Princess Valerie's War

by Terry Mancour

  There were murmurs of agreement and support around the room. She had been afraid that the battle had sapped the resolve or at least the enthusiasm of the nobility for their service to the Realm. She was encouraged to see that, on the contrary, after having fought for the colony the nobles were even more dedicated to it and its success.

  “So the Winter Ball will continue, as planned, at concourse of the Spaceport three days hence. The regular ship from Marduk should be making port just before that, so I’m anticipating a few extra guests – namely the new Mardukan Military attaché. And I am hoping against hope that my husband will be joining us, too,” she said, her heart skipping a beat.

  Other matters – Elaine’s kidnapping and the abortive attack – had kept attention from Lucas’ plight. But she knew he was out there among the stars, somewhere, trying to get back to her. She could hardly stand the waiting and the worrying, but she put it out of her mind – if she gave herself the time to do so, she’d start catching up on her regrets and end up wallowing in self-pity, and that was an indulgence the Realm just couldn’t afford right now. Until she knew otherwise, Lucas was just ‘overdue’, likely dodging Viktor’s ships in some unlikely game of cat-and-mouse until he could make it home again. Indeed, she refused to entertain any other possibility.

  But she could tell everyone else missed him too – his firm, calm, confident leadership, his ability to keep his followers’ loyalty to him strong enough to keep them from fighting among themselves, his decisiveness – she knew that she was a poor replacement for her gallant Prince. She was a retired elementary-school teacher with a new baby trying to run a planet and – apparently – a war.

  As much as she didn’t feel up to the task, however, she knew she had to keep herself together if the Realm was to survive. She would have to sit here and wait until Lucas surfaced again, and rule in his stead while he was gone.

  There was a lot more to the meeting – repairs and reconstruction had to be discussed in mind-numbing detail, along with costs. There had been heavy damage to the Gunloggi and the Moon Goddess, and the Lamia had take a couple of expensive hits. The empty Nemesis and the yet-to-be-re-commissioned King Omfray had been damaged, before the invaders realized that they weren’t fighting back. And the moonbase had taken a couple of shots that had set back mining production by a few hundred hours. However, Duke Lothar Ffayle, the Finance Minister of the Realm, was surprisingly optimistic about the prospect.

  “Well, the cost in men and wreckage was significant,” he admitted. “But thanks to the way the battle played out, it actually won’t cost that much out-of-pocket. We have two new merchant ships, you see,” he said, smiling. “Two proven thousand-footers, each worth a considerable sum. Now that they’ve been confiscated, we can sell them at auction and make enough to offset the costs of ship repairs.”

  “Or that could be the basis for a new merchant fleet,” Duke Rathmore, the Commerce Minister, said, agreeably. He was also a large stockholder in Tanith Transport & Import, Ltd., the commercial firm that ran cargo between Beowulf, Amateratsu, Tanith and Khepra. Currently the three little five-hundred foot packets that made the round trip once ever two-hundred hours were profitable enterprises, but Rathmore had been agitating for bigger ships and more ports of call for two years, now. “With a couple of caravels like that, we could start making regular runs a lot further afield. “

  “His Grace is welcome to bid upon them at auction,” Ffayle said, stiffly. “The Realm needs the coin.”

  “The Realm needs good investments,” Valerie decided. “And this looks like one. We make as much money in trade as we do by raiding, these days. If the Realm was to be a silent partner in a merchant fleet –”

  “That’s unusual,” Lothar Ffayle said, frowning. “Ordinarily, a kingdom acts to protect independent merchants and taxes their goods at market in recompense. It’s up to private enterprise to supply the ships and do the business.”

  “In the Sword Worlds, perhaps,” Nick interjected. “But I know that isn’t always the case in Old Federation worlds. Baldur’s merchant fleet is crown-sponsored, and gets a full quarter of the profits off the top of every deal made on honey-rum. Aton’s merchant fleet is government-controlled. Don’t ask me how much of the take ends up with the Planetary Nationalist Party, but you can guess it’s a lot.”

