Vicky Peterwald: Survivor (Vicky Peterwald Series Book 2) Read online

  CHAPTER 10

  THE mayor of Sevastopol voiced delight in Vicky’s appearance when he met her at the door at eight o’clock sharp.

  There were eight large, identical, vehicles waiting for Vicky in the lowest parking basement of the Hilton. Again, they played shuffle car, but this time it was a lengthy drive that took them out of the city.

  The dinner meeting that evening was at an estate high in the hills overlooking the city lights and enhanced by the sparkle of a newly risen full moon on the bay. Surrounded by croplands, pasture, and woods, the uniformed and armed troops walking the perimeter had clear lanes of fire.

  The commander voiced approval.

  “We’ve had need of a secure meeting location a time or two,” Mannie admitted. “This used to belong to the head of State Security for our province. I doubt there will be time for a tour this evening of the lower basements. I would have thought dungeons had gone out with the horse-and-buggy whip.”

  “When I was a little girl, General Boyng, the head of State Security, used to give me the loveliest dresses,” Vicky said dreamily, then added cynically, “With bugs on them so he could record my daddy’s conversations with me. I did not weep when my father had him killed,” she finished dryly.

  “None of us did,” Mannie agreed. “It just would have been nicer if the destruction of the black shirts hadn’t taken the entire Empire down with them.”

  “Yes, change is difficult. You seem to have managed it better than most.”

  “Yes.” Mannie smiled at the praise. “We had the black shirts tamed and half replaced when your father chose to demolish the rest.”

  They entered what might have passed for a hunting lodge on old Earth five hundred years ago. A wood fire blazed away with cheerful snaps. A dozen men and women awaited Vicky.

  She was introduced to each one of them individually. Spouses had not been included in tonight’s invitation.

  Colonel Mary White was introduced first. A tall, athletic woman, she’d been an explorer of the southern continent out in the back and beyond of Sevastopol when the need had arisen for a soldier. She’d mustered ranchers and distant farmers who had been allowed hunting rifles even under the old regime. A few retired Navy hands strengthened her organizational skills, and, suddenly, Sevastopol had an army.

  “Now we’re standing up a National Guard. On old Earth, there’s an animal called the porcupine,” Colonel White said. “Sharp spines all over it. No one bothers it.”

  “I doubt you’ll be bothered either,” Vicky offered.

  “In a pig’s eye,” Mary spat. “We lose the Navy and we lose the high ground. Are we going to lose the Navy?”

  “Not if the Navy has any say in the matter,” Vicky said, but aware of how insecure any meeting might be, she named no names.

  Mary, the new-made colonel, didn’t look all that reassured.

  Most of the remaining attendees were businesspeople, with only two women among them. Two were farmers who also had large ranching spreads in the valleys beyond the hills. All wanted to know what Vicky knew of matters on Greenfeld and how those would impact them.

  Vicky answered with a shrug. “If this were a fairy tale, I’d say my father was under the spell of a witch. Unfortunately, this is no fairy tale, and what we are seeing is a middle-aged man making a fool of himself with his new, much younger bride. The Bowlingame family in the meantime is taking full advantage of his distraction to grab for power and wealth. You are lucky to be this far out. It’s worse closer in.”

  “And I hear say that you talked the mayors into us making ourselves a target,” one of the ranchers said.

  “I’ve suggested that you expand your sphere of influence to include all the resources you need to make a successful go of it in the present circumstances,” Vicky said. “I don’t know who said that ‘No man is an island,’ but you know you aren’t. You, sir, grow cows and crops. They feed the hungry city. You get wondrous things like the clothes on your back and those nice boots on your feet. You want to make a go of it on your own?”

  The man raised his glass in salute and took a sip of the fine liquor. “I do like the finer things in life.”

  “For others out there, it’s not a case of the finer things in life, sir,” Vicky said, taking the offered opportunity to drive home her point. “There’s not enough of any of the basic things they need for daily living. Not even food. People are literally starving to death. I saw it when we passed through their systems headed out here.”

  Vicky paused, hunting for a conclusion. “We built a civilization to provide us with the things that make life worth enjoying. Now that civilization is tearing itself apart at the seams. Civilized people count on each other for the basics of life as well as the luxuries. All that has vanished for a lot of people. Together, we can bring it back to them.”

  Vicky glanced around the room. “You here on St. Petersburg can do something about it. Not for everyone, but for some. Do you really want to turn your back on a starving child?”

  “That’s a strange argument coming from a Peterwald,” an older man, his paunch hanging over his belt, said. He’d been introduced as George Gatewood, an industrialist.

  Vicky nodded. “I’m hearing that a lot. It kind of surprises me, too.”

  That brought a round of silence, but it was an expectant silence.

  “I don’t know why my dad decided to send my brother to the Navy. All his upbringing had been business, but there was Hank one morning at the breakfast table in a Navy commodore’s uniform. I thought he looked so handsome and grown-up. We women have a weakness for guys in uniforms, don’t we?”

  Two of the women present nodded agreement.

  Mary’s grin was almost a leer. “A regular chick magnet.”

  Vicky went on.

