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

  “Don’t roll them on my account,” Vicky said. “Gerrit took the blast for me. Other than my pride, I’m unhurt.”

  “I don’t think you have any reason to be concerned about your pride. I understand that you’ve done quite well for an uninvited visitor they threatened to shoot down.”

  “May I ask how you know?”

  “I had a copy of your meeting with the mayors on my desk after supper, and I read the one concerning your other meeting before I went to bed. Well played.”

  “Again, may I ask how you knew, sir? Someone leaked my travel itinerary, and that’s how we got bushwhacked.” Vicky was going into a slow burn.

  “Commander Schlieffen sent it all along to me. I assure you, up here, it was my eyes only.”

  “Oh,” Vicky said, burner going out.

  At that moment, she realized just how tired she was.

  Vicky took a moment to settle deep into her chair. She really was exhausted. If Gerrit was stabilized, maybe she should think about some time in that bed the hospital had offered.

  The doctor’s conversation with the Navy doc topside was putting a happy smile on her face.

  Vicky allowed herself a smile.

  A nurse dashed through the door and up to the doctor to whisper words in her ear.

  The doctor’s face lost its smile, and she whirled to race back through the doors.

  Vicky glanced up at the Ranger. The captain’s face was that blank one officers were trained to wear when the battle goes suddenly and badly wrong.

  Vicky didn’t care what the Navy expected. She leaned over to rest her face in her hands and tried not to cry.

  But wasn’t very successful.

  CHAPTER 16

  ON the sunny ramp at the spaceport, Admiral von Mittleburg offered Vicky his arm. She took it gratefully.

  A week ago, his admiral’s barge had led a trio of landers down into the bay. The longboat on the right had held a quarter of the doctors, technicians, and supply yeomen from the station’s sick bay, along with a major chunk of their medical stores.

  The longboat on the left had held a company of Marines.

  No one questioned their right to land that morning.

  Admiral von Mittleburg had led the charge of medical personnel into the room where Vicky still waited for word about the commander. While the station’s senior surgeon moved swiftly through to merge his team and equipment with the best the locals had to offer, the admiral took a good look at his Grand Duchess.

  “You’re out of it, Lieutenant Commander,” he said, invoking Vicky’s Navy rank. “Walk with me.”

  A junior Navy officer could not refuse a walk with an admiral. This walk ended back at Vicky’s suite, with two female Marines undressing her and a medic giving her a shot.

  She got one glance out the window at the rising sun before she slipped into unconsciousness. The next thing she remembered seeing was the afterglow of the setting sun as she rose, muzzy-headed from her bed.

  Bathed, cleaned, and dressed in a proper uniform, she was soon dining with the admiral in the hotel’s best restaurant.

  The admiral ordered. That gave Vicky a chance to take in her new protection detail. Greenfeld Marines had now been added to Sevastopol Rangers, agents, and uniformed police.

  The place was rather crowded even though it had a strange lack of clientele.

  The admiral put down the menu as the waiter retreated with their order. “I expect that you will eat your vegetables,” he said.

  “How is Gerrit?”

  “My answer to your question depends on your assuring me that you will get a filling and healthy dinner under your belt. I’m told you ate little of last night’s dinner.”

  “Did the commander report that, too?”

  “He was very worried about you.”

  “And then I gave him more to worry about,” Vicky said, and tried not to follow into the dark place that thought led her.

  “He did his duty to you. You did your duty to Greenfeld,” the admiral said cryptically.

  “He did his duty to keep me alive,” Vicky conceded. “What of my duty?”

  “I believe that your questions about that are best answered by the mayor.”

  Vicky glanced up to find Mannie, the mayor of Sevastopol, rapidly closing on their table. He gave her a shallow bow from the waist and settled into the empty seat between Vicky and the admiral.

  The waiter returned. “My usual, Tony,” sent the waiter back where he came from.

  “Will someone tell me how Commander Schlieffen is doing?” Vicky demanded.

  “I’m waiting for her to promise to eat her vegetables,” the admiral put in.

  “I agree. She must take care of herself. She’s going to be a very busy Grand Duchess for the next couple of months.”

  “Will someone tell me about Gerrit before I scream!” Vicky raised her voice enough to make it clear to the men that hers was a serious threat.

  “Doctor,” the admiral said, signaling to a Navy medical officer who had been seated at a distant table.

  In a moment, the officer was at Vicky’s other elbow. “The commander came out of surgery four hours ago. He is still in recovery. They managed to limit the progressive irritation to his spinal cord. However, they were not able to save the leg. It was removed above midthigh.”

  “Oh no,” Vicky said, her hand rising without thought to her lips.

  “The medical facilities on Bayern are equal to the best in Greenfeld,” the admiral began. “They can handle his rehabilitation and clone a leg for him as well.”

  The admiral dismissed the doctor.

  “In two or three years,” Vicky observed dryly, as the medical officer walked away, “he’ll be as good as new.”

  “He is alive,” the admiral said with equal aridness. “That is more than the last two officers who got close to you can say. Three, if we include Admiral Krätz.”

