“Tell Admiral Gort that I will be happy for his support and protection on the trip back to Greenfeld.”
“I think you’ve just made a good decision,” Mr. Smith said before forking in a large bite of steak and potatoes.
“We’ll know in a week or two if I arrive at court still breathing rather than as a very lovely corpse.”
“Oh, you of little faith. Think of it as a game. Every breath you take is a win.”
“Are you sure you want to be so optimistic around me?” Vicky asked.
“It’s a whole lot more fun to live that way, Duchess, trust me.”
“Are our computers done?”
“Done enough for now.”
“Then I will go see how my team is doing.”
“And I will finish eating.”
Vicky left, wondering just how much her new best friend was going to be worth.
Chapter Four
With an incoming battlecruiser division, Captain Drago relented on his one hour deadline and agreed to let them stay until the Imperial fleet arrived and took Vicky off his hands.
Vicky put the time to good use. It turned out that Mr. Smith had a few extra grams of the same self-organizing matrix that Vicky had bought on Wardhaven to be the core of her new computer. While his computer did more things to upgrade Vicky’s computer, he added unique capabilities to the four personal computers of her minions.
In the end, none of them were as smart as Vicky’s computer, but they all could communicate on a tight beam with each other. Vicky had her own private net!
He also had a tiny wire headset that he half attached, half implanted on Vicky’s skull.
Now you can talk to me without having to say a word, formed in Vicky’s mind.
We can talk and no one will know what we’re saying, Vicky thought back.
Exactly. You won’t have to holler for help, just think it. Same for me. If I see trouble, you’ll know before anyone can shout it.
Just like Kris can do. I could get to like this.
All part of the service from New Best Friends, Inc.
You’ve made a good start at earning your pay. Now, make all this keep me alive.
That’s the plan.
Vicky had other plans to think about while others packed.
What to wear?
She was returning to the Navy. The white dress she’d worn for the interview would be totally out of place among the more puritanical officers of the Imperial Navy. She chose a simple shipsuit, though of imperial purple, not the usual Greenfeld green. She subdued the imperial by wearing the proper shoulder tabs of a Navy lieutenant.
She was ready well before the twelve hours were up.
Right on time, Admiral Gort himself led an honor guard of two dozen Marines and several sailors to Vicky’s room. The sailors took over responsibility for hauling away her trunks and gear. Doc Maggie joined them at the last minute, and added her few things to the collection of baggage going to the Stalker.
On the quarterdeck, Captain Drago himself was there to see her off.
“Good luck,” he told the admiral. “With her aboard, you’ll need it.”
“As I hear it, your own princess did a good job of making her own good luck. Is all your damage aft?” Gort asked with a snide grin.
“We must share a bottle of scotch when you’ve sailed with the Grand Duchess for three months,” Drago said dryly in reply.
The two exchanged salutes. The admiral saluted the flag aft, and then it was Vicky’s turn. She departed the Wasp as smartly as the admiral and they marched, him at her side, for where his battlecruiser lay at the next pier.
Several newsies tried to jam mics in Vicky’s general direction, but the Marines moved swiftly enough to keep them at a distance, and if a few reporters got elbows in their guts, surely it was an accident.
Admiral Gort paid proper honors on his own quarterdeck, and Vicky did the same.
“Walk with me,” was the first words he exchanged with her.
She followed him to his in-port cabin. Only when the door closed behind him, did he let his face show anything but bland, military neutrality.
When he turned on her, he was livid.
“How could you make such a spectacle of yourself?” he demanded.
Vicky braced, like she’d learned under Admiral Krätz’s tutelage, but she was not the green recruit anymore. “I might have acted differently if I’d known that you were coming, sir.”
“Have you heard of communications, Lieutenant? You could have sent us a simple message.”
Vicky felt the blood drain from her face. She had never thought of something as simple as sending out a message. Besides, she had no idea who to address it to. Her dad? The Navy? She hadn’t the foggiest notion who, in this situation, she was supposed to report to.
She blurted that out, ending with, “It’s not like this has ever happened before.”
The admiral paused, his mouth half open for some retort. He closed it, then snapped out, “What were you doing on that Kris Longknife’s ship, anyway?”
That one Vicky had an answer for. “There had been three attempts on my life. It seemed safer on the Wasp than on the Fury.” Vicky paused for just a second. “And the Wasp is over there tied up at the pier and the Fury is nothing but atoms. I think I guessed right.”
The admiral studied her for a long moment. Vicky studied him right back. He was young to have his own flag; his black hair was showing only flecks of grey. His uniform still fit him trimly; he carried none of Admiral Krätz’s middle aged paunch. Vicky couldn’t think of this man in the fatherly way she had the older admiral. The Navy officer in front of her was more a big brother . . . or a mature lover.
Choices. Opportunities?
The admiral finished his examination and turned from her scrutiny. “Take a seat, Lieutenant.”
Vicky looked around. She saw a standard suite: desk, conference table, a small discussion ring. Vicky settled herself on a red leather settee. The admiral took his own seat in a matching overstuffed leather chair across a low coffee table from her.
