Rebel (27 page)

Vicky nodded to her two admirals. “Then I will leave the heavy lifting to you gentlemen, where our warships are concerned, and do all I can to keep the worker bees happy making us the honey we need.”

“Isn’t that sweet of you,” Admiral von Mittleburg said, and, hand on Admiral Lüth’s elbow, led him from her quarters.

Which left Vicky and Mannie staring at each other. She wanted to fold herself into his arms for a long hug and delightful kiss. Did he look just as longingly at her? But they were not alone. A moment later, the two of them left, with her spy and two assassins leading the way. Commander Boch provided a rear
guard with a chief and several seamen strikers lugging what they would need dirtside for a few days of public adulation.

The walk through the yard was educational. Last time Vicky had passed this way, it had been a sleepy place, with only a handful of civilians and Navy types going about their business with purpose, but not a lot on their hands. Now, the place was bustling with yard hands towing flatbed trucks with huge chunks of ship and machinery, none of which looked like anything Vicky had yet seen aboard a ship. No doubt because she, as an officer, was not supposed to get her hands dirty.

Now there were supervisors and officers hurrying in every direction and deep in conversations that Vicky only caught a snatch of, but “repair,” “fix,” and “damn mess they made of a fine ship” were prominent.

“Quite a growing economy,” Mannie said with pride.

“Quite a growing base force,” Commander Boch put in.

“Quite a target the Empress will no doubt want to destroy,” Mr. Smith said darkly.

Vicky found she had no trouble agreeing with all three of them.

The shuttle ride deposited Vicky not at St. Petersburg or Sevastopol as she expected, but in the bay surrounded by Kiev.

“Why here?” she asked.

“You kept your promise to them,” Mannie said. “You remember you said Kiev would get the next load of imported heavy machinery and fabs to make up for what went to St. Pete after the delivery from Metzburg proved hard for Kiev to get up and working.”

“Yes. St. Pete had the space and the workers to get them working immediately,” Vicky said.

“And they did. Some of the assemblies needed to repair
Retribution
will be coming from those Metzburg-provided fabs now up and running in St. Pete,” Mannie told her.

“I kept my word. I always knew I would. Didn’t they trust me to?”

“They did. Other people, maybe not so much. Now that you have, they want to make sure everyone knows that you did. There will be quite a show tonight.”

Vicky frowned at the Sevastopol mayor.

Mr. Smith cleared his throat. “While you, Your Grace, had
every intention of keeping your word, there are plenty of people who find the very concept of a Peterwald whose word can be trusted as something strange. It is also equally strange, that you, Your Grace, a mere slip of a girl, can make a pledge and see that it is kept.”

Now Vicky was the one making a face. “I think I must thank you, Mr. Smith, for your unique take on matters. I doubt if there are many who would risk telling me such truth.”

“I tried,” Mannie said.

“You did try. I just found it more understandable coming from someone who is superb at telling lies.”

The mayor of Sevastopol just shook his head.

Before Vicky could devote any more time to mulling the strange ways of representative government, the shuttle’s hatch popped open, and a roaring cheer invaded their space.

“You have an adoring crowd waiting for you,” Mannie said, and, offering Vicky an elbow, led her out to a lineup that started with the mayor of Kiev and included most of the city council, all of the business owners, and finished with the two kids Vicky had helped beat a carnival game. Again, the young girl had flowers.

Vicky had heard of parades. She’d even seen a few of them from the palace windows. She’d never been the center of one before. The cheering throng at the shuttleport gave way to sidewalks full of more cheering people. Vicky waved. They waved back as she passed.

Police and boys and girls from the Guide Escadrilles marked off the sidewalks and kept the crowds from pushing forward. And up on the rooftops, Kiev militia soldiers could be seen with rifles at the ready.

While Vicky waved, Mr. Smith, Kit, and Kat eyed everyone.

There was no incident. Kiev was celebrating. People here still remembered who had used them to try to kill Vicky. They were taking good care of her.

At the fabrication plants, Vicky saw shiny new equipment being lowered into place or plumbed in. Happy faces were everywhere.

How long will this last if the Butcher gets his way?

At times, it took effort to keep her smile in place.