  “I certainly had nothing to do with his death,” Vicky said defensively.

  “You wanted to go out stargazing. He took you. He died. One follows from the other as surely as day follows night.”

  Vicky had no answer to that.

  “Your Grace,” Mannie began, “I would like to personally apologize for the attack on you. We thought our meeting was secret. We thought your security was sufficient.”

  “It was for me,” Vicky said. “Just not survivable for those providing it.”

  “Yes,” Mannie agreed.

  The waiter brought water and tea for all three and retreated.

  “So,” Mannie asked, “is this eat-your-heart-and-liver month, or can we discuss what we decided last night? I wasn’t sure which way it would go, but after we got word back that someone had considered you worth throwing a hasty ambush at, a lot of my people got their backs up, and everything kind of fell into place. We folks in Sevastopol don’t like it when strangers send us a message to butt out.”

  Vicky took a deep breath, letting the storm of emotions swirling around her come in and get out. When she could speak, she asked the mayor, “What fell into place?”

  “We haven’t quite figured out what to call it. The Grand Duchess Victoria Humanitarian Outreach Fund was voted down because it would enlarge the target that you clearly seem to have on your back. Moreover, we don’t want to put a target on our planet. The final vote was to give it no name. It’s just The Initiative.”

  “The Initiative?” Vicky said.

  “Yes. We’ve got a pretty good idea of the wreck that is Poznan and Presov, thanks to your report. We’ve traded with them before, so we know what they usually need. We think we can have four boatloads of survivor biscuits baked up and two boatloads of spare parts, consumables and expendables, packaged up in a month. Maybe three weeks depending on the bakers’ schedule and us laying our hands on parts and gear scattered all around our plane
t.”

  “That fast?” the admiral said.

  “Our inventory has been getting way too large. That worried plant managers. It wouldn’t be too long before we had to start laying off workers. On the other hand, our inventory of what we need to keep things working was getting way too low. No feedstock and spare parts means workers get pink-slipped just as often as when the inventory has filled up the warehouses.”

  He eyed Vicky. “It turns out the Grand Duchess of this Empire can be right. Lots of us wanted to do this. We just didn’t have the spotlight. None of us had the chance to say it out in front of everyone where they’d have to listen to us. You did. Those of us who were looking for a venue jumped right on your bandwagon. I must say thank you, Your Grace.”

  Vicky considered several replies, and settled for, “You are very welcome.”

  “Now,” Mannie said, eyeing the admiral, “what can you do to protect these six very luscious sitting ducks? I’m told there are pirates out there.”

  “I promised them a cruiser and a battalion of Marines,” Vicky said, hoping everything was not about to come tumbling down.

  “You’ll need two cruisers and their longboats to help with the unloading,” the admiral said. “I can loan you my two best. Take good care of them. Most of what I have beside them are in desperate need of yard time.”

  “I can’t promise the pirates won’t make a pass at them,” Mannie said.

  “Pirates don’t faze my cruisers. It’s going up against other cruisers, or worse, battleships.”

  “You think the folks that ruined the Grand Duchess’s drive home last night might have bushwhackers that big?” The mayor seemed shocked to be even asking the question.

  “I wasn’t expecting a squad of gunners armed with antitank rockets last night,” the admiral answered.

  “Clearly, no one was,” Vicky said. “What about my Marine battalion?”

  “I’d go with a regiment if I could,” the admiral said. “I can get you one battalion reinforced with armor as well as a light Marine battalion. The only other Marine battalion I have is so green, I really don’t want to put them out in a shooting gallery just yet.”

  “Armored,” the mayor said. “We’re there to deliver survival biscuits, not gold bars. Aren’t tanks a bit of overkill?”

  “Overkill, hopefully not,” the admiral said. “Let me rather say overawe. I don’t know what arms the locals will have at hand. After last night, I’m not willing to bet that what they have right now will be what they have in a month or so. If someone’s throwing a knife fight, take a pistol. A gunfight, take a tank. If it gets any worse, we’ve got lasers in orbit. As I see it, being the biggest bastard in the valley keeps it from being the valley of death.”

  Mannie weighed that for a long moment, then nodded. “You may have a point.”

  “So, Mayor,” the admiral said. “You’ve got a battalion of Rangers. Good men and women from out in the backcountry. We’ll need to be rounding up a lot of folks who have been driven out to make their way or starve. Any chance you could loan The Initiative your light-infantry Rangers?”

  The mayor leaned back in his chair to glance at the Rangers and their automatic rifles interspersed with agents, cops, and now Marines in dress black and red.

  “I can’t ask you to provide the tanks in this knife fight if I’m not willing to provide the scouts under the bushes. Admiral, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  The two shook hands.

  Steaks, red potatoes, and mixed vegetables arrived.

  Vicky made sure to ostentatiously down two forks of mixed vegetables before she touched her steak.

  The men shared a chuckle.

  Two days later, Vicky finally managed to visit Gerrit. He was heavily drugged, but he smiled when she took his hand and ran her thumb over his palm.

  “More promises?” he managed to get out through cracked lips.

  “As many promises as you want,” she answered.

