Rebel (34 page)

“And if they don’t shoot it up, we can always send it back for a longer visit,” Captain Bolesław said.

“Precisely.”

“Can one of the cruisers on duty at the jump point print one of these out?”

“Yes. We only built this one as a proof of concept,” the lieutenant said.

“Then let’s go see the admiral,” Vicky decided.

Thirty minutes later, with the admiral’s chop on the order, a message went out to the cruisers on guard station with a file attached.

Six hours later, the
Mischievous Pixie
accelerated itself slowly toward the jump, flipped, and coasted through it. Three seconds later, it was back. It downloaded its data to the
Halum
. Four hours later, Vicky was rousted out of bed to see what there was to see.

“They’ve got no guard ships at the jump?” Vicky demanded, out of breath from an 0200 hour trot from
Retribution
to admiral’s country on the station.

“Not so much as a merchant ship with a peashooter,” Lieutenant Blue assured Vicky, Admiral von Mittleburg, and Captain Bolesław.

“What can you tell me about the Butcher’s fleet?” the admiral demanded.

“Not a lot from this three-second scan. If the first peek was a success, the
Halum
had orders to send the
Pixie
back for a ten-minute look, then, after reporting back, it will stay an hour.”

“They have
nothing
at the jump that can burn our tiny spy down to atoms?” the captain asked again as he turned and paced a few steps away, then back.

“There is no question from this scan that there are no ships within a million klicks of the jump,” the lieutenant assured them.

“There were few who came back from Kris Longknife’s Voyage of Discovery who would know about Admiral Krätz’s idea of mooring ships together,” Vicky pointed out.

“We haven’t used it until now,” Captain Bolesław said, nodding.

The admiral briskly rubbed his chin. Vicky had never before seen him in need of a shave. Some of the bristles were gray. “So another report with better information is likely already on its way here.”

“Very likely,” Lieutenant Blue assured him.

“Then I suggest we order up some tea,” Admiral von Mittleburg said, settling into a comfortable armchair in his day quarters. Vicky took the chair across from the admiral. Captain Bolesław and Lieutenant Blue took the other two. The coffee table between them went from a dark teak to an even darker representation of the system on the other side of the jump.

A chief steward’s mate brought in water for the admiral’s samovar. When he was satisfied that the temperature was just right, he filled four small, individual teapots. Before he could
finish his “tea ceremony,” Lieutenant Blue muttered something that might have been “Hot damn!”

The admiral allowed the young officer’s overenthusiastic remark to pass unremarked upon. His eyes were fixed on the table’s screen. A moment before, it had only shown an empty system: a few rocky planets in the middle distance from an unremarkable red dwarf. Close in was one large gas giant. Well out, there were more gas giants and one ice giant surrounded by a sparkling white ring of ice crystals.

Now, beside the gas giant closest to the jump, a window opened, and a long list of names cascaded down. The first twelve were the battleships Vicky expected, then the list went longer.
Empress’s Retribution
,
Terrorizer
,
Pounder
,
Hammer
,
Slammer
,
Trouncer
.

“Now she’s stealing names from us, her
Empress’s Retribution
and
Trouncer
just like we have,” Vicky said.

“Get used to it,” the admiral said. “I doubt she’s expecting our ships to be around long.”

Empress’s Smiter
,
Anger
, and
Ravager
had been added while Vicky talked. The list now switched to heavy cruisers.

“These seem to still have the names of the cities they carried in the Greenfeld Navy,” Lieutenant Blue said. “Their reactors are a match for the ones installed when their class was built.” He paused to eye his readout carefully. “Though they do not appear to be operating nearly as efficiently as they should.”

“You can tell that?” the admiral snapped.

“I can get just enough of a rough readout to make that call. Remember, this is only what we were able to capture during a ten-minute survey. I can tell you more, and it will be more reliable, when the one-hour report comes back.”

“Excuse me, Lieutenant,” Captain Bolesław said, “but when we were fighting that bastard, we couldn’t make heads nor tails of his fleet. How can you read them now?”

