by Chris Hechtl
But, that wasn't the problem. The problem was it was all the wrong material. It was all basic soldier material, from bullets to grenades, uniforms, helmets, to forms and toilet paper. It was frustrating because the system had been set up years in advance to provide war material for planetary invasions. Never had they considered they'd have to deal with a space threat and not right on their doorstep right off!
The best lords had bought factories and were taking over star systems that had a population that could adapt to an industrial society or were already there. There was also the problem of the purging that was causing anarchy in the populations they were supposed to control.
It was going to take years to get the factories to retool to something that could help in the current war effort. Years of receiving shipments they didn't need while orders and new die presses went out. New tools had to be sent, along with trainers, engineers, and other things. Then each factory would need time, precious time when they wouldn't be producing anything as they reset their systems, retrained their workforce, and their own logistics.
And the House of Lords was already howling at the upsets to the new system and how it was all going to be paid for.
It was almost enough to make him want to throw in the towel in disgust. Almost, Irma Algresi, deputy IG inspector, thought as she went through the lists. Here and there they could glean a few things to use. The rest could be melted down and recycled or stockpiled.
She created another note and sent it off to the brass that they needed to do something about the system though and soon.
~~~^~~~
Duke Decker Alonzo McLoyd grinned at his wife as they settled in. He was proud of his wife and family. They'd done the impossible, not only stepping out from under the boot of the family on Finagle but wisely investing their seed money and then parlaying it into a title on TFP.
TFP or Tiny Frackin' Planet might not seem like much but it was theirs, Decker thought as he wrapped his arm around his wife's shoulders. And all the loans they'd taken out were about to be paid off early once the shipments of materials arrived in Horath.
It had cost plenty to retool the existing foundries, factories, and assembly buildings, credits but also equipment. His lovely wife knew just the right people though; she'd managed to get them the bare minimum equipment to get things running again. Between that and what they could make locally, they had everything running.
And not a moment too soon he thought proudly. The munitions factories were finally on track now that the chemical works were turning out a consistent product. His eyes scanned the horizon to look on to the distant smokestacks. There was a grenade factory and beyond that a mortar factory and an ammunition factory. Each was highly sought after or would be. They'd fetch a good price in Horath once they got there and helped to retire the high interest start-up loans.
And they were close, closer than almost any other star system, so they would be first to market. He couldn't help but grin over that coup. With careful management of the market after they retired their loans, they could continue to build while investing in the future.
“It's all ours. Well, ours and the banks,” he murmured.
“And the government,” his diminutive wife said. “And a little bit for the families,” she said, nodding her chin to the distant grenade factory.
He grimaced but then nodded. In order to get the startup loans, they'd had to agree to a fixed price to build and sell the grenades. Each of the grenades was a combination of an old school German stick grenade with a pineapple skin and a plasma grenade element. His engineers were still working on the EMP grenades, though he didn't really see a need for them.
On top of that, the grenade lines could be retooled to produce rocket-propelled grenades or other variants like flash bangs or air burst cluster munitions. Things were looking up he thought as he felt his wife's hand drift to his rear.
“Play nice,” he teased, nuzzling her hair and then kissing her hair. She snorted and gave a cheek a possessive squeeze. But the playful cries of the kids made her pause and then turn to them. The kids shrieked and laughed as they played a game of tag among the construction equipment littering the mansion grounds.
“How much longer?” she asked.
“A few more weeks,” he replied. She groaned, and he winced but didn't say anything further. She knew the schedule.
“You know it would be quicker if we brought Lonie in or one of the other cousins,” she playfully teased, bringing up an old argument over bringing some of their extended family out to help control the holdings.
He grunted but didn't rise to the bait. For one thing, he didn't want competition, nor did he want a layabout to leech off them. Lonnie was a leech. Competition was much more dangerous; a competitor could come after one or both of them and arrange their downfall.
“You were the one who said you wouldn't miss them around the holidays,” he reminded her. “And we both don't want someone like Lonnie around to frack up things if they are in charge. They'd make a mess of things for us, and we'd have to clean it up. And if they really screwed things up, they could bring this all down around our ears when we're so close to finishing our foundation, dear,” he said.
“True,” she admitted but he could tell from her tone she wasn't happy about the admission.
“I know you want to help your family, lovey, but some are beyond help if they can't or won't help themselves.”
“I think they don't even try. Victory disease,” she said with a sigh. “We need to reintroduce the work ethos. To think they are going to shit after only a couple of years! Sometimes I think the whole pirate lord thing was a mistake.”
“Well, they'll either get so sodding drunk they go blind and die in their own vomit and take themselves out of our hair or …” He shook his head.
“I hope not,” she murmured.
“And you want to help them?” he scoffed.
“Yes! I want them to have purpose! To do something constructive!” Look at Finagle! The family is doing well there! They just need new frontiers! A place to stretch and prove themselves!”
