Vicky Peterwald: Survivor (Vicky Peterwald Series Book 2) (29 page)

“Crystal is critical to just about everything we fabricate in the Empire,” Mannie said. “Power, electronics, everything high tech needs some sort of crystal in it.”

“And if it’s not there, the entire economy crashes,” Vicky said, drawing the obvious conclusion.

“My father’s economy is not crashing because of a hundred different things. They are only symptoms of a single dagger stabbed into its heart.”

“So it would appear,” Mannie said.

“I wonder,” Vicky whispered, “if they started this plan the moment my beloved stepmom caught the Emperor’s eye.”

“Or if that was part of the plan?” the commander offered.

Vicky shook her head at the sheer audacity of it all. Her father had been so confident in his power. Or so he had seemed to his little daughter. Had he been a fool the whole time? Was he the first of the fools, or had her grandfather and great-grandfather built their empires on the willing cooperation of men just as venial and corrupt as those who were finally grasping for it all while Dad lolled around the bed of that pregnant sow?

Yesterday, her stepmom’s attempt to kill her had stripped all the blinders from Vicky’s eyes. Yesterday, she’d come to the realization that the Empress’s obsessive efforts to kill Vicky were only a part of an obsession that left the entire Empire in
the dust and its subjects begging on their knees for any crust of bread the Empress and her family might allow them.

Now I have proof to back up my conclusion.

“Commander, tell the motorcade to speed up. Call ahead to the shuttle. I want it moving the moment I’m aboard. Oh, and tell Admiral von Mittleburg I’ll want to talk to him the moment I’m back on the station.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Vicky leaned against the window and stared out at the prosperous city of Kiev. A city whose prosperity owed nothing to the Empire.

All her life, she’d been trained to never think of treason. To never even think of thinking about treason. Now, she opened her thoughts to rebellion. Her mind was hot with it.

She grabbed some figurative bellows and blew the fire hotter.

A
S
soon as the shuttle docked, Vicky was on her sore feet and moving. She ignored everything that got in her way between the shuttle bay and the admiral’s quarters.

Smart people took one look at her and got out of her way.

The admiral’s secretary had the door open for her as she steamed in. “Commander, you wait here. Mannie, with me,” she said curtly, and stormed in.

The admiral was meeting with his yard-improvement staff. They’d been warned of her approach. They stood aside to allow her entrance, then quickly fled the room.

“Admiral, we need to talk.”

“I expected we would. By the way, Mannie, the work on the dock is progressing faster than any of my men thought possible. Thank you.”

“We are glad to be of service to the Navy,” the politician said.

“Mannie,” Vicky said, “if you have any problems with a discussion that some might consider treason to my father, you should leave now.”

The mayor grinned. “I’ve been waiting all my life for a chance to sit in on that kind of thing. Admittedly, I haven’t
done it yet, mostly for fear that half the people at the table would be in the pay of State Security.”

“They likely would have been,” Vicky admitted. “Admiral, are you in anyone’s pay but the Navy?”

“You know I am not.”

“Mannie?”

“I helped put them out of business on St. Petersburg, then I danced on their grave, and when no one was looking, I stood in a long line to piss on it, too.”

“Then let us talk of how we may save the people who look to us for leadership. My most recent encounter with minions of my stepmother has clarified my thinking. What she wants is a wrecked Empire that she and her family may wander through and pick up select features to enslave to their will. I
will
save the Empire, though I have to admit that I have no idea what will be left of it when this cleansing tidal wave is done.”

“That’s wise of you,” the admiral said. “You can throw a snowball off the top of a tall mountain. You can’t tell what the avalanche will do at the bottom.”

“But,” Vicky said, fists clenching, “we have to stop them. We can’t let them continue their campaign of destruction and enslavement of what’s left.”

“No,” both the admiral and mayor agreed.

Vicky quickly told the admiral of the plot to wreck the crystal supply.

The admiral spoke to his computer, and the wall turned into a series of bar charts. “Those are the demands for crystal, five years ago for all the planets. The yellow shows demand, the red supply.” Supply almost met demand.

“Computer,” the admiral ordered. “Update charts to show the latest reports of the supply of crystal available to each market.”

Only the Greenfeld bar showed supply meeting demand. All the rest showed available supplies as a small red portion at the bottom of a much larger yellow demand. Some of the markets had shrunk down to nearly nothing in just five years.

