Vicky Peterwald: Target (21 page)

She turned back.

There was the commander coming up the pier, whistling a jaunty tune and lugging a large seabag on his shoulder. No longer stoop-shouldered, he had somehow managed to shave and otherwise clean up his act. Now, he didn’t look half-bad. Indeed, not bad at all.

Vicky allowed herself a smile. He smiled right back at her. So she slowed her pace and arrived back at the
Spaceadler
at the same time he did.

“Y
OU’RE
late,” she said.

“You’re early, as usual,” he said right back, but with a wide grin. He was rather nice, if a bit too confident for Vicky’s tastes.

That debate would get them nowhere, so she let it drop and went on to the next impossible thing on her to-do list. “You got a pass to get us in?” she asked.

“I most certainly do,” he said, producing a card. He ran it through the reader at the bottom of the sign.

The board continued to show red.
NO ADMISSION
.

The locked door barring admission to slip 103 clicked open.

So it was going to be like that,
Vicky thought, and followed the commander into the spiral staircase down to the ship’s hatch.

She closed the pier gate behind them and it clicked locked again.

The spiral staircase was a tight fit for the commander and his large duffel. She let him lead the way and hung back herself. Clearly, Slip 103 was not the lap of luxury. Then again, there didn’t seem to be much traffic or security out this way, either.

Given a choice of comfort and attention vs. some hard knocks while being ignored, Vicky would settle for the latter today.

At the tiny brow, the commander dropped his seabag to the deck and pulled his security card out again. One swipe, and the ship’s hatch came open.

The outside pier light still showed red.

The commander held up his card and smiled. “Don’t you just love the magic we criminals and other miscreants can get away with these days?”

“On most days,” Vicky said, “I’m a strong supporter of law and order. My daddy likes it that way. Today, I’ll cut you some slack.”

“So nice of you, Your Grace. You do want to be rescued, don’t you?”

“I chose rescue well ahead of the authorized rescue party, didn’t I?”

“You do have that to your credit. Now, let’s stow our gear and see what some other little elves and lowlifes have left for our aid and comfort.”

The ship was bigger than Vicky had expected. Aft there was a small thermonuclear reactor, complete with a magnetohydrodynamic electrical-generation system.

Although the board on the dock had reported the reactor was cold steel, the board in engineering said it was hot and ready to go.

“Interesting disconnect,” Vicky muttered.

“Sometimes it’s nice when things aren’t what they seem,” the commander said.

“Not around the palace,” Vicky growled.

“We are far from that place and soon to get farther.”

“Amen.”

“You sound like you just came from church,” the commander said with a grin while he led her forward toward the bridge.

“First time in so long I can’t remember. Dad didn’t have much need for clergy except when he wanted to get married,” she said, and scowled.

“Just one of several things I don’t much care for about your family.”

“You’ll get no backtalk from me on family matters,” Vicky said, then whistled. “What kind of ship is this?”

“A very nice yacht,” the commander said.

“And you know about it how?”

“Well, you see, there was this guy I went to the academy with. He spent such good times with his dad on the
Spaceadler
that he thought being a Navy officer would be great. You may have noticed that there’s a bit of difference from being a pampered passenger and being a Navy officer.”

“Once or twice or fifty times,” Vicky admitted.

“His Navy career was no longer than it had to be, but he and I stay in touch, and I’ve been out on this boat with him a few times.”

“Is he going to miss it?”

“You may have gotten the impression from the sign dockside that the boat hasn’t been out in a while.”

“Or longer,” Vicky agreed.

“His dad died two years back. He and his kid sister want to sail the boat. His older brother and sister can’t wait to sell the boat. While the family argues, the ship stays tied up. Older sibs won’t let the younger kids take it out for fear they’ll dent it and knock down the sale price.”

“So the boat sits alongside the pier and rots.”

“Funny how that works.”

“And the reactor is all hot and ready to go because . . . ?” Vicky asked.

“When I got word that some spoiled high-society dame needed to bug out, I mentioned that I knew about this boat. What do you know? By the time we get up here, it’s got a full larder, a hot reactor, plenty of reaction mass. And nothing in the pier log says that anyone came near this boat, thank you very much.”

“Neat trick,” Vicky allowed.

“Us criminals and low-life thieves ain’t the only ones what can do magic tricks.”

“So, we light the kettle and bug out of here.”

“Not for a while. Not unless you want every defensive laser on this station to be aimed at us thirty seconds after we cast off our tie-downs.”

“Then we’re going to hide out here until the whole mess I’m in blows over?”

“Nope. We got to get out of here and get out soon.”

