“I’ll get right on that,” Admiral von Mittleburg said, saluted, and exited.
“As much fun as you three and your people have been,” Kris said to her brain trust, “you need to get ashore as fast as you can.”
“We’re going.”
“So, Vicky, you want to shadow me for the day?” Kris asked her occasional friend. “If you think you saw everything we can do that the Empire can’t while we were gallivanting around on the Wasp, wait until you see what I’ve got up my sleeve now. Let’s go.”
49
Vice Admiral, Her Imperial Grace, the Grand Duchess Victoria of the Greenfeld Empire, and in rebellion against the same, stood as Kris Longknife led a division of four frigates away from the High St. Petersburg Station. It had taken the Wardhaven Princess exactly five hours from the time she ordered go to the minute they were gone.
How does she do these things?
Vicky remembered the last time she’d shared a ride with Kris Longknife. A lot of water and spilled milk had flowed under a lot of bridges since then.
They’d fled in the old Wasp across the galaxy, first with enraged aliens after their blood, then in a ship run just about dry of reaction mass, fearing they lacked enough to slow down and refuel. Kris had gone to heroic levels to pull them through.
Vicky had gotten drunk and mouthed off to Kris, the best friend she had, then thrown Kris under the bus the first time she had a chance for an interview back in human space. Vicky shivered in embarrassment.
Back then, she’d been a terrified little girl with a target on her back painted there by her stepmother. She’d had no idea how she’d survive from one day to the next.
Vicky squared her shoulders. The last year had been an education for her. She’d learned a lot and done a lot, often asking herself “What would Kris Longknife do?” She and the people around her had pulled themselves up by their bootstraps and gotten a lot of worlds walked back from the brink of disaster.
Here she was, once again, following Kris around. Only now, she was no confused little kitten. She had made of herself the leader of a cause and half an Empire. It was good to have Kris’s help, but it was only possible for Kris to do anything because Vicky had first done a whole lot more.
Today, Vicky spent most of that time shadowing Kris. It was still educational and a lot of fun watching how Kris made things happen.
Early into the count, Kris ordered Nelly to call Vice Admiral von Mittleburg. “About that reaction mass and fresh meat and produce. Ya’got any to spare?”
“Reaction mass, no problem. Fresh produce, not so much.”
It was Mannie who placed a call to his contacts in Sevastopol. They found two shuttles waiting on cargo and leased them. In an hour, they were stuffed with the best Sevastopol’s hinterland had to offer. Kris had sent Vicky off with a Supply Corps lieutenant to see how easy it was to resupply a Smart MetalTM ship. Clearly, the Wardhaven Princess had a few things to do that she didn’t want a Peterwald looking over her shoulder at.
Kris is such a stickler when it comes to some things.
Then again, I’d hate to have Stepmommy dearest know some things I saw on the old Wasp as we shot around the other side of the galaxy.
Vicky’s jaw dropped as station trucks drove right into the Princess Royal, through holes that suddenly opened into the ship. They off-loaded crates directly into storage rooms. The meat was parked in an open space. A minute later, a refrigerating unit had grown up around it, complete with a door warning DO NOT LEAVE OPEN.
Vicky, Mannie, and Admiral Bolesław were in Kris’s much-reduced flag plot as the P. Royal backed away from its pier. The next frigate spun off a pinnace that quickly ducked in to fill the vacancy. It expanded to look hardly smaller than its mother ship and began squawking as the Princess Royal at the exact same moment that Kris’s ship went silent in space.
Perfect.
Even Admiral Bolesław nodded with respect at the smoothly run evolution. He rarely had anything nice to say about the Longknifes. Then again, he’d been raised on Greenfeld propaganda.
All done, three frigates followed the Princess Royal as she ducked down toward St. Petersburg, then accelerated toward the jump point that had coughed up the Empress not so long ago.
Vicky had overheard enough to know that the next system over had one of those fuzzy jumps that Wardhaven ships could see and Greenfeld ships were totally blind to.
Kris turned from observing her Captain Ajax do her job perfectly to eye Vicky and her small team. “I’ve decided to keep Admiral’s Country down here in amidships. It means traffic will be routed past us, but it also means we’ll have the strongest protection, both against radiation and lasers for the nursery. I had my brain trust of helpful conflict solvers bunking close to me. Their space is now vacant. Do you have a problem with us keeping Admiral’s Country together for all three admirals aboard?”
Admiral Bolesław silently shrugged.
“I’m fine with that,” Vicky said.
“I assume you’ll want the mayor to have quarters next to you?” Kris asked.
Vicky nervously glanced toward Mannie. “Whatever you want,” she said.
“Whichever way you want. I have no problem,” the mayor said.
“So it’s that way,” Kris said. “Well, your quarters are going to be next to each other. What you do about it is in your hands.”
But the embarrassing problem was not solved just yet. Mr. Smith arrived with Kit and Kat as well as all their gear.
“Do you want us to bunk on either side of your quarters?” Mr. Smith asked.
“They tell me we can have a door directly into your quarters,” Kit said hopefully to Vicky.
“Ah, I was thinking Mannie might have one of the rooms next to me. Is that okay with you, Mannie?”
