Authors: Mike Shepherd
“Don’t wreck all our good work,” she scolded Vicky as she left.
“But my ass hurts,” Vicky whispered, but only after the door swung shut.
“I would dearly love to make your ass feel better,” Mannie said.
“You had your chance, lover boy, and you walked away from my ass,” Vicky growled at him. “Did they give me pain meds?” she added, wondering how her tongue had gotten so loose around Mannie.
“Yes, they gave you a shot for the pain,” Mannie said, “so today you can blame your loose ways on the drugs. And yes, I did blow a great chance to show you how nice I could make your ass feel, but those two midgets of yours scared the bejesus out of me. I was half-afraid they intended to jump in bed with us.”
“No doubt they would have if you gave them half a wink.”
“Oh.”
“Scandalized?”
Mannie made a face, more terror than leer. Vicky had never seen quite that look on a man before. “You hear stories about the wicked ways of the capital. I know you’re no reluctant virgin, but . . .” seemed to be the end of Mannie’s thoughts.
“Dear mayor, I was never reluctant, even when I was a virgin, and yes, things can get very,
very
wicked around the palace though I hear that most people on Greenfeld lead very staid, normal lives.”
“So, will I have to live your way,” Mannie said, “or are you interested in living my way?”
“That is something we will have to talk about at length, once this rebellion is over and we have a chance to do something with the rest of our lives,” Vicky said, then frowned.
“What were we talking about before I got confused?”
“Supporting the fleet?” Mannie said.
“Right. Now why is it taking St. Pete so long to decide to do what you nice people of Sevastopol are doing? What’s the holdup?”
“Words,” Mannie said. “Words, words, words, signifying something.”
Vicky closed one eye and looked at Mannie hard. “I don’t think my ears are working. You want to say that again.”
“You heard me right. St. Pete doesn’t mind adopting a battleship, they just don’t want to pay for a battleship with a name like
Retribution
,
Merciless
,
Hunter
, or
Relentless
. They want to spend their money on something nice.”
“Nice!” Vicky squeaked, and was immediately rewarded with a shooting pain behind her eyes.
“Yes, something like
Success
,
Prosperity
,
Defender
, or maybe
Enterprise
.”
Vicky closed her eyes and did her best to slow her breathing. Maybe even the pounding of her heart. “Let me see if I get you. You want us to rename Imperial ships. You want to give the Empress all the opportunity she could want to go before my dad and tell him we’re in full rebellion out here and renaming
his
warships.”
“The Empress is renaming ships. Do you think renaming the
Merciless
to
Defender
is going to bend your dad all out of shape?”
Vicky took three seconds to show that she was seriously considering his question, then answered. “Why, ah, yes!” she could have said without thought. “And don’t tell me that the Empress’s renaming her ships is a precedent. I’ll put my whole fortune up against a single pfennig that Dad knows nothing about his wife’s renaming his ships.”
“You’re probably right,” Mannie said. “Your dad doesn’t just live in a bubble. She’s got him in a concrete dungeon where he never sees the light of day.”
Again Vicky found herself closing her eyes and thinking. Maybe thinking more about Dad than she ever had. “He was always in a bubble,” she said slowly. “Nothing I’ve seen since I left the palace, first with the Navy, and now, running for my life, has been anything like what he bragged about to me of his world of business and power. The Empress and her family have only turned his bubble into a marble-and-gold prison that shows him exactly what he wants to hear. My dad is a blind fool,” she said finally.
Mannie sat silently, listening as she spoke more to herself than to him. She took a deep breath and let the moment of introspection vanish away as she exhaled. “I think Kris Longknife would be . . . intrigued . . . that this fish has discovered water.”
They would have a lot to talk about, her and that Wardhaven princess, if they lived long enough to cross paths again.
“However, Mannie,” she said, coming back to the problem that might eat them alive just now, “we’re walking on eggshells here. Anything we can avoid doing is something we shouldn’t do.”
“Even if we did something as innocent as rename the
Retribution
something like
Victory
?”
