Vicky stood and addressed the screen. It was amazing how quickly the other ships vented their reactors to space, emptied their capacitors, and dropped all acceleration to drift in space.
Vicky quickly negotiated a formal surrender with the rear admiral commanding the second division. US Marines boarded the remaining seven ships and found their crews quite docile. Vicky asked for the loan of the Marines to keep them that way, and Rear Admiral Bolesław volunteered to take command of the squadron and see that they turned around and headed back for Brunswick.
“I’ll loan you the Resolute to serve as sheep dog,” Kris offered, and Vicky was glad she didn’t have to ask. As much as she expected the fear of the Lord that Kris had put into them to last until they got to rebel territory, it was still good to have a ship on standby if things got rowdy.
“I thought you were crazy when you said you were ready to take on a battle squadron with one frigate,” Vicky said. “You weren’t crazy at all, were you?”
“Nope, one battle line, one battlecruiser. Even odds. Right, Jack?”
“Yes, love, but I’m still glad, Admiral darling, that you took along reinforcements. It could have gotten so much worse. If they’d had a couple or a dozen of those alien warships of five hundred thousand tons and a whole wad of lasers, it could have gotten a bit out of hand even for you, my dear.”
“You notice how he lays the love on with a trowel,” Kris said to Vicky. “He knows we were both right, but he’s apologizing nevertheless. Smart husband.”
“Mannie, are you taking notes?” Vicky asked her mayor.
“Copious notes. Copious and enlightening,” he answered.
“Now, Captain Ajax, are you ready to go back to Condition Able?”
“How about we stay at Condition Baker until we see what these docile hostiles do for a day or two?”
“Sorry, Captain, but we need to be heading back to St. Petersburg as fast as we can. I would suggest you avoid making the jump out of here that we came through until these folks jump out themselves, but then we need to beat feet for home.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am. As soon as we are out of their range, I will return the ship to Condition Able—Royal Plus Size, but not until.”
Kris sighed. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember that you might be an admiral, but aboard ship, you’re just a passenger.”
52
The trip back took a bit longer. Ruth had to put up with less than two gees and that only when she slept. Vicky found herself wishing the voyage would never end.
On the way out, Admiral Bolesław studiously did not notice or comment on Vicky’s being, as Kris put it, chipper. Mr. Smith and the assassins did not make any effort to enter Vicky’s quarters. Even Kat refrained from rolling her eyes and talking in salacious French.
She and Mannie could be themselves, and Vicky very much liked what they could be when it was just them. Mannie was neither so athletic nor so “creative” in his lovemaking as some Vicky had shared her bed with. Instead, she found herself in a place she’d never been before. Loved. Yes. Relaxed? Definitely. Satisfied? Totally.
Could something like this last forever?
I sure would like to try.
Her idyllic interlude didn’t last much past their jumping into the system one jump out from St. Petersburg. A message was waiting for them.
The Emperor had accepted Cuzco as the neutral ground for the negotiations and set the date for three weeks from his date of acceptance. Time had been lost getting the message out to St. Petersburg, and more before Vicky got the message.
“Can we make it?” Vicky asked Kris.
“Nelly?” she said, passing it along to her computer.
“Ruth ain’t gonna like it, but we can make it.”
“Then let’s put pedal to the metal and get things moving.”
It hadn’t been as easy as that.
Kris had to pick up the three ships still at St. Petersburg; Defender had gone on ahead with Kris’s brain trust. The three frigates rose from High St. Petersburg Station looking like strangely swollen fish. Then Kris let Vicky in on another one of her secrets. The swollen ships were in tanker mode, bringing up reaction mass to refuel the ships with more miles on them.
They also brought a load of fresh meat and produce, which was transferred over by the pinnaces when they brought the reaction mass.
“We got to get some of this stuff,” Mannie whispered in awe.
Vicky just shook her head. The Empress had destroyed so much of Greenfeld, and what she had left was rapidly becoming little more than a series of start-up colonies.
Kris had insisted that killing the Empress was not an acceptable negotiating position. More and more, Vicky wanted to offer it as her starting position . . . and then negotiate back from there.
Like throw in torture before finally killing her.
Mannie had been teaching Vicky negotiating techniques. It seemed you needed something to do in bed between doing what you were in bed to do. He’d taught Vicky about how you were supposed to bargain. You stated your opening position. They stated theirs, and you bargained toward each other. It wasn’t considered kosher to bargain away from your opening position.
Vicky was ready to make special allowances for her stepmother.
They pulled up to High Cuzco Station with a cranky Ruth and an hour to spare before negotiations were supposed to start.
“Supposed to” were the operative words.
Both parties had sent advanced teams to Cuzco to prepare for the actual bargaining. So far, Vicky’s advanced team had dodged one bomb and several drive-by shootings.
Someone on Wardhaven must have been following developments. Several crates of Spidersilk body armor had arrived; so far, they had saved three lives.
Was Vicky the only one who found it strange that all the assassination attempts were on her advance team?
When Judge Diana took a bullet to the heart that was stopped by Spidersilk, it became clear that no one was safe.