  “Six months later, my brother was dead. I spent much of the next year trying to kill the woman I thought had killed him. You may have heard about her? Princess Kris Longknife.”

  “You tried to kill her?” Mary was impressed.

  “I tried. You may have noticed, she’s kind of hard to kill.”

  There were nods.

  “Then Dad shipped me off to the Navy, too. He didn’t say why. But there was no commodore’s uniform waiting for me. I was an ensign. A boot ensign.”

  Vicky eyed Mary.

  “You can’t get much lower than a butter bar LT,” the woman agreed.

  “I learned basic things like how to shine my shoes. Dress myself. Keep my uniform shipshape. I learned to stand my watch and pull my weight. Not much weight at first, but more as I learned the Navy Way.”

  She let her eyes rove around the circle. There was a lot of skepticism there, but maybe some belief. Some trust.

  “There’s more to the Navy Way than shining shoes and getting your gig line straight. There’s things like duty and honor and professionalism. I hadn’t heard much about those things growing up in the palace. I learned it from Admiral Krätz.”

  She paused. “And if I didn’t get it right, I got the toe of his boot up my ass.”

  That brought a laugh.

  “Up your Imperial ass?” Mary asked.

  “For him, I don’t think there was anything Imperial about my rear end,” Vicky said. “I was a boot ensign, and my ass belonged to him.

  “It was an entirely new sensation for me.”

  That drew another laugh. Vicky let them enjoy it before she went on sardonically.

  “And then there was Princess Kris Longknife. I kept running into her. A very strange woman.”

  That drew nods all around.

  “You went with her out there,” Mary said, motioning with her drink to the ceiling and the dark, star-speckled sky beyond.

  “Yes, I went out there with Princess Kris Longknife in the Fleet of Discovery. And yes, I’m one of the few survivors who made it back.”

  “How
?” Mary demanded.

  “More luck than any human had a right to, that I’ll tell you. Luck and some folks who were willing to fight to the death so that we might have even a slim chance of making it back here to tell the rest of you what’s out there.”

  Mary took a drink from her glass. “Sometimes it’s like that.”

  “And you have to learn to live with it,” Vicky said, then went on.

  “Maybe I’ve seen as much dying as I care to in one lifetime.” Vicky discovered the words as they fell from her tongue. “Maybe it terrifies me that we’re falling apart at the seams when something like what we fought up there might drop into our sky tomorrow. I’ll let the historians decide for me. What I do know is that you here and the Navy up there have a chance to make it better for some folks who didn’t do anything to deserve what’s killing them.”

  Again, Vicky let her eyes rove over her listeners, polling their souls. Now she saw understanding. Maybe not acceptance, but understanding for why a snake-in-the-grass Peterwald was trying to grow two hind legs and pass for human.

  “We can make a difference. Why the hell won’t we?”

  A bell rang. A voice announced. “Dinner is served.”

  CHAPTER 11

  THE Grand Duchess Vicky Peterwald found herself seated not at the head of the table, or its foot. Instead, she was directed to a chair in the middle of the table.

  It took her about two seconds to figure out why.

  The guy with the big belly was seated directly across from her. The skeptical rancher was at her right elbow. Just about everyone Vicky would count as not yet sold on her idea was in the nine seats within easy listening of her.

  Mannie was at the head of the table, barely within earshot. At the foot was the other rancher. The commander was at his right elbow.

  Dinner was served, but it quickly became clear that Vicky was the main dish everyone was interested in.

  “When did you meet your stepmom for the first time?” Big Belly asked.

  Vicky took a moment to think. “I don’t remember ever meeting her before I was summoned home to offer my fealty. That was when I wanted to chase after Kris Longknife and her Fleet of Discovery. I’d expected more questions from Dad about where Kris was going and the royal city charter I’d signed off on with Mannie, but Dad just kind of waved his hand, and I was out the door a-running and not looking back. Foolish me.”

  “Was that when the assassination attempts started?” The question came from Mary. She’d been seated at Mannie’s left elbow. Apparently, she wasn’t someone Vicky needed to sell.

  “That’s hard to answer. Kris Longknife figured the first assassination attempt was aimed at her. I later met a guy who assured me I was the target. Who knows? Then bombs started going off on the Fury, and there was no question someone didn’t like me.”

  Vicky paused to raise a finger to her lips and appeared to think. “I wonder who?”

  The entire table enjoyed the laugh.

  “You were summoned home to Greenfeld after that Discovery debacle. How did you manage to get away from that cesspit?” Mary asked.

  Vicky’s face must have showed the pain because the laughter ended abruptly.

  “I almost didn’t. And it cost a good Marine, my escort and guard, his life,” was all Vicky managed as her throat tightened up.

  The room fell even quieter.

  “You’re tough on men, huh?” Mary said.

  “I seem to be,” Vicky admitted.

  “I’m still here,” the commander said, raising a glass in salute to Vicky from where he sat.

  Vicky awarded him a smile as she raised her glass to him.

  The rancher didn’t let that go on for too long.

  “Tell me. You say you’ve seen what’s happening on the planets out between us and Greenfeld. Can all the stuff we’ve got to spare add up to spit in the bucket for them?”

