Vicky rested her thumb on the chaff-release button. “Ready.”
“Hold it, hold it,” the commander said softly, mostly to himself. “Now.”
Vicky depressed the button firmly once, then let up. The shuttle, responding to the commander’s firm hand, began a shallow pull to the right.
The solid tone of the fire-control radar went back to an intermittent beeping as it found itself suddenly with two targets and unable to determine which was its intended.
“Lost you,” the commander chortled.
A moment later, the solid tone was back.
He swung the lander to the left softly. Again the tone broke up, then, a few seconds later, was solid again.
“You weren’t sure where I was there for a second, were you?” the commander said to the distant men intent on tracking them for the kill.
Vicky said nothing.
Twice more, the commander did his dodge. Twice more, the tone broke briefly, then came back. The second time, he had Vicky release chaff.
Each time, the threatened lasers remained silent.
When firebugs began to flow over the shuttle’s tiny windows, the commander seemed to relax a bit.
“We’re entering the atmosphere. They can’t be sure where we are in all this static. Let’s really make them unsure. I’m going to take us through some wide, gentle S turns to bleed off energy and be unpredictable. You get ready to squirt out chaff.”
“Ready,” Vicky said.
The gee force was climbing as the atmosphere slowed them, still, Vicky kept her finger on the button. As the commander readied to edge his control stick over a fraction, he whispered, “Pop chaff.”
Vicky shot a packet of chaff into their fiery slipstream. The bits of aluminum instantly burned away into droplets and fell behind. They showed as one track; the shuttle as another. Vicky could imagine the picture facing the radar operators: two flaming balls. Either one might be a lander.
Meanwhile, the commander slid the actual lander off to the left.
The commander made four more shallow S turns but didn’t task Vicky with spiking any of the others with burning aluminum.
The threatened lasers held their peace all the while.
“What happens when we clear out of this reentry phase?” Vicky asked the commander when he seemed less intent on his flying.
“They’ll track us. You’ll use all the chaff we have aboard. There isn’t nearly enough. They either burn us out of their sky, or they let you come down and talk to them.”
The commander glanced at Vicky. “I sure hope Your Grace has a nice dog and pony show ready. As much as I find your body delectable and desirable, I don’t think they’ll be much interested in a striptease.”
“I suspect you’re right,” Vicky said.
Too bad she had no idea what she might say to enlist Mannie and his fellow mayors in a program of whose details she hadn’t the foggiest idea yet.
CHAPTER 3
THE threatened lasers never fired. The shuttle-landing ground in the middle of Sevastopol Bay was not blocked with shipping. The commander brought the shuttle down in a spray of cooling water.
Then they sat there.
The radio stayed silent. No tug appeared.
“Does this expendable shuttle Admiral von Mittleburg loaned us have any ground-mobility options?” Vicky asked.
Commander Schlieffen tapped the main screen and ran it through several menus before answering. “Yes, it appears it does have auxiliary waterpower.”
It took him a bit of time to activate it, but soon he was steering them toward a shuttle ramp.
“No pier we can dock at?” Vicky asked.
“Nope. We got to go up that ramp.”
“I don’t see any tug waiting,” Vicky noted.
“Hmm, neither do I.”
“Will I have to dive off this thing and swim for shore?” Vicky asked. She was willing, though not looking forward, to starting her plea for cooperation while dripping wet.
“I think we have motors on our landing gear,” the commander said.
“I’ve never seen a shuttle use them.”
Gerrit studied the screen as more instructions scrolled down.
“They haven’t been standard on most shuttles in a while. I did this once back in my Academy days. Let’s see if I do better this time,” he said with a grin.
Vicky checked her harness. She couldn’t make it any tighter.
“Could you lower the landing gear?” the commander asked.
Surprise of surprises, the landing gear lowered when Vicky pulled up on the lever between them.
“Do it again,” the commander ordered. “The right main gear hasn’t locked down.”
Vicky recycled the landing gear. On the second try, the right main gear locked, but the left didn’t. She recycled the gear four times before all three gears dropped and locked in place together.
“I hope the motors are a bit more reliable,” Gerrit mused.
The nose gear bumped onto the ramp. There was a grinding noise, but the nose began to rise from the water. There was more grinding as the main gear engaged and pushed the lander from the water and up the ramp.
At least, they did for a moment.
“Help me with the wheel. The left main wheel motor has dropped out.”
Vicky grabbed the control wheel that she’d been careful not to touch and helped Gerrit haul the nose wheel off to the right. The yaw to the left damped down, but it was clear the shuttle could not make it all the way up the ramp.
“Engage the brake,” the commander ordered. “Let’s get out of here before this wreck drifts back down the ramp and heads out to sea.”
Vicky popped her harness. Three of the five restraint points broke loose. The ones around her waist and between her legs stayed locked in place.
She hit the release again, and nothing happened.