Much later that night, installed once again in the Imperial Suite, after an evening of dining, dancing, and meeting half of
Kiev, or so it seemed to Vicky’s sore right hand, she poured Mannie a glass of wine and joined him on the couch. He at one end, she at the other.

They finally had the suite to themselves.

“Did you miss me?” she asked Mannie, taking a sip of a surprisingly good local Riesling.

Mannie took a sip before he essayed a response. “Yes. I’m surprised at just how much I did miss you. Did you really have to fight your way onto the station at Brunswick?” he asked.

Why are you changing the topic?
Still, Vicky followed where he led.

“All I did was talk this jumped-up bank clerk who claimed to be a Count into getting his whole fleet out of orbit and charging right at us. Captain Bolesław did most of the work after that.”

“That’s not what I heard. While you were busy shaking hands and smiling, I checked back with your captain. He said you did all the talking and made it easy for him to dot a few i’s, cross a few t’s, and finish what you started.”

Vicky watched the swirls of liquid in her glass. “I’ve always been good at driving people crazy.”

“You don’t drive me crazy,” Mannie said, then hid himself behind his glass as he took a deep swallow. “Except when you’re off and maybe getting yourself killed.
That
drives me crazy.”

Now it was Vicky’s turn to take a long sip. “We could all get ourselves killed if we can’t hold off that invasion fleet.”

“Are you afraid you can’t?”

Vicky focused on her drink. “If I told you I was, does that mean we could eat, drink, and be merry tonight because tomorrow we won’t have anything left to worry about?”

Mannie didn’t take his focus from his drink as he replied. “It is very tempting.”

“But not a smart move,” both said, together, then shared a laugh.

“Maybe I should go,” Mannie said, not putting down his glass. “You’ve got a pretty good record on staying alive. It would be a shame to mess everything up tonight and live to regret it all tomorrow.”

“Hmm, let’s see if I can talk you into staying,” Vicky said.

Mannie’s eyes got wide with alarm, but he still didn’t bolt for the door.

So Vicky told him about the people who thought they owned Brunswick and their attempt to hire Inez and her Rangers to “keep the workers in their place.”

“Those are our allies?” Mannie yelped.

“Seems like it. How have you folks on St. Petersburg managed to keep things balanced between all your players?”

Once again, Mannie swirled his wine. “‘Balanced’ is the key word. Workers, capital, farmers, politicians like myself, General White, and our new Army. Also, the Navy we’re trying to build. All have to be kept in a delicate balance. So far, all of us know we need each other if we’re going to survive this.”

“Hmm, kind of like I’ve learned. I need all of you if I’m to stay alive,” Vicky said, taking a small sip.

“Exactly. An old rebel from back on Earth, I forget his name, said we must all hang together or we will end up hanging separately.”

“That was what I tried to explain to the wealth of Brunswick,” Vicky said.

“Your dad had them in his pocket. They did what he wanted, and he did what they wanted. Of course, for the rest of us, it was a lousy deal.”

Vicky chose her next words carefully, not at all sure where she was going or would like where she ended up when she arrived. “Are you thinking of turning our Greenfeld Empire into some kind of Longknife democracy?”

There, I said it.
Now she needed a big gulp of wine.

She almost emptied her glass as she watched Mannie swirl the liquid in his own. She began to wonder if he’d actually heard her. She was about to repeat the question when Mannie whispered an almost inaudible “No.”

“No?” she echoed, but hardly louder than him.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Longknife space, Wardhaven, the US, whatever you call it. They’ve been doing their thing for some two hundred years. Lots more if you consider where most of them came from on Earth. They do it because they’ve been doing it that way, just like we’ve been doing whatever it is that we do, for a long time.”

“Or thought we knew what we were doing,” Vicky pointed out. “At least, what I’ve been seeing out here in the real world is nothing like what my father bragged he was in control of
when I was an impressionable little girl batting my eyelashes at him.”

“Yes,” Mannie agreed. “I don’t know how the Longknifes run their end of space. When I get media reports through smugglers bringing trade in from their distant colonies, it appalls me what they do there, but somehow, they keep on managing to do things that we can’t.” The mayor shook his head.

“Their Smart Metal ships,” Vicky noted.

