Implacable: Vicky Peterwald, #5 Read online

  "Your Grace, while I would not suggest that it become standard doctrine, your takedown of the Duke and his thugs was most effective and complete. I don't expect we'll need much of an occupation force here. There is serious discussion in the parliament of raising an army to defend the planet. We'll need to leave behind a training cadre, but not much of our army. The question is, what will we need to take down the Bowlingame resistance on Lublin or Oryol?"

  Mr. Smith cleared his throat.

  "Yes, Mr. Smith?" Vicky asked. Smith was not his name, but as a professional mercenary spy, it fit him quite well.

  "I'm not all that sure that an army is what our planets need to handle an incursion by the Bowlingame faction."

  "No?" Vicky asked.

  "When they seized the sky over Idelberg, they did not land a landing force. Instead, they lazed several of the most important industrial sites and towns from orbit. Among the ancients, this might have been called a pillage and run raid. Since they could not pillage, they just burned and ran."

  "That damn fleet," Vicky whispered.

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  The Grand Duchess turned to her senior Navy officer, "Admiral Bolesław, what do you say to Mr. Smith?"

  "He's absolutely correct. While we outnumber the Bowlingame fleet, we can't be strong everywhere. We have enough ships to form two, maybe three fleets. However, the deeper this fleet moves into their territory, the less we are able to provide support to your fleet protecting the main planets of your people in Metzburg, Aachen, and St. Petersburg."

  Vicky nodded slowly as she studied the map. The more she moved into the other half of the Empire, the less she was in a position to pull this fleet back to protect the core planets of her previous rebellion.

  "Well, gentlemen, you have succeeded in dropping a hot potato or two in my lap. I was led to believe that hot potatoes belonged in your laps, not mine. Please take these overheated tubers back and serve me up some twice baked potatoes with cheese and liberally sprinkled with bacon bits."

  Sadly, no one moved quickly, either to give her solutions to her problems or to order up breakfast for her. Kit and Kat would have recognized the culinary references as a clear signal that Vicky was hungry.

  However, none of those at the table spotted it. Instead, they mulled the problems of her Empire and not her stomach.

  Vicky tried not to pout.

  Captain Blue finally took up the gauntlet. "Information is our problem. The Bowlingames have destroyed the jump point buoys. That is not only a hazard to navigation, but equally denies us information about a fleet movement until it registers on one of our jump buoys. I fear that warning may well be too late. It appears to me that we must recreate the network of jump buoys. That will increase our warning system and give us more time to concentrate our forces.

  The captain paused to see how his suggestion was being received. Satisfied with the nods he was getting, he continued. "With any luck, we can intercept a raiding force before it gets to any planet we want to protect. There is also a second benefit of deploying the net. When our buoy tenders visit each system, they can take a measure of the colony's condition. If it's been abandoned to starve, we can dispatch an emergency relief ship with supplies to it and run up our own flag with very little cost to us."

  Vicky turned to her admiral and general. "Well, Sirs?"

  They, however, were busy looking at each other. Admiral Bolesław finally cleared his throat. "It's a good plan, Your Grace. It will take us a while to get it going. We don't have a spare stock of jump buoys."

  "Certainly Dresden has someone who can quickly knock together something that simple."

  "I don't know of any manufacturing concern, Your Grace," the admiral answered.

  "There are several manufacturers of both large and small space vehicles," Maggie answered from Vicky's neck.

  "Maggie, how do you know this?" Vicky asked.

  "Their comm system has an information service. I think they call it the yellow pages, though why, I have no idea. Still, they advertise what they can buy or produce. No one says they make jump buoys, but someone who makes small boats or even freighters can easily produce a buoy even if it is a bit clunky."

  "You wouldn't happen to have a design stored in your memory, now would you?" Vicky said, making a face that the rest of the room seemed forced to stifle a laugh at.

  "As a matter of fact, yes. Nelly left me with a whole batch of designs stored well back in my memory. Most of them involve Smart Metal, but the jump buoys seem to be pretty basic."