Beside her, the commander was wiggling out of his harness. The top two of his restraint points hadn’t popped. She tried to do some wiggling up, but she really had gotten the harness tight.
The brakes groaned.
Gerrit freed himself and came over to feel around between her legs. On another day, that would have been fun. “Get me out of this, and you can feel all you want between my legs tonight,” Vicky offered.
“Promises, promises,” he said, working on the release.
“I’ve kept my promises,” she pointed out.
There was a snap.
“Ouch,” Vicky said. “That pinched.”
“I’ll kiss it and make it all better later. Let’s get out of here before we have to swim for it.
They exited the forward hatch. There were chocks slung beside the door. Vicky grabbed one, the commander grabbed the other, and they each raced for a different one of the main landing gears.
They got the chocks in place about two seconds before the brake gave up the ghost, and the lander slid back. Back onto the chocks rather than into the bay.
A pickup truck drove up, with a tug not far behind. Three men in coveralls got out of the truck. The senior of the three held a life buoy with a long length of rope attached.
He seemed disappointed that he hadn’t gotten a chance to use it.
Tossing the buoy in the back of the truck, he ordered the other two to hitch the lander’s nose to the tug. They did.
The foreman approached Vicky. “We’ll tow the lander to a parking spot on the ramp. You got a credit chit to pay for the tow and ramp rental?”
Vicky was about to open her mouth, but the commander got there first. “Nope. No credit chit that hasn’t been canceled. Guess you’ll have to throw it back.”
“Don’t you think I wouldn’t,” the man grumbled, “but I got my orders to deliver you two to City Hall, so hop in. Maybe while I’m there, I can get someone to impound the land
er for lack of payment.”
“I doubt if that wreck is worth enough to pay your charges,” the commander said, and opened the passenger door for Vicky. She settled in the middle slot, with the gearshift nearly in her lap.
When the commander settled in beside her, she cuddled up close to him with her legs well away from the gearshift.
The foreman chuckled softly as he got in, started the engine, and reached for the stick.
It was a very quiet drive to City Hall.
CHAPTER 4
THE man in coveralls deposited them at the curb in front of a new and gleaming glass high-rise.
“You been here before?” the commander asked.
“Nope. City Hall was a mite bit smaller last time I visited.”
Many people hurried by them on the street. Many more crossed the gray cobblestoned courtyard as they entered or exited the building.
None so much as glanced at the two Imperial Greenfeld Navy officers in green shipsuits.
With a slight bow, the commander directed Vicky to head inside. He even opened the door for her when they got there.
The ground floor was a marbled foyer full of potted plants and busy people going about their business. None offered to help two Navy officers.
There was an information desk.
No one sat behind it.
No one continued to sit behind it for a full five minutes while Vicky watched it, and busy people ignored them.
“Computer,” Vicky finally said. Her computer was made of the same self-organizing material as Kris Longknife’s Nelly. Unlike Nelly, it did not talk back.
It also did not offer suggestions.
“Can you connect to this building’s net?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Do so, please.”
“I am connected to the public portion. There appears to be a much larger private net behind a firewall.”
“Can you get through that firewall?”
“No, Your Grace.”
“Can you locate the office of the mayor of Sevastopol?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Guide us there.”
“You will need to take the bank of elevators that services floors fifteen through thirty.”
No one interfered with their boarding an elevator. They shared it with many busy people. Some got off. Others got on.
None so much as made eye contact with Vicky.
“Their welcoming committee seems very well organized,” Vicky observed dryly.
“Very well organized,” the commander agreed. “One has to wonder if they’ve been practicing for days.”
A young woman, arms full of paper files, almost laughed at that, but she covered her mouth and turned away before Vicky could say anything in response.
They got off on the thirtieth floor.
Down the hall, at a corner office, they found an unmarked door that Vicky’s computer insisted was the mayor’s office.
The commander opened the door.
A young woman studied her computer screen intently. She did not look up.
“Do you have an appointment with the mayor?” she asked, eyes still on the computer.
“I suspect not,” Vicky admitted.
“The mayor is a very busy man. He only sees people by appointment,” she said, eyes still only for the screen.
Vicky could have mentioned that Mannie had waited on her the last time they met, but she chose not to argue with the gatekeeper.
She also did not show any willingness to go away.
The woman finally glanced at Vicky. “I may be able to slip you in later in the day. Please be seated.”
There were plenty of seats in the outer office.
There was no one sitting in them.
Vicky decided that she would not sit in one either.
There were three doors out of the waiting room besides the door she’d come in.
She remembered a story she’d read when very young. It involved a man and two doors. Behind one was a gorgeous woman.
Behind the other was a man-eating tiger.
Today, Vicky faced three doors.
Might there be a half-naked hunk behind one of them?
Alas, more likely one only led to the restroom. The other might shield a broom closet. The third led to the mayor.
Vicky studied her three doors. Was the light fooling her or did the carpet leading to one of them show more wear?