“May I ask, sir, how you came to be so close to Chance? It’s not like we were expected.”
“Yes. I saw that tub of Kris Longknife’s. Is it safe for space?”
“I’m told no. The wreck can’t be risked in another jump and will be scrapped where it lays there, pier side.”
“That news report I saw you give, was it accurate?”
“Allowing for the requirement that I entertain the lowest quality of viewer, yes, sir, what I said is basically accurate. We engaged the enemy by a battle plan that Kris Longknife developed . . .”
Admiral Gort interrupted, “The admirals let a mere lieutenant commander lead them around like bulls with rings in their noses?”
“She had the new super weapons. They had no idea how to use them. She came up with a plan and the admirals went along, sir. Or maybe I should say, the other two admirals, the ones from Musashi and Helvitica agreed, and our Admiral Krätz had no choice but follow or be branded a coward.”
“No one would ever accuse Krätz of being a coward. Not to his face. I served under him,” Admiral Gort said. “If ships were headed into battle, he’d be at the head of them.”
“He was, sir. When we met the aliens he was leading the battle line.”
“That sounds like Krätz. You said the aliens were more powerful than Kris Longknife expected. How much more powerful?”
“The main alien ship was the size of a large moon, sir.”
The Navy officer whistled. “That big, huh?”
“It had several hundred, I’m not sure exactly how many hundred, ships docked on it. Every one of the ‘smaller’ ships dwarfed our Terror class battleships.”
That drew another whistle. “You’re right. I’m glad they are on the other side of the galaxy from here.”
The room filled with a worried silence for a few moments.
“Sir, may I ask again, how does it happen that your division was so close t
o Chance?”
The admiral frowned, not at Vicky but at a space off to the side. “Matters have not changed much since you sailed away. There is still much civil unrest. Far too much of the Navy is tied up to stations providing shore parties to back up the local police forces. There is even talk of forming an army. A real one, not the toy soldiers that prance around the palace and serve hors d’oeuvres at parties. The problem is, if they raise an army, they have to arm it and no one’s too sure that the army won’t become a player in the political blood sport that passes for governance at the moment.”
He eyed Vicky as he said those last words.
“No doubt Admiral Krätz turned in some kind of report and quoted my own opinion of the sad circumstances of our beloved Greenfeld,” Vicky said.
“Yes. He reported that to the Navy’s General Staff. I was provided copies when I was sent out on this mission. Officially, I was here to show the flag. Our intelligence was receiving a lot of reports from its sources that the Greenfeld fleet was being discounted as good for nothing but bashing in the heads of unarmed hooligans. We needed to counter that misperception, so it was decided to distribute the battlecruiser fleet by divisions around human space. To show the flag. To show that we could still make it away from the pier, and to let the various Navies see the size of our guns.
“Oh, and being battlecruisers, we could make our way home very quickly if matters took a turn for the worse, or, young lieutenant, if some of the mauled fleet came straggling in from what was supposed to have been a sightseeing excursion.”
“I and my six associates are all you will be getting back from our little ‘excursion,’ sir.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have the sensor take from the Wasp’s main computer. Computer, display battle visuals on the admiral’s screen.”
The large screen to Vicky’s left came to life. There was the main alien ship, fresh from the jump, looming huge and deadly, filling most all of the screen. Then the battle started. Lasers flashed through the thin space where the earlier scouts had died. Missiles from the Wasp lashed into the alien monster. Then the Hellburners smashed in, spewing fire and wreckage all over the screen.
And went blank as the Wasp ducked through the jump the aliens had just used.
“That’s how she got out of there? That Longknife woman went where the aliens had just come from? She should have run into a huge fleet train.”
“Sir, the main alien ship was their fleet train,” Vicky said. “The previous system was as empty as any we had seen. It didn’t stay that way. The aliens were madder than hornets at us for burning their nest. They followed us. They followed us through three or four jumps before the Wasp managed to go one way and the Hornet seemed to lead the aliens in some other direction.”
“How did that happen?”
“The Wardhaven jump sensors can identify something they call a fuzzy jump. We’ve heard reports of this thing from research ships that have visited the newly discovered alien ruins that Kris Longknife found,” Vicky said. It was strange how often she had to say that woman’s name. Her fingerprints were on way too much of what was happening in human space.
“But those fuzzy jump points are only one of the surprises the Longknife princess popped on us. Those Hellburners as they call them. Where did they come from?” Vicky asked the admiral.
“I have no idea. That doesn’t bother me as much as our own intelligence services having no idea. The U.S. is pulling stuff out of their hat that has us scratching our head way too much. And while their researchers give them more and more, our own scientists have to stand in line for bread. Greenfeld needs a new day.”
That was a phrase that could be treason if said in the wrong place. But Vicky had heard it often enough from Admiral Krätz to know it was popping up more and more around wardrooms. “My dad is doing his best to settle the unrest. Admiral, the Navy is doing all it can to calm down the rioting.”
“Killing the Commander of State Security and dissolving that force was not well done.”
“General Boyng tried to kill my dad. What did you expect Dad to do, kiss him?”