“Ah, I have no problem with anything you want,” he dodged, again.
Kris and Jack looked ready to split a gut. Well, they’re married and have a baby, no less.
Kris stepped forward and quickly redrew the staterooms around the outer circular passageway. “Kit and Kat, Mr. Smith, Vicky, Mannie, and Admiral Bolesław, in that order. Okay?”
“Fine,” Vicky mumbled, trying not to blush.
Me. Blush! No.
Then why is my face all warm?
It must be hot in here.
In a moment, Vicky was being led to her quarters for the cruise by a chief and a Sailor who carried her luggage. Her quarters were not quite as spacious as those on the Retribution, but nothing to sneeze at.
“If we get in a fight,” the chief started, then corrected himself. “Rather when being more likely with the Princess in command, the ship will shrink down to Condition Baker, then Charlie, and lastly Zed. By Condition Zed things are quite cozy but we’re all at battle stations so it doesn’t really matter if our quarters are stowed away into nothing but a few lockers. After the battle, we stretch out again. By the way, Your Grace, there’s an app that lets you make adjustments to your quarters. If you want more space in your day quarters, you can make your night quarters shrink to nothing. If you need even more space, you can open up a door to one of the rooms next door or, if those next to you have been warned and are willing, you can make either bulkhead go away.”
“You can?” Vicky said, glancing at the bulkhead between her and Mannie. She quickly shook her head at the thoughts that tumbled into her mind.
“You can. Would you like the app?”
“No,” she said, but she was nodding yes.
“Which is it to be, Your Grace?” the old chief said.
“Let me have it,” she said, not looking at him as she spoke. “If I never use it, it will never matter.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” and Vicky’s computer beeped happily.
A moment later, the door closed on her quarters as the two enlisteds left.
And another moment aft
er that, there was a knock at her door.
“Enter.”
And Mannie cautiously stepped in.
“Are your quarters this good?” Vicky asked.
“Not quite. I think you got extra room so you could hold meetings. Are your sleeping quarters through that door?” he asked.
Vicky found her eyes were fixed on the deck. It looked to be nice carpet. “Yes.”
“Wasn’t it fantastic the way they moved walls all over the place to load supplies,” Mannie said. “I bet your Sailors would love something like that.”
“Ours will, once we get this into the Greenfeld fleet.”
“Um,” Mannie said. “I understand there are all sorts of apps. You can make your own easy chair. Widen or lengthen your bed. All kinds of things.”
“What did you think of the way Nelly made entire walls appear and disappear?” Vicky said, finding she’d kind of rushed breathlessly into that thought.
“It must be nice what Nelly can do,” Mannie was quick to point out, then added, “I understand that there are apps that Sailors can use to do the same.”
“You heard about that, too,” Vicky said, feeling excitement in places she’d ignored for a very long time.
“Yes.”
“I was offered one of those apps,” Vicky offered.
“So was I,” Mannie said softly.
“It’s something you’d want to have around if a ship were damaged, or other things,” Vicky said, leaving her words vague.
“Did you take the app?” Mannie asked.
“Did you?”
There was a pause, before both of them blurted out, “Yes.”
Vicky turned toward Mannie and found his arms open. It was only two steps before she was in them. His kiss was so soft, just a brush of her lips that shot electricity down her body and left every nerve ending tingling.
She pressed her mouth to his, claiming him. His hands came to surround her face, moving her ever so slightly so they fitted perfectly together. For a long time, there was only his touch and their kiss.
Then she broke away for air.
And her doubts.
“Mannie, aren’t we supposed to avoid tumbling into bed until after the problems from my father’s bedtime tumbles are straightened out?”
“It’s been an awfully long wait,” he said.
“It has,” she agreed.
“And we are on a Longknife ship, and everyone knows the Longknifes have no morals at all.”
“So I was told growing up,” Vicky agreed again.
“And four small frigates taking on eight huge battleships could leave us dust, and think of what we’d have missed.”
“It would be sad to miss kisses like that one,” Vicky found herself once more agreeing.
“And we can make the wall between our night quarters vanish, but still be able to dash into the front room if we have to.”
“Yes. Yes, we could. You are a most persuasive politician,” Vicky said.
“So kiss me again, and we’ll figure out how to run the app later.”
“Oh, yes.”
50
Vicky felt herself gain weight the next morning as the Princess Royal changed its acceleration from 1.5 gees to 2.5 gees. For the third time this morning!
“Kris, why the different accelerations? I don’t see the pattern.”
“There’s a pattern. I’ll tell you, if first you tell me why you’re so chipper. You look like the cat that gorged itself on cream.”
Vicky glanced around, startled. None of her entourage was close by. “I don’t look chipper.” Then she hunched down, and whispered, “What do I look like?”
“Well, if you were a normal person, I’d say you got laid. You, I’m not so sure.”
“Kris!” Vicky said, but kept it low.
“So, have you and Mannie figured out how to work the app?”
“Leave it to you Longknifes to come up with something as disgusting as that.”
“Don’t say Longknife. Some Sailor figured it out and passed it around. It was only a slight modification to the one to move walls for loading supplies. What’s a skipper to do?”