“Gee, Commander, I’m all out of guesses. Enlighten this poor junior officer.”

“You’re a lieutenant commander. Your junior-officer days are over. From now on, you got to work for a living.”

“Oh dear, and I was just told today that no one above the rank of chief or Gunny worked for a living.”

“Misinformation spread by the people who really run the Navy to confuse the rest of us.”

“Commander, I’m way past due for some sleep. Have mercy on this lowly lieutenant commander and tell me what my future holds.”

“To such a plaintive cry, I can only offer the truth.” That dangerous grin was back on his face. “During the midwatch, the light cruiser
Rostock
will depart for a far shore. Unusual for a Navy departure, it will make a close pass down Pier 12. At the same time, on the midwatch, the main traffic-control radar for High Anhalt station will go down for maintenance. It’s been giving trouble for quite some time. Got worse earlier today. So, I intend to take my departure from a pier that will still be reporting the
Spaceadler
in dock, and fly such a close formation with the
Rostock
that no one using the available radars will be any the wiser. Understand?”

“You that good a pilot?”

“I used to be. I’m a bit rusty after wasting my time recently with various miscreants, but hell, if you’ve shaved the paint off one ship, you never forget how to shave the paint off ships. Right?”

“God help us.”

“Well, you’re the one that just went to church. You’ll have to do the praying.”

“Any chance I could do some sleeping?”

“There are several cabins below. You take the owner’s cabin. It’s got a nice big bed.”

“I’ll only need a small one.”

“Suit yourself,” the commander said, and turned his attention to his control board. He pulled out a predeparture checklist and began to go down it.

Vicky headed down the central stairwell. On the third deck, midway between the reactor and the bridge, she did indeed find a room with a large bed.

She fell into it. She was debating taking her boots off but fell asleep before she could reach any decision.

V
ICKY
came awake screaming.

The dream had been horrible, bloody, and ugly. Half-severed heads had danced around her while Captain Morgan had done his macabre dance beside her, bleeding from more and more bullet holes but condemned to never fall. Never die. Never find rest.

She sat up in bed to find the commander charging into the bedroom.

“You all right?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know,” Vicky said, shaking. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

She couldn’t stop shaking.

The commander came to sit on the bed beside her. He started to put an arm around her.

Vicky pulled away as if she’d seen a snake.

“Excuse me,” the commander said gently.

“I’m sorry. It’s not your fault,” Vicky said. “You startled me. I’m still half-asleep. Half in a nightmare.” She felt guilty. “Go ahead. Put an arm around me, if you want.”

Cautiously, the commander did extend an arm. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as he touched her.

“See, I’m better now.”

“Lady, I’ve hugged some women before in my life. I’ve never touched anyone that was shaking like you’re shaking and reacted the way you did to my touch.”

“I didn’t react to your touch,” Vicky said, defensively.

“That’s what I mean. I’ve hugged trees that were less stiff.”

“Sorry. Maybe I ought to just go back to sleep.”

“And dream what you were dreaming?”

Vicky winced at the thought.

“It was bad, huh?” the commander said.

“Yeah,” Vicky let slip out.

“Want to talk?”

“What good will talking about it do?” Vicky asked hopelessly.

“Some of us saw a lot more on street patrols than we ever figured on seeing when we signed up in the Navy,” the commander whispered. “I signed up for detached duty to try to make sure we didn’t have to do any more crowd control on fully automatic.”

Vicky thought about what the commander said. Then shrugged.

“I cut the heads off two guys,” she said slowly. “I had no idea you could get that much blood out of a man’s neck. One of them was sleeping when I did it. Shooting the other four was easier. Just pull the trigger and watch the head explode.”

“Hmm,” was the only response from the commander, but he was holding her tighter.

“But the worst was the first one I killed. I kind of egged him on into raping me, then when I had him distracted, I smashed his throat in and watched him suffocate.”

“Hmm,” was there again.

“That all you got to say?” she snapped.

He made a puzzled face. “You ever read any Shakespeare?”

“Who’s he?”

“Wrote nearly a thousand years ago, but some of it fits today like a glove. There was this guy who wanted to be the king of Scotland in the worst way. So he killed the king. Knifed him while he was sleeping.”

Now it was Vicky’s turn to make a sour face.

“Later in the play, the guy’s having trouble sleeping and says something like, ‘Macbeth does murder sleep.’”

“And Vicky did him one better. I’ve murdered sleep
and
sex.”

“But that wasn’t a king you killed. They were scumbags who had been breathing our air for way too long. You did us all a service.”

“I don’t feel like I did anyone anything.”

“You kept yourself alive.”

