Vicky Peterwald: Survivor (Vicky Peterwald Series Book 2) (22 page)

Vicky clinched her fists. “I don’t know what a Grand Duchess of Greenfeld is worth, either. What I do know is that I’ve got the title, and I see things that need doing. So, right now, I will use my Grand Duchess card to get all I can for the good people who have paid too damn high a price for this Empire my father has declared.

Vicky chose her next words carefully.
I will not betray the Navy’s trust.

“If you feel that you can get some good for you out of me, I’m here to be used. If you have a problem with me, come, talk to me, and we’ll see what we can work out. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I am not followed about by an Imperial headsman. I have yet to order anyone’s head off. Maybe I’m a fool, but I think this Grand Duchess is worth more on the hoof than hung in the closet.

“What do you say?”

“I think you are worth a try,” Mannie said, right on the downbeat.

“It sounds worth it to me,” came from another. “I’m game.” “There’s bound to be one good Peterwald in the bunch,” seemed to fill the room.

The woman in red spoke last. “Yes. I do think we should give you a try.” She paused for a moment, then went on in a businesslike fashion. “So, Your Grace, how do you propose we work this thing? Do we come up with a wish list and an offer list and send it off in the mail to our factors on those planets? I’m no expert on the Imperial mail of late, but that looks like a good way to wave a red flag, or worse, get our mail intercepted and never delivered.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Vicky said. “How about
you come up with your two lists and I see if the Navy has a light cruiser or destroyer going that way. We deliver it for you and make sure it gets where you want it to go.”

“Having the Navy deliver it would also show the level of our support,” Mannie pointed out. “This isn’t just something a few, ah, intrepid souls are doing.”

“A few intrepid, traitorous souls,” the woman in red countered.

“Whoever is making the offer,” Vicky said, “having the Navy behind it will make it more real. Especially since you’re asking for heavy industry, the kind of heavy industry a Navy needs to get work done on its ships.”

“I think that will work best,” a banker said, eyeing the young woman in the red power business suit.

“If you insist, Preston,” the woman said.

“Then let us begin composing our lists,” an industrialist suggested.

“While others of us figure out how to pay for it,” a banking type added.

V
ICKY
found herself ushered out of the meeting on Mannie’s arm. Commander Boch rose quickly from his seat beside the door and opened it for them.

“Would you care for a late lunch?” the mayor asked her.

“It has been a long time since breakfast,” she admitted.

Kit and Kat joined them from their monitoring posts outside the conference room, accompanied by four of Mannie’s local security crew. As they waited for the elevator, Vicky cast a glance back at the door behind which the rumble of discussion was quite audible.

“Do we dare leave them alone?” she muttered to herself.

“Your father likely would not,” Mannie said, “but do you want to walk in the ruts he left?”

“That doesn’t sound like a good idea to me and likely is a worse idea to you, from the tone of your voice,” Vicky admitted.

“Then what do you say we leave business to the businesspeople?” the mayor said with a confident smile.

“Will they leave politics to the elected officials?” Vicky asked, as they entered the elevator, trailed by their small army of guards.

“When they do a good job, we tend to leave business to
them. When we do a good job, they tend to leave us to our politicking.”

“Tend?” Vicky said, both eyebrows coming up in a question.

“Nobody’s perfect,” he threw off with a casual wave of his hand.

“Or we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we now?” Vicky agreed.

Mannie took them up to a restaurant in the penthouse. It was small and featured every variation on dead cow, by his own words, and plenty of it. “It’s owned by one of the ranchers who outfitted your fleet with frozen beef.”

“Vertical integration?” Vicky asked.

“Yep, he makes money out of everything but the moo.”

The first taste of steak showed that he deserved every pfennig he made.

Mannie had seated Vicky in a quiet, shadowed corner. The commander and the two miniature assassins had the only approaches covered. They shared that duty with Mannie’s foursome of security guards, but Vicky suspected that none of the seven was sharing anything with anyone.

The thought brought a smile to Vicky’s face and a questioning glance from Mannie. She lowered her voice, and said, “Our guards do not play well in the shooting gallery with others, do they?”

Mannie and she shared a soft chuckle on that thought that they would not want to explain to their protectors.

“They
are
taking this protection job very seriously,” Mannie said.

When Vicky said nothing but allowed her eyebrows to climb up in question, he went on. “You can’t blame them. Two assassination attempts on you and that damn love note from your murderous stepmom.”

Which raised a question for the mayor. Vicky spoke without reflection. “You afraid to be around me?”

There was a long pause before he answered. A pause that Vicky found discomforting in a way she was not used to.

“I have to admit, things are never boring around you,” he finally said, looking down at his steak. “I kind of like that.”