“You knew this?” Vicky demanded.

“The Navy is not blind. We knew the problem was there. You have just told me why. When you’ve got so much data coming at you, it’s not always easy to see which cow is wearing
the bell. Which cow is leading all of them down a path to destruction?”

“Crystal is the cow with the bell,” Mannie whispered.

“Definitely,” Vicky agreed, then found herself with a new question. “Show me the planets under the control of my stepmother’s Security Consultants.”

The admiral spoke to his computer, and several markets changed color from red and yellow to black and white. No surprise—there, availability of crystal almost met demand.

“Admiral, can you get this to the Navy high command? Also, until we get an answer back from them, may I suggest you assign a cruiser to the defense of Presov?”

“We’d also better escort any shipments of crystal from there to St. Petersburg,” he added.

“Also, any crystal assemblies we ship out from here,” Mannie put in. “We are at war. A war for crystal. Our economies need it as much, dear Duchess, as you needed water yesterday.”

“Yes,” Vicky hissed. “When does the
Retribution
arrive?” she said, switching to the practical.

“It is in system. It should dock later today.”

“Mannie, where are we in our negotiations with Metzburg and New Brunswick?”

“The admiral was kind enough to loan us destroyers for high-speed runs to both planets.”

“Last I heard, you were worried about having civilians on your ships,” Vicky said.

“Some of the industrialists were found to hold reserve commissions in the Supply Corps,” Admiral von Mittleburg said vaguely.

“But the good admiral still sent along his own men to observe our negotiations,” the mayor observed downright aridly.

“We have their wish list,” Mannie went on. “We’re using a single use, throwaway cipher. Much of what they need we had expected and already were producing. Some needs are very specific, and we’re working on them now.”

“Where are all these trade goods?” Vicky asked.

“Some have been shipped up here on the LCTs that were carrying dockyard gear.”

“They have been?” the admiral growled, storm clouds rising in his eyes.

“The dock gear is heavy, and leaves a lot of spare cubic meters in the LCTs empty,” Mannie said. “The crystal constructions are light. You could fit a lot of them in a load before you added much weight.”

The admiral appeared mollified, if not happy that something had been done in his domain without his blessing.

Vicky weighed all she knew and chose her course. “Have the
Retribution
ready to sail as soon as possible. Have all the crystal assemblies loaded into the available merchant hulls. Admiral, I’d like a cruiser to take the jumps ahead of us.”

“You can have the
Rostock
, she just came in yesterday. It will add half a day to your trip, but I’d like you to go via Presov and drop off the
Kamchatka
there. She’s cranky and old, but she’ll provide them with a station ship and 8-inch guns to argue with anything that comes their way.”

He spoke to his computer, and the wall screen changed. Vicky saw the Navy and merchant ships available to him. Some were marked for Poznan and already loaded with food, both emergency and basics. “I can have them swing by Presov on their way back and pick up a cargo of crystal,” the admiral said.

“Are the mines that productive?” Vicky asked.

“Under their new management, and considering the prices the miners are being paid, along with the gear and victuals they now have, it’s amazing how production has gone up. Skyrocketed, one might say. I think those scumbags rotting in jail below had to work mighty hard to screw that place up and earn their bribes.”

It was clear he knew what he needed to do and was ready to do it.

“I better get myself packed for another trip,” Vicky said, and dismissed herself. Mannie followed her from the admiral’s quarters but did not make any attempt to enter Vicky’s quarters across the passageway.

“I need to get below,” he said, not looking her in the eye. “I’ve spent most of the last week, more, following in your footsteps. It seems I need to look to my business.”

“Can’t someone else take care of it?” Vicky asked, running her hand down his arm.

“You want to get away quickly. I need to make sure my
merchants know what is expected of them and how little time they have to make it ready. As they say, we in government don’t make anything, but just let us drop the ball on coordination, and see who gets the blame.”

They shared a chuckle.

“I’ll be back soon,” Vicky found herself promising a man for the first time in her life.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” she heard a man say, also for the first time.

They parted without as much as a kiss.

I
am changing,
Vicky thought.
I hope it’s for the better.

Then she submerged herself in the voyage that lay ahead of her.

T
HE
Retribution
was away from the pier at 0600 the next morning. Following in her wake were the
Rostock
,
Kamchatka
, and nine freighters. Vicky spotted the
Doctor Zoot
near the end of the line. No doubt, the smaller one following in the
Doc
’s wake was the other tramp freighter that had happened into her merry affair.

