we do, Admiral?” asked Heirophant.

  I opened my mouth and then glanced at the Orderly. Instead I grabbed the former Lancer’s shirt and drug him back into the room.

  “You are to use your own judgment,” I replied, giving him a look to make sure he understood I was serious on this point, and not just shooting off my mouth.

  “And…” Heirophant prompted.

  “Get close to him, warrior,” I breathed, in a voice just above a whisper. “Get so close that you can crawl right up to him and he wouldn’t even notice you’re there. Then, if you see that he is lying about helping us, or drops his guard and you see he was behind the plot that destroyed your entire department…” I paused just long enough to make sure he understood my next point, “If you find out any such things about that man, cut him down without hesitation. Strike quick and strike deep, for I am tired unto death of my enemies taking advantage of my goodwill. Those
responsible for the slaughter of our fellows need to be brought to justice.”

  They were big words from an essentially powerless man, but I didn’t care; I believed them with all the rage in my heart. Real opponents like Jean Luc Montagne and Captain Jim Heppner might be beyond me—as they had recently proven—but a whiny little roach like Tremblay wasn’t.

  “I hear and obey,” Heirophant acknowledged, with a hard look in his eye.

  “Use him if he’ll let you, but never turn your back on him,” I warned, with all the ferocity of a royally trained orator behind my words. I was probably so vehement because that’s what I had done and now I was here. Like a parent who made a mistake in his youth, I wanted to be able to simply tell the next generation what to avoid, as if that was all it would take to solve their future problems.

  Satisfied that I had given them proper marching orders, I kicked them out of my cell and shut the door, locking myself in with the dead men.

  When I received no indication to the contrary, I had to believe that Heirophant and the little Orderly had made it out safely. I had to…or else what was the point?

  Without anyone else to pretend, or be strong for, I could finally return to being what I had always known was my true nature: a failing college student, incompetent royal and all-around political scapegoat. The dream that was 'Admiral Montagne' could at last, and forever, be allowed to fade into oblivion. To be finally set free, jettisoned into the depths of cold space where I could wither and die without even a skin-suit. Well…maybe just a head bag, to hold back death long enough to contemplate my sins and seek forgiveness from those I had sent to their own untimely end.

  My thoughts turned bitter as I realized that precisely such a fate had befallen my Lancers, my crew and—most unfortunately—my wife. I lay back and tried to sleep, which surprisingly, I managed to do. I suppose I was becoming numb to the entire experience, but I still count it as a personal weakness that I was able to rest when so many others were suffering due to my failure.

  When the guards finally arrived, to find me sleeping like a baby in a room filled with the bodies of two murdered Parliamentarian Officers…needless to say, they were not pleased.

  Some serious dental work would be in order sometime in the future, when I again had access to such luxuries.

  Chapter 14: Jean Luc Admonishes Tremblay

  “Ah,” Jean Luc sighed with such obvious content it was sickening, “my faithful servant, in whom I am well pleased.”

  “I’ve done your dirty work, so why am I here,” Tremblay spat the words as if bitter in his mouth.

  “―Or perhaps I should have said, my 'Disloyal Servant' in whom I am 'nevertheless still' very well pleased,” Jean Luc mused, leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach like some kind of mafia don who had finished a particularly good meal.

  “I am no servant of yours,” Tremblay said, mustering more defiance in the statement than he had managed during his entire last meeting with the one-eyed Commodore.

  “Oh, but you are; and such a vicious little piece of work, at that,” Commodore Montagne insisted. The worst part was the tone of admiration in his voice.

  “I’m not your attack dog,” Tremblay seethed.

  “Don’t try and play the lion; it doesn’t suit you,” Jean Luc leaned forward and opened a side drawer in his desk. The Admiral’s Desk, Tremblay reminded himself, even as he tensed, watching the hands of this deadly Montagne. That desk does not belong to this interloping Commodore!

  When all the old Royal did was produce a stogie, the Junior Lieutenant forced himself to relax his shoulders. “I see you’ve finally found the time to change into a proper uniform,” Tremblay said, amazed that he dared to poke this particular bear in its den.

  With the end of his cigar freshly lit, the newly minted Commodore froze, and then shook his head as if he was confronting a particularly dimwitted student. “It’s all about blending in, my lad. I may call you my lad,” he stated, rather than asked, puffing grandly on his acrid-smelling cigar.

  “No,” replied Tremblay, once again defying the man in his lair.

  “You see, lad,” Jean Luc continued, pointedly ignoring the younger officer’s indignant retort, “I am a lion. That wet behind the ears little pipsqueak you called an Admiral, he was trying to be a lion,” the old Montagne puffed on his cigar seriously for a moment, leaning back to blow a trio of smoke rings. “Ah, that is the good stuff; I can’t believe you parliamentarian types outlawed the stuff aboard ship. This, my lad, is the very essence of civilization.”