Vicky shared his chuckle. So. She was not boring. That was an interesting response from a man.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said. It was strange, talking to Mannie like this. Strange and different. She had met a lot of men and taken them in a lot of different ways. Mannie was kind of hard to figure out how to take. Hard and challenging.

“A Grand Duchess must get lots of compliments,” Mannie said.

“Yes, I hear plenty, but most of them aren’t worth a pfennig to the mark. I kind of like the sound of yours.”

Mannie mulled that over for a long moment before offering, “You must live in a very strange world.”

“Deadly. Deceitful. Full of too much vanity and foolishness,” Vicky provided. “Lots of bootlicking and backstabbing. You are an interesting change of pace and a pleasure to be around.”

Now it was Mannie’s turn to take time to think. “I haven’t had many women tell me I’m a pleasure to be around.”

“That can’t be true,” Vicky said before she gave his words a moment’s thought.

“Actually, it is. Most women find me rather boring. Too focused on my job. I think even my mother wishes I’d take a long vacation. Meet some nice girl at a ski lodge or beach.”

Vicky looked around at the nearly empty restaurant. “You’re not likely to meet many ski bunnies here.”

Again, Mannie chuckled. Vicky found she liked the sound of his laugh. “Nope, I’ve made it to this hardening-of-the-arteries phase without convincing a woman it would be a good idea to share her life with me. Then again, I could ask what a nice girl like you is doing all alone.”

Vicky found she had to laugh at the idea of her alone. Her eyes swept over their guards, and he joined in.

“I find I have to be on my own, if not all alone. Most men who get too close to me end up dead or seriously injured. Oh, there I’ve gone and done it. No doubt you’ll be running for the exit, now.”

“Oh, so you don’t want me running for the exit?”

“No, you see, I find you interesting, but I should warn you that my sins are many, and a full review of them all at one time would likely result in the loss of this fine lunch.”

They applied themselves to said lunch for a few silent minutes.

When Vicky spoke again, she found herself falling back on the business at hand. “When I came into your office this morning, you said you had a surprise for me, then I surprised you.”

“Your surprise was a much more fantastic one than mine,” Mannie said, making as if to brush something away with his hand.

“But what was it?” Vicky said, plowing on.

“Last night, the industrialists all agreed that we can upgrade the two main docks at the station with fabrications from our industry. Surprise of surprises, the bankers came up with creative ways to finance the work. We should be able to start running heavy gear up to the station in a week. However, some of the completed space-dock frameworks and machinery are likely to be way beyond the lift capacity of our shuttles. We will have to put them together in orbit. That will take more time than if we fabricate them completely down here and fly them up. Can the Navy help?”

“Computer, when is the
Crocodile
due back?” Vicky asked, already seeing a solution to this latest problem.

It’s fun having answers to people’s problems.

“The second section of the convoy has started its way back to St. Petersburg already,” the computer reported. “It should be here in four to seven days.”

“That’s when the Navy can begin lifting up your heavy stuff,” Vicky said.

“And that will be when we have the first of the heavy stuff ready to lift,” Mannie said, and had his computer send Vicky’s computer the entire project plan for changing two docks on the station from nice-to-have to just-what-the-Navy-needed.

The maître d’ approached them when the meal was winding down. He brought no check. Instead, he knelt beside them and met Vicky eye to eye.

“Your Grace, we are most grateful to have offered you one of our fine meals, you, the generous Grand Duchess. What you have done has left my daughter in tears and my wife but little short of them as well.”

Vicky must have looked as puzzled as she felt, because he went on.

“When you first raised the question of feeding the starving, my daughter’s heart was much moved. She and her classmates
mowed lawns, washed cars, and baked cookies to raise money for some of the food you took to Poznan. In their name, I thank you, and I offer you this meal on our behalf.”

Vicky found herself speechless.

“Why, thank you,” was what she finally managed to stammer out.

“Please, Pierre, you must be paid for what you served us,” Mannie said, offering the credit chit he had already pulled from his pocket.

“No, no, Monsieur le Mayor, when you are with the gracious duchess, your money will be no good in my establishment.”

Mannie joined Vicky in speechlessness as they watched the retreat of the servitor.

“I’ve never experienced something like that,” Vicky finally managed to get out.

“You’ll excuse me if I say I never expected to see anyone on St. Petersburg react to a Peterwald like that either, but then, you have not acted like a Peterwald since the first time you set foot on our planet.”

“I had a good guide,” Vicky said, and blessed Kris Longknife, wherever in the galaxy she was.

Mannie leaned back and rubbed at the side of his nose. His eyes went thoughtful.

“Can I trust you when you look like that?” Vicky asked. “Just for future reference?”

“I don’t know,” Mannie answered in a distant voice.

“A St. Petersburg mark for your thoughts,” Vicky said.