Merry affair, no doubt, until Stepmother dearest names it treason. I wonder how many ships will follow in my wake when they know where I’m going and what I’m up to.

When Captain Etterlin asked if she had a fleet speed, Vicky answered, “Fast.”

They departed the station for the first jump at one-gee acceleration. The flip at midcourse was a bit ragged. Vicky expected it of the merchant ships, but the three Navy ships didn’t seem to do all that well among themselves. Captain Etterlin blamed the age of the
Kamchatka
and the inexperience of the
Rostock
’s skipper.

Vicky remembered how Commander Schlieffen had horsed the
Spaceader
around the
Rostock
as it stayed rock steady to cover her flight from High Greenfeld station. She didn’t like what she was hearing from this captain but kept her own counsel.

Together, the convoy decelerated toward the jump, arriving at it at a near dead stop. The jump went smoothly, as did the next jump.

What they found after that jump was anything but smooth.

The Presov system was occupied. A pair of ships had themselves just entered the system from Jump Point Adele. That jump led deeper into the Empire. The two ships squawked as
Golden Empress No. 21
and
Golden Empress No. 34
of the Golden Empress Line. A query of Vicky’s computer showed no such shipping line and no such ships. The specifics of the ship allowed, however, that they might have until recently been the
Imperial Red Star
of the Imperial Star Lines and the
High Ball
of the Humphrey Shipping Company.

They were making 1.5 gees for Presov.

“They will get there before us,” Captain Etterlin advised Vicky.

“Then we will have to get there faster,” Vicky said.

“Your Grace,” did not hold either disagreement or agreement.

“You have high-gee stations aboard your ship, don’t you, Captain?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Then I suggest you inform the
Kamchatka
to conform to our movements. The
Rostock
is to escort the convoy toward the next jump at one gee, and both your ship and the
Kamchatka
should prepare for high-gee acceleration.”

“Your Grace, there is no way that old wreck can do more than one gee.”

“Then advise the
Kamchatka
to follow us as soon as possible, and you get this tub underway. We are wasting time, Captain.”

The captain looked a bit green around the gills.

“The
Retribution
has done high-gee accelerations, hasn’t it?” Vicky asked cautiously.

“We did two gees for an hour on trials.”

Ah.
Vicky saw the problem. “Well, Captain, I was on the
Wasp
with Princess Kris Longknife when we were doing four gees and glad of it because the alien ships chasing us did not take prisoners. I suggest you advise your crew to prepare for
three-gee acceleration in fifteen minutes and get ready to go about your business.”

The man visibly swallowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”

Around the bridge, Vicky spotted consternation among some of the senior officers. Several of the junior officers seemed hard put to suppress their glee. Chiefs eyed their officers. Ratings eyed their shoes as if wishing they were anywhere but here.

Vicky used her computer to tell Kat to bring her high-gee station from where it was parked in the back of her closet.

There would be hell to pay if it didn’t work. Exactly who the piper was would remain open to discussion.

Fifteen minutes later, the
Retribution
began to accelerate. The chief boson at the engineering station called the rising gee count. “One point five.”

Vicky’s new high-gee station still smelled of paint and friction reducers.

“Two gees,” and Vicky found herself being pulled back into the padding.

C
OMPUTER
, she thought, using the skull harness Mr. Smith had fitted to her and that was supposed to let her talk to her computer in private.
M
ATCH MY STATION TO THE ENGINEER’S MAIN STATION.

A moment later, the board in her high-gee station changed. Vicky studied it for a moment. It had been over a year since she stood a watch in the
Fury
’s engineering spaces, still she spotted the important readouts. They were tending toward the yellow margins but still safe.

C
APTURE ME THE CAPTAIN’S BOARD
, she told her computer. Her board adjusted itself. It still showed several of the engineering readouts, but now damage control was there as well as an overview of casualties.

Damage and casualties showed nothing.

Good.

“Two point five gees,” the chief reported. Vicky spotted the change on the gee meter on her board.

“Two point six.”

“Two point seven,” from the chief brought a pained look Vicky’s way from the captain. Their high-gee stations were
reclining, leaning back to help the human body better handle the extra weight.

“Two point eight.”

All the important engineering readouts were in the yellow, but well back from the red. Vicky remembered how the
Wasp
’s had run deep into the red as they fled for their lives.