  "Okay, Maggie, contact the possible construction firms and see how many want to get involved in a mass production process. Admiral Bolesław, can I assume that we've got enough light cruisers or destroyers to distribute these to the four winds?"

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  "Please coordinate with Maggie. Maggie, tell the firms involved in this that I don't want them perfect, I want them Tuesday. Make sure they understand the buoys can be big and clunky, so long as they’re manufactured soonest. They can refine their production methods as we go along, but I need these out in space, not on someone's design station."

  "Understood, Your Grace. I have contacted six of the most likely firms. I am expecting a callback before noon. How soon can I award contracts?"

  "Are any of you guys along the wall someone from the comptroller's office?"

  A commander seated at the far end of the table raised his hand, timidly. Doubtlessly he had not expected to have to talk to his Grand Duchess.

  "Can we pay for these?"

  "We, ah, have money, er, for small, um, items. My captain had thought to use it to buy fresh food."

  "Fresh food is nice, but it will have to wait for donations or taxes in kind approved by our lovely parliament. I wonder if dear Mannie can do something about that. Okay?"

  "If I may be excused, Your Grace?"

  "By all means," and the fellow bolted for the door, no doubt to tell his boss to cancel any orders for fresh beef that he'd made this morning.

  Vicky grinned as he left. "Well, folks, take that as a warning. We can move a lot faster than any Bowlingame committee. At least we can if we don't put our feet in a bucket of cement."

  Faces around the table got very serious as they mulled what their Grand Duchess expected of them.

  "Now, do we have any reports about how bad it is on Lublin or Oryol?"

  No one said a word. She visually polled her attendees, starting at the foot of the table and coming up the right-hand side. It was amazing watching grown men do their best to avoid meeting her eyes. Clearly, she'd asked a question they hadn't come prepared to answer. Even Pemberton and Bolesław had nothing to say.

  She turned to the left-hand side of the table and started with Captain Blue. He shook his head slightly. She passed on to Mr. Smith.

  The spy met her eye-to-eye.

  "It appears that I must offer fragmentary information."

  "Just let me know how good it is."

  Mr. Smith took a moment to organize his thoughts. At least Vicky thought he was organizing them and not figuring out how best to lie to her.

  "In summary, Oryol chose to let the Emperor's Security Specialists move in and take over. They quickly gave in to the extortion, so they were pretty much left alone and their occupation has gone down rather smoothly. The Security bosses didn't ask for any reinforcements; all the better to keep more of the bribe money for themselves."

  "One could wish it could go that easy everywhere," Vicky said. "Tell me about Lublin."

  "They fought. They'd acquired the weapons left over when the State Security thugs were taken out by the Navy and they prepared to defend themselves."

  "How'd that go down?" General Pemberton asked.

  "They succeeded in repelling the first attack down the beanstalk, but they could not regain control of their space elevator. The redcoats called in reinforcements and the next time they ventured down the beanstalk, they had tanks."

  "They couldn't disable the elevator?" Admiral Bol
esław asked.

  "A space elevator is a major structure and it's hard for businessmen to destroy something they know will cost twenty years of high taxes to replace. Besides, they thought they could resist the next assault as well as they did the last one."

  "I take it that they didn't," Vicky said.

  "Major parts of their capital were leveled. Not the industrial parts, I assure you, but the residential blocks. That is usual when one side is going house to house and has a large supply of hand grenades as well as heavy caliber artillery backing them up."

  "How many killed?" Vicky asked.

  "The number cannot be known with any precision, but estimates start at ten thousand and go up from there. Much of the capital was rendered uninhabitable and many of the city's people fled into the countryside."

  "What’s the situation now?" Vicky asked.

  "The newly-made Duke of Lublin is demanding that workers come back to the factories and get production going. However, few want to return and flee his press gangs when they roam the farm areas. Even those that have managed to throw together some sort of workforce can't make anything. The chain from the mines to the mills to the subcontractors and their subassemblies just isn't there."

  "They killed the golden goose," Admiral Bolesław observed. "Once you've slit it open, you can't sew it back up."