Vicky might have laughed if the very thought of it didn’t bring pain to her skull. Instead, she took three deep breaths before going on. “I’ll make you a deal. The minute our little rebellion is over and victorious, I’ll rename that tub
Victory
, but not a minute before.”
“Same for the others?”
“You tell them to pick the ship names they find offensive and make up a list of what they’d like to have them changed to. You run them by me, and I’ll see what I can do. No Sailor worth his salt will want to serve on the
Posey
, but I’m willing to look at them. And the merchant cruiser conversions, they get to name them. They may have to crew them as well if they get too over the top on the names, but the conversions are theirs.”
“I’ll tell them they have to run those by you to get the Navy’s approval,” Mannie said. “Do you mind if I talk to St. Pete’s mayor for a moment? This might save you a trip.”
“Anything that keeps me out of the shooting gallery,” Vicky said, and closed her eyes.
Her rear end really was tired of lying the way they had her. It seemed that all they were doing to keep weight off her shoulder was putting weight on her butt. She tried fidgeting a bit, then switching her weight from one side to the other. Her temper was rising with her pain. She was thinking of ordering up her guards and storming out of the place when a young doctor ducked into her room.
“How are we doing?” was the wrong opening.
She answered his question with a full broadside.
He didn’t even flinch. “I could increase your pain meds,” he offered.
“Mannie thinks I may have to arm wrestle your city government for a quartet of warships.”
“Then I would suggest using your left arm,” the doctor said with a disarmingly boyish grin.
“And the pain in my butt?”
The doctor strode up to the bed, and began his examination, checking her vitals with a glance at the readouts, then lifting an eyelid and staring deep into her eyes. Vicky returned the advance only to discover that the doctor had the most amazing blue eyes.
“It may be,” he said distractedly as he continued his check of her head and shoulder, “that the pain in your rear is a distraction for the pain in your shoulder.”
Vicky flinched as his gentle probing of her shoulder brought agony. “I’d say it’s more competing with all the other pain for first place.”
“I’ve been told that before,” the doctor agreed, stepping back. He glanced at Mannie, who had just finished his phone call, then turned back to Vicky. “I’d like to keep you at least one night for observation, so I can medicate you enough to stop all those pains from getting together and singing a delightful four-part harmony. We really do need to stop the cycle of pain causing muscle spasms causing more pain. You can get well quickly and be done with the pain, or you can draw this out. Do you like pain?”
Vicky said a most unnoble word.
“I thought so. Well, you talk to the mayor here and see if I can have all the dances on your card tonight,” the doctor said. Stepping back from the bed, he cast Mannie a dirty look.
“Don’t scowl at me, Doc. I come bearing good news.”
“I could use some,” said Vicky.
“St. Pete has just voted to support two Navy ships and convert four merchant hulls to cruisers, assuming we can find four appropriate hulls. They also upped the ante and said they’d pay for one-quarter of
Retribution
’s upkeep, assuming you promise to rename it
Victory
as soon as you think it is politically doable.”
“Tell them they have a deal if it lets the good doctor fill me full of joy juice for the night.”
“I hope you won’t mind, but I accepted their proposal on your part.”
Vicky studied Mannie through narrowing eyes. “You starting to think you can speak for me?” came out sounding dangerous. Vicky liked the sound of it.
“This one time, with you flirting with the good doctor here,
I thought I might overstep my boundaries and do what I thought you’d do yourself.”
Vicky took a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. “I guess I can give you a pass this one time, but don’t make a habit of it. I make a habit of never ever being predicable. Now, Doc, give me one more call to clear my dance card, and I’ll take those shots. Computer, get me Admiral von Mittleburg.”
“Von Mittleburg,” came in a second.
“Have you heard about my latest misadventure?”
“From your arrival to the boom to your giving quite a speech, you all bandaged up and covered with blood. How much of that was yours?”
“More than usual,” Vicky said sourly, “but still way too much from other people.”
“It always is.”
