Vicky Peterwald: Target

by Mike Shepherd

  She must have let her concern show on her face.

  “We’ll be out of range in another couple of minutes. I’m edging us up more forward on the Rostock so we keep in her radar shadow. The main approach-control radar is still down, but there is a low-power rig with less resolution up and working.”

  “Can you read my mind?” Vicky asked.

  “Trust me, that radar is the first thing on my mind, even ahead of sex.”

  “I didn’t think anything took precedence over sex in a guy’s mind,” Vicky said, doing her best to sound shocked. Shocked!

  The commander winced. “Good Lord, I’ve given away sex secrets. A guy can get hanged for that.”

  “From his balls no less,” Vicky put in.

  “Ouch, lady. I didn’t say anything about your tits getting in a wringer, now have I?”

  “And I thank you very much for avoiding that sensitive topic,” Vicky said.

  “So avoid my delicate one, too, please.”

  Vicky fell silent. The guy was good to banter with, and he had kept her mind off of suddenly being vaporized by the station lasers. Unbidden, the memory of battleships being vaporized by sweeps of alien lasers filled her mind’s eye.

  A groan escaped her.

  “You want to talk about that?”

  “I was remembering what lasers can do to battleships. Lots and lots of lasers.”

  “I heard your report. The one with you in the white dress. Those nipple slips made it the rage among most of the bars around the space elevator where the crowd I was running with hung out.”

  “Oh dear, you’ve seen me nearly naked.” Vicky sighed.

  “Not a bad sight for sore male eyes, but I was more concerned with what you were saying, myself. Are those bastards really as bad as you said they were?”

  “At least. Likely worse. And they don’t give up. They chased Kris Longknife’s ship halfway across the galaxy before she managed to dodge out on them. And she only managed that when another ship volunteered to lead them off her trail.”

  “And we’re messing with this kind of penny ante crap,” the commander spat, then edged the acceleration up a smidgen before cutting back on it again. “By the way, we’re out of range. You can start breathing again. Breathe one for me, too.”

  “Can’t you relax?” Vicky asked.

  “Not while I’m flying this close to the Rostock. If their engines so much as cough, or ours hiccup, there will be blood and guts all over the place and not an ounce of brains.

  Vicky unstrapped herself from her seat and went to stand behind the commander.

  “I’m told I give a decent neck massage. Can I interest you in one?”

  The commander rotated his shoulders. “They are kind of tense,” he admitted.

  Vicky rested her hands on his shoulders. She left them there, for a few seconds, enjoying the near-electric feel that came every time she touched a man’s skin.

  She hadn’t felt it last night when she handled Albert.

  Right now, she was feeling it very strongly where the commander was concerned.

  “Not bad,” he said.

  “I’m just warming my hands on you.”

  “Ah, yes. The warmth of my personality. You may bask in it as long as you please.”

  Vicky withdrew her hands. “Aren’t there any humble men out there?” she demanded.

  “I don’t know,” the commander admitted. “I’ve never met one, myself.”

  “Me neither. Oh well, I’ll just have to take you guys the way I find you,” she said, resting her hands again on his shoulders.

  Only this time, she did begin to knead the taut muscles.

  “Hey, you are good.”

  “Damn right, I’m good,” Vicky said.

  “I mean at this massage thing.”

  “I can massage necks and other aspects of the male anatomy.”

  “Promises. Promises,” the commander said, “and me stuck with my hands on the controls and a ship under power.”

  “Hmm,” Vicky said wickedly. “This could be almost as much fun as having a guy tied to a bed,” she muttered.

  “Commander, would you please return to your seat, return it to your full and upright position and firmly adjust your seat belt. We may not be under threat of laser fire, but we are still flying tight formation with one huge cruiser, compared with this little spit kit we’re in.”

  “Spoilsport,” Vicky said, but, grinning ear to ear, she returned to her seat.

  She made a point to not belt herself in, but turned to him. “Sooner or later, you won’t have that excuse to protect you from all the bad girls your mother never warned you about.” She found that there was a recliner option on her seat and put it all the way back.

  She lay back, batted her eyelashes at the commander, who studiously did not look her way, and closed her eyes.

  Which was a mistake. She was still way past tired. She yawned twice and found herself drifting off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 37

  VICKY came awake to the sensation of floating. She opened her eyes.

  She was floating!

  Twisting in air, she found her seat a good quarter meter below her. She grabbed it and pulled herself down into it.

  Quickly, she fastened her seat belt and raised the back of the chair to its full, upright position.

  “You could have at least warned me,” she spat at the commander, who might have his eyes straight ahead but had one huge grin on his face.

  “But you were sleeping so soundly. And you have such a sweet, innocent look on your face when you sleep.”

  “I’ll make you groan in agony and in joy all in the same breath,” Vicky promised darkly.

  “Promises, promises. All I ever hear from the girl is promises.”

  “Says the guy who won’t take his hands off his own joystick.”

  “I got us safely here, didn’t I?”

  “So, where is here?” Vicky said, eyeing the front screen.

  It was blank. It was focused so tightly on a tiny bit of space ahead of them that not even one star showed.