“Of course not, Lieutenant. The Navy is not a pack of fools. Yes, State Security was rotten. It needed pruning. But burning down the tree, root and stem has not worked for Greenfeld. Or do you see it differently?”
Vicky took time for a deep breath. Lieutenants did not argue with admirals. Certainly a young woman who needed a safe ride home does not argue with the only safe ride in sight. “No, Admiral, I do not see it differently. The suppression of State Security has caused no end of trouble. Separating the diseased limbs from the healthy ones looks wiser, with the benefit of hindsight, but it looked way too risky at the time. Dad solved the immediate problem. Yes, that did create the problem we have now. At the time, no one had a better idea for Dad.”
The admiral nodded. “That is the way it is with a benevolent despot. What he can see and do well, is done well. What is beyond his grasp, easily gets out of hand.”
“You’re starting to sound like Kris Longknife. Next thing I know, you’ll be calling for elections,” Vicky snapped.
“And let the mob raise up its own tyrant? Never!”
The two of them found themselves out of words, staring across the table at each other.
“What is happening right here and now?” Vicky finally asked.
“I’m trying to decide what to do next,” the admiral said, thoughtfully.
“What can you do next?” Vicky asked, suspecting that she was finally getting to the whole reason an admiral was having this little talk with a lieutenant.”
“My orders are to deliver you immediately to Greenfeld and assure you a safe escort to the palace.”
Those sounded like the orders Vicky would expect him to have. Why did she hear a roaring ‘but’ at the end of that sentence?
“But . . .” she provided.
“I have been offered a very large sum of money to assure that you suffer a serious illness on the way there. One sufficiently potent to assure that you arrive as a corpse.”
“And did you take that money?” Vicky asked, finding it hard to breathe.
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t. Then, of course, I have also been provided with a somewhat smaller sum of money to assure that you arrive somewhere other than Greenfeld and the Palace.”
Vicky couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “I had no idea I was such a valuable pawn. Would it be too much for me to ask who the bidders are?”
“Do you really want to know? The more you know, the less likely you are to leave this ship alive.”
“Strange, I always thought that the more I knew, the more likely I was to stay alive. But, I see your point. You are playing several different games here, and you are likely guessing what the rules are. Do you really want me to be guessing at them as well? Let me offer you this,” Vicky said, and began unzipping her shipsuit. “All they can offer you is money. I, on the other hand can offer you delight beyond your wildest imaginings.”
“Zip it up, Lieutenant. First, you scare me. Growing up in the palace, I suspect you were well trained in needlepoint and the Kama Sutra, for fun, pleasure and self-defense. Second, I never have sex with someone I may later have to order killed. Sorry, Your Imperial Highness, but until I decide whether you live or die, you can keep your shirt on.”
Vicky zipped up, doing her best to not show her fury at the rejection. It was the first such event in her entire life.
You are going to pay for that one. Not now, but some day.
Still, Vicky did not pause, but made her next move in this deadly game. “So, if we’re not going to be sexual partners, and if you’re keeping your options open to kill me, why not let me in on who’s bidding for my head and who just wants my body?”
“I’ve got to give it to you, Lieutenant, you do have a sense of humor. Still, I saw that flash of rage in your eyes. You don’t like rejection. Probably haven’t tasted much of it, I’d guess. It might be fun to
keep you in the dark and see how good you are at guessing.”
Vicky had had enough of this. She put dead calm in her voice when next she spoke. “I know a lot about the dark, Admiral. I’ve lived most of my life in it. The Palace likes to keep little girls in the dark. I learned sneaky when you were learning your ABC’s. I’ve been twisting secrets out of people since before you learned to write. Keep me in the dark and I assure you, I will find out what I need. And since I won’t owe you anything, you won’t get anything from me but what, needlework?”
The admiral mulled her words over for a long moment. Then he stood. “Would you care for a cup of tea?”
“Certainly, Sir,” Vicky said, turning her voice to warm and friendly. “I’d love a cup of tea. I think I’ll take sugar today.”
The admiral went to a large silver samovar and filled two cups. “Chamomile for me,” Vicky said. “I’m finding our conversation stimulating enough.”
“A wise choice, Lieutenant,” and the admiral prepared two cups of the relaxing tea. Done, he offered her a tea cup first, then took his seat again. For a long moment, they savored the aroma before sipping the tea.
Finally, he put his cup down. Vicky chose to hold hers in her hand. It wasn’t much of a shield, but it would have to do.
“What do you think of your father’s rule?” the admiral asked.
Vicky chose an honest answer. “For most of my life, I didn’t think much about it at all. Dad was Dad. He was much more interested in what Hank was doing, but he had an occasional smile for me in a new dress, and I savored what little I got. The world outside the palace was usually only glimpsed on a TV screen, and I never knew what was real and what was just fiction. It all seemed rather strange to me.”
“Then you joined the Navy,” the admiral provided.
“No, then my brother got himself killed and suddenly Daddy’s little girl was the heir to the family’s power and fortune.” Vicky made a face. “I don’t think any of us were really prepared for that. They turned me loose on Eden as a kind of coming out party. I did my best to kill Kris Longknife, thinking that she’d killed Hank, and failed miserably.”
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