Even at the risk of life and limb, the negotiations were going depressingly slow.
The Emperor had reserved a resort hotel in the hills beyond Machu Picchu, Cuzco’s capital. He, or maybe the Empress, insisted negotiations take place there. Vicky’s advance team had started with a location on the High Cuzco Station where all the principals could retreat to their ships after each bargaining session.
When the Imperial side rejected that option, Vicky’s team had fallen back to using the Princess Royal for the negotiations.
That had also been rejected.
The Emperor insisted he needed the open air the resort allowed.
“I don’t think it’s the open air, so much as all the places assassins can hide,” Vicky told Kris with a frown.
Kris turned to her brain trust, who had greeted the Princess Royal when she docked. “Okay, how do we arrive at an agreement to end this civil war when we can’t even agree on where we talk?”
The three exchanged glances, then Al shrugged and spoke, apparently for all. “You make a concession to get the bargaining going and assume that he will accept that he owes us one.”
“I don’t think the Empress will ever concede that she owes anyone anything,” Vicky snapped.
“You are probably right,” Diana said, “but nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
“Assuming someone doesn’t blow us all to kingdom come,” Jack pointed out.
“There is that,” Bill conceded.
Kris ran a worried hand through her hair. She needed a haircut, but her hair had still not recovered from her pregnancy. Thank you very much, Ruthie.
“Okay. Jack, get your Marines down below, and go through every inch of that place up to ten thousand meters in the sky and down a thousand or so in the dirt. If you say it’s safe, we’ll assume we can keep it safe and risk it.”
“And Ruth?” Jack a
sked.
“Stays up here safe and sound. I’ll pump milk for her nannies to give her. That acceptable to you, oh my ever-cautious security chief?”
“I would rather you and Ruth Marie were both safe up here,” Jack said. “Whatever happened to telecommuting? Can’t we do this thing via screens?”
“You need to see each other’s body language and inflections,” Diana said.
“As well as the trust matter. If you don’t trust them enough to meet them face-to-face . . .” Al left hanging.
“But I don’t trust them,” Jack pointed out.
“Yes. Maybe we don’t either,” Bill said, “but we still have to show we are willing to trust them.”
With a scowl, Jack stood and started talking into his commlink. “Give us a day to see what we can do down there. We’ll meet again this time tomorrow.”
“Very good,” Kris said.
A day later, Jack was back. “There are no surprises underground. Each building has its own power supply, so there are no conduits. Even the sewage is treated in each cottage and the main lodge. All that is underground is a network of water pipes. I have to admit, the place is secure underground. It’s aboveground that worries me.”
“How so?” both Vicky and Kris asked.
“Trees. Lots of trees. All of them tall, so there aren’t a lot of bushes; still, there are a lot of trees. Then there are the mountains. There are some serious mountains around that place. Someone with a rocket launcher could do a lot of damage fast.”
“Can you stop that?” Kris asked her husband.
“Nelly, can you make us an aerostat out of Smart Metal?” Jack asked.
“Yes. Do you want it powered?”
“I want it tethered, but with enough power to handle any strong winds. Make that two of them. We can use one to rove the area.”
Judge Diana was looking on, having gained a new respect for security since her spidersilks stopped a bullet. “We may have to include reps from the Emperor on board your balloons, Jack, if we’re to get him to agree to a balloon out his window.”
“That’s your job,” Jack said with an impish grin. “It must be a whole lot harder than my simple job of keeping you all safe.
Diana snorted and left to talk to her associates and arrange for a new meeting.
Vicky frowned. “I like your idea of balloons looking for trouble, Jack. But if we have to put some of the Empress’s assassins aboard, will they be any good?”
“You let me worry about that,” Jack said. “Nelly, I’m going to need some really tiny eyeballs in the gondolas of those balloons with a tight beam link to the Princess Royal.”
“I think that can be arranged,” Nelly said, and you could almost hear a proud chuckle in her voice.
It took three more days of haggling, which Jack put to good use securing the resort, but in the end, Kris’s and the Emperor’s negotiators all agreed to where they’d be. Who got what quarters, when and where they’d actually sit down, and how the room would be arranged for that sit-down.
“I can’t believe it’s taken you this long just to agree how you will talk to each other,” Vicky said to Kris and her troika when they reported back.
“We expected it would take longer,” said Bill, the man with experience arbitrating between different sides.
“So we can start now?” Vicky asked.
“Nope,” Diana said. “Now they tell the Emperor that everything is ready for him and the Empress.”
“They aren’t here?” Kris snapped.
“No. They’re back on Greenfeld waiting to see if we can agree to meet.”
Kris shook her head. “When will the Emperor and Empress arrive?”
“Not for a week, at the least,” Diana said.
Vicky blew out a breath as if she’d been punched in the gut. Shaking her head, she said, “More and more, I’m coming to wish I’d just finished the Empress off when I had the chance.”
“You think it would have ended the civil war?” Kris asked her.
“I don’t know,” Vicky admitted. “So much of this mess comes from her family. If she’d died, my best guess would be that my father, our Emperor, would somehow die, oh so sadly, and the Bowlingames would put their little baby on the throne, with Grandpapa Bowlingame the all-powerful regent. Hmm, I hadn’t actually thought that through until you asked, Kris. Thanks.”