  “It just feels . . . unseemly, somehow,” Duke Valpry said with an uncomfortable sigh. “How much does the Realm stand to gain through a simple sale, Minister?”

  “A couple of million stellars apiece,” Lothar admitted. “Maybe more, depending on what’s left in them.”

  “Precious little,” answered Morland. “How much profit does a merchantman clear in a year? On average?”

  “A couple of million stellars,” Lothar sighed. “Depending on the captain, the crew, and the merchandise. But in the meantime we’d have to pay for cleaning them out, getting them ready for space, and paying for the crew until she ships start to turn a profit. I see what you’re getting at,” sighed the bank manager. “But operating expenses on a merchantman—“

  “Are not nearly as expensive as those of a warship,” finished Harkaman. “Plus, it would make an outstanding training program for crew and officers. Tanith Transport keeps complaining that we keep stealing their most experienced crewmen for raiding duty, so maybe this will mollify them. If we’re going to get all those new Gram ships crewed up in a timely manner that kind of program is going to be invaluable. We suddenly have a bumper crop of new spaceships, but we can’t man most of them. And we need to rotate out our more experienced officers to cover the ships we have already. So new crews are going to be important all the way around. We saw what happened when Gram put a green crew into brand-new ships. I’d rather not repeat their mistake after we’ve taken advantage of it. I move that the Realm take half interest in each ship and then begin our own merchant fleet. Such as it is,” he admitted.

  “Agreed,” sighed Valerie. “It might seem more trouble than it’s worth, right now, but I’d rather have the ships as continually productive elements of the Realm, not merely get a one-time pay-out. And new crews will be very important. Minister Ffayle, do you believe that some private investors might be lured into a partnership with the Realm in this enterprise?”

  “If the ships are sound, the trade routes selected with care, and an experienced captain and crew can be found for them, I’m sure that there are plenty of ambitious investors who would consider it,” he admitted. “And if the endeavor is protected from too much taxation. . .” he shrugged.

  “How about a one-year suspension of taxes on profits from the enterprise? And protections and guarantees from the Realm in case of loss?”

  “That would make it quite attractive, Highness,” Ffayle said, reluctantly.

  “Count House Trask in for twenty percent,” Nikkolay said, drumming his fingers. “Have to look towards my retirement.”

  “You don’t get to retire,” Valerie snickered, despite herself. “Sorry, Nick, you’re in as long as Lucas is. Probably longer, if an assassin gets lucky. But make it twenty-five percent. Once it’s known that the Prime Minister and the Prince are partners in the firm that will draw out some more investors. Make it happen,” ordered Valerie.

  “On to the next piece of business: I’ve already signed the death-warrants from Captain Ho and his command crew, since we warned him what would happen if he returned to Tanith and he chose to ignore it. I want their executions filmed and well-publicized. In fact, I want a copy going out with every ship that leaves port. I want it well known what happens to those who disregard Tanith’s sovereignty, not to mention anyone who conspires with Garvan Spasso. Execution will take place right after the Golden Hand are done interrogating the crew – if there’s anything left of them to execute. Any objections? Good,” she said, flipping the portfolio closed. “Then I’ll dismiss this emergency meeting of the Privy Council, and thank you all for attending. And I expect to see each and every one of you shining splendidly at the Winter Ball,” she
added, which caused a ripple of grins and chuckles.

  “Except the Warlord, the Prime Minister, the Home Minister, the Foreign Minister, and the Minister of Everything Else,” she added. “If you gentlemen don’t mind staying behind for a moment . . . ?”

  She nodded to the Golden Hand guards to close and seal the room, and then waited patiently while they swept the room for electronic bugs. When they assured her that no one was listening she relaxed a little.

  “All right, gentlemen, if you don’t mind, I’d like to bring in Mr. Dawes, and gain his insights in the aftermath of the attack. He’s proven valuable on other fronts, and I expect his perspective might be illuminating. Any objection?” Everyone shook their heads, and she nodded to the guard, who admitted Stan Dawes, still dressed like a freetrader. He executed a perfunctory bow and took a seat at the table. Valerie cleared her throat again. “So what do we know about the attack, now?”