“Well, it certainly beats hiding out in the paint locker,” Vicky finally allowed herself to admit.
“Did you figure out how to get one king-size bed?”
“Kris!”
“Well, did you?”
Vicky sighed and gave in to the inevitable. “After about five seconds of trying.”
The Wardhaven Princess had the ill humor to laugh . . . outrageously. When she sobered up, she leaned in close to Vicky. “I take it that you and Mannie haven’t been, ah, huh.”
“No, we haven’t been either ah or huh. It’s the longest string of celibate days I’ve had since I got my first monthly.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Policy. Politics,” Vicky said, spitting the words. “All this trouble started when my dad tumbled into bed with a whore. Mannie was afraid that if any other Peterwald tumbled into bed, even if the he was a she and the he wasn’t a whore but a politician. Is there a difference? Anyway, either way it might not go over so well. Would you believe it, for the good of the rebellion, he walked out of my hotel room?”
Kris had gotten very serious while Vicky talked. Now the Princess nodded along with her words.
“As hard as it has been, I think he’s right,” Kris said. “Your father is a selfish, thoughtless fool who looks out only for himself. If you want to get the people behind you, you have to look a whole lot better. Mannie’s a good advisor.”
“I’m hoping we’ll marry as soon as this mess is over.”
“You likely couldn’t chose a better consort,” Kris said. “I’m not trying to make Greenfeld over into some Longknife democracy. I know your feelings on that. But your Empire is going to need a lot more transparency than it has had. It also has to include a lot more perspectives as well.”
Vicky let out a big sigh. “I hear the same talk from Mannie. I was raised, as you would say, to be autocratic. Well, not so much me to be autocratic but to accept that autocratic Peterwald men were ordained by God to rule, and if God had any problems with that, He’d better get with the program.”
Kris laughed. “My father’s never quite put it into those words, but I suspect he’d agree with the sentiment. As for Ray, he is god.”
Vicky laughed along with Kris but quickly sobered. “Do we have to become gods to make things work?”
Kris shook her head. “Do you really think things work because our fathers and my great-grandfather think they’re Zeus on Olympus?”
Vicky’s shoulders slumped. “A few years ago, I think I would have believed them.”
“Now?” Kris asked.
“Not so much,” Vicky said, and thought for a moment. Then rethought herself. “Hold it. You were supposed to tell me why our acceleration varies. You told me I had to answer one question. That was a dozen questions ago.”
“Okay, I’ll let you in on a secret. We go 2.5 gees when Ruth is napping on a high-gee station. We cut down to 1.5 gees when she’s up and wants to bounce around. I tell you, that kid is going to have legs that any high-school track coach will die for.”
“Ruth is setting our course?” Vicky said, almost in a shriek.
“No, not our course, but maybe a bit of our speed,” Kris said. “Nelly, you want to explain this to Vicky.”
“Not really, Kris. Let’s just say I’m juggling my assumptions of when Ruth naps and what accelerations and decelerations we need to make our jumps. Ruth’s nap time is a major unknown in my sailing plan, but she’s woken up or gone to sleep within fifteen minutes of my estimates. A six-month-old is nothing if not free willed.”
They exited the St. Petersburg system at 50,000 kph and accelerated almost constantly to the next jump. Vicky and Admiral Bolesław
were in Kris’s flag plot as they approached the jump out.
“We’ll be using the fourth jump,” Nelly informed Kris.
Beside Vicky, Admiral Bolesław scowled, but only after covering his mouth with his hand. “There are only three jumps in this system,” he whispered to Vicky.
She covered her mouth, and around a cough said, “Longknifes see jumps we can’t. Both us and the aliens.”
“Oh,” Bolesław rumbled, and watched as Nelly threaded a needle through space that he would never have guessed was there.
“Nelly’s taking the indirect course to catch your Empress’s diplomats,” Kris announced after the jump was done, and Nelly reported it was good. “They’ll be about ten jumps and three hundred light-years out from Greenfeld when we catch up with them. We will have made six jumps and gone out two thousand light-years in a most erratic course when we run them down. But it will have taken us less time to cover our distance than they will have taken to cover theirs.”
Admiral Bolesław ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “The fools. The fools.”
“Which fools?” Vicky asked.
“Anyone who thought we might stand our ground in a fight with the Longknife King.”
“I don’t know,” Vicky muttered. “We’re still chasing after eight big, bad battleships in four small frigates.” She gave Kris Longknife a dour frown.
The Longknife Princess glanced her way and returned her a soft, knowing smile.
Did she hear what I just said? Or worse, could she figure out for herself what I just said. Damn you, Longknifes, and the democracy you rode in on.
They were now outside the Empire and deep into unknown space. Vicky watched as Kris began to make the division her own. Even as they went on their way, she had them practicing battle evasion drills. At all hours of the day or night, Vicky got use to the bong of General Quarters and the announcement “Battle Stations. Battle Stations.”
Yes, despite the battle preparations, the journey to the next jump was still at different accelerations and decelerations. When Ruth was awake, it was 1.5 gees. When she napped, it jumped to over two gees.
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