intend for you to have?”
In her mind’s eye, Vicky saw her data divide in two, one in red, the other in green. Quickly, headers began streaming down in both sections, but the red section kept going long after the green one finished. Then the green vanished away. The remaining headers showed the source of the data: admirals’ reports, intelligence reports, political developments, economic and production statistics headed tables of content that rapidly expanded.
“Search the admirals’ reports for information on your stepmother,” Mr. Smith suggested.
“Are you reading my computer?” Vicky demanded.
“Only the very surface. I can see the headers but nothing under them.”
“Let’s check political developments instead. See if there are any surprises there,” Vicky said.
Mr. Smith greeted that with a shrug but said nothing.
Politics seemed to be pretty much the same. Imperial proclamations were going out, taxes were being raised. Later proclamations complained about the failure of said taxes to produce the expected income. Planetary governors were encouraged to do whatever it took to find the expected money.
Vicky wondered where the money was going to be spent.
She stopped the fast run-through when she spotted a familiar name.
“Prime Minister Bertram has been sacked?” Vicky said, startled. “I know him. I have since I was just a little girl trying to loot cookies and candy from the kitchen. He always had some lemon drops in his pocket when he came to call on Dad. He said he kept them there just for me and his grandkids.”
“Apparently, lemon drops didn’t cut it with the new wife,” Mr. Smith said.
“How do you know?” Vicky demanded.
“I don’t. Call it a guess.”
“It’s a good guess. The Prime Minister was disgraced over the taking of some bribes. One of the Empress’s uncles has been given the office,” Vicky said.
“Have your computer search the admiral’s reports on Mr. Bertram. I bet they have something to say on it.”
Vicky considered that for a moment. It was a good suggestion, but as Mr. Smith had admitted, what she brought to the top of her computer, he was very likely taking in as well. Then again, what could the local admirals have found out that the United something embassy hadn’t already reported to their king?
How much do you trust this guy?
was a major question.
There was only one way to find out. “Computer, search the admirals’ reports for anything on Prime Minister Bertram.” In barely a second, reports were streaming before her eyes.
“The admirals think it was a bogus charge trumped up to get him out and make way for a favorite of the Empress,” Mr. Smith said.
“You read fast,” Vicky said.
“You need to get you and your computer better synced together,” he answered. “I’ll have it teach you while you sleep tonight.”
“So now you’re going to upgrade me as well as my computer? I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“You can feel any way you like,” he said. “But if you intend to run with the hounds, you can’t afford to be slow.”
“Or run away from the hounds,” Vicky muttered.
“This is interesting,” Mr. Smith said. “Did you notice where Bertram fled to after he fell from grace?”
“I didn’t think he had any other home but the palace,” Vicky said.
“Home or not, he lit out for St. Petersburg. You know that place?”
“Very well,” Vicky said. “Maybe too well. Computer, what’s happening on St. Petersburg these days?”
“St. Petersburg is prospering. It is one of the few planets that paid its taxes in full and on time.”
“How interesting,” Vicky said. “And how did Mr. Bertram prosper on St. Petersburg?”
“He was hired by Mayor Manuel Artamus, the mayor of Sevastopol, who is also serving as chief counsel to the St. Petersburg Council of Mayors.”
“A council of mayors?” Mr. Smith observed. “That sounds interesting.”
“As documented in Admiral von Mittleburg’s report,”
In her mind’s eye, Vicky saw her data divide in two, one in red, the other in green. Quickly, headers began streaming down in both sections, but the red section kept going long after the green one finished. Then the green vanished away. The remaining headers showed the source of the data: admirals’ reports, intelligence reports, political developments, economic and production statistics headed tables of content that rapidly expanded.
“Search the admirals’ reports for information on your stepmother,” Mr. Smith suggested.
“Are you reading my computer?” Vicky demanded.
“Only the very surface. I can see the headers but nothing under them.”
“Let’s check political developments instead. See if there are any surprises there,” Vicky said.
Mr. Smith greeted that with a shrug but said nothing.
Politics seemed to be pretty much the same. Imperial proclamations were going out, taxes were being raised. Later proclamations complained about the failure of said taxes to produce the expected income. Planetary governors were encouraged to do whatever it took to find the expected money.
Vicky wondered where the money was going to be spent.
She stopped the fast run-through when she spotted a familiar name.
“Prime Minister Bertram has been sacked?” Vicky said, startled. “I know him. I have since I was just a little girl trying to loot cookies and candy from the kitchen. He always had some lemon drops in his pocket when he came to call on Dad. He said he kept them there just for me and his grandkids.”
“Apparently, lemon drops didn’t cut it with the new wife,” Mr. Smith said.
“How do you know?” Vicky demanded.
“I don’t. Call it a guess.”
“It’s a good guess. The Prime Minister was disgraced over the taking of some bribes. One of the Empress’s uncles has been given the office,” Vicky said.
“Have your computer search the admiral’s reports on Mr. Bertram. I bet they have something to say on it.”
Vicky considered that for a moment. It was a good suggestion, but as Mr. Smith had admitted, what she brought to the top of her computer, he was very likely taking in as well. Then again, what could the local admirals have found out that the United something embassy hadn’t already reported to their king?
How much do you trust this guy?
was a major question.
There was only one way to find out. “Computer, search the admirals’ reports for anything on Prime Minister Bertram.” In barely a second, reports were streaming before her eyes.
“The admirals think it was a bogus charge trumped up to get him out and make way for a favorite of the Empress,” Mr. Smith said.
“You read fast,” Vicky said.
“You need to get you and your computer better synced together,” he answered. “I’ll have it teach you while you sleep tonight.”
“So now you’re going to upgrade me as well as my computer? I don’t know how I feel about that.”
“You can feel any way you like,” he said. “But if you intend to run with the hounds, you can’t afford to be slow.”
“Or run away from the hounds,” Vicky muttered.
“This is interesting,” Mr. Smith said. “Did you notice where Bertram fled to after he fell from grace?”
“I didn’t think he had any other home but the palace,” Vicky said.
“Home or not, he lit out for St. Petersburg. You know that place?”
“Very well,” Vicky said. “Maybe too well. Computer, what’s happening on St. Petersburg these days?”
“St. Petersburg is prospering. It is one of the few planets that paid its taxes in full and on time.”
“How interesting,” Vicky said. “And how did Mr. Bertram prosper on St. Petersburg?”
“He was hired by Mayor Manuel Artamus, the mayor of Sevastopol, who is also serving as chief counsel to the St. Petersburg Council of Mayors.”
“A council of mayors?” Mr. Smith observed. “That sounds interesting.”
“As documented in Admiral von Mittleburg’s report,”
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