more exciting than others,” Vicky allowed.
“Now, about those ten thousand lightly armed thugs wanting to dock at my space station?” the admiral asked.
“Ah, yes,” Mannie said. “If you will allow me to borrow one of your communication circuits, I will see what I can do about having a lot of off-duty cops and not a few Rangers in full armor brought up on the next shuttles. There are plenty coming up with cargo for Brunswick, and there’s still stuff coming down from Metzburg. There should be plenty of room for troops.”
“Good. I’ve got Marines, but not nearly enough to keep that number of people of unknown moral standards under control. Oh, Mayor, do you have jobs for them?”
“Given a choice between letting them wander around idle,” Mannie said, “and us getting them to work, we’ll find something, though it may be farmwork in the outback and by.”
“Just so long as they’re out of my hair.”
“Well, Vicky this has been a most interesting day,” Mannie allowed after he’d finished his calls.
“We must do this more often.”
“We’ll be putting the finishing touches on the first shipment to Brunswick. It means meetings. Likely not as exciting as this one, and it may all go so smoothly that they just might bore you. Still, you and I might arrange for a quiet, candlelit dinner.”
A shiver went up Vicky.
Is this really me?
“I doubt the admiral will miss me,” Vicky said, sounding almost coy.
“Oh, no. I won’t miss you at all,” Admiral von Mittleburg put in, enthusiastically.
“Then I guess I’ll go dirtside with you.”
“Good,” Mannie said. His smile seemed more than pleased. Vicky found herself wondering just what thoughts might be behind that smile and found she liked the mystery.
CHAPTER 8
T HE trip back to High St. Petersburg got more than a little exciting as the jump point spit up a powerful task force.
Lieutenant Blue did the honors of calling them back to the flag bridge. “Admiral, Your Grace, we have company.”
“What kind of company,” the admiral demanded.
“Big company. It’s squawking as the battleship Scourge .”
Mannie shot Vicky a worried glance.
“It’s almost as big as the Retribution ,” Vicky said.
“Twelve 18-inch lasers for a main battery to our sixteen,” the admiral filled in.
“Whose side is it on?” Mannie asked.
“It was here a month ago, but they pulled it back for some odd reason,” Admiral von Mittleburg answered. “Who has it now is anyone’s guess.”
“The battlecruiser Stalker followed it through,” the lieutenant added. “And now we have the Slinger .”
“Those were Admiral Gort’s ships when he picked me up on High Chance,” Vicky said.
“Gort was a good man,” the admiral said.
“A good man who took a bullet intended for me,” Vicky added.
“One of those twelve assassination attempts the Navy has messed up for the Empress?” Mannie asked.
“It was just luck. My good luck. His bad luck,” Vicky said mournfully, feeling the desolation of it again.
“The old heavy cruiser Kasimov just jumped in, trailed by its sister the Yamal .”
“They’re as ancient as the Kamchatka ,” the admiral said. “The Scourge is nearly new. The Kasimov is over twenty years old. What have they got in common?”
“Admiral, commlink opening to the Scourge ,” announced the chief petty officer.
“On main screen.”
“Hello, Admiral von Mittleburg. I was hoping to see you again,” came from a sandy-haired captain of middle years.
“Willy Brandl, I’m glad to see you again,” the admiral said, “although I admit to being a bit surprised. I’m not sure I’m prepared for such an influx of ships.”
The time delay made for a slow conversation, but it did not stop it. “Sorry to pop in on you so unexpectedly, but it was either come here or report to High Homburg to be decommissioned and scrapped. Assuming the ships were actually scrapped and not put to another use.”
“They are scrapping
“Now, about those ten thousand lightly armed thugs wanting to dock at my space station?” the admiral asked.
“Ah, yes,” Mannie said. “If you will allow me to borrow one of your communication circuits, I will see what I can do about having a lot of off-duty cops and not a few Rangers in full armor brought up on the next shuttles. There are plenty coming up with cargo for Brunswick, and there’s still stuff coming down from Metzburg. There should be plenty of room for troops.”
“Good. I’ve got Marines, but not nearly enough to keep that number of people of unknown moral standards under control. Oh, Mayor, do you have jobs for them?”
“Given a choice between letting them wander around idle,” Mannie said, “and us getting them to work, we’ll find something, though it may be farmwork in the outback and by.”
“Just so long as they’re out of my hair.”
“Well, Vicky this has been a most interesting day,” Mannie allowed after he’d finished his calls.
“We must do this more often.”
“We’ll be putting the finishing touches on the first shipment to Brunswick. It means meetings. Likely not as exciting as this one, and it may all go so smoothly that they just might bore you. Still, you and I might arrange for a quiet, candlelit dinner.”
A shiver went up Vicky.
Is this really me?
“I doubt the admiral will miss me,” Vicky said, sounding almost coy.
“Oh, no. I won’t miss you at all,” Admiral von Mittleburg put in, enthusiastically.
“Then I guess I’ll go dirtside with you.”
“Good,” Mannie said. His smile seemed more than pleased. Vicky found herself wondering just what thoughts might be behind that smile and found she liked the mystery.
CHAPTER 8
T HE trip back to High St. Petersburg got more than a little exciting as the jump point spit up a powerful task force.
Lieutenant Blue did the honors of calling them back to the flag bridge. “Admiral, Your Grace, we have company.”
“What kind of company,” the admiral demanded.
“Big company. It’s squawking as the battleship Scourge .”
Mannie shot Vicky a worried glance.
“It’s almost as big as the Retribution ,” Vicky said.
“Twelve 18-inch lasers for a main battery to our sixteen,” the admiral filled in.
“Whose side is it on?” Mannie asked.
“It was here a month ago, but they pulled it back for some odd reason,” Admiral von Mittleburg answered. “Who has it now is anyone’s guess.”
“The battlecruiser Stalker followed it through,” the lieutenant added. “And now we have the Slinger .”
“Those were Admiral Gort’s ships when he picked me up on High Chance,” Vicky said.
“Gort was a good man,” the admiral said.
“A good man who took a bullet intended for me,” Vicky added.
“One of those twelve assassination attempts the Navy has messed up for the Empress?” Mannie asked.
“It was just luck. My good luck. His bad luck,” Vicky said mournfully, feeling the desolation of it again.
“The old heavy cruiser Kasimov just jumped in, trailed by its sister the Yamal .”
“They’re as ancient as the Kamchatka ,” the admiral said. “The Scourge is nearly new. The Kasimov is over twenty years old. What have they got in common?”
“Admiral, commlink opening to the Scourge ,” announced the chief petty officer.
“On main screen.”
“Hello, Admiral von Mittleburg. I was hoping to see you again,” came from a sandy-haired captain of middle years.
“Willy Brandl, I’m glad to see you again,” the admiral said, “although I admit to being a bit surprised. I’m not sure I’m prepared for such an influx of ships.”
The time delay made for a slow conversation, but it did not stop it. “Sorry to pop in on you so unexpectedly, but it was either come here or report to High Homburg to be decommissioned and scrapped. Assuming the ships were actually scrapped and not put to another use.”
“They are scrapping
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