  “It will be a while before I can take you dancing.” It took him a while to get the words out. She kept gently stroking his palm and listening.

  “You will have the first waltz on my dance card when you do,” Vicky answered.

  His eyes nodded more than he did.

  Then they closed, and he drifted back off to sleep.

  Vicky waited until she was sure he was asleep. Then she waited a bit longer until the tears stopped running down her cheeks.

  With intent, she wiped them away, then stiffened her back and marched for what she knew must be done next.

  Now, a week after the attack, Vicky waited on the space-shuttle apron, her hand on Admiral von Mittleburg’s arm. She was out of uniform and wearing the red power suit.

  With armor inlays.

  The ambulance carrying the commander was the largest they could find. They had practically entombed the man to make sure that the tension wires they had attached to his body would not be knocked out of kilter on the ride to the shuttle.

  What they’d do on the ride up was too frightful for Vicky to contemplate, but it involved a tank of water and something like a pair of waterbeds with him in between.

  “Are they sure they can do this?” Vicky demanded in a whisper.

  “The doctors say he has healed enough and that this rig will keep everything stable. Do you want to check the math yourself?” the admiral asked.

  Vicky’s expertise in math barely extended to counting her change.

  The shuttle taxied out to the ramp, then held for a moment while a landing craft, tank, motored out of the bay. It was the first one down from the Crocodile, a Landing Assault Transport that had just arrived from Garnet. It was not only the transport for the Thirty-fourth Armored Marine Battalion, but it would also be taking on the First Sevastopol Rangers. A company of them were forming up on the tarmac to await their ride.

  Vicky eyed them, then asked the admiral to excuse her for a moment. She hitched a ride on a ramp truck over to where the commander of the Ranger company stood.

  “Inez? Is that you?” Vicky asked.

  Captain Inez Torrago came to attention and saluted Vicky while a sergeant called the entire company to attention.

  “It’s me, Your Grace.”

  “We meet in much better times,” Vicky said.

  “The Second Rangers is taking over your guard detail. They’re almost as good as the First.”

  “I’d expect nothing less from Colonel White,” Vicky said.

  “Brigadier General White,” Inez corrected Vicky. “She got her star when they reorganized us into a Ranger regiment and brigaded us with two other infantry regiments. Only six battalions all told just now, but the recruiters are busy looking for eager young kids who want to see the Empire. Or maybe just what’s over the next hill.”

  “You may be a while coming back to St. Petersburg,” Vicky said.

  “So I heard,” Inez admitted. “Somebody’s got to keep an eye on those planets we’re going out to rescue. It would be a shame to let that itchy Empress get her hands on what we’ve pulled out of the fire.”

  “You shouldn’t have to hang around out there too terribly long,” Vicky said. “No doubt you’ve heard the rumors that the other provinces are raising battalions of their own.”

  “Damn straight of them,” the Ranger allowed.

  “Well, I’ll see you on Poznan,” Vicky said.

  “Or maybe Presov,” the captain added with enthusiasm.

  Vicky left the captain to her troops and walked back to where the admiral stood. The shuttle with the commander and little else motored out into the takeoff area of the bay and began its acceleration.

  “That closes one chapter,” Vicky said, then glanced back at the Rangers. “And those will be the next.”

  “Yes, Commander,” the admiral said. “Now, may I introduce you to your new permanent Navy escort?”
/>   “Escort, sir?”

  “Yes. You broke the last two. Here’s your third. Do try to go easier on him.”

  CHAPTER 17

  STRIDING confidently toward Vicky was a Navy commander in undress greens. He looked tall, strong, and handsome, with a self-deprecating grin that almost left him boyish.

  He saluted the admiral, then offered Vicky his hand.

  She did not take it.

  “I don’t need another escort sacrifice,” Vicky snapped.

  “I believe you do. Commander Franz Boch, this is the Grand Duchess Victoria. Vicky to her friends.”

  “So Gerrit told me,” the fellow said, smile still there.

  Vicky decided to squelch it fast. “Commander, the last two men who got too close to me ended up dead or broken. That doesn’t include the two dead admirals.”

  “I know, Your Grace. Gerrit told me a lot.”

  “A lot,” Vicky said through a scowl. How much danger would a man risk for a chance to get laid?

  “He warned me you can get shocky when you’ve been under a lot of stress, and that I should keep a thermal blanket handy or be prepared to surrender my coat.”

  “You know Gerrit?” Vicky said, only half a question.

  “We were roommates at the Academy and shared rooms aboard several ships as junior officers. We know each other very well.”

  “How well?”

  The commander looked at Vicky with the most open face she had ever encountered. “He told me you keep your promises.”

  “You’ll be getting no promises from me.”

  “No problem, Your Grace.”

  Vicky spun around to face the admiral. “Where does the Navy get these lemmings, so eager to die?”

  “I do not know, Your Grace, I’m just glad that Greenfeld still has a few. Maybe enough to get us through these times.”

  Vicky raised her eyebrows at that bit of philosophy and stormed off to where a limo awaited her.

  The commander managed to get there first and open the door for her.