Implacable: Vicky Peterwald, #5

by Mike Shepherd

  "I'll see that it's looked at and spare parts get sent down."

  "That would be nice, ma'am."

  "Where's the nearest decent water supply?"

  "There are wells that we use for the city's supply, but the power grid is down. There's a lake not too much farther out of town, but I wouldn't trust any water on this planet. Most of us get sick about once a month."

  "I've already ordered a water system to be dropped down here. Now, can you help me?"

  "How?" he said, glancing down at his torn clothes as if doubting he had anything to offer her.

  "I need to know where the redcoats are headquartered," she said.

  The man gave Vicky a pained look. "It's been a while since any of us have risked going into town. It's bad out here. It's worse in there. You can get picked up in a blink. Or shot and killed for a laugh. They like to show what good shots they are. If you can dodge and run, some people survive. They ain't such good shots."

  "I saw them kidnap some women from a house," Vicky said.

  "Did you hear gunfire?"

  "Yes."

  "Then the menfolk were lucky to be killed where they stood. There are stories of men hauled downtown who took a long time dying. There's at least a couple of those bastards that enjoy giving people pain. I can't believe they're running my planet."

  "Why didn't you move against them when you had a chance?" Vicky had to ask.

  The guy shrugged. "They represented the Emperor. They were bad, but, you'll excuse me, you Peterwalds have been pretty bad and we survived you. We all thought that this would go away, but it didn't. It got worse and worse. We finally put together a protest. A couple thousand of us marched to Government House. We had our twenty-two complaints. General Blankster, Count of Oryol, came out and our three representatives handed them the grievances."

  The guy shook his head. "He took the list of complaints, glanced at them, then ordered his guards to seize the three. They held them while he gutted each one of them with his knife. Gutted them like a pig, I guess.

  "We stood there in shock, then he ordered his guards to cut loose on us. I was one of the lucky ones. Of the two thousand or so that marched downtown, maybe half got away."

  The survivor got a distant look in his eyes. "There were no wounded. They shot the wounded. I saw it. I was hiding under a truck and I saw it. I saw it and I couldn't do a damn thing."

  With a sigh, he finished, "I waited until night, then ran. I grabbed my family and just kept running. No farmer would take us in. We thought this would be far enough. It wasn't."

  Vicky nodded along as he told his story. What could she possibly say to someone who had lived through that and all that followed?

  "Can you tell me where the redcoat general was when he shot your friends?"

  It took the fellow a moment to collect himself. "They'd taken over Government House. First just one wing, then they bounced out what passed for our government and took it all over. A week later, we tried our stupid protest."

  "Where do they live?"

  The fellow stared up at the overhead. "I think they took over the Imperial Bismarck. That's our best hotel. It's opposite Government House with two blocks of parks between them. They may have also taken over the other office buildings and the bank. I don't know."

  "How many of them are there?"

  "Four thousand. Maybe more. Maybe less. It's hard to tell."

  "Could any of your own people have enlisted?"

  "I heard they emptied the jails about the time they dismissed our local Public Safety Officers. I think there was talk that they signed some of the worst offenders up. Hard to tell. The net went down and out here, all we have are rumors."

  Vicky didn't much care to hear that. Still, it was better to hear it now than discover it later.

  "Maggie, get me General Pemberton.

  "Aye, aye, Your Grace," her computer replied, most snappily.

  The guy rolled his eyes.

  "I don't make her say any of that," Vicky said.

  The tattered fellow was still weighing Vicky's response when the general came on the line.

  "General, our local redcoats may have been recruiting from the dregs of society and the jail."

  "Oh, shit," didn't meet radio standards, but Vicky could forgive him that. "How many?"

  "Hard to say; no one's dared slip downtown and count noses. It's not worth your life for these SOBs to catch you. They don't need any excuse to cut your throat, or flay you alive just for chuckles and grins."

  "So, we’ve got an unknown number of bad actors."