“Yes, but it’s not just their scientific advancements. It’s also the way they grow their economy and give everyone a share in it. How do they do it? How do they keep everyone from eating each other alive?”

“Like my stepmother is doing?”

Mannie nodded. “Yes. How can we get something like that but not that?”

“If you don’t know, I don’t have any hope that I’ll ever know,” Vicky said.

Mannie snorted at that. For a long minute, he stared into his glass. “When you were a kid, did you ever ride a bike?” he finally asked.

Vicky’s brows came down in question, but she just shook her head.

Mannie scratched the back of his neck. “I did. The thing about a two-wheel bike is that you can’t stop. You stop, you fall down. You have to keep going. Keep moving. Keep heading wherever it is that you’re going. So long as you’re pedaling your little legs, the bike is balanced. You stay up, and you go someplace.”

“We can’t stop,” Vicky said slowly. “We’ve got to just keep going.”

“And you don’t always go where you want to go,” Mannie said, smiling at some memory. “A little kid just learning to ride a bike has to go where the bike wants to take him. You have to turn into a fall, catch yourself, get your balance back, maybe some more speed, then turn it the way you want to go.”

“You make it sound like a good way to break your neck,” Vicky said. “No wonder I wasn’t allowed near the killing things.”

Mannie’s smile got even wider. “When you are a kid, it’s not that great a fall. I swear, kids have rubber for necks. Anyway, I learned how to ride and got a lesson I have now passed along to you. We are riding a bike, and we can’t stop; nor can
we go exactly where we want to go. We’ve got to go where it takes us.”

“Gee,” Vicky said, sharing his grin, “and I thought we were riding a tiger.”

“A lady may ride a tiger. We guys must settle for bicycles,” Mannie said, then sighed. “So, how do we arrange for everyone to learn to ride a bicycle?”

“I was about to ask you that,” Vicky said. She suddenly noticed that both her and Mannie’s glasses were empty. She stood and turned to the wet bar only to hear the click of a glass firmly being deposited on the coffee table.

She turned back to Mannie.

“If I allow you to refill my glass, I fear that I will fall off of more than a bicycle,” he said, and turned, empty-handed, for the door. Vicky set down her own glass and followed him. He paused, his hand on the doorknob.

“We sent trade delegations to both Brunswick and Metzburg,” Mannie said slowly. “I’m thinking now that we ought to have sent more people. Politically astute representatives from General White’s staff. Folks who are coordination with the Navy, people from both business and labor who don’t have axes to grind . . . on each other’s skulls. We’re kind of thin on the ground where political types are concerned. Your old man was hard on us.”

“Will you need to send similar teams to the smaller planets in this sector?” Vicky asked. “Finster, Ormuzd, Good Luck, and the like?”

“I don’t think so. They’ve been trading as much with US colonies like Pandemonium as with us. The Longknife way of doing things can be contagious if you get it when you’re small.”

“Those rubber necks that you say kids have that don’t break?”

“It looks like it. No, we’ll have enough trouble finding people for Metzburg and Brunswick. Hopefully, that will be enough. For now.”

They were standing so close. Maybe Vicky leaned in closer. Maybe it was Mannie. It could have been both of them. One moment, Vicky was holding her breath, and the next moment Mannie’s lips were on hers, and she wondered if she’d ever need to breathe again.

They stood there, just lips touching for the longest time.

“That was wonderful,” Vicky said as she did discover that she needed to breathe.

“Yes,” Mannie breathed softly on her, and she found her whole face tingling with the touch of it.

Vicky gulped hard. “If you don’t go out that door this minute, I don’t know that I’ll be able to let you out it in the next.”

“I don’t want to go.”

For long seconds, they looked at each other, leaning closer, leaning into the next kiss that would not end with his leaving.

Vicky gritted her teeth, and found Mannie’s jaw tightening even as hers did. She turned away.

“Until tomorrow,” Mannie said to her back, and the door closed between them.

Vicky listened for his footsteps as he left, but the door or the carpet silenced them. She threw herself down on the sofa.

“Stepmother, this has got to end. You are ruining my life!” she screamed into the cushions. “We have got to get this over with so I can get a life.”