Rebel (44 page)

“I wish I could aim something at the Empress,” Vicky half muttered to herself.

“We still have twenty-two armed merchant cruisers,” Admiral Bolesław pointed out.

Together, the two of them looked at where the merchant cruisers were in line, half behind Vicky’s battle squadron, the others behind von Mittleburg. There were a lot of enemy merchant cruisers and attack transports between them and the bloated passenger liner where the Empress was, no doubt, buffing her nails.

“If the Empress turns and runs?” Admiral Bolesław started but did not finish.

“If she’s aiming for me, why shouldn’t we aim for her?” Vicky said. “Admiral von Mittleburg, I wish to detach the armed merchant cruisers and have them attack the liner with the Empress aboard.”

“You do, do you?” came back pensively.

“We’ve got twenty-two merchant cruisers. They’ve got sixteen,” Admiral Bolesław pointed out.

“How many of those attack transports have some kind of popgun on them?” came back.

“I don’t know,” Admiral Bolesław admitted.

“Do we want to kill a lot of those troops?” was the next question.

“I would prefer to keep the slaughter to a minimum,” Vicky said. “Still, if our merchant cruisers could keep their distance as they go around the invasion fleet . . .” Vicky left unfinished.

“Captain Kyrillos of
Rostock
,” Admiral von Mittleburg snapped, “you will detach yourself from the present cruiser gun line. You will take command of all the armed merchant cruisers not yet engaged and do your best to destroy the command ship with the Empress aboard. In doing this, you will attempt to avoid excessive destruction of the attack transports.”

“Understood. I have a hunting license for one
Golden Empress
, but don’t let myself get up to my neck in the blood of those dumb schmucks trailing after her for a paycheck.”

“I would have expected you to put it no other way, Drugi,” Admiral von Mittleburg said.

Quickly, one light cruiser put on extra power, boosting its way up and away from the present cruiser battle. Putting Vicky’s battleships between it and the Empress’s battle lines, it headed for the armed merchant cruisers, which had already gone to two and a quarter gees, aiming for the side of the invasion fleet away from the Empress’s battle line. Eight armed merchant cruisers shielded that side of the transport fleet. No doubt, they would soon be hard-pressed all around.

The battle fell silent as the big ships reloaded their lasers. Vicky had time to notice that Admiral von Mittleburg’s ships had concentrated their fire against the ships across from her. Both side’s cruisers had cut their deceleration a bit more and were having their own little battle farther along toward St. Petersburg, staying clear of the behemoths trailing