  “There is a jump point not a kilometer ahead of us. At least that’s what my instruments say, and since the Rostock just vanished through it, I suspect there is indeed a jump.

  “Then what are we doing hanging around here?” Vicky demanded.

  “Listening to the girl make promises,” he said, and goosed the engines ever so slightly.

  The Spaceadler took on just a hint of gravity, then gave it back. They coasted up to a void in space, and in a second were through it.

  Now Vicky had new stars to look at.

  And one huge cruiser little more than a klick ahead of them.

  As the cruiser’s jets came to life, a small window opened on the main screen.

  “Good luck, Gerrit. I suspect you’ll need it.”

  “Thanks, Heinrich, if the last ride with her is any promise for the rest of them, I’ll need all the luck a man can hope for.”

  “Go on complaining, you lucky bastard. Rostock out.”

  “And who was that,” Vicky demanded. “Another buddy from the academy?”

  “Captain Rikert was a teacher when I was at the academy. Maybe you battleship Sailors didn’t notice, but it takes a captain to skipper a cruiser, Lieutenant Commander.”

  “I am properly put in my place, Commander,” Vicky snapped. “Now, again I say, where are we and how safe are we?”

  “Check for yourself. The electronic countermeasures suite is at your station, Commander.”

  Vicky turned back to what she had previously used to check for the station radar. On further study, it was a small but quite capable electronics sensor suite. Apparently, she’d been more tired than she realized. But then, what kind of a yacht had a sensor suite suitable for a small warship?

  Apparently, this one.

  On closer examination, it showed to be new, gleaming chrome where the equipment around it had dulled with age. “Is this something your little elves added while no one was looking
?”

  “Likely,” the commander allowed. “Are you picking up any radars in the system?”

  Vicky checked. “One radar, the Rostock. The rest of the system is dead silent.”

  “Good. I was told it should be.”

  “Do we follow the Rostock?”

  “Nope, she’s headed for the closest jump out of here so she can honestly say she has no idea where we went.”

  “And us?”

  “We kind of aim ourselves for someplace in the middle of the farthest three jumps and wait until the Rostock jumps out of the system before we set our course for one in particular.”

  “Mighty paranoid of you,” Vicky said. “I kind of like that in a man I’m running for my life with.”

  “I bet you say that to all the men you run for your life with.”

  Vicky thought for a second. “Come to think of it, you’re the first guy I’ve ever run for my life with. Captain Morgan did a good job of keeping me alive, but we never really got a chance to run around much before he kind of died.”

  “Poor planning on his part, no doubt,” the commander said.

  “Or on mine. I’m not sure how that went down. One minute we were laughing, and the next minute it was bad, bad, and bad. And getting worse.”

  “Death can sneak up on you like that,” the commander allowed.

  Vicky shivered. They sat in silence for a while as the ship settled down to a comfortable 1.25 gees.

  “So, how do I make sure nothing sneaks up on us while we’re sleeping or something?”

  “Or something. Is that more promises?” came with a broad and hopeful grin.

  Vicky scowled. “How do we keep from being snuck up on?”

  He got serious. “Have the countermeasure suite feed its take into the main computer and rig it with audio alarms. Can you do that?”

  “Of course I can,” Vicky said with more confidence than she felt.

  COMPUTER, CAN YOU CONTACT THE CONTROLS OF THE COUNTERMEASURE SUITE? Vicky thought.

  YES, MA’AM.

  PLEASE DO AND HAVE IT REPORT THROUGH THE AUDIO OF THE SHIP’S COMPUTER.

  There was hardly a pause before the computer answered. I CANNOT INTERFACE WITH THE SHIP’S COMPUTER. I DO NOT HAVE THE PASSWORD FOR IT.

  “Okay, hotshot, what’s the ship’s computer’s password?” Vicky snapped.

  “Ah, the idiot girl is using her computer,” he said, the big grin on his face not softening his words at all.

  “Her Grace is learning very well how to use her computer. How come no one ever chides Kris Longknife for having to use her Nelly to do all those fancy things she does?”

  “’Cause she likely only has weak-kneed guys around her?” the commander suggested.

  “You haven’t met Captain Jack, have you?”

  “He’s a Marine. He can’t be too smart.”

  Vicky sighed. This banter was going nowhere.

  “The computer password,” she said. And then added, “Please.”

  “Since you asked me so nicely. The password is ‘Incorrect.’”

  “The password is ‘Incorrect’?”

  “Yes. My buddy’s dad could never remember a password. So he used ‘Incorrect’ for everything. That way, when he entered the wrong password, the computer would tell him, ‘Your password is incorrect.’”

  “You are pulling my royal and Imperial leg,” Vicky snapped. But it was through a growing grin.

  “Try it.”

  Her cover blown, Vicky said out loud, “Computer, the ship’s password is ‘Incorrect.’”

  “The ship’s computer’s password is ‘Incorrect,’” almost had a doubting question mark appended to it.

  “Affirmative,” Vicky said.

  “I have interfaced with the ship’s computer,” her computer reported a moment later. “I have instructed it to report any new data from the countermeasures suite through the ship’s address system. It is to keep reporting that information until one of you acknowledges the message. Each repeat of the message will be louder.”

