Read Rebel Online

Authors: Mike Shepherd

Rebel (11 page)

CHAPTER 13

 

V
ICKY
spent the next couple of days touring the major cities on St. Petersburg, smiling for the camera while it replayed the Battle of the Heart Attack. She quickly developed a standard speech that highlighted the danger their homes and planet had been in, the Navy’s rapid movement to their defense, and their sudden acquisition of a fleet of ships with hungry Sailors and many other needs.

Mayors thanked her, a gratitude Vicky accepted in the name of the Navy. Little girls gave her flowers and jars full of copper pfennigs toward the maintenance of the fleet. Vicky smiled and said nothing about her hope that their parents might be willing to give a lot more.

Vicky slowly came to the understanding of the true value of a Grand Duchess. She didn’t so much do as allow others to do things in her name. She was the physical embodiment of other people, both those giving and those receiving. She imagined that a flag might have worked better, but her smiling face and hands to give and take seemed to work quite well.

It kept her busy, almost enough not to notice that Mannie was nowhere in sight.

When she thought about it, she realized that his
disappearance was inevitable. He had a job to do, and she had what she was doing. Their duties took them in different directions.

If they had become entangled in a scandal, neither one of them would be as good at their jobs as they were right now.

Mannie knew his people. While Vicky might consider it just fun to fool around in the hot tub, he made a call, and she had to respect him for it.

The Navy had taught her the Navy Way. Now Mannie was introducing her to the political way.

The fact she didn’t much like either way had nothing to do with anything that mattered.

Four days of smiling and saying just the right thing had her about ready to sign on again as a boot ensign under Admiral Krätz’s heavy and demanding hand. She was not at all disappointed when Admiral von Mittleburg called to say the convoy to Brunswick was fully loaded.

“Oh, and I have created a new job to coordinate dealings with St. Petersburg or other planets for the logistic needs of the reserve fleet.”

“You have. Did you pick anyone I might wish horrible things upon?” Vicky said.

“Captain Etterlin, formerly of the
Retribution
.”

“I can’t think of a man more deserving of the promotion,” Vicky said, fighting a laugh but not very successfully. “Will he be sitting in on meetings and saving my tush from long hours in hard chairs?”

“No doubt. The
Attacker
is not yet out of the yard. I’ve offered the
Retribution
to Captain Bolesław.”

“He did a good job of bringing in the
Attacker
when it could have easily been lost with all hands, and my head as well.”

“Yes, I thought you might say something like that. Anyway, all joking aside, Your Grace, you need to be under way and quickly. As I might have mentioned, I’m sending the battlecruiser
Slinger
and the newly acquired large heavy cruisers
Wittenberg
and
Augsburg
along with you. I’m holding back
Rostock
for here, so you’ll be using
Sovereign of the Stars
for your jump-point scout.”

“How soon can you send a shuttle for me?”

“I have my own barge on final approach to the Kiev spaceport.”

Vicky looked around the limo she was presently in. The commander and Mr. Smith, Kit and Kat were there. “Did we leave anything in the room this morning?”

“Everything you own dirtside is in the boot,” Kit said.

“Commander, tell the driver our destination has changed. It is now the shuttleport.”

Four hours later, they were on their way, leading a convoy of fifteen freighters to Brunswick. The voyage was quick. Their arrival was the shock this time.

CHAPTER 14

 

A
week later,
Retribution
followed
Sovereign of the Stars
through the jump point to the Brunswick system. In only a moment, Lieutenant Blue was reporting on what was in orbit around Brunswick.

“It seems we are not the only fleet in this system,” Captain Bolesław said after Lieutenant Blue finished his more in-depth analysis of what was ahead of them.

“How bad is it?” Vicky asked. She had a pretty good idea it was bad, but it was the captain’s prerogative to say the worst, and she needed to know just how bad he saw it.

“Two battleships are tied up to High Brunswick Station,” her captain said. “The
Savage
and the
Ferocity
according to your Mr. Blue although they are squawking as the
Reprisal
and
Revenge
.”

“Do we have any battleships of that name?” Vicky asked.

“Not since they were scrapped ten years back.”

“What about the
Savage
and the
Ferocity
? Were they scheduled for scrapping?”

“Not that I know of, but we aren’t getting the most up-to-date news out here.”

Vicky couldn’t argue with that. “So do you know anything about the skippers of those two battleships?”

Captain Bolesław eyed his own commlink. “Yes. I know them.”

“We’ll just have to wait until we get in closer to see if you can do anything with them. About the cruisers?”

“The
Koln
and
Emden
are heavy cruisers, though not as strong as ours. Their main battery is twelve 8-inchers. We have twelve 9.2-inchers on the
Wittenberg
and
Augsburg
. In a fight, though, the quality of the crew might be more telling than the extra power of the lasers.”

The commlink came alive. “Put it on screen,” Captain Bolesław said.

“Ships entering Brunswick space from outside the Imperial Security Zone, you are forbidden any contact with those protected by Imperial Security. You will attempt no contact and return immediately from whence you came.”

Captain Bolesław eyed Vicky.

She nodded. “So that’s the way it is. I guess my stepmama got here ahead of us. Lieutenant Blue, how strong is the Empress’s grip?”

“I can’t honestly say at the moment, Your Grace. I’ll need more time to analyze the communications I can hack off the station and planet.”

“While he’s doing that, Captain, why don’t we close on the Imperial Security bubble?”

“Dare we risk popping it?” the captain asked, an eager grin playing at the edge of his lips.

“God forbid I should do such a thing.”

“Yeah, right,” the captain muttered, but he turned to his navigator and had him set a course for High Brunswick Station. “One gee if you will.”