“Before, sir, they were jamming my sensors. I could read nothing. Now, they seem to have their jammers off. Maybe they’re broke. Maybe they’re saving them.”

“You’re sure?” the captain said, the clear skeptic at the moment.

“Sir, they can jam me. They cannot deceive me.”

The captain pursed his lips, eyeing the junior officer, then nodded, and said, “Okay.”

Admiral von Mittleburg cleared his throat. “When you get to the end of the quick search, tell me just what is the present size of the Butcher’s force.”

“Yes, sir.”

They all watched intently as the list grew longer and longer. Heavy cruisers gave way to light cruisers, then to armed merchant cruisers followed by destroyers. Finally, they were into the attack transports.”

“God, if they have all those troopies locked down in zero gee, the barracks bays on those ships must be unmitigated hell from the stink alone,” Captain Bolesław said, then added, “Begging Your Grace’s pardon.”

“I’m Navy, too, Captain, and the observation seems to fit the situation. Do they have any Marines?”

The admiral shook his head. “They haven’t had much luck where they are concerned. Here and there, she manages to snap up a battalion by duress or holding families hostage, but the Navy managed to pull a lot of them back from the center of the Empire. ‘What need have you of these ruffians?’ Several of the battalions where she managed to suborn the officers emptied out the first time the men were given liberty. They’re young and creative, most had no stomach for breaking heads on riot duty. Some went sour and are taking her silver marks, but they are few. They’re Marines, not murderers. Few had attachments that the Empress could hold over their heads to keep them in line.”

“We saw that on Brunswick,” Vicky said. “The officers and senior NCOs had wives and families the Empress held hostage to their good behavior. They surrendered and asked to be locked up. But a few days later, when Brunswick decided they needed an Army, the lower ranks of the battalion stood up to provide the skeleton of the training command. Then the Navy managed to break out the wives and kids, and the battalion was active again.”

“Be that as it may be,” the admiral went on, now steeping his tea under the watchful eyes of the chief steward’s mate, “anyone holding on to their bunks to keep from floating away aboard those hell ships is likely some recent civilian who joined up for a paycheck and a chance to terrify unarmed subjects. They are little more than civilians themselves.”

They passed a few quiet minutes steeping tea to their own
preference and smelling the delightful result. After taking his first sip and nodding his satisfaction to the chief, the admiral looked around the table.

“So far, what does this tell us?”

“They have powered down their jammers to save wear and tear on them, or they have no fear of us,” Captain Bolesław said. “They showed that when they did not keep so much as an armed merchant cruiser at the jump. They expect that they will be the ones to invade the St. Petersburg system, not the other way around.”

The admiral nodded his agreement.

Lieutenant Blue went next. “By my count, and it is one I have a high confidence in, we now face nineteen battleships, most of them with 16-inch or 18-inch batteries, although there are a few old 14-inchers in there. The butcher has twenty heavy cruisers, eighteen light cruisers, and a dozen merchant cruisers armed with a mix of 4-, 5-, and 6-inch lasers. He has about forty destroyers, and they are accompanied by some twenty-five transports of various sizes. I’d estimate a ground force of at least two divisions, possibly three or more if they made no accounting for their comfort.”

“I doubt they would,” Captain Bolesław said through a scowl.

“I do not doubt at all,” the admiral said, then turned his eyes to Vicky.

“I do not wish to claim too central a place of importance,” Vicky said, waving a casual hand at herself, “but it appears that my darling stepmom is throwing everything she can lay her hands on at St. Petersburg. Could her interest in the place be because poor little
moi
is here?”

Neither the admiral nor captain moved to gainsay her. “Kill the spider at the center of the web, and you have put an end to everything,” Captain Bolesław said.

“To kill a rebellion, you take off the head of the largest rebel,” the admiral added.

Vicky gulped noticeably.

“As much as I hate to agree with Admiral Lüth,” the admiral said, “he did have a point. The smart thing to do would be to put you on a fast ship to Metzburg.”