  "Where did the Bowlingames get such idiots as these dukes they've set on my people?" Vicky moaned, feeling sorrow for all the sufferings her father's infatuation with the damn Empress had caused the Empire.

  After a moment's thought, Vicky made her decision. Or maybe made a rough draft of her decision.

  "As quickly as we can get enough buoys up around Oryol, we send a small detachment to arrange for a return to old management there. As soon as we can get a full set of buoys up around Lublin, I will lead a fleet there and see what we can do about landing a major landing force. I imagine we've got a lot of Marine tankers who would love to see how those red-coated thugs do against someone with tanks of their own."

  "Your Grace," came from two Navy officers and an Army general. Strange, the spy held his peace.

  Vicky sat back in her chair and prepared to listen to all the reasons she couldn't do what she very well intended to do.

  3

  "Your Grace!" Admiral Bolesław didn't quite shout, although he was the loudest of those around the table. Well, all except Mr. Smith who merely smiled and leaned back in his chair, letting his silence scream loudest above all the others.

  He seemed to be enjoying himself so much, Vicky half-expected him to order in popcorn.

  "Yes, Admiral," she said, trying not to sound too saccharin.

  Admiral Bolesław bit out his words carefully. "A four-star admiral and a grand duchess does not go charging about the front line like a boot ensign."

  "And why not, Alis?" Vicky responded, not quite the airhead debutante of only a few short years ago.

  "Your Grace, you are the leader of this fleet. You are the leader of this Empire right now. Without you, this entire . . ."

  "Entire what?" Vicky demanded shooting forward in her chair as he hesitated, searching for a word to describe the here and now.

  "What am I critical to, Admiral?" she said, relaxing back into her chair, and lowering her voice. "Am I critical to the rebellion? Oh, right. We won the rebellion. Now I and the Emperor, my father, are on the same side. As for leading this fleet, Alis, you know very well that you know more about maneuvering a fleet, and you General Pemberton, know more about fighting a battle than I ever will."

  Vicky paused to glance around the table. "Yes, I have four stars on my flag, but they are more out of respect for my Imperial status than anything else. No. I could get killed tomorrow and you could carry on this war against the Bowlingame rebellion just as well with me as without me. Indeed, if my husband keeps up with his democratic pretentions, I risk becoming irrelevant to the future of the Greenfeld Empire . . . or the Greenfeld Republic."

  Now she had their full attention.

  "Now, gentlemen, I can become a beloved constitutional monarch, or I can become a worthless pretender to a throne that will never have a butt sit down on it again. The difference will depend on how well I serve the Empire. I can lead my men from the front and gain the love and approval of my people, applause such as I just heard in the Parliament of Dresden. Alternatively, I can sit up here safe and sound where you want me, and wait to see what the future holds for me. My father, grandfather, and great-grandfather have racked up a great debt from my people. They demanded much, but gave little."

  Vicky paused to shake her head. "If there was a vote tomorrow among the planets of the Empire to become a republic or staying an Empire, do you think I'd gain a quarter of the votes?"

  Once again, everyone around the table and in the chairs along the walls of the conference room froze, doing everything they could to give her no hint of an opinion.

  "Yeah, I didn't think so," Vicky mumbled sadly

  "Your Grace," again was from Admiral Bolesław, only this time he whispered. "You do not have to risk your life. Is a crown worth it?"

  Vicky snorted softly. "My father seemed to think so, but no, Alis. I'm not going off to some fire-swept ridge or building just to keep a crown on my head. Hell, they could elect their own Grand Duchess for all I care, or Emperor, or Empress. That's what Wardhaven did. They hired themselves a king and then jumped up Kris Longknife to be a princess.

  "No, Alis. I have to do this because I believe that my people are better served by a Grand Duchess that can unite them. One whom they can all rally around when everything else is driving them apart. We Smythe-Peterwalds have so poisoned the political atmosphere of these hundred and fifty planets that this Empire desperately needs something that we can all coalesce around. They need to have a Grand Duchess that they can all look to when they're having a hell of a time figuring out why they want to hold together."