  "And an appointment with them tonight."

  "Understood. We'll drop every Marine and add in any Navy that are weapons qualified. Master at arms, rifle club, pitcher for the baseball team."

  "I'm afraid that's the way it's gonna be, General. I thought you'd like to know it as soon as I did."

  "Thank you, Your Grace. I think," and on that note, the commlink was broken.

  "I want to visit all the hangars," Vicky told the fellow. "Is there a leadership team like we found in the first hangar?"

  "Yes, there are a dozen of us that kind of see that things don't get any worse than they have to be. Leastwise on this side of the runway."

  "On the other side?" Vicky asked.

  "It's a lot worse."

  Vicky slowly shook her head. Was that even possible?

  "How have you survived?"

  The man looked around, as if to assure himself that they had. "We had some canned goods. Dry goods. Some of the burned farms around here still have crops growing. We try to check them every week or so. It's not a lot and we aren't the only ones looking for food."

  "Well," Vicky said, "I want to detach the trailer of food so I can visit a few other hangars. Could you see that the food is not pillaged? It's not that I don't want you all to eat, it's that the Medical Officer on my ship warned me that your stomachs have shrunk down and aren't working right. If you eat too much too fast, or drink too much, you could split your bellies open and kill yourselves."

  The fellow snorted, "So, we're so hungry that we can't eat, huh?"

  "Something like that," Vicky said. "Take it slow and easy. Issue another round of biscuits in six hours. Hopefully, we'll have decent water you can drink by then."

  While Vicky stood by, the man collected a half-dozen of the hangar's leaders around him and explained Vicky's request. That brought in several of the less sick people to stand by the trailer which her Marines were detaching.

  Without the trailer, Vicky didn't have room for two of her Marines. She ordered them to stand by the trailer and work with the local leadership team.

  That drew surprised looks and whispers from the civilians. Whether it was that a Peterwald was leaving Marines to work with them, or fear that the troopers were really there to keep the food from them, Vicky had no idea.

  13

  With everything done in that hangar that could be done, Vicky and her team left. Someone had thought ahead and opened the rear door, allowing Vicky to drive across the apron and directly access the next hangar.

  There, the first distribution of food had been completed. The sergeant leading that team had been approached by the half-dozen people who spoke for the group there, and he seemed very glad to pass them off to Vicky.

  Watching the sergeant address Vicky as "Your Grace" left them a bit awe struck.

  "You have come for us?" an older woman said.

  "You are in distress. Of course I have come to your aid," Vicky said.

  "Don't know any other Peterwald who would have," a guy behind her muttered low, but in a voice that carried.

  "I hope that the Peterwalds who come after me will have a different reputation. The entire Empire is going to be remade. Remade for you and your children. You have not been listened to in far too long. That has to change. We can't let another man like my father make a fool of himself and let loose wolves on all of you."

  That left them deep in thought. Vicky made sure they understood that water w
as on its way and that they could draw another famine biscuit in six hours.

  The visit to the next hangar was much the same.

  The two remaining hangars were smaller and required a long trip down the taxi way to the other end of the runway. Here the planes were smaller, both transports and agricultural aircraft.

  Here, there were worse problems.

  When the Marines had driven into the first hangar, they'd been met by a couple of dozen guys with clubs. They demanded that the food supplies be given to them.

  The Marine sergeant here was a veteran of the Pozan Relief Effort. He could smell a bully when he faced off with one.

  He had demurred, suggesting that they delay until Her Grace, Grand Duchess Victoria, could discuss this with them.

  The punk's response had been vulgar and a totally inappropriate address to both a married woman and a Gracious Grand Duchess.

  Fortunately, the bastard did not leave the next decision to the Marine sergeant. He hollered for his thugs to lay into the Marines.

  The punks were totally misinformed. The Marines were not outnumbered three to one. No, it was the thugs who were outnumbered.

