Rebel (38 page)

It rammed right into the wreckage of its leader.

Then it got lucky.

The wreckage of the first cruiser masked the second one. The helmsman of the second also did a bit of a dance, yawing first right, then left, wrecking the light cruisers’ firing solutions by dodging into, but then away from, a clear line of sight and field of fire.

Then the Empress’s ship fired its own pulse lasers.

The
Ferwert
took three direct hits; more hits than a light cruiser’s thin armor could handle. The
Ferwert
came apart at the exact same moment the
Halum
got a good firing solution on the enemy merchant cruiser and took it apart with four pulse-laser hits as well as a broadside of 6- and 5-inch lasers.

The Empress’s ship got off a few more shots from its 6-inch guns, but the next salvo from the
Halum
put an end to that noise.

Where once four proud warships had sailed, now stood only one slowly moving amid the wreckage, retrieving survival pods.

“So, they came, they didn’t see anything, and they won’t be making any claims to be conquerors,” Admiral Bolesław said dryly.

“It seems that way,” Admiral von Mittleburg said. “Commander, has the
Halum
reported anything from the far side of the jump?”

“My chief reports that they will deploy a pixie through the jump as soon as they have collected as many survivors from the
Ferwert
as possible.”

Vicky was ready to jump down the skipper’s throat, but she kept her mouth shut long enough to think the situation through. She remembered that the Empress’s merchant cruisers had been forty thousand klicks away from her light cruisers.
Halum
would need to pick up all the survivors it could find there before closing on the jump, where they might retrieve the Empress’s survivors as well as send a pixie through the jump.

Both of the other admirals seemed to know intuitively what took a long minute for her to figure out, but the pall of death hanging over the room for that minute delayed them from going on and Vicky from going off.

I’ve got a lot to learn.

“The
Halum
did not report that the rest of the Empress’s forces were moving out, did she?” Admiral Bolesław asked.

“Her destroyers were still sucking up reaction mass, sir, when we got our last look. I think it’s safe to say that the
Halum
will have a pixie on the other side well before they can distribute their reaction mass, re-form their destroyer squadrons, and break orbit.”

“Good. Walter, do you still think your division is the best in the fleet?”

He commanded the newest destroyer division.

“Yes sir,” the captain said, jumping to his feet.

“Order two of them, not your flag though, out to relieve
Halum
. She’ll need to come back. With all the survivors, they’re likely to be taking turns breathing in and out.”

“Sir,” Captain Walter Oseau said, and departed the room, already speaking into his commlink.

Now the room got down to the ancient military art of making do with way too little. There were skippers pleading for space on a slip for their ship. The yard superintendent already had their list of failed equipment that needed replacing. He also had the list from dirtside of what gear could be produced by the fabs quickest and which would need more time.

To no one’s surprise, the two did not fit together. It wasn’t even close. Over the next hour, compromises were struck, and those facing a long wait for spare parts began to haggle among themselves to see how they might rob from Peter to get Paul away from the dock.

Vicky saw two skippers actually playing rock, paper, scissors. The loser took it like a man. He was quickly set upon by others who were sure that now that he was missing a major component of his power plant, there wasn’t any reason that he shouldn’t give up more gear.

The
Vanity
ended up stripped down nearly to its hull plates.

Next, skippers began bidding for his crew like some ancient slave auction. Every ship in the fleet was undercrewed. The skipper was a good sport, especially after Admiral von Mittleburg took him and another captain aside who had just been diagnosed with a rare, untreatable cancer.

That ailing skipper was in tears, but he surrendered his command. “You take good care of
Caprice
. She’s a damn good ship with a good fighting crew.”

“Trust me, Konrad, I will.”

“You do, or I’ll hunt you down in hell and make it worse for you.”

Vicky stepped outside to put a call through to Mannie. “Have you gotten the word?” was all she said.

“That your fleet did one of those day-trips to the moon and a lot of stuff broke?”

“So you got that word.”

“There’s another word?”

“The Empress had two of her merchant cruisers try to force the jump, first with a few longboats loaded with sensors, then with the two cruisers.”

“How’d that go?” Mannie asked.

“She lost two cruisers, we lost one.”

“I guess that’s a good trade.”

“Maybe it was,” Vicky said, remembering the black pall of the officers. How many of them had seen men die in their rise to command ships? It had been a long peace.

Do these men really have the stomach for war?

Then Vicky remembered the skipper reduced to tears when ordered to turn his command over so that another man might sail it into the teeth of death.

Her ships had fought battles. How many had the Empress’s fought?

Vicky shook herself and focused on what she had to. “The Empress is coming for us. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but she’s coming soon. Whatever St. Petersburg can manage to give us, we need it. We need it badly, and we need it fast.”

“I hear you. I’ll get on it immediately. I may not get back to you today, but I will when I can come up for air.”

“You have time to breathe. You must be slacking off,” she said, but softened it with a bit of a chuckle.

“Anyone ever tell you about that Peterwald sense of humor you have?”

“Most people tell me that we Peterwalds don’t have a sense of humor.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” and now he chuckled.

“Maybe you can help me find one when all this is over.”

“I’d love to try to find a lot of things you have hidden away.”

Now he was talking like a lover. Had anyone ever talked to her like that?

“I’d love to let you find a whole lot of things I keep hidden, but for now, we both know what we have to do.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Mannie said.

Was there a hint of a soft kiss as the line went dead?

Vicky decided there was.

Then she returned to Admiral von Mittleburg’s meeting.

CHAPTER 54

F
OR
the next two days, Vicky found herself with nothing to do while everyone around her was frantic. Growing up in the palace, there had been a lot of times when she had nothing to do. But then, those around her also seemed to have little to do.