“I did that, didn’t I?”

“So, now all you have to do is enjoy life and get your revenge on both those pieces of crap and your stepmom.”

“Enjoy my life?”

“Yep, a life well lived is the best revenge any of us can have on them that don’t want us alive. Or enjoying ourselves.”

“So, now you’re a Navy officer and a philosopher?”

“All at no extra charge,” he said. He also smiled. It was a kind of nice smile.

Vicky found she’d quit shaking. Maybe there was something to this talking stuff.

Then she yawned.

“Still tired?” the commander asked.

“Yeah, but I sure don’t want to go back to sleep.”

“Yes you do. You just don’t want to go back to those nightmares.”

“Oh definitely,” Vicky breathed.

“You sleep. I’ll stay here. If it looks like you’re having a bad dream, I’ll wake you up fast.”

Vicky raised an eyebrow. “You going to tell me we’re just going to cuddle?”

“If you feel safer being held, I’ll hold you. If you don’t want me closer than across the room, I’ll sit there on the floor and watch you.”

“I honestly think you would,” Vicky said. “Don’t you have some presortie checklist you need to go down?”

“I finished it before I came running down here.”

Vicky reached down, and pulled the knife from her boot. “You might want to put this out of my reach if you’re going to hold me. I’d hate to do something permanent to that nice-looking face of yours while I am only half-awake.”

He took the knife, eyed its sharp blade, and dropped it to the deck. “Yes, we really don’t want to share a bed with that dude.”

Vicky stretched out on the bed, fluffed the pillow under her head, and rolled over to face away from the commander. He settled down beside her and put an arm over her that, surprise of surprises, managed to enfold her without nudging either of those two well-rounded gals that most men couldn’t wait to get their mitts on.

Maybe this guy is different,
she thought.

He’s a guy,
she answered her optimistic self.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

And waited for him to make his move.

He didn’t. She could feel his bony thigh against her butt, but he didn’t roll over so that she couldn’t miss his boner. His arm stayed on her collarbone and didn’t rove.

She took another deep breath and settled deeper into the comforter.

Before she knew it, she was asleep.

V
ICKY
came awake to the feeling of being gently rocked.

“You awake,” came in a whisper.

“I think I am,” she allowed.

“Have a good rest?” He actually seemed full of concern for her.

She searched her mind for any memory of a dream, then her gut for any lingering feelings of something forgotten. “Yeah. I think I got a good rest. I don’t remember a dream, and I don’t feel like I’ve been run through a wringer. I think you’re good for me, Commander.”

“None of the mothers of the women I’ve dated would agree with you.”

Vicky stretched. Which resulted in her breasts gently brushing his arm. While she was debating how good that felt, and leaning toward “yum,” he withdrew it with no further contact.

“We need to be up on the bridge. I don’t know exactly when the
Rostock
will make its pass by us, but it could be anytime after the next thirty minutes.”

Vicky sat up. “Then I guess duty calls, or whatever it is that we respond to when raw survival is on the line.”

“It’s duty for me, survival for you,” the commander said, getting to his feet.

“And exactly how long will you survive my passing?”

“They come at you over my dead body,” he said, heading for the door.

“The Marine captain said the same thing yesterday. Did somebody issue orders about me?”

“No. Not that I’m aware of, but your vulnerable big eyes kind of wring that same response from all nearby virile and heavily armed males.”

“You know, I’d call that bullshit, but I kind of like the ring of it.”

“It is bullshit, but it does kind of ring heroic, doesn’t it?”

“I’m going to have to quit giving you straight lines like that,” Vicky grumbled as she got out of bed.

“See you on the bridge, Commander. You can pretty up your careworn face in the head there.”

“I definitely quit giving you good openings, Commander,” Vicky shot back, but he was already gone.

She put the head to good use, donating water to the recycler before washing her face. The commander was right. She was not looking her best. She would have to check to see if the woman Marine had included some makeup in her emergency go bag, but pretty was not what she needed to be just now.

Feeling almost human, she made her way up to the bridge and settled into the deputy command chair.

The commander didn’t take his eyes off the control board, but asked, “You know anything about conning a ship or flying a shuttle?”

“I’m qualified to stand the comm watch on a battleship,” Vicky said, rather proud of her achievement.

“Hmm,” the commander grunted. “So you don’t know boo about flying one of these things. If you’ll be so kind as to keep your hands away from the controls, we’ll likely survive better.”

Vicky made a face and looked for something to rest both her hands on. Very lightly she touched the control stick and throttle. Very, very lightly, but she touched them nonetheless.

She didn’t stick her tongue out . . . though it was a close call.