  The brawl had been very short. Without even firing a shot, the Marines had put their attackers on the deck. After seeing that they were trussed up like calves for branding, the Marines began distributing the food.

  Vicky measured the state of the survivors in the hangar; they were a pitiful looking bunch. The men cringed against the walls and back of the hangar. They showed the bruises, cuts and welts of some serious beatings. Most of the women . . . all stripped naked . . . huddled close to the men. A few women clustered as far from any man as they could.

  "How did you feed them, Sergeant?"

  "Your Grace, we had to take the food over to them. They're afraid to step away from the walls. It's worse. They've got nothing. Not even some pots and pans for water. I don't know how they've survived.

  "Can you get them water?"

  "Ma'am, we've shared out all the water in our canteens and it wasn't enough. We've given over our spare canteens to three of the younger boys who aren’t in as bad of shape. They're running, or rather stumbling, over to the stream and bringing back water."

  "You won't be using those canteens until they're sanitized."

  "No, ma'am. You won't believe the stream. There are bodies littering the ground between here and there. It is worth your life to make a run for water."

  "Sweet Jesus," Vicky muttered. She walked over to the nearest wall. The people, mostly naked, cringed away from her, trying, if they could, to climb into the wall itself.

  "I am the Grand Duchess Victoria. I claim Oryol as my sovereign territory. I will restore justice to this planet. I must ask you, did those men steal food and water from you?"

  A handful nodded.

  "Did they beat people to death?" she said, clipping each word hard.

  "Yeah," came from some. Others continued to nod.

  "Did they rape you women?" Her voice now was hard as edged steel.

  "Yeah," came from more cracking voices. Now most heads were nodding.

  Something in Vicky's heart cracked.

  She knew that capital punishment was still the law of the Empire. She knew that many people, like Mannie, wanted to abolish it. Still, she knew that she had judges under her who would condemn people to death.

  She also knew, in the old words, that she had high, low, and middle justice here.

  The judges pronounced a capital sentence in her name.

  In that second, Vicky decided to issue capital judgements in her own name.

  She walked back to where the three dozen or so thugs lay sprawled out.

  "Where's the ringleader?" she asked the sergeant.

  "That one there, with the diamond necklace."

  "Thank you."

  She came to stand at his feet. He looked up at her with hate in his eyes.

  "Did this man rape any of you?" she called out to those lining the hangar walls.

  "Yes," was ragged, but it grew into a shout slowly.

  "Did this man never kill anyone with his own hands?" she mixed up the questions, trying to avoid a screaming crowd.

  "He beat my husband to death." "My son." "My grandmother."

  "Will anyone ask mercy for this man?"

  The hangar went deadly silent.

  "Have you anything to say for yourself?"

  He spat at Vicky, then followed it up with a vile rant.

  She shot him between the eyes.

  Kit and Kat appeared at Vicky's elbows. "Your Grace, let us do this for you. You have a tender heart."

  "I had one. I don't anymore," Vicky said.

  "Sergeant, can you tell me who his ring leaders were?"

  The young Marine swallowed hard. Combat was combat. This was cold-blooded killing . . . in the name of justice, Vicky told herself.

  "Those four, Your Grace."

  Vicky went through the same drill. They had raped, robbed, and brutally murdered in cold blood. They terrorized the people in this hangar and any who tried to escape.

  None of the naked people around the wall were willing to plead for mercy for them. None of the thugs had anything to say for themselves. One whimpered. Another shouted obscenities as Vicky went through her process. One tried to roll away from her as if he thought he could escape her justice.

  Vicky looked at the bodies contorting in the throes of coming death as they bled out around her. She'd never seen death this close.

  The stench of loosed bowels might have sickened her, if the entire hanger hadn't stank like an open latrine. The way the arms and legs spasmed in death sickened her. This entire mess sickened her.

  But the people around the walls deserved justice. If she would have her own judges and executioners do this, how could she not?