  “Test the system,” Vicky said.

  “Countermeasures reports the system clear except for the Rostock,” the ship announced.

  Vicky opened her mouth to acknowledge the report, but Gerrit waved her to silence.

  Half a minute later, the ship repeated the message, but at a louder volume.

  “Thank you, ship,” Gerrit said. “So, you, or at least your computer, have interfaced the two systems, and if I’m in the head and you’re catching up on your beauty sleep, we’ll know immediately if something jumps into the system.”

  Vicky nodded. They were safe, and would be warned if anything changed. Vicky weighed the situation . . . and decided she needed to do something about it.

  “So, as you pointed out,” she said, batting her eyelashes as she allowed herself a luxurious stretch. One that emphasized both of her best assets. “I’ve been making promises and I haven’t kept a one of them. You ready to give a gal a chance to make an honest woman of herself?”

  “That’s direct,” he said, and made a point of swallowing dramatically.

  “I’m a direct kind of gal. If this is really a high-priced yacht, it’s got to have all kinds of automatic controls. No owner wants to spend all his time in the worry seat. Isn’t that what you call your chair?”

  “I’ve heard it called that,” the commander said, eyes roving his instruments. “I’d like to stay here for a bit until we are well away from the Rostock and have a chance to case the place a bit more.”

  “Ever so cautious,” Vicky said. “I guess I can’t complain. By the way, I checked before we jumped. There was nothing behind us when we left the Greenfeld system.”

  “Jump point Emile isn’t used very often,” the commander said. “That’s why we picked it.”

  Vicky settled into her chair and ran the sensor system through its paces. It succeeded in picking up the reactor from the Rostock but no other reactors in system. It identified the cruiser’s radars and lasers by make and model type but found nothing else in system.

  Vicky had the computer follow the raw feed from the countermeasures box back as far as the antenna. There was no apparent break in the flow of data and no cutout that she could spot. If the box had been jimmied, it was well past her ability to find it without taking out a screwdriver and digging around under the dash.

  Assuming that her paranoid self wouldn’t damage stuff in the process.

  For a good half hour, they made their way deeper into the system and away from the Rostock, and the system stayed quiet and safe.

  Satisfied the ship was indeed alone in an empty system except for their erstwhile escort, Vicky made a show of sniffing at the armpits of her shipsuit.

  “I need a shower. Commander, shouldn’t we save the ship’s water supply by showering together?”

  “Do I need a shower?” he asked.

  “You need a shower. I can smell you from here,” Vicky lied with a straight face.

  “Well, if the woman says the man needs a shower, I guess the only thing a gentleman can do is clean up his act.”

  “Before we get down and dirty,” Vicky purred.

  “You sure you’re up for this?” came out concerned and serious.

  Vicky did a quick mental check. As usual, her soul was back on ice. Other things were . . . revving up very nicely.

  “If I start shaking and go pale. Or worse, try to slit your throat, I’m sure you’ll take the signal as a no and stop,” she said with what she hoped was an honest grin.

  “Since you put it that nicely,” he said, and activated a couple of toggles on his station. There was a bit of a surge in acceleration, but then it went back to where it had been.

  He stood. “After you,” he said.

  “You just want to see how my ass wiggles,” Vichy shot back, and made sure her ass wiggled as she headed for the exit.

  CHAPTER 38

  THE guy waited patiently while Vicky got the shower where she wanted it: nice and warm. It may ha
ve helped that the gal shed her shipsuit on the way down the circular stairwell.

  He, however, kept his shipsuit on and his hands to himself.

  What do you know, I may have found myself a gentleman.

  His eyes, however, were clearly enjoying the view of her in the lingerie the woman Marine captain had provided. Happily, it was nowhere close to regular issue.

  Which raised all kinds of question about that captain’s instructions and what a real woman Marine kept in her lingerie drawer. Vicky really didn’t want to delve into those questions. So she didn’t.

  Water just right, she shimmied out of said underthings and slipped under the water. There, she turned to eye the commander, and, only coincidentally, gave him an eyeful of her.

  He groaned. “You’re even lovelier than your news report suggested.”

  “You couldn’t expect me to show everything for just a few extra minutes of airtime, could you?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Now, are you shy or something? We’re wasting water. If you’re going to have me take my shower alone, yours is going to be a very cold one.”

  “I’ll need one.”

  His shipsuit was showing evidence of why.

  “Or,” Vicky purred, “we can take care of that the way nature intended.”

  “Yes, I think you very much can,” he said, and his shipsuit was quickly a puddle on the floor. In a second, he added his underwear.

  Now it was Vicky’s chance to survey what he had to offer, and she did like what she saw. He might have spent the last couple of months as a slob and a thug’s henchman, but he hadn’t let himself go to seed. He was well muscled . . . in all the right places.

  Vicky allowed herself a low wolf whistle.

  “I thought that was my line,” he said, slipping into the shower.

  “If the bod fits, I always say, whistle for it.”

  He began to soap up her back.

  She shivered, despite the warm water. Then he reached around and began to soap up her front. She moaned nicely for him, and for the very manly item he now rested between her butt cheeks.