“One gee it is,” the helmsman answered, and Vicky’s tiny fleet headed in to stick their heads in the Empress’s maw.

CHAPTER 15

 

F
OR
four hours, they accelerated toward Brunswick, and nothing happened.

The
Sovereign of the Stars
maneuvered over to lead the column of fifteen freighters; now the
Retribution
led the
Slinger
,
Wittenberg
, and
Augsburg
in a second column fifteen thousand klicks to port. Vicky organized her small fleet, but from the ships docked on High Brunswick, there was not a sound.

“No communications at all between them?” Vicky asked.

“Not so much as a time check on their net,” Lieutenant Blue replied. “I’ve never seen a net so silent.”

“Could they have done something to jack up their net security?”

The lieutenant shrugged. “With them, it’s always possible, Your Grace, but I really can’t believe that our best has been left totally facedown in the mud.”

Vicky hoped he was right.

“There is a second possibility,” Captain Bolesław said softly, his hand over his mouth.

“I’m all ears,” Vicky said, and even Lieutenant Blue leaned close.

“There is old-fashioned shoe leather. If you send a runner
to call a meeting, there is no net traffic. You get all your interested parties in one room, and there is nothing for the good lieutenant to eavesdrop on.”

“How tacky,” Vicky said. “You’d think they don’t trust us.”

“As hard as that might seem,” the captain said.

They continued to wait for several more hours. On the one hand, Vicky didn’t mind the delay. Conversations in space with speed-of-light delays were so ineffective. How could she talk someone into a decent heart attack if it took an hour or more for each verbal jab to cross space?

The longer it took them to start talking, the shorter the delays between verbal sallies.

Still, it was nerve-racking to wait, wondering what they were up against.

“You know the skippers of the ships tied up at High Brunswick,” Vicky finally said to Captain Bolesław.

“Yes. The skipper of the
Savage
, now
Reprisal
, spent four years just down the hall from me during my Academy years. He was a bit of a rounder. If there was a prank going on, he was likely at the bottom of it. He finished below the middle of the class. I never would have expected him to get a battleship in my Navy. But then, maybe the
Reprisal
isn’t in my Navy now. Time will tell.”

Yes, time will tell.

Vicky decided she might as well spend some of the time getting a good nap. She was asleep when they reached midpoint in their approach, and the convoy flipped over and began to decelerate toward Brunswick.

The nap had turned into a good night’s sleep and she felt well rested and refreshed by a fast shower and a new set of whites when she returned to the bridge.

“Anything happen?” she asked the officer of the deck.

“Not a thing, Your Grace. The captain is in his in-space cabin, and I have orders to wake him if anything new develops, but it’s been a very quiet watch.”

Vicky turned toward the sensor station. A chief had the watch there.

“Anything to report?”

“The ships at the station are still observing strict emissions control, Your Grace. We have made a thorough analysis of the
planet’s public network. It appears normal. The media is reporting the usual stuff. Cat up a tree. Dog bites dog. We have successfully hacked the police net. There’s nothing like a security presence. The lieutenant told me to tell you that he doesn’t think the Security Consultants have actually landed on Brunswick.”

“Is he absolutely sure of that, Chief?”

The senior countermeasures tech looked pained. “Beg your pardon, ma’am, but there are no absolutes in this game.”

“Pardon me for showing my ignorance. Thank you, Chief.”

“You’re welcome, Your Grace.”

“Would Your Grace care for a cup of tea?” the OOD asked.

“Please.”

Vicky noted that sometime during her nap, a command chair had been added next to the captain’s. On its back was stenciled:
GRAND DUCHESS
.

Vicky settled in and soon found a steaming mug of tea at her elbow.

She sipped it while staring at the main screen; it showed the planet ahead of them getting larger. Still, it stayed a mystery.

Then the screen lit up. “Stand by for a formal declaration by Count Korbinian, Lord of Karenhall.”

“Runner, wake the skipper,” the OOD ordered, and a seaman striker dashed off.

Captain Bolesław was back on the bridge in a moment, still buttoning up the shirt of his fresh undress whites.

“Has the message come in?” he asked.

“Only the alert,” the OOD said. “Nothing of substance.”

The captain settled into his chair. A chief steward’s mate had a steaming mug of tea waiting for him when he absentmindedly put his hand out while staring at the main screen as if to will it to give up the next message.

So, of course, the screen obeyed the will of the skipper and did.

A man appeared. He looked thirtysomething; his face was yet unlined by age and experience. The red uniform he sported would have been comical for all the gold and silver dripping from it . . . except for the large silver death’s head on each lapel.

As he spoke, Vicky’s eyes were drawn back repeatedly to those two grinning skulls.

“I am Count Korbinian, Governor General of Brunswick, and the Lord Protector of the Imperial Security Zone in which all
good subjects of Brunswick reside. Unknown ships approaching Brunswick, know that we hold your silence to be clear evidence of hostile intent and we will use deadly force on you if you approach this station. Return from whence you come, or face the most serious consequences. This message will not be repeated.”

And the screen went back to its view of still-distant Brunswick.

“It took him
that
long to come up with
that
little,” Vicky said, scowling at the screen.

“OOD, am I mistaken, or hasn’t the
Retribution
been squawking that it is a ship of the Imperial Navy every moment since we entered this system?” the captain demanded softly but firmly.

The commander standing the watch took time to verify his answer before he replied. “Yes, sir. Both the
Retribution
and the other warships have been identifying ourselves properly. No squawker has broken down. One of the freighter’s IFF went on the blink for an hour, but they got it back up, and we’re all right and tight, sir.”

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