  Vicky paused to look at Admiral Bolesław as a friend. "Can you tell me that I'm wrong?"

  The captain who'd fought to keep his cruiser from blowing itself to atoms, and Vicky with it, nodded slowly along with her before letting out a sigh. "Everything you say is true. However, Your Grace, haven't you already earned the praise and approval of your people? The people of St. Petersburg, Metzburg, and Aachen know your worth. Remember your wedding? Every planet wanted to send a horse to pull that carriage."

  Now it was Vicky's turn to nod. "Yes, but Alis, it's easy to gather around a blushing bride. What do most of those planets really know of me?"

  Vicky had to pause at that thought. It had been a long time since she'd blushed about anything, even on her wedding day. So much for a cliché fitting her.

  "It's easy for people to come together for the good times. But just look around you, my good admiral. This mess is not going to go away with a few landing forces here and there. Fifty planets have already left the Empire. I don't know how well that's working for them. Do you really want to go hat-in-hand to Longknife's United Society to beg entrance? To beg their democratic help in making good the Imperial mess we've created for ourselves?"

  Vicky shook her head. "We will be much prouder of ourselves if we solve this puzzle of our own making all by ourselves. We've been a united people for hundreds of years. I think we can resolve our problems with our own two hands. Yes, not the way my forefathers did it, but still, our way. Our people's way. I think there's a place in that for me. However, there will be nothing for me if I cower safe out here. Do you see where I'm coming from?"

  The admiral nodded. "Yes, but please see where I'm coming from. You are a very powerful force for good. You are our Gracious Grand Duchess. Please don't do anything foolish that will cost us what we already have."

  Vicky had to admit that the admiral had a good point. She needed a check on herself. She had kind of gotten herself way out on a limb while taking down the Duke of Dresden. She wasn't willing to give anyone, even Alis or Mannie, the key to her bedroom like King Raymond had given Jack in his or
ders to lock Kris up if she wanted to do something stupid and deadly. Still.

  "Admiral Bolesław, I hope that in the future you will continue to give me good advice. I promise that I will slow down my headlong flight into folly and give your thoughts some serious reflection. Beyond that, I cannot say. Okay?"

  "I guess it will have to be."

  "Now, Maggie, how are things going with the manufacturing of the jump buoys?"

  "I have contacted eight possible firms, Your Grace."

  "Very good. Arrange for them to meet with me in an hour. Okay?"

  "I will ask them. They may be busy."

  "It's not like they have a backlog of orders. Not the way business has been going here."

  "That is true," Admiral Bolesław said.

  Vicky stood, and everyone else in the room did as well. "So, gentlemen, you have your orders. Design me a picket system to protect Dresden and get us a clear and protected route to Lublin and Oryol. General Pemberton, based on the best information we have, put together two strike forces. A small one for Oryol and a larger one for Lublin."

  "How long do I have?" General Pemberton asked.

  Vicky shrugged. "If matters allow for it, I'd like to sail with the small one in a week for Oryol. Two at the most. However, I could be optimistic. Your sailing depends on us deploying the jump buoys and getting an All Clear."

  "Understood, Your Grace."

  "Then gentleman, I'll meet with some of you for an update this time tomorrow."

  With a wave of shallow bows from the neck, the room quickly emptied. Only Admiral Bolesław and Mr. Smith hung back.

  "Yes, gentlemen?" Vicky asked.

  "Your Grace," Mr. Smith began, "you know that I am from Wardhaven and my job was keeping Kris Longknife alive before I joined your staff's effort to keep you alive."

  "Yes. I never forget that," Vicky said with a smile.

  "I would like to give you a vote of confidence. I do believe that you are choosing a wise path. Democracy is messy. It is not all that easy for people who have been treated like children to learn to make adult decisions. Sometimes, having someone to rally around that they are comfortable with is like a warm, fuzzy blanket. That, of course, assumes that you harbor no desire to again treat them like wayward children."