“And you think they won't get drunk here? Spread the victory disease and lord over things? Cause problems and headaches we don't need?” he asked.
“I know! Its wishful thinking; I know that,” she replied, biting her lip. He hugged her from behind and rubbed her arm with his fingertips.
“Give over, love; it's not going to happen. We'd get stuck paying for them to come here, and we don't have the budget. Plus, they'd be more trouble than they are worth. Besides, the kids will be old enough in a few more years; they'd be competition.”
“I know,” she murmured, relaxing slowly. “I just thought we'd help the family. And the kids would like to see their cousins.”
“We can look into it. Write to the family, see who might be worthy,” he finally said, giving a little. He had no intention of giving in fully, but he didn't want to prolong the fight.
She looked up to him with an amused smile, then kissed his cheek and then patted his hand. “Okay, let me go. I need to go rescue the rhododendrons from the brat pack,” she said as she watched the kids whooping through her newly-planted flower bed.”
“Go wreak havoc and terrorize them into behaving,” he said after giving her a final squeeze. He kissed her neck and then released her. “Just as long as I can be naughty with you later.”
She giggled and smacked his hand playfully as she took off. “Now, where is that wretched governess,” she muttered as she rounded the corner. “She's supposed to be taking care of them,” she growled as she hiked up her dress to step over some boards and then went off after the kids.
Chapter 33
Horath
The dowager empress had to rearrange some schedules to get a face-to-face talk with Pyotr. “So, I heard you had fun with the old biddies, but it was a short game. You played only one hand of Parcheesi?” he asked flippantly.
“Those old biddies are the pirate lords. And they are not happy,” she said,
cutting him off from any further insults. He stared at her. She laid out her meeting with the leading families. He fumed but when she warned him the leading families were close to removing him or even their entire family he paused, and his ire cooled abruptly.
“You are this close to losing it all,” she said, holding her finger and thumb a centimeter apart. “This close all the while you sit on the throne. You are not invincible, son. You are not god here. You have limits. They've made it clear. You need to work in the framework and stop acting like a spoiled petulant child!”
He reddened. “Not even from you mother,” he said darkly.
“If you can't handle it from me, then you don't belong on that throne!” she snarled. He looked up at her with wide eyes. His mother was famous for not showing her temper. Her control was legendary. “You have threatened everything I've worked for!”
“I'm trying to fulfill our destiny!”
“Take smaller steps. Learn to work in the system again instead of against it. You've pushed too hard, too fast, and they are beginning to unite against you,” she said softly. “Against us. You need to enlist the family to regain their trust. Bring Catherine onboard and use her. And damn it, lay off of Cartwright and the others.”
“Him,” the emperor growled, hands clenching into fists. “He dared stand up to me publicly!”
“That alone should have told you you've gone too far!” his mother insisted, shaking her head at his fury. “Think! That was a clear warning, one I've taught you and yet you didn't listen!”
“I'll … think about it,” he said as he turned away.
“You'll act as I've taught you. And you'll train your heir as I taught you,” she said as she left him to sulk.
~~~^~~~
As heir, Catherine began to attend some high-level meetings and functions. At first, she recognized that her father was not happy about her intrusion, so she kept her appearances minimal and supportive. She mostly observed the proceedings and players and took mental notes through her implants.
Within a week, her father seemed mollified or at least resigned to her presence. She started to enjoy it more but kept herself as an observer, aloof and seemingly indifferent, sometimes bored.
To her surprise she was promoted to captain and then senior captain in less than a week. She wondered why initially until she realized she was on display. Therefore, they wanted her to have the appropriate rank.
She asked about it when she had a chance to speak with Admiral Cartwright in private. He smiled. “I thought that part was obvious. Besides, you need the rank to deal with others. I think we can rest assured that your first star will come shortly.”
“I haven't earned it,” she protested. “Cyrano taught me to earn it.” the protests were proforma. She was internally exalted at the news.
“You will earn it. Keep working with us. We need you. Not just as a public display but to keep certain parties in line and to help us plan things.”
She looked into his eyes and realized he was dead serious. Slowly she nodded. “I'll do what I can,” she murmured.
“Good. The empire itself may be at stake. I think we all know that. I heard you've met Elvira?” he asked, changing the subject.
She blinked and then nodded.
“Good. And I know about your side projects. I'm not worried about the contacts you are making. Countess Newberry is shielding you to some degree, but don't count on that. Do try to remain discrete.”
“I'll try,” she said slowly.
“Good. That's all I ask. That and that you continue to do your duty,” he stated. “Dismissed.”
She nodded and then showed herself out.
~~~^~~~
Marina used her family's resources to watch Catherine and others maneuver. She was not sure about the other woman's actions. Her spies had continuously looked into the princess's sex life to find a weakness she could exploit. When Adam had been alive, it had seemed important. She had done so before with the idea of using it against the woman or anyone else.