  She went through the thirty-two prisoners. She shot thirty. Only in two cases, a young boy, and an old man, were voices raised for mercy.

  "Your Grace, we did horrible things because we could do them. It was wrong of us, me and the boy here. It sickened us and we couldn't do it no more. We tried to slip food and water to them that we could. If we could, we talked a few of these bastards into stopping a beating before they bashed a guy's brains out. We did wrong, but we've tried, me and the boy, to do better."

  He paused as if searching his blackened soul for one more thought. "Ma'am, we know we done wrong. If you want to shoot us, we'll take it 'cause we deserve it. But ma'am, it's been hell in here for all of us. Some of us were the demons. Some of us was the poor damned souls. In the end, we're just damned."

  "Sergeant, cut these two loose. Put them in with the survivors. If they're alive tomorrow morning, forget it. If they're dead, there will be no question of invoking my justice."

  "Aye, aye, Your Grace."

  Without another word, Vicky turned on her heels and walked across the apron to the next hangar. Her two assassins walked with her. No one said a word.

  Vicky walked into the same piteous situation.

  She applied the same relentless Imperial justice.

  14

  The drive back to the other side of the airfield was fast and silent. Vicky dismounted the moment the gun truck braked to a halt in front of Mannie.

  He studied her as he might a stranger. "We were told that those hangars had some bad actors."

  "Yes," Vicky bit out.

  "We heard shots."

  "Yes," Vicky said in the same dead voice.

  "Sweetheart, talk to me," Mannie begged.

  "The people over there suffered murder, rape, and theft of food at the hands of the strongest. Their high crimes were self-evident. I executed seventy. The people asked mercy for four. I left them alive, but among the people they had beaten. We'll see if they're alive tomorrow morning."

  "Oh my God, Vicky. I'm so sorry you had to do that."

  "Someone else would have done it in my name. It was time I saw it for myself. Felt it."

  Mannie stepped closer and engulfed Vicky i
n a hug. She just stood there in his arms.

  "Mannie," she finally said, "do not do away with capital punishment in the Empire until we have cleansed it of this cancer. I will not suffer these pieces of shit to breathe the same air as the rest of us."

  "I hear you, love," he said.

  Vicky knew that was not the same as a "Yes" or "I'll be sure to do that." They would talk more about this. They'd probably be talking about this right up until the last of the Bowlingame faction was swinging at the end of a rope.

  Mannie was tender-hearted. Maybe someday she'd find her tender heart again. Maybe. Not today.

  "When is the strike force coming down?"

  "General Pemberton should be along in a few minutes. He says he'll need two lifts from the longboats to get his entire force down here. He's taking everything, including any Sailor that knows which end of a gun to point at the enemy."

  Vicky raised her eyebrows.

  "The Sailors have seen the drone video. Between that and info we've sent up from these hangars and the terminal, Sailors are standing in line."

  "Amateur night at the Berlique, huh?"

  "I haven't heard that one before," Mannie said.

  "Amateur’s night at the burlesque. Women did slow strip teases for paying male customers. It goes back a long way. I understand it usually brings on the downfall of strict planets."

  Mannie still seemed puzzled.

  "First, a girl can't strip down to more than a swimsuit. Then her underwear. Then the underwear gets smaller and smaller before it finally goes away. Then it's just the world, the flesh, and the devil, as they say.

  "Have we ever had this burlesque thing in the Empire?"

  "Not a lot. There was one planet, I forget its name. They wanted a utopia based on a strict moral code. Four generations later, not so much."

  "We humans are nothing if not variable."

  "Yes. Where's the guy in charge down here?"

  "Major Magdor is in the airport tower where he has the best view," Maggie answered.

  "Can Vicky get into the tower without going through the, ah, slaughter house?" Mannie asked Maggie.

  "There is another approach. It involves walking up a lot of steps on the outside of the tower," Maggie answered.