Vicky Peterwald: Survivor (Vicky Peterwald Series Book 2)

by Mike Shepherd

  “That doesn’t sound like a good idea to me and likely is a worse idea to you, from the tone of your voice,” Vicky admitted.

  “Then what do you say we leave business to the businesspeople?” the mayor said with a confident smile.

  “Will they leave politics to the elected officials?” Vicky asked, as they entered the elevator, trailed by their small army of guards.

  “When they do a good job, we tend to leave business to them. When we do a good job, they tend to leave us to our politicking.”

  “Tend?” Vicky said, both eyebrows coming up in a question.

  “Nobody’s perfect,” he threw off with a casual wave of his hand.

  “Or we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we now?” Vicky agreed.

  Mannie took them up to a restaurant in the penthouse. It was small and featured every variation on dead cow, by his own words, and plenty of it. “It’s owned by one of the ranchers who outfitted your fleet with frozen beef.”

  “Vertical integration?” Vicky asked.

  “Yep, he makes money out of everything but the moo.”

  The first taste of steak showed that he deserved every pfennig he made.

  Mannie had seated Vicky in a quiet, shadowed corner. The commander and the two miniature assassins had the only approaches covered. They shared that duty with Mannie’s foursome of security guards, but Vicky suspected that none of the seven was sharing anything with anyone.

  The thought brought a smile to Vicky’s face and a questioning glance from Mannie. She lowered her voice, and said, “Our guards do not play well in the shooting gallery with others, do they?”

  Mannie and she shared a soft chuckle on that thought that they would not want to explain to their protectors.

  “They are taking this protection job very seriously,” Mannie said.

  When Vicky said nothing but allowed her eyebrows to climb up in question, he went on. “You can’t blame them. Two assassination attempts on you and that damn love note from your murderous stepmom.”

  Which raised a question for the mayor. Vicky spoke without reflection. “You afraid to be around me?”

  There was a long pause before he answered. A pause that Vicky found discomforting in a way she was not used to.

  “I have to admit, things are never boring around you,” he finally said, looking down at his steak. “I kind of like that.”

  Vicky shared his chuckle. So. She was not boring. That was an interesting response from a man.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. It was strange, talking to Mannie like this. Strange and different. She had met a lot of men and taken them in a lot of different ways. Mannie was kind of hard to figure out how to take. Hard and challenging.

  “A Grand Duchess must get lots of compliments,” Mannie said.

  “Yes, I hear plenty, but most of them aren’t worth a pfennig to the mark. I kind of like the sound of yours.”

  Mannie mulled that over for a long moment before offering, “You must live in a very strange world.”

  “Deadly. Deceitful. Full of too much vanity and foolishness,” Vicky provided. “Lots of bootlicking and backstabbing. You are an interesting change of pace and a pleasure to be around.”

  Now it was Mannie’s turn to take time to think. “I haven’t had many women tell me I’m a pleasure to be around.”

  “That can’t be true,” Vicky said before she gave his words a moment’s thought.

  “Actually, it is. Most women find me rather boring. Too focused on my job. I think even my mother wishes I’d take a long vacation. Meet some nice girl at a ski lodge or beach.”

  Vicky looked around at the nearly empty restaurant. “You’re not likely to meet many ski bunnies here.”

  Again, Mannie chuckled. Vicky found she liked the sound of his laugh. “Nope, I’ve made it to this hardening-of-the-arteries phase without convincing a woman it would be a good idea to share her life with me. Then again, I could ask what a nice girl like you is doing all alone.”

  Vicky found she had to laugh at the idea of her alone. Her eyes swept over their guards, and he joined in.

  “I find I have to be on my own, if not all alone. Most men who get too close to me end up dead or seriously injured. Oh, there I’ve gone and done it. No doubt you’ll be running for the exit, now.”

  “Oh, so you don’t want me running for the exit?”

  “No, you see, I find you interesting, but I should warn you that my sins are many, and a full review of them all at one time would likely result in the loss of this fine lunch.”

  They applied themselves to said lunch for a few silent minutes.

  When Vicky spoke again, she found herself falling back on the business at hand. “When I came into your office this morning, you said you had a surprise for me, then I surprised you.”

  “Your surprise was a much more fantastic one than mine,” Mannie said, making as if to brush something away with his hand.

  “But what was it?” Vicky said, plowing on.

  “Last night, the industrialists all agreed that we can upgrade the two main docks at the station with fabrications from our industry. Surprise of surprises, the bankers came up with creative ways to finance the work. We should be able to start running heavy gear up to the station in a week. However, some of the completed space-dock frameworks and machinery are likely to be way beyond the lift capacity of our shuttles. We will have to put them together in orbit. That will take more time than if we fabricate them completely down here and fly them up. Can the Navy help?”

  “Computer, when is the Crocodile due back?” Vicky asked, already seeing a solution to this latest problem.

  It’s fun having answers to people’s problems.

  “The second section of the convoy has started its way back to St. Petersburg already,” the computer reported. “It should be here in four to seven days.”

