the computer said, “the council of mayors is providing needed direction to both the body politic and economy of St. Petersburg. It is flourishing because of a return of industry and consumption on the planet itself. It is also helping the Navy develop Port Royal and trading with many of the Sooner planets nearby.”
“Makes me glad I signed that city charter,” Vicky said. “Another good idea Kris Longknife got me into. So, St. Petersburg is doing fine, huh?”
“There is a report in the intelligence files,” said the computer, “from a cruiser captain, Captain Balk of the cruiser
Disdain
. Because matters were so well in hand, only his heavy cruiser was at the station when three transports bearing some ten thousand security contractors from Bowlingame Services jumped into the system. He monitored their discussion with Mayor Manuel Artamus. Actually, the captain says it was more like an ultimatum. They were intent on providing security whether the people of St. Petersburg wanted it or not. The Chief of Security said someone on St. Petersburg had hired them. Mr. Artamus did a quick check with the other mayors and replied that no one had hired them, they were mistaken, and should go someplace they were needed. Mr. Artamus added ‘and wanted.’ The Security Chief expressed his intent to secure the space station and proceed from there.”
“I wonder how that went down,” Mr. Smith said through a grin.
“Mayor Artamus ordered the station hands not to allow them to dock. The station had some laser defense batteries,” the computer added dryly. “When the Security Chief heard that, he announced that he would have his troops assault the station. That was when Mayor Artamus appealed to Captain Balk to intervene.”
“And once again,” Vicky said, “the hot potato drops into the Navy’s lap.”
“Captain Balk informed the approaching transports that if they closed to within ten thousand klicks of the station, he would consider them pirates and a threat to the health and safety of St. Petersburg. As such, he would fire on them. And he charged up his lasers to make the point clear.”
“Ho ho,” Mr. Smith laughed. “I bet that went over well.”
“I have the report that the Security Chief filed with his employer. It was passed from them to the palace. The Emperor bounced it with no comment to the Navy for a formal reply.”
“The good old bureaucratic runaround,” Vicky said. “This sounds like the perfect place for it. What did the Navy say?”
“That they sincerely regretted the case of mistaken identification and were glad that the transports pulled away before any shots were fired. The Navy also now stations two battleships and Admiral von Mittleburg at High St. Petersburg station. There have been no further attempts to provide ‘security assistance’ to St. Petersburg.”
“The Navy actually threatened to fire on one of the Empress’s family’s projects,” Vicky marveled. “Do you know where Captain Balk is at present, Computer?”
“He has been promoted to rear admiral and has command of one of the battlecruiser divisions distributed around human space to show the flag and be ready to accept returning survivors from the Fleet of Discovery.”
“Wouldn’t it have been interesting if we had been picked up by him?” Mr. Smith said.
“Very,” Vicky said, then plopped down on her bed to think. “I wonder how close the Navy is to raising the flag of rebellion. Computer, search all files for references to rebellion or revolt against the Emperor. Eliminate all references to mob action or actions by people with little or no power base.”
“That may take even your updated computer a while,” said Mr. Smith.
“It doesn’t matter. Two people offered Admiral Gort money; one for my head, the other for my delectable body. One side wants me dead. The other side wants me as the figurehead for their own civil war with my dad. I don’t particularly like either option. However, I know who
“Makes me glad I signed that city charter,” Vicky said. “Another good idea Kris Longknife got me into. So, St. Petersburg is doing fine, huh?”
“There is a report in the intelligence files,” said the computer, “from a cruiser captain, Captain Balk of the cruiser
Disdain
. Because matters were so well in hand, only his heavy cruiser was at the station when three transports bearing some ten thousand security contractors from Bowlingame Services jumped into the system. He monitored their discussion with Mayor Manuel Artamus. Actually, the captain says it was more like an ultimatum. They were intent on providing security whether the people of St. Petersburg wanted it or not. The Chief of Security said someone on St. Petersburg had hired them. Mr. Artamus did a quick check with the other mayors and replied that no one had hired them, they were mistaken, and should go someplace they were needed. Mr. Artamus added ‘and wanted.’ The Security Chief expressed his intent to secure the space station and proceed from there.”
“I wonder how that went down,” Mr. Smith said through a grin.
“Mayor Artamus ordered the station hands not to allow them to dock. The station had some laser defense batteries,” the computer added dryly. “When the Security Chief heard that, he announced that he would have his troops assault the station. That was when Mayor Artamus appealed to Captain Balk to intervene.”
“And once again,” Vicky said, “the hot potato drops into the Navy’s lap.”
“Captain Balk informed the approaching transports that if they closed to within ten thousand klicks of the station, he would consider them pirates and a threat to the health and safety of St. Petersburg. As such, he would fire on them. And he charged up his lasers to make the point clear.”
“Ho ho,” Mr. Smith laughed. “I bet that went over well.”
“I have the report that the Security Chief filed with his employer. It was passed from them to the palace. The Emperor bounced it with no comment to the Navy for a formal reply.”
“The good old bureaucratic runaround,” Vicky said. “This sounds like the perfect place for it. What did the Navy say?”
“That they sincerely regretted the case of mistaken identification and were glad that the transports pulled away before any shots were fired. The Navy also now stations two battleships and Admiral von Mittleburg at High St. Petersburg station. There have been no further attempts to provide ‘security assistance’ to St. Petersburg.”
“The Navy actually threatened to fire on one of the Empress’s family’s projects,” Vicky marveled. “Do you know where Captain Balk is at present, Computer?”
“He has been promoted to rear admiral and has command of one of the battlecruiser divisions distributed around human space to show the flag and be ready to accept returning survivors from the Fleet of Discovery.”
“Wouldn’t it have been interesting if we had been picked up by him?” Mr. Smith said.
“Very,” Vicky said, then plopped down on her bed to think. “I wonder how close the Navy is to raising the flag of rebellion. Computer, search all files for references to rebellion or revolt against the Emperor. Eliminate all references to mob action or actions by people with little or no power base.”
“That may take even your updated computer a while,” said Mr. Smith.
“It doesn’t matter. Two people offered Admiral Gort money; one for my head, the other for my delectable body. One side wants me dead. The other side wants me as the figurehead for their own civil war with my dad. I don’t particularly like either option. However, I know who
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