  Vicky nodded at the question. “It’s hard to tell. A lot of famines start when there’s almost enough food. When the first panic hits, hoarding starts, and food that might help a lot winds up in the storehouses of a few. If we eliminate the panic, maybe . . .” Vicky trailed off. She had no ironclad guarantee to offer.

  The questions ranged across a gamut of interests. A younger woman wanted to know just how daring the fashions were at the Imperial court this year. Vicky supplied a “Very daring,” and tried to dodge away.

  Big Belly didn’t allow the dodge. “Strange. The Empress pretty much makes the calls for all fashions in that madhouse. You’d think, what with her belly swelling, she’d want all the pretty young things covering up, wearing something like a balloon. Very strange that she’s got them all parading around as eye candy for her husband.”

  “I kind of had the same question when I was at court,” Vicky admitted.

  “It’s almost as if someone is setting someone up to be caught in the wrong bed by a jealous husband,” opined the industrialist.

  “What could a jealous husband do if he found his wife under the Emperor?” a woman asked. “He’d have to just close the door and pretend he never saw what he saw.”

  “Your husband might,” the rancher said, “but someone with a temper might not do the smart thing.”

  “I don’t know if you just insulted me or praised my husband,” she said.

  “I ain’t exactly sure which I just did either,” the rancher said, as the room laughed.

  Which left Vicky wondering just how stupid her dad was.

  That got interrupted by a question about the Fleet of Discovery. “Were you all ready to cut bait and run for home when you spotted that monster ship?” came from the young businesswoman to Vicky’s left.

  “I think everybody was,” Vicky said. “Before Kris Longknife disagreed.”

  “I saw that first news conference you made,” Mary said. “My compliments on how well you pulled off that dress.”

  “She didn’t pull it off. Somehow she managed to keep it on. At least most of it,” came from someone down the table, who appeared to be having trouble holding his liquor.

  “Are you asking if I really think Kris Longknife seduced the admirals?” Vicky said, stripping the matter bare.

  “You seemed to hint strongly at that,” Mannie said.

  “I wish I hadn’t,” Vicky said, and found herself using her fork to move early potatoes around her plate beside her untouched steak.

  “I was there,” Vicky finally said. “Kris Longknife was on her flagship, the Wasp. The other admirals were on their flagships as well. The decision to run turned into a determination to fight without anyone’s leaving their ship. All she had was words, and she turned us all from cringing cowards into Sailors demanding the first place in the battle line. I don’t know how she did it, but she did.”

  Vicky put her fork down. “I wish I’d played the record of that council of war instead of playing games.”

  “Why’d you do it then?” Mannie asked.

  Vicky shrugged. “I was a long way from home. I didn’t have any idea that Imperial ships were out there hunting for me. I had no idea how many assassins were lurking for me on the long trip home. I had a problem staying alive, and I made a bad choice.”

  “We all do that, sometimes,” Mary offered softly.

  Vicky looked up. “Now is not a time to make another one. People are going to die. People are dying. I hope we’ll make the right choice this time.”

  Dinner broke up shortly thereafter. Mannie excused himself, saying he needed to stay for further discussions, discussions to which Vicky apparently was not invited.

  The commander escorted Vicky to the six cars that would caravan her back to town.

  In a moment, all six of them roared into the darkness.

  CHAPTER 12

  VICKY settled into the plush leather seats of the limo. She was cold.

  She pulled her legs up
and wrapped her arms around them. She was colder still.

  Commander Schlieffen took off the wool uniform coat of his dress greens and wrapped it around her. Her teeth began to chatter.

  “Will you hold me,” Vicky said, and didn’t care about the pleading in her voice.

  Gerrit slid close to her and put his arms around her. Softly, he tried rubbing her arms. Her teeth kept chattering, but it didn’t seem to get worse.

  Vicky spread her body out on the seat. He settled between her and the cold night air and cuddled close.

  She began to feel warm again.

  “Thank you. I don’t know what’s come over me,” she said.

  “Shock. You were under one hell of a lot of pressure.”

  “It was a dinner, for Christ sake.”

  “You were selling them on saving thousands, maybe millions of lives.”

  “Kris Longknife sold people on saving a planet. I try to save a couple of thousand and come down with the shakes. And I don’t even know if I sold anything to anyone.”

  “You sold me on flying a wreck of a shuttle down here to give you a chance to make your pitch.”

  “You said flying it was no trouble,” Vicky shot back.

  “You knew I was lying through my teeth.”

  Vicky had to admit she had. “You flew a shuttle and walked out to face them. I get taken to supper and have to answer a few questions, and I’m shaking like a leaf.”

  A particularly bad shiver rocked her body.

  “You’re too hard on yourself,” Gerrit said. “And you don’t know how tight that man, what’s-his-name, is with the princess?”

  “Jack,” Vicky provided.

  “You don’t know how tight Jack had to hold her to get her through the shakes after it all.”

  Vicky considered that idea. She shook her head. “They aren’t that close.”

  “I’m glad we’re this close,” Gerrit said, and tightened his hold on her.

  Vicky caught sight of a red glare through the car window.

  Then her world exploded.

  CHAPTER 13