  “That’s when the Navy can begin lifting up your heavy stuff,” Vicky said.

  “And that will be when we have the first of the heavy stuff ready to lift,” Mannie said, and had his computer send Vicky’s computer the entire project plan for changing two docks on the station from nice-to-have to just-what-the-Navy-needed.

  The maître d’ approached them when the meal was winding down. He brought no check. Instead, he knelt beside them and met Vicky eye to eye.

  “Your Grace, we are most grateful to have offered you one of our fine meals, you, the generous Grand Duchess. What you have done has left my daughter in tears and my wife but little short of them as well.”

  Vicky must have looked as puzzled as she felt, because he went on.

  “When you first raised the question of feeding the starving, my daughter’s heart was much moved. She and her classmates mowed lawns, washed cars, and baked cookies to raise money for some of the food you took to Poznan. In their name, I thank you, and I offer you this meal on our behalf.”

  Vicky found herself speechless.

  “Why, thank you,” was what she finally managed to stammer out.

  “Please, Pierre, you must be paid for what you served us,” Mannie said, offering the credit chit he had already pulled from his pocket.

  “No, no, Monsieur le Mayor, when you are with the gracious duchess, your money will be no good in my establishment.”

  Mannie joined Vicky in speechlessness as they watched the retreat of the servitor.

  “I’ve never experienced something like that,” Vicky finally managed to get out.

  “You’ll excuse me if I say I never expected to see anyone on St. Petersburg react to a Peterwald like that either, but then, you have not acted like a Peterwald since the first time you set foot on our planet.”

  “I had a good guide,” Vicky said, and blessed Kris Longknife, wherever in the galaxy she was.

  Mannie leaned back and rubbed at the side of his nose
. His eyes went thoughtful.

  “Can I trust you when you look like that?” Vicky asked. “Just for future reference?”

  “I don’t know,” Mannie answered in a distant voice.

  “A St. Petersburg mark for your thoughts,” Vicky said.

  “It’s either not worth that or worth a whole lot more.”

  “Share, Mannie. Share.” She was surprised to find that she’d used his first name.

  “The gracious Grand Duchess. The generous Grand Duchess. An interesting choice of words, don’t you think?”

  “Certainly not a choice of words that has been applied to a Smythe-Peterwald since, oh, way before the popes had armies.”

  “You’ve been around that long?”

  “Longer, if you can trust my great-grandfather. He paid quite a sum to have a genealogist verify the family stories. The gal found a whole lot more than was recorded in the family books. I suspect she was a fantasy writer in her day job.”

  Mannie waved off this distraction. “The times, they are a-changing, as the words go in some old song my grandmadre likes to sing. Change is not something most people like.”

  “I don’t much like the changes coming at us,” Vicky admitted.

  “Yes, but we’ve got a lot of people who need to see change and accept it. Even pay taxes for it. Do you see my problem?”

  Vicky winced. “Let’s say that I don’t.”

  “I need to make change more palatable,” Mannie said, leaving the how and wherefore hanging unspoken.

  “If people could see a Peterwald as a gracious duchess, as a generous duchess, they might find it easier to get behind those changes,” she finished for him.

  “If they actually got a chance to see that gracious, generous person in the flesh.”

  “Oh, my aching, shot-up butt,” Vicky groaned

  “Yes, like every sort of change, this has its minor downsides.”

  “I consider getting shot a major downside.”

  “Yes,” Mannie agreed. “Shall we forget this bad idea of mine? I get a lot of ideas. Way too many of them are eminently forgettable.”

  Vicky found herself reflecting on Mannie’s idea. She’d never thought of herself as someone who was very likeable, but then, she’d never done any of the things she’d done of late. Would people follow where she led?

  Vicky remembered some of the stuff she’d read in Kris Longknife’s file. She’d led, and people had followed. Often to their death. But people still followed that woman. Stood in line to follow her.

  Could I ever be the kind of leader the Wardhaven princess is?

  For a moment, Vicky considered the talks that she and Kris would have when they got back together. There were quite a few things that Vicky would love to see the reaction to from that Wardhaven princess when Vicky told her what she’d done.

  Helping haul two planets away from the abyss was something to be proud of.

  It would be a shame to come this far and get too scared to go on.

  It would be worse to get my brains blown out.

  “How might we get some of the rewards that waving a generous Grand Duchess might bring?” Vicky said slowly. “That assumes I don’t get my brains blown out. That would, no doubt, ruin the entire effect.”

  “And ruin someone I’m finding most interesting.”

  “Mannie, you are saying the nicest things.”

  “And coming up with the worst of ideas.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Tell me, Mannie, did you call ahead and tell Pierre, that was what you called him?”

  “Yes, he is Pierre, and if you are asking me if I let him know ahead of time, the answer is no. I may have dumb ideas, but I am not completely lacking in wits.”

  “So. Might I expect that some more of these spontaneous demonstrations might follow in my wake? Might we get some of the benefits if I just happened to be present when something nice happened without the downside of alerting my flock of waiting assassins?”