“So, I’ve got a doctor down here who wants to keep me for observation tonight and float me with joy juice to stop the pain. I’m not averse to either. Do you need me topside?”
Vicky was surprised by the long pause that followed.
“Are you safe?” the admiral finally said.
“The hospital hasn’t blown up while I’ve been here.”
“We’ve made this place secure,” Mannie put in.
“Would you mind if I added a company of Marines?” the admiral countered.
Mannie sighed. “The last time I went out of Her Grace’s room, I was tripping over police and Rangers every step I took.”
“I’d prefer you were walking on cops, Rangers, and Marines for every step you took.”
“Send down the Marines,” Vicky said, putting an end to this testosterone-driven “mine’s bigger than yours” contest.
“They’re already on their way,” the admiral said. “I’m also fielding a lot of requests for merchant hulls to convert to cruisers from folks dirtside. You know anything about this?”
Vicky quickly filled him in on what Mannie seemed to have pulled off.
“So, the more blood you show on camera, the more fleet I get.”
“It seems that way.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I like the ships, but we need you. Be careful about that blood thing.”
“You say the nicest things, Admiral. I will do my best to keep my blood off my clothes and inside me, where it belongs.”
“You do that, Your Grace. Now let that doctor give you a shot and call me when you wake up, assuming you’re in a better mood.”
“Will do.”
The doc already had a syringe waiting. He glanced at her, Vicky nodded, and he added it to her drip with a “Sweet dreams.” He stood there for a long moment.
“Don’t you have someplace to be? Some things to do?” she asked Mannie.
“Nope. I’m going to be right here by you.”
“There’s a couch over there,” the doctor said, pointing, “that’s good to sleep on.”
“You get some rest,” Vicky said through a yawn. “It sure looks like I will.”
“I’ll be right here with you.”
“And here I figured the first night we spent together would be so much more fun than this.”
“I’ll make up for it next time.”
“Promises, promises,” Vicky said, but her eyelids were drooping. Mannie took her left hand and began making nice circles with his thumb on it. “Nice,” she said, but that was all she got out.
CHAPTER 43
V
ICKY
came awake feeling almost decent. She wondered how long that would last and did her best not to move anything.
She opened her eyes to daylight and Mannie. He was asleep in the chair beside her bed, his hand still on hers. For a moment, Vicky allowed herself to consider what it would be like to wake up next to this fellow every day for the rest of her life.
It would be a change.
A change like the Empire needs?
Maybe one of many,
she concluded.
A nurse came in silently. Vicky risked cracking a smile.
“We thought you were awake,” he whispered. “The breakfast cart just arrived. You hungry?”
“Starving. You got steak and eggs on that cart?”
“Scrambled eggs and some nice Jell-O.”
“Torture,” Vicky spat through a grin.
“So I’ve been told. Are you up for company?”
“It depends on who.”
“Cute gal. Pint size but, ah . . .”
“Deadly,” Vicky provided.
“Might be.”
“She is, trust me. Kit, you out there?” Vicky called, raising the volume of her whisper but hopefully not enough to wake Mannie.
Kit appeared at the door. “Are you okay, Your Grace?”
“Thanks to a lot of you, my stepmother has once again failed to remove me from the line of succession.”
“Someone should remove her,” the assassin growled.
“She’s not in the line of succession. Only her newborn son.”
“Him, too,” Kit growled.
“Now, now,” Vicky said, “we’ve got to be better than her.”
“I assure you, I am better at killing than her hired flunkies.”
“Are we discussing strategy, policy, or just gossiping?” Mannie asked.
“So, you are going to join the living,” Vicky said, echoing Mannie’s own words.
“It seems like I must.”
“Good nurse, do you have two of those abominable breakfasts?” Vicky asked.
“I think it can be arranged,” the nurse said, and disappeared.
“How is Kat?” Vicky asked.
“Good,” Kit answered. “Well, more like embarrassed. We want our scars in the front. She’ll have a hard time explaining that one to any good guard type she lets pet her rear.”