  “Spasso used the abduction to lure our forces away, then attacked with insufficient force to overwhelm our defenses immediately, as he had planned,” Harkaman supplied, steepling his fingers in front of his beard. “He brought in three mercenary Space Vikings and two armed merchantmen. We came back too soon and dashed his chances, so he snuck off to hide in a hole, tried to make one more attempt at disrupting our government, and then fled in pain and humiliation even worse than last time.”

  “Concisely put,” admitted Valerie. “But he didn’t put all of this together on his own. He has to have backers. I need to know who would give that space rat money to steal my baby. Any leads on that?”

  “Surprisingly . . . yes,” Harkaman said, glancing at the rest of the ministers uneasily. “The name that Grutman gave me to let him go, Bartee. I gave it to Alvyn, to see what hits he could get on it . . .”

  “. . . and apparently my friends have met the man,” the rotund spymaster rumbled. “Lord Emil Bartee, close advisor to Prince Viktor,” he said, summoning a clerical robot to display a screen with the man’s face.

  The picture was from some court function, a processional in which a grim-looking Viktor was being trailed by his henchmen on the way to the ornately gaudy throne. Karffard drew a circle around the man’s face with his finger on the screen. He was older, thin, slightly balding and sported a sharply-cut little goatee and mustache that made him look quite dashing.

  “That’s him: Emil Bartee. I did some digging, and come to find out he’s been on Xochitl for nearly fifteen years, quietly advising Viktor in ‘current affairs’. He doesn’t have an official title, but he’s made several trips to Haulteclere on Viktor’s behalf, and actually a couple of trips into the Old Federation, too. He’s kind of mysterious, apparently – always keeps out of trouble, no clear vices that we can see yet, no real enemies on Xochitl. He’s sort of Viktor’s troubleshooter. Which means he might be on Gram, now, for all we know. ”

  “So where did he come from?” asked Nikkolay.

  “That’s an interesting question,” Karffard said. “I have some pretty extensive resources, believe it or not. But with all of them at play, we haven’t been able to track down which Sword World Bartee hails from. The obvious choice is Haulteclere, but I haven’t been able to find one scrap of data with his name attached there, so either he’s using a nomme d’guerre, or we’ve picked the wrong planet.

  “The problem is, he’s not appeared on any of the other simple searches of the Sword Worlds, so that favors him using a forged identity. And there’s not a lot of idle gossip about him, which I find strange in and of itself. It’s also been whispered that he’s one of Konrad of Haulteclere’s bastard sons, sent to keep an eye on Viktor, but I don’t see it. He doesn’t look anything like Konrad, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. But.”

  “But?” Valerie asked, as expected. Karffard’s flair for the dramatic took a little getting used to.

  “But, thanks to the quick-thinking of Sir Alexi Karvall, we were able to loot some of Spasso’s intelligence from his own secret base on Mertha. Karvall managed to bring us a bunch of microbooks and photoprints of Spasso’s lair, before you nuked it, and among them were a few very interesting items. He was definitely being directed by someone, codenamed Puppetmaster – he has a flair for the dramatic, apparently,” he said, ironically. “And he was being paid well for this attempt. I’d lay odds that this mysterious Puppetmaster is actually Emil Bartee, although I can’t prove it yet.”

  “It would make sense,” Morland agreed. “If he’s Viktor’s lackey, then paying Spasso to make a harassing run at us is a cheap way to keep us from meddling with Gram. Or Xochitl.”

  “Doesn’t he realize that if we haven’t bombed Xochitl or Gram by now, we’re not going to?” Valpry said, rolling his eyes.

  “He’s not taking chances,” shrugged Karffard. “Like I said, this was a lot cheaper than fighting us directly. Kept us off-balance for months.”