  “Like visiting the county fair and handing out the blue ribbons for the kids’ three-legged race without anyone’s knowing you were going to be there?”

  “The rewards might not be as high as we’d like . . .”

  “But the risks might be a whole lot more manageable even if your stepmom keeps that bull’s-eye enameled on your backside.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Let me think,” Mannie said. “I get a whole lot of requests for ribbon cuttings, first-shovel liftings, tree plantings, and ribbon giving. How many times have I told my grandmadre that I’d love to have a king to take the easy stuff off my hands?”

  “Easy stuff!” Vicky yelped, but softly. They were getting appraising glances from their shared guards.

  “Not the stuff you’ve been doing, Your Grace, unless, of course, you’ve been cutting ribbons.”

  “The Navy had me standing too many watches to be much of a ribbon cutter.”

  “So, let’s see what we can have you do to make folks a lot happier you’re here with us.”

  “Yes, you look into that. I think I need to get myself back up to the station and let the admiral know that he’s got some heavy lifting ahead and a chance to patch up one badly dinted heavy cruiser. Oh, and I also need to schedule a couple of ships for a fast run to Metzburg and New Brunswick. I can’t be much of a Grand Duchess if I drop the ball on my coordination duties.”

  “Most definitely. You’d be a pretty okay duchess, but not a Grand Duchess,” Mannie quipped.

  “Are you always like this?” Vicky asked through a feigned groan.

  “Pretty much, or so I’m told.”

  “It might explain your being single and all that,” Vicky tried her own shot.

  “Very likely,” Mannie said sadly, “but it’s a condition always subject to change.”

  Vicky laughed out loud. “Are you flirting with me? I should warn you, flirting is not something I’ve much experience with.” Throwing men down and taking them by storm, yes, but not a lot of flirting.

  Mannie shrugged enigmatically as he offered her a hand up from the table.

  He delivered Vicky safely to the shuttleport and was still watching as the shuttle motored down the ramp and into the bay.

  That was nice. Vicky tried to remember when the last time was that someone had stayed to see her off rather than turned away, glad she was gone.

  She couldn’t.

  CHAPTER 54

  VICKY often used shuttle rides for planning. This afternoon, she found herself forced into reflection.

  It wasn’t for lack of trying. She reviewed what she needed to talk over with Admiral von Mittleburg and found it short and easily organized.

  That done, she sank into self-examination with unaccustomed speed.

  What is going on between me and Mannie?

  It wasn’t that the guy was a hunk. She’d had a lot better-looking men in her bed. He wasn’t even all that cute. No more than a few inches taller than she and with that bit of a paunch, he was the epitome of a desk-bound bureaucrat but hardly the guy a looker like a Grand Duchess would give a second glance.

  So what is it about his smile that makes me feel all warm inside?

  The business of the moment was throwing them together, but she’d managed to dodge a lot of men the times had thrown at her.

  Dodged them or used them and tossed them aside.

  Vicky whispered the word “used,” aloud. It rolled off her tongue oh so easily. She’d used a lot of men. Hardly had her boobs and hips come in than she discovered the marvelous power they gave her over men and put them to good use.

  Dad kept calling her his “nice little girl,” even after she’d been caught in bed with several of the available studs. Come to think of it, he hadn’t given up that “nice little girl” shtick until he shipped her off to the Navy.

  Bedding the available beefca
kes had gotten her what she wanted from the guys but not so much from her dad.

  Interesting.

  If I keep this up, I’m going to need a shrink to unsort my brain.

  Maggie had been the only one she could talk to about things like this. Where are you when I really need you, Doc?

  One thing was clear. Mannie was like no other man she’d had in her life. Mannie was passionate . . . not about her but about the world they could make happen together. Good things for his city. For his planet. For his people.

  Was that what made him attractive? He was passionate about doing things for people, not using people for things.

  And what are you doing? Vicky asked herself.

  For most of her life, she’d been Daddy’s little girl. Hank’s little sister. That girl. The girl. She’d been things, not doing things. She hadn’t felt passionate about anything. Not even passionate in bed.

  Now, she was committing herself passionately to doing something for people. That felt like nothing she’d ever felt before. And somehow, Mannie was fitting her into his passions. That was leaving her feeling something for Mannie that she’d never felt for any man.

  Vicky pursed her lips and mulled that over for a long while. The shuttle was matching with the station, leaving her still very much in need of exploring the full depth of this . . . something.

  But when the hatch opened, she pulled herself up out of the seat before the commander could offer her a hand up and marched quickly for admiral’s country.

  CHAPTER 55

  AS Vicky expected, the admiral was meeting with his ship-repair specialists, trying to see what they could do to make the Attacker fit for space again.

  “We need more yard for that,” was the conclusion voiced by a commander as Vicky was ushered into the conference room by the admiral’s aide.

  “Then I think I have just what you need,” Vicky said. “Computer, put the yard-upgrade project plan onto the admiral’s main screen.”

  The large bulkhead to the admiral’s right lit up with boxes and lists. In an instant, Navy officers were scrambling from their seats to study the displayed action plan.