“So, she has problems with authority, she does,” the commander muttered.

Vicky retrieved her hands. “I’m a fast learner,” she said.

“No doubt you are a fast leaner about some things, but I’m more concerned on how fast you learn when you’re standing on your own two feet or strapped into a flight seat.”

Now Vicky did stick out her tongue. Yes, he hadn’t accused her of only learning fast when she was flat on her back, but it had been only too strongly insinuated.

“Now that’s an argument winner if ever I saw one.”

Vicky unstuck her tongue out. “Well, I for one am glad to see that you’re not going to go easy on me just because I slept with you.”

“You did
not
sleep with me. You snored pleasantly beside me. I didn’t sleep a wink.” His words said indignation, but there was way too much sparkle in his eyes and a definite up curl to his lips.

“No man has ever fallen asleep in my bed,” Vicky said, now doing her best to sound indignant.

“We’ll have to continue this delightful conversation later,” the commander said. “Here comes the
Rostock
.”

The main screen came to life in front of Vicky. She could only guess where this feed was coming from, and, no doubt, whoever was producing it was none the wiser that it was being fed to them on the
Spaceadler
. The cruiser was done backing away and now was making a close pass along the piers of the station.

Vicky knew enough about the navigation rules close aboard a station to know that this was a strictly forbidden maneuver in the controlled space around a station, even though it was one that many a captain wished to use to save the reaction mass it took to swing the required hundred klicks wide of a station.

“Here we go,” the commander said to himself, and the ship around them came to life. The pier tie-downs began to back them out of the slip, imparting momentum that would carry them well clear of the pier. Then the commander flipped the ship to point them toward the stars and followed it up with little more than a hint of jets. Only once they were clear did he make a serious application of power that got them boosting away from the station fast.

Now the main screen was blue, showing the course vectors of the
Rostock
and the
Spaceadler
as they closed on each other and slipped clear of the station.

A hooter went off, “Collision alert! Collision alert!” warned a warm contralto female voice. As if that wasn’t enough, a red light flashed on the board.

“Shut that damn thing off,” the commander ordered, not taking his eyes from the board.

Vicky reached for the flashing red light. It turned out to be a button. She pushed it, and the voice died in mid alarm and the hooter did the same.

The light continued to flash, though.

Now the main screen divided. Half showed the same blue screen and vectors. The other showed the space ahead of them. The
Rostock
was huge in the view.

But its engines flamed out, letting the commander edge the
Spaceadler
through its wake without getting her nose singed. The commander then applied a bit of extra power and slipped into the shadow of the
Rostock
.

Now the board showed an acceleration vector, apparently from the
Rostock
. The commander fed the same course and acceleration to his own board and the two ships, locked in close formation, accelerated away from the station as one.

“Are we getting painted by radar?” the commander asked.

Vicky had stood enough watches aboard the
Fury
to know what to look for to get that data. The instruments were much smaller and looked newly installed, but they gave the expected readouts.

“We are being painted by a low-power ranging laser. Most likely from the
Rostock
,” she reported.

“Yes!”

“There are no high-power radars on us,” Vicky added.

“It’s either down for maintenance or blocked by the
Rostock
,” the commander whispered through tight lips. “Either way, we get to live tonight.”

“How are we going to make it through the jump?” Vicky asked. No ship went through one of the jumps that took it across light-years, up to scores of them, without identifying itself to the local jump buoy. The buoy always went through the jump first to announce to any approaching ship that the jump was occupied at the moment and not to try going in before the other ship came out.

Nasty things happened when two ships tried to occupy the same jump at the same time. It was definitely to be avoided.

But notifying a jump buoy you were there put you on record as
being
there. Vicky definitely didn’t want anyone knowing the
Spaceadler
had been anywhere tonight except safely tucked into its pier.

“We’ll follow the
Rostock
through the jump, say fifteen seconds after her,” the commander said. “The
Rostock
will take care to delay any oncoming traffic.”

“You’ve thought of everything,” Vicky said.

“A lot of people have put a lot of thought into this,” the commander answered.

“The more people who know it, the more likely it is to get leaked,” Vicky pointed out.

“You are a doubting Thomas today, aren’t you?”

“I’ve been sold to the highest bidder a time or two of late.”

“Well, everyone involved since Rat Face is Navy. We all know that if we don’t hang together, we will certainly hang separately, to quote an old rebel from way before I was born.”

“Oh, you’re using that five-letter word.”

“Which one?”

“‘Rebel.’”

The commander snorted. “We all better get used to it. I don’t see that we’ve got much of a choice in the matter.”