Vicky shook her head. “Are you sure the good citizens of Metzburg don’t have a few among them who would be only too happy to deliver me gift-wrapped to my loving stepmother?”

The two senior officers exchanged a droll glance.

Vicky went on. “Besides, I would be depriving you of your flagship. Unless, of course, you put me on a destroyer or merchant cruiser and kept the
Retribution
for yourselves.”

“That might very well deliver her gift-wrapped to that bitch if a pirate cruiser chanced upon her,” Lieutenant Blue dared to essay.

“Too true,” Captain Bolesław agreed.

“Any chance we could talk you into staying dirtside with that nice fellow, the mayor of Sevastopol?” the admiral asked.

“Not only would I not want to go, but Mannie has already made it clear that the Empire has been ill served by one Peterwald falling into bed; no need for another to repeat the folly.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” the admiral sputtered, then ground to a halt as Vicky eyed him.

“Okay, that option is out for now,” Captain Bolesław said, “though I have to question the man’s logic.”

“I question the man’s self-control,” Vicky said dryly.

“Moving right along,” the admiral said. “Do we attack them, or do we continue to wait for them to come to us?”

“They outnumber us five to three,” Captain Bolesław pointed out. “We can barely hope to fight them to a draw if we defend, maybe a bit more if Her Grace’s missile boats pan out. We’ve got to hold here.”

Vicky leaned back in her chair and gazed at the overhead. “Where is the Empress getting all these ships?”

“She seems to be scraping up everything she’s got to send here,” Captain Bolesław agreed.

“What are you thinking, Your Grace?” the admiral asked.

“It’s just that there haven’t been a lot of planets coming over to either of our sides. The original frantic switching back and forth is done, what with both of us garrisoning the planets and picketing them in orbit. But now she’s pulling ships from here and there, concentrating them on the other side of our jump and not getting a lot to show for her effort. If she’s all that strong here, could she be a lot weaker other places?”

“While we maintain a refused center here . . .” the admiral said slowly.

“Do you think the staff on Bayern would be interested in that kind of idea?” Captain Bolesław asked the admiral.

“I think it’s enough to order a destroyer away from the pier this instant and get it headed there with all that we know of our situation.”

“Tell them not to reinforce here though I wouldn’t mind some help,” Vicky said, “but we’ll achieve more eating away at the Empress’s flanks than going head-to-head with her here.”

“Are you teaching your grandma to suck eggs?” the admiral said.

Vicky must have turned a pale shade of white because the admiral went on, “Your thoughts of late show you paid attention to Admiral Krätz’s lessons. Good.”

Vicky relaxed. It was so hard to find the middle ground the Navy expected of her. She could usually manage to be the proper field-grade officer, but when they brought her into strategic planning like tonight, it was impossible not to jump in and run with an idea.

Then Vicky paused.
They are pushing my idea up to the Navy staff. If they approve, the entire rebellion will be following my strategy.

Not a bad thought.

Vicky leaned back, kept her mouth shut, and watched as the admiral and captain taught her crazy idea how to run.

CHAPTER 49

F
OR
the next several weeks, Vicky watched as the rebellion unfolded on two tracks: what was happening here in front of St. Petersburg and what developed along the edges of the battle line between Empress-controlled space and her own.

The destroyer
Cobra
was away from High St. Petersburg Station within an hour of Admiral von Mittleburg’s decision. It quickly accelerated to four gees and didn’t flip ship to decelerate until it could coast through the jump at the maximum 50,000 kph.

It would refuel at Metzburg. Vicky and the admiral hoped the folks there would use their own fleet to start the pressure on the Empress. They had eight refugee battleships at last count and an Army of several divisions, only half-trained, but they’d likely be more effective than the “Security Specialists” the Empress was defending with.

The first Vicky learned that her plan was accepted was when a pair of battleships showed up. The
Sachsen
and the
Baden
were old 16-inch battleships from when her grandfather was still naming battleships after planets. They’d been shot up pretty badly attacking Arkhangelsk.