She picked her door, praying to any interested God that a lot of people hadn’t beaten a pathway to the head.
The commander stepped in front of Vicky and opened the door.
“You can’t go in there,” the secretary said, coming out of her chair.
Vicky had chosen well.
CHAPTER 5
MAYOR Manuel Artamus’s office was quite spacious. His expansive wooden desk had a magnificent view, but his back was to the windows. Vicky doubted he ever swung his chair around to gaze out over the city he managed.
Facing him, and behind Vicky, were two walls paneled in light wood. On them, eight large screens showed people working hard at their desks.
None of them looked up as Vicky walked into the office. That none included Mannie.
Vicky sized up her situation. If she addressed Mannie at his desk, she’d have her back to the eight other people. If she turned to face them, Mannie got her back, something she doubted he’d care for.
She covered the distance to the side of Mannie’s desk and turned so she could face him and them at the same time.
Commander Schlieffen moved to cover her back.
She had plenty of time to do this; the important people of the planet of St. Petersburg continued to ignore her. It was tempting to see how long that could go on, but Vicky wanted to know what was going to happen next too much to just wait around and twiddle her thumbs.
Also, she had promises to keep to a certain commander.
“Having a busy day, Mannie?”
“I don’t have any slow ones,” he said, not looking up.
“You were having a pretty slow one the day you hit Kris Longknife up to talk me into giving you a royal city charter. How’s that working out?” Vicky said, playing her single ace.
“It’s on the wall there,” Mannie said, glancing up at the framed charter. Metal seals hung from it. Kris Longknife’s staff had researched what a mediaeval city charter looked like. When Kris Longknife’s gang staffed out something, it came on parchment and with silver seals.
Vicky would give her right arm just now for a staff like that.
But Vicky’s glance at the framed charter had included the eight city mayors keeping busy in their offices around this globe. On the wall behind most of them was a charter just like the one Mannie had.
Vicky took a few steps toward the wall of screens, studying the charters. “My dad was not at all happy to learn I’d signed that charter. Who’d you get to sign the other ones?”
“Nobody looks at the signatures all that closely,” Mannie said, now leaning back in his chair and eyeing Vicky. “We forged your signature and Kris Longknife’s on all of the other seven.”
“If it works for you,” Vicky said with a shrug.
“It’s given us the cover we need to keep our heads down and stay out of the shitstorm sweeping your father’s so-called Empire. We’re not going hungry here,” had force behind it.
“I know. You’re doing well here on St. Petersburg. You got the Navy to keep my darling stepmother out of your hair, and you have Navy contracts to keep jobs going on your factory floors. It couldn’t be better.”
“So why are you here?” didn’t give Vicky any cover.
The Grand Duchess chose to dodge the question. “How are you set for crystal? You need it for most of your high-power industry and communications. You need it for those s
creens you’re talking to me through. How long will your stockpile last?”
Mannie looked at one of the screens. A middle-aged woman frowned for a second, then tapped her desk. Numbers began to flow on a screen embedded in Mannie’s desk. Vicky could just barely make them out. Mannie, however, studied them intently. A frown grew on his face as he did.
On seven screens, a lot of men and women frowned at what they saw.
“We can buy more,” the woman who’d done the work said.
“At a price set by my stepmother’s family,” Vicky pointed out. “Are you prepared to pay that piper? Their charge isn’t just an arm and a leg. They demand a chunk of your soul to go with it.”
“There are other sources,” the woman said.
“Yes,” Vicky said. “Presov is just a few jumps away from here. I recently visited them. Their miners are getting zero supplies, neither food nor spare parts. In three to six months, they’ll be unable to produce a gram of any kind of crystal. In six to nine months, they’ll be in economic chaos. By early next year, those who haven’t managed to beg, steal, or borrow a ride off that bejeweled mud ball will be eating each other.”
“It can’t be that bad,” the woman on-screen said.
“Computer, deliver to them the workup you did for me on Presov. Toss in the analysis of Poznan as well.”
Vicky turned to the screens. “The executive summary won’t take you long to read. Both end the same. I may be off by a few months, plus or minus, for either planet. They all end in the total collapse of civilization, starvation, and, well, whatever else happens when people have nothing to eat.”
“We knew it was bad out there,” a young mayor said, a man in a three-piece suit with ruffles at his throat, “but there’s only so much room in our lifeboat. If we overload it, we all end up drowning, along with everybody else.”
“Or you can expand the lifeboat,” Vicky said, turning on the young man. “You need crystal for your lifeboat, so you include Presov. Poznan has resources you could use as well. Not as critical as crystal, but still nice to have. You’re already trading with the Navy colonies. You expand your safety net to include more.”
“Why should we?” an older woman demanded. “We keep our heads down, and your loving stepmother and the rest of the bloodthirsty Bowlingame family look for easier prey. When all this is over, we will have saved ourselves and our own.”
Vicky Peterwald: Survivor (Vicky Peterwald Series Book 2) Page 2