“Sorry. That’s not a pretty picture.”
Vicky sighed. “But it is the picture my father has allowed to be painted. So, do you play bridge? It looks like we’ve got plenty of time on our hands.”
53
Admiral, Her Royal Highness Princess Kristine of the United Society didn’t find time to play bridge with Her Imperial Grace, the Grand Duchess. The two of them were juggling too many porcupines.
It seemed like everyone who was anyone had heard about the negotiations and wanted in on the fun. Admiral Waller arrived from Bayern with a battleship full of staff and a whole lot of retired admirals and wives who didn’t look to be into shuffleboard for their golden years.
A woman from Metzburg showed up with a small army of business associates to make sure their interests were fully considered. To make sure Metzburg didn’t get overly considered, right behind them was a young man from Brunswick with a similar mob to assure their concerns weren’t lost in the shuffle. St. Petersburg brought in reinforcements, and those were only the three largest delegations. Just about every planet that had sworn fealty to the Emperor through Vicky wanted someone sitting at her elbow on Cuzco.
Thus, one morning, Vicky stormed into Kris’s quarters in somewhat of a panic. “How do you democrats handle all these people with all their competing agendas? Hell, half of them don’t know what they want.” Vicky came to a halt in front of Kris, shaking her head. “No. No. No. First problem. Kris, do you have any idea where I put them all?”
Kris had no clue how to answer either question, but Nelly did know where Judge Diana lived. A few moments later, Diana walked into Kris’s quarters on the Princess Royal.
Vicky was bringing the judge up to date on her growing list of problems before she even sat down.
“Hmm, and I thought we were just bargaining for half the cottages and rooms in the lodge to keep down the number of courtiers and courtesans following in the Emperor’s wake. Okay, we do have half of the space at the resort. How many people do you have asking for rooms?”
Vicky had her computer transfer the list to Diana’s computer.
Of course, Nelly picked up on the transfer. “Would you mind if I tried my hand at matching people to space?”
“Please. Go right ahead. But remember,” Vicky said, “some of the older and wealthier will expect that their status gives them better accommodations than those less privileged.”
“I am well aware of human vanity,” Nelly answered dryly.
“Is she always like this?” Vicky whispered to Kris.
“Only when a human fails to remember they’re dealing with the Magnificent Nelly,” Kris said, no hush in her voice.
“So you’re actually learning, Kris,” Nelly observed.
“I’m learning,” Kris said. “I just never know what you’ve figured out about the world and what you haven’t gotten to yet.”
“Harrumph,” came from Nelly, but no further comment for a moment, then, “I think we can accommodate most of the ones who will be walking around with their noses in the air, assuming they’re willing to double up or take in some of those lesser mortals to fill their spare rooms. The rest are going to be a problem, and it will likely get worse. Vicky, the representatives present only account for about half of the planets fighting on your side. If more show up, you will need more quarters. A lot more quarters.”
Vicky turned to Kris. “Any more rabbits left in that hat of yours?”
Kris hollered, “Jack, how are the Marines set for tentage
?”
“I was planning on using them for Marines,” Jack said, only slightly cranky as he glanced up from a screen he’d be intent on.
“Ookaay. Nelly, who on Cuzco rents tents?”
“I already have that information, Kris. Jack had Sal check on that yesterday.”
Kris raised an eyebrow at Jack.
“I want to cover the four main entrances to the lodge with some sort of tent, either with sides or extended sloping roofs so no one would have a good long-range shot at you.”
“Okay, Vicky, this is a job for your advanced team. There must be a Navy supply type who can wrestle this problem to the ground.”
Vicky tapped her commlink. “Admiral Waller, have I got a problem for you.”
Diana looked like she might take this as a chance to step out; Kris rested a restraining hand on her shoulder. “I think we’ve only tackled the easier half of her problems. I suspect the other half is a whole lot more intractable.”
“That could be very true. May I call in my associates?”
“Please do.”
A few minutes later, Vicky was off the phone, and Kris’s troika was seated around a conference table that had suddenly become round. Beside Kris, a lovely cloisonné teapot appeared with five delicate white-and-gold teacups and saucers.
“Is Nelly going to turn this into an honest-to-God English afternoon tea?” Diana asked.
“Give me a moment,” Nelly said. “The cook in the Forward Lounge is still cutting the crusts off the cucumber sandwiches.”
“She’s not!” Diana exclaimed.
“She is,” Nelly said, as a plate of scones with clotted cream and several fruit marmalades appeared on the table. A moment later, Nanaimo bars, tiny pecan pies, and sweet lemon bars followed. It was a minute more before the cucumber sandwiches on thinly sliced bread finished up the presentation.
Kris began pouring tea, while Diana got the different plates of goodies circulating around the table.
“Am I being fattened up for the kill,” Vicky said warily, “or is this already my last meal?”
“I assure you,” Kris said, passing Vicky a teacup and saucer, “we would not have gone through all we have only to knock off one of the two principals in this civil disturbance.”
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