Maybe her smaller self hadn’t understood what her dad really did with his hands on the wheels of power. Then again, maybe Dad had only thought he was making things happen. Vicky remembered the time when she’d been allowed to sit on Dad’s lap and put her hands on the steering wheel of the small electric get-about that he used to drive around the gardens. She’d been so excited to actually “drive” the cart.

She was left brokenhearted and screaming when Hank pointed out that Dad had had his hands on the top of the wheel the entire time she had her hands on the bottom.

Was she just sitting on someone’s lap as they really controlled where they were going?

She thought about that and came to the conclusion that if her dad were here, he’d be throwing his weight around everywhere—and likely making a mess of everything.

Vicky remembered a book she downloaded from the
library of Kris Longknife’s ship. It had introduced Vicky to the idea of a “constitutional monarchy.”

Was she becoming some sort of castrated constitutional monarch? “Castrated” was the word Father used when he talked about Ray Longknife. “He’s not a king. He can do nothing. He was a great man, once. Now he’s let them cut his balls off.”

Vicky gave that a long thought.

I’m the one who chose to come to St. Petersburg. I’m the one who raised the flag of rebellion. I’m the one sitting here like a stalking goat for the Empress while our ships cut her flanks to ribbons. I
chose
my course.

However, she’d chosen it carefully—with advice and input from some very smart men.

Am I smarter than my dad?

That was a hard thought to tackle, but it did bring up something worse.

Dad! Where are you?

Could the Emperor have come out with the Empress?

Heaven knows that luxurious tub is big enough to hold the entire palace.

What if the fleet came through the jump waving the Imperial flag and announcing the presence of His Imperial Majesty—lay down your arms or face his full displeasure?

Could Vicky order her fleet to fire on her father, the Emperor?

That was a question that required parsing. Could she give such an order? How would her captains and crews react to it?

Vicky was none too sure about the first half of the question. About the second half, she was even less sure.

Fire on the Empress. No problem. Vicky could give the order, and every gunner in her fleet would gladly jump to it.

Fire on her father, the Emperor? Fire lasers with the intent of killing Dad or at least killing men fighting for him?

Vicky found the question distasteful. No doubt she’d find the actual situation even more revolting.

Vicky smiled. She’d started a revolution and now found that if she faced the question at the heart of the matter, it was revolting to her.

“The Empress was the one trying to kill me. Dad, you’ve become little more than a middle-aged buffoon in my mind’s eye. But what will I do if I’m faced with you in all your buffoonery?”

Am I already facing it?

Vicky went looking for Commander Blue. She found him in his witch’s cave off the main corridor, the one with the unmarked door. She knocked. A second-class petty officer answered, then immediately let her in. Commander Blue was at a workstation.

As Vicky came in, the commander, a chief, and two first-class petty officers blanked their screens and stood to attention.

Vicky ignored the lack of trust, or the need to look at the raw data before letting their betters know how consulting the entrails had enlightened them.

“As you were,” she said, then added, “Commander, is there anyplace where we may talk in private?”

“This is a totally secure room, Your Grace.”

“I need to talk to you
alone
.”

Commander Blue nodded. “Chief, I need this room. Take the crew out for coffee.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” the chief said, and followed the junior petty officers out of the room. He personally pulled the door shut, got a solid click, then tested it before leaving.

“What do you want, Your Grace?”

Vicky took a seat next to the commander. “I want to hear the message traffic that was exchanged between our light cruisers and the Empress’s merchant cruisers.”

“I don’t think there was any,” he said.

“That’s what I need to know. Was there any traffic, and if there was, what did the Empress’s cruisers have to say for themselves before they died?”

“Give me a moment, Your Grace,” the commander said, and turned to his station. He called up the visual he’d shown the assembled captains and admirals. It had no sound. He called up a second file that was rather more sketchy, but still had no attached audio file. A third file, even more visually degraded, came with audio.

“When do you think the bastards will quit yanking us around and do something for real?”

“Who’s that?” Vicky demanded.

“That’s the comm watch on the
Halum
and
Ferwert
. This recording covers all guard channels.”

“Keep your cool, Hermann. They will come when they come.”

“Do you think there were any people in those launches? For Christ’s sake. Would you volunteer to man something like that? Do you think that doll of a Grand Duchess would make us? Would you volunteer to do it if she offered you a night . . .”

“Shut up, Hermann. We’re supposed to guard these channels, not fill them up with your fantasies. Beside, we’re recording all traffic.”

“You’re recording all this?” ended with Hermann’s voice breaking with a high-pitched squeak.

“Yep.”

There was a long pause. “Could you maybe edit me out, at least that last bit?”

“No, and are you sure that your leading chief isn’t recording your traffic?”

There was quiet for a very long time.

“Here they come,” broke the silence. It was said simultaneously on several channels.

Then there were several kinds of statics, crackles, and pops.

“We got the bastards,” came only a few seconds later.

There was a long pause, and you could almost hear the panting of men trying to catch their breath. Realize they were still breathing.

“Here comes another one,” was again shouted by several voices.

“Damn!” “That wreck’s in the way!” “I can’t get a firing solution! Between its moving and the hulk’s rolling, the fire control computer can’t get a fix on the bandit.”

It went like that for a matter of seconds, then there were screams on several nets, cut off abruptly.

On other channels, there was a curt, “I got a solution.”

“Fire.”

“Thank God we got it,” came a few seconds later.

Vicky listened as the last few shots were fired, as some hits slashed into the
Halum
, but from the Empress’s ship on net she heard absolutely nothing.