But the
Wasp
was made by Wardhaven. The
Retribution
may not be as well built as the
Wasp
.

“Two point nine.”

“Your Grace?” the captain said.

“Steady as you go, Captain,” the Grand Duchess answered the unasked question.

“Three gees,” the chief reported, finally.

Vicky checked her board. Nothing in the red in engineering, though there was creep on one of the reactors. Damage control reported one of the turret scantlings had deformed. Turret Dora would likely not be available. Five crewmen had suffered casualties: back sprains because high-gee stations did not perform to the manufacturer’s guarantee.

The captain motored his high-gee station over to Vicky’s.

“Your Grace,” he whispered nervously, “we need to slow down to make repairs.”

“Can your damage control parties correct the deformation below turret Dora?” Vicky asked.

Dismay showed on the captain’s face. “How do you know about Dora?”

“I do. Now, can you fix it?”

“No, that will require yard time. Time in a major yard. There aren’t any this side of High Anhalt.”

Vicky saw no need to tell this captain that his ship was not likely to go to High Anhalt until a lot of water, milk, and blood had flowed under that bridge.

“If it cannot be repaired, I see no reason to slow down.”

“But it may get worse. Other turrets may fail.”

“Captain, I was told that the
Retribution
was one of the Empire’s newest and best battleships.”

“It is,” would have had more pride in it if the captain’s voice didn’t have to allow for so much worry.

“Then let’s see that we get to Presov before they do.”

“May I ask why, Your Grace?”

“No, you may not,” Vicky snapped the way Admiral Krätz had at her when she’d had the impertinence to ask the same.

The captain folded a lot faster than she had.

Who selected you to captain this ship? If this ship has no more fighting guts than you have, we are in trouble.

The proud battleship stayed at three gees. The hull showed no new weaknesses although there was a steady stream of reports about failed high-gee stations.

Vicky tried not to remember that her high-gee station was also her battle-survival pod, and, if Kris Longknife was to be believed, it was not her battle with her brother’s first command that killed Henry Peterwald XIII but someone’s sabotaging his survival pod that was the death of him.

The battleship creaked and groaned as it sped through space at three gees. The Empress’s ships tried to take themselves up past the 1.5 gees they’d been doing, but one ship blew an engine off into space and had to slow down to 1.2.

The other ship pulled back to 1.5 gees and stayed there.

Vicky motored her station over to the navigator’s post. The captain quickly came to park at her elbow.

“Navigator, could you please run me some course assumptions based upon all ships maintaining their present course and speed.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

He must have had the plot ready. He tapped his board and plots appeared on the main screen.

“We’ll be there two orbits before they arrive,” Vicky observed.

“Yes, Your Grace, and if I may point out, we’ll be on the far side when they make orbit.”

“That is not what I want,” Vicky said.

“May I ask what you do want, ah, Your Grace?” the captain said.

He was learning to ask nicely when he talked to his Grand Duchess; Vicky managed to turn to face him and awarded him a smile.

“We have only two Marine companies on the planet to protect it. Those ships could likely land two battalions of ‘Security Consultants,’ possibly more, and we’d always be on the wrong side of the planet to confront the ships that brought them.”

The navigator’s nostrils dilated just a bit. The captain looked like he’d swallow his tongue. If he had something to say, words eluded him.

Strange, he’s the captain of this ship. I’m supposed to be just a passenger, and a junior one at that, yet he’s letting me order his ship around and can’t raise a question about what I’m doing.

On the other hand, I’m just as glad that he’s keeping out of this
.

“Navigator, what adjustments to our course would we need to make orbit with that first ship, the
Golden Empress No. 34
?”

The navigator tapped his board slowly under the weight of high gees. “I make it two point nine one for the rest of the way in. A bit of adjustment as we come into orbit should let us trail that
Golden Empress
by about a hundred klicks.”

The navigator looked proud of himself.

“But the other ship could adjust its course,” the captain pointed out.

“Yes, but we’ve seen what happened when they tried to jack up the speed,” Vicky said. “They can slow down. However, they can’t lay on even one-tenth of a gee more.”

“I think she’s right, sir,” the navigator said to the captain.

“Watch your board carefully, Navigator,” the captain shot back, and turned his station away.

Vicky gave the navigator an encouraging wink. He grinned. She turned away, back to what she’d come to think of as her station, just a half meter back from the captain’s own place in the middle of the bridge.