  “It’s a fire hazard, that’s what it is. It was rightly banned on board ships belonging to SDF,” Tremblay retorted stiffly.

  “For the most part, he was succeeding,” Jean Luc said contemplatively as he flicked the cigar absently.

  “Who,” Tremblay asked, clearly missing a thread in the conversation.

  “Your Little Admiral…you need to keep up, if you expect to go anywhere in this man’s Defense Force,” Jean Luc rebuked him mildly.

  “I see,” Tremblay replied, refusing with every fiber of his being to roll his eyes. That would be a fatal move, and Mama Tremblay may have raised her son to be many things, but suicidal was certainly not one of them.

  “You, on the other hand, are more along the lines of the smaller order of life in the animal kingdom,” the Commodore concluded.

  “Fascinating, Sir,” said Tremblay. Jean Luc looked irritated, and Tremblay felt a momentary surge of triumph, which was quickly followed by a thrill of fear.

  “Heppner now, he’s more along the lines of a bear. He likes his routine, he angers when provoked, he’s able to kill with a single strike and if need be, chase down his prey but for the most part he’s a solitary sort, uninterested in events outside his territory,” explained the Royal Commodore.

  “I thought we were talking about me,” said Tremblay pointedly.

  “And that’s why you’ll never be anything more than what you are: a lack of not only vision, but patience as well,” said the Montagne Prince, sounding satisfied with his conclusion.

  “So what am I in your estimation, a field mouse, or a jack rabbit?” Tremblay sighed as he leaned back slightly in his chair.

  Jean Luc shook his head. “Myself, I am a lion pride leader, with many powerful lesser lions at my beck and call. I am 'always' interested in acquiring more territory.” Jean Luc sighed piteously as he continued, “You, however, are more akin to a weasel, or a snake…I haven’t made up my mind entirely on the subject,” the older man puffed for a few moments in contemplation.

  “Hardly the most physically imposing of all the creatures to be compared to,” Tremblay retorted mildly.

  “Yet, with its twin fangs, the one is deadly to nearly everything that dares to venture close to it, while the other…it is mostly only deadly to other, very small creatures,” Jean Luc grinned and waved his cigar at the Junior Lieutenant, “such as snakes.”

  “So I’m either a snake, or a killer of snakes,” Tremblay said tightly.

  “The vicious, cowardly, sneak thief killer of snakes…but yes, one or the other,” said Jean Luc.

  “Well, let me know what the Commodore decides,” said the Junior Lieutenant.

  “Never fear, I have a use for both snakes and cowardly weasels within my crew,” Jean Luc said reassuringly.

  “I did your bidding once, and now your hold over me is done,” said Tremblay, standing stiffly at attention. He felt his anger rising at the thought that he had fallen into a contest of word games with a master of the craft at the level of Royals.

  “That’s where you are wrong,” the Commodore said, once again leaning back in his chair. This time, he picked up a remote, and touched a button before placing it back on the desk.

  The holo-projector on the far wall came to life, upon it Tremblay saw himself disengage the Brig's monitor systems before putting a crystal wafer into the main data port, and everything hazed, before clearing to just one small, grainy point of view. It then tracked him as he
stumbled through a door, then fast forwarding to the point the Tracto-an Lancer limped out of the cell to attack the Morale Officer and his Assistant, as they rounded the corner. A series of cut-scenes showed Jason Montagne come out, and then it skipped to the Little Admiral sleeping in his cell, with the two dead men stretched out on his floor.

  “A rather suspicious series of events, wouldn’t you say?” Jean Luc said with an appreciative, yet wholly evil, grin.

  “I was acting under orders, your orders I might add,” Tremblay stated, then coming to a more formal stance, “At this time, I would like to request Legal Counsel, before this inquest goes any further,” Tremblay said, keeping his lower lip from trembling through sheer force of will.

  “I never ordered a thing,” Jean Luc said smoothly, thumping a thumb down on the table, “however…creatively you chose to interpret my words. Although, I do suppose it is partially my fault,” he continued, putting a frown on his face that any circus clown would be proud to call his own.

  “I’m glad to hear you admit your guilt for the record,” Tremblay said stiffly.

  “The physical trauma you experienced clearly compromised your already fragile willpower,” Jean Luc tapped his cigar, sending a small pile of ash into the tray beneath it. “It’s not your fault; the fault is mine, and as your superior officer, I must take full responsibility for not ensuring your immediate examination in Medical,” he looked genuinely remorseful.

  Tremblay could barely contain his outrage. “The records will show―”

  “―Sadly, a hidden program somehow found its way into the secure monitoring files for this room, and unfortunately wiped the records clean.” Jean Luc flashed a grin, “No doubt, the program was put in place by my most immediate predecessor, in order to cover his tracks.”

  “You two-bit pirate,” Tremblay breathed.

  “I am anything but two-bit,” Jean Luc’s said icily, his voice taking a quick, lethal turn.