“It’s either not worth that or worth a whole lot more.”

“Share, Mannie. Share.” She was surprised to find that she’d used his first name.

“The gracious Grand Duchess. The generous Grand Duchess. An interesting choice of words, don’t you think?”

“Certainly not a choice of words that has been applied to a Smythe-Peterwald since, oh, way before the popes had armies.”

“You’ve been around that long?”

“Longer, if you can trust my great-grandfather. He paid quite a sum to have a genealogist verify the family stories. The gal found a whole lot more than was recorded in the family books. I suspect she was a fantasy writer in her day job.”

Mannie waved off this distraction. “The times, they are
a-changing, as the words go in some old song my grandmadre likes to sing. Change is not something most people like.”

“I don’t much like the changes coming at us,” Vicky admitted.

“Yes, but we’ve got a lot of people who need to see change and accept it. Even pay taxes for it. Do you see my problem?”

Vicky winced. “Let’s say that I don’t.”

“I need to make change more palatable,” Mannie said, leaving the how and wherefore hanging unspoken.

“If people could see a Peterwald as a gracious duchess, as a generous duchess, they might find it easier to get behind those changes,” she finished for him.

“If they actually got a chance to see that gracious, generous person in the flesh.”

“Oh, my aching, shot-up butt,” Vicky groaned

“Yes, like every sort of change, this has its minor downsides.”

“I consider getting shot a major downside.”

“Yes,” Mannie agreed. “Shall we forget this bad idea of mine? I get a lot of ideas. Way too many of them are eminently forgettable.”

Vicky found herself reflecting on Mannie’s idea. She’d never thought of herself as someone who was very likeable, but then, she’d never done any of the things she’d done of late. Would people follow where she led?

Vicky remembered some of the stuff she’d read in Kris Longknife’s file. She’d led, and people had followed. Often to their death. But people still followed that woman. Stood in line to follow her.

Could I ever be the kind of leader the Wardhaven princess i
s?

For a moment, Vicky considered the talks that she and Kris would have when they got back together. There were quite a few things that Vicky would love to see the reaction to from that Wardhaven princess when Vicky told her what she’d done.

Helping haul two planets away from the abyss was something to be proud of.

It would be a shame to come this far and get too scared to go on.

It would be worse to get my brains blown out.

“How might we get some of the rewards that waving a
generous Grand Duchess might bring?” Vicky said slowly. “That assumes I don’t get my brains blown out. That would, no doubt, ruin the entire effect.”

“And ruin someone I’m finding most interesting.”

“Mannie, you are saying the nicest things.”

“And coming up with the worst of ideas.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Tell me, Mannie, did you call ahead and tell Pierre, that was what you called him?”

“Yes, he is Pierre, and if you are asking me if I let him know ahead of time, the answer is no. I may have dumb ideas, but I am not completely lacking in wits.”

“So. Might I expect that some more of these spontaneous demonstrations might follow in my wake? Might we get some of the benefits if I just happened to be present when something nice happened without the downside of alerting my flock of waiting assassins?”

“Like visiting the county fair and handing out the blue ribbons for the kids’ three-legged race without anyone’s knowing you were going to be there?”

“The rewards might not be as high as we’d like . . .”

“But the risks might be a whole lot more manageable even if your stepmom keeps that bull’s-eye enameled on your backside.”

“Exactly.”

“Let me think,” Mannie said. “I get a whole lot of requests for ribbon cuttings, first-shovel liftings, tree plantings, and ribbon giving. How many times have I told my grandmadre that I’d love to have a king to take the easy stuff off my hands?”

“Easy stuff!” Vicky yelped, but softly. They were getting appraising glances from their shared guards.

“Not the stuff you’ve been doing, Your Grace, unless, of course, you’ve been cutting ribbons.”

“The Navy had me standing too many watches to be much of a ribbon cutter.”

“So, let’s see what we can have you do to make folks a lot happier you’re here with us.”

“Yes, you look into that. I think I need to get myself back up to the station and let the admiral know that he’s got some heavy lifting ahead and a chance to patch up one badly dinted heavy cruiser. Oh, and I also need to schedule a couple of
ships for a fast run to Metzburg and New Brunswick. I can’t be much of a Grand Duchess if I drop the ball on my coordination duties.”

“Most definitely. You’d be a pretty okay duchess, but not a Grand Duchess,” Mannie quipped.

“Are you always like this?” Vicky asked through a feigned groan.

“Pretty much, or so I’m told.”

“It might explain your being single and all that,” Vicky tried her own shot.

“Very likely,” Mannie said sadly, “but it’s a condition always subject to change.”

Vicky laughed out loud. “Are you flirting with me? I should warn you, flirting is not something I’ve much experience with.” Throwing men down and taking them by storm, yes, but not a lot of flirting.