Vicky shook her head. “Not if what I heard yesterday from my cramped vantage point is what the fleet is going up against regularly. That Imperial Guard officer who searched the Marine funeral honor guard was doing everything he could to get the Marines to swing on him, and two seconds after they did, he would have been shouting, ‘Rebellion! Rebellion most foul!’”

“So you’ve run into that, too,” the commander said. “Yeah, it’s an everyday thing I hear for those who put on the uniform in the morning. The Guard make a game of questioning everything and leaving us damn little of our manhood when we slink clear of them. It almost made me glad to be hanging around with honest scum rather than having to face the ones that were hiding behind the black-and-red uniform.”

Vicky thought on that for a long minute. Did she dare trust the commander with her own thoughts on this? If she couldn’t trust him, whom would she trust?

She chose her words carefully.

“When I was picked up by the battlecruiser Navy, the admiral commanding told me he had three sets of orders, or rather one set of orders and two bribes.”

“An admiral admitted he was on the take! What’s the Navy coming to?” the commander said with a solid, Irish sigh.

“If he hadn’t taken the bribe, he wouldn’t have gotten the job of picking me up,” Vicky said, and quickly brought the commander up to speed on the admiral’s dilemma.

“So, he either kills you or hands you over to person or persons unknown. What would they do with you?”

“Use me to wave the flag of rebellion against my dad and his present hussy.”

“Right. I should have seen that one coming.”

“It helps if you’ve got the kind of corkscrew mind you get growing up in the palace.”

“But you came home. How’d you manage that?”

“The Navy didn’t want me dead, nor did they think it was time to start the rebellion.”

“The Navy, huh?”

“You’re not cleared for the answer to the question you didn’t quite ask,” Vicky said.

“Yes, said the junior pawn to the senior pawn,” had a bit of a laugh attached to it.

“We begin to see our place in the great scheme of things,” Vicky said, and did laugh.

“Which leaves the question,” the commander said, adjusting the acceleration a tad. “We know what you’re running from. But what are you running toward?”

“I was hoping you knew.”

The commander shook his head without taking his eyes from his board. “My orders are to take you through two jumps and then do whatever you tell me.”

Vicky gave the guy a malicious grin. “A guy with orders to do what I tell him. Ah, the possibilities.”

His attempted scowl had too much of a grin in it. “I thought you swore off of that stuff. At least for a day or two.”

“When I’m sleeping, I don’t have much control of where my thoughts go. When I’m awake, it’s a different matter.”

“And the good girls my mother had me date said us guys’ minds were always in the gutter.”

“Your mother had you date good girls. Where’d she find them?” Vicky asked, doing her best to sound shocked.

“I have no idea,” the commander said. “Something about every mother knows, and a post office box in Potsdam.”

Vicky was actually enjoying this conversation. It kept her mind off of all those lasers back on the station that could be aimed her way if they got any hint that there were two ships departing and only one of them had filed a flight plan.

She must have let her concern show on her face.

“We’ll be out of range in another couple of minutes. I’m edging us up more forward on the
Rostock
so we keep in her radar shadow. The main approach-control radar is still down, but there is a low-power rig with less resolution up and working.”

“Can you read my mind?” Vicky asked.

“Trust me, that radar is the first thing on my mind, even ahead of sex.”

“I didn’t think anything took precedence over sex in a guy’s mind,” Vicky said, doing her best to sound shocked. Shocked!

The commander winced. “Good Lord, I’ve given away sex secrets. A guy can get hanged for that.”

“From his balls no less,” Vicky put in.

“Ouch, lady. I didn’t say anything about your tits getting in a wringer, now have I?”

“And I thank you very much for avoiding that sensitive topic,” Vicky said.

“So avoid my delicate one, too, please.”

Vicky fell silent. The guy was good to banter with, and he had kept her mind off of suddenly being vaporized by the station lasers. Unbidden, the memory of battleships being vaporized by sweeps of alien lasers filled her mind’s eye.

A groan escaped her.

“You want to talk about that?”

“I was remembering what lasers can do to battleships. Lots and lots of lasers.”

“I heard your report. The one with you in the white dress. Those nipple slips made it the rage among most of the bars around the space elevator where the crowd I was running with hung out.”

“Oh dear, you’ve seen me nearly naked.” Vicky sighed.

“Not a bad sight for sore male eyes, but I was more concerned with what you were saying, myself. Are those bastards really as bad as you said they were?”

“At least. Likely worse. And they don’t give up. They chased Kris Longknife’s ship halfway across the galaxy before she managed to dodge out on them. And she only managed that when another ship volunteered to lead them off her trail.”