She had been surprised to find that her sister-in-law was something of a prude. Not only had she found out that Catherine had no sexual relations, but they had also confirmed there was no way to make any up either—like attacking Catherine for supposedly sleeping with De Gaulte for instance. Either she was really good at being discrete or was asexual. She wasn't sure what to make of that.
She knew her family was fuming over something the emperor had been trying to do. They had been threatened, but her family leaders weren't discussing it. She shook her head and wondered if it was safe to continue to be publicly tied to the Ramichov family.
Death due them part indeed she thought.
~~~^~~~
As Catherine settled in to her new duties, she found herself being “borrowed” by various departments. Sometimes operations called her in for her input. She frequently took the aggressor's role in their planning using what she'd gleaned about Second Fleet to the best of her ability.
From time to time, she also was tapped by the Public Affairs Department to put a face to the navy. During those times, she found she was also under constant guard. She'd assumed as much, but they became more blatant about it over time. On her second week, she was more or less resigned to their presence and fully aware that they were with Imperial Intelligence. Most likely they were reporting to Countess Newberry, her grandmother, as well as her father on her every move and conversation.
So be it.
One of the things she did enjoy about being moved around and “borrowed” was her ability to make connections with various people. A veiled hint made her look into the remains of Fourth Fleet and the water dwellers they had brought back. When her interest became known Doctor Nutel invited her for a tour of the facility.
She was astonished to see the work they had made in such a short time. There were hundreds of cloned babies in the creche. Some were already toddlers and undergoing indoctrination. She made certain to compliment him on the progress. “Well, we've been laying the groundwork for decades. We just needed the base material. For some reason every time we tried to replicate them using the material in the Encyclopedia Galactica, it failed. And to think, we've been looking all over the galaxy, and they were right here in our own back yard!” The doctor marveled at such a coincidence.
Catherine wondered about that.
“We've diversified recently into the pilot program. I believe you looked into that briefly?” the doctor asked.
She nodded. She'd had a tour of some of the pilot training facilities with Public Affairs as a puff piece to drum up more volunteers as well as pride in the navy.
“Well, we've found a source of exemplary genetic material. And we've been using it to create a line of pilots,” he explained, showing her the Meia clones and the steps they were using to produce and train them.
“They are all programmed as pilots. We've tried the stock subjects on the helm. They are better than the average person, but they do not have the stamina or skills of the water dwellers. So, we'll focus their skills exclusively on piloting fighters and small craft.”
“Ah.” Catherine wondered about that. How were they going to handle interactions with others? She wasn't certain the doctor had thought the entire process through fully.
“We recently received a flash cloning tank and the instructions on how to use it. With it we can accelerate the growth of a subject, though it comes with consequences,” he warned.
“Such as?”
“The subjects will still have a child mind since they didn't develop normally. There are issues with their metabolic systems, structure, and brain body interaction. One of the fascinating side projects we've started is to find a way to create cybers. To grow just the brain and then train them to fly and then install them in a ship.”
“That is … creative,” Catherine said, privately horrified by the idea.
“It's just an idea. I'm afraid the intern who pitched it didn't understand the engineering involved. To be fair I wasn't certain o
f it myself until I looked into it further. It would take a tremendous amount of life support equipment to maintain the brain. The body does the same work in a tighter package.”
“Ah,” she said, relieved that he wasn't moving forward with the project.
“Of course, we can remove their limbs and plug them into a cockpit. We can experiment with that idea when we have a surplus of subjects,” he said airily.
Catherine felt herself nod but didn't say anything as they continued on the tour.
~~~^~~~
Elvira was proud of the first Cutlass class fighters to roll off the assembly line. They weren't perfect, but they were a cut above the Raptor design. She had also left in the module areas so they could plug in energy shield emitters once they figured out how to miniaturize the process. That was just one of several projects on her plate she had to deal with.
It was only when she heard about a ceremony that she stopped and tuned in. She was a bit puzzled as to why she hadn't been told about it.
~~~^~~~
Catherine was on hand to see the Cutlass ceremony but noted Elvira wasn't. She did some discrete checking and noted that the other woman wasn't on the invitation list. She frowned; she didn't like the slight to someone she valued. When she looked into it further, she found out that it wasn't an oversight. Someone wanted her out of it, which meant pushback and people wanting to claim credit for it.
When she brought it up to Malwin, he waved a hand. “Deweter's actions. I signed off on it since we need her to keep pushing and I needed to keep him happy. Let it go. Elvira is where she is, doing what she does for a reason. She's a techno-nerd. She's much more at home in engineering country than rubbing elbows at a stuffy party with powerful people.”
Catherine nodded but still didn't like it. She realized she had some sort of attachment to the other woman.