  “There’s more to it than that,” Nikkolay said, shaking his head. “Viktor’s not stupid – antagonizing us when he knows we could cause him problems is a dumb idea. Especially if he knows we’ve captured about half of Gram’s new fleet. It’s not in his interest to poke at us, especially with something as malodorous as Spasso.”

  “Of course there’s more to it,” the newcomer, Dawes, said. “A lot more to it. More than you’ve even imagined.”

  “That’s a rather enigmatic thing to say,” Valerie observed, dryly.

  “The Wizard has a lot better picture of this than I do,” he admitted. “But I do think I can be of some help. For one thing, you won’t find any record of Lord Emil Bartee in the Sword Worlds. Because he’s not from the Sword Worlds.”

  “What?” Harkaman asked, mystified.

  “That’s right,” Dawes nodded. “He’s not one of yours. He’s an agent of one of the civilized powers. Which one is open to speculation, of course, but if I was a betting man, I’d bet on Aton.”

  “There was Atonian currency with the microbooks on Mertha,” recalled Karffard. “I saw it in the pictures.”

  “There was also Mardukan and other currency,” pointed out Harkaman. “That’s not conclusive.”

  “Aton does seem determined to meddle in our affairs,” agreed Morland. “Remember those rifles in Katoland?”

  “But why?” asked Valerie. “What possible threat do we pose to Aton? They’re hundreds of light-years away!”

  “Like I said,” Dawes said, twisting around in his chair, “you don’t have the whole story. Nor a clear idea of how the Atonians are thinking. Think of it in another way: who benefits by having you and Prince Lucas on the throne?”

  “Apart from Tanith?” Valerie asked in surprise. “Um, well, maybe Marduk?”

  “Yes, of course Marduk,” agreed Dawes. “But don’t stop there. Who else benefits?”

  “Space Vikings looking for decent repairs at reasonable prices? Amateratsu and Beowulf? Khepra? Do you think Khepra is behind this, Mr. Dawes?” she asked, starting to get a little irritated with the man. He’d been helpful, she couldn’t deny that, but he was rarely helpful in a forthcoming manner.

  “No, of course not. But Khepra does benefit from a Trask dynasty. And that’s part of the issue. Consider this: if this Spasso character had succeeded, what would have happened?”

  “After he slit every throat of every loyal Tanith soldier and space man?” Harkaman asked. “Well, he’d oppress the peasants, live like a king, and let anyone who came through here do anything they wanted, as long as the price was right.”

  “Exactly,” confirmed Dawes. “Unfortunate but true. He’d let anyone – that is, any Space Viking – raid any planet they wanted. That would include the members of the local League of Civilized Worlds – love that name, by the way – Marduk, and Marduk’s colonies, many of which are within proximity of Tanith’s sphere of influence.

  “Which would mean Marduk would have to spend more time patrolling her colonies and trading partners in fear of a close raiding base. Now, Marduk’s military hasn’t been robust for over a cen
tury, but if you Space Vikings hadn’t come along, and Prince Trask in particular, then Marduk would be decivilizing now, even as we speak. So if they had to suddenly pull their military out of planetary defense operations to patrol their trade planets, they’d be vulnerable to a real invasion.”

  The thought of Marduk, her homeworld, being invaded at all made Valerie’s skin prickle. The recent troubles with the home-grown demagogue Zaspar Makann had brought her world to the brink of ruin, before Tanith – and her husband – stepped in. It was still in delicate condition almost three years after the dramatic Battle of Marduk. One of the advantages of the treaty between the two worlds now was not only did Tanith ships not raid Mardukan trade worlds, they warned off other Space Vikings, a luxury none of the other civilized worlds enjoyed.

  “So who gains if Tanith is no longer strong and independent?” Dawes continued. “Gram, for one, especially if your King Omfray can re-assert his authority here. And Prince Viktor would lose an enemy and competitor, so he has a vested interest as well. And if Marduk suddenly had to re-assess her military commitments to her trade empire, I think you’d find that the other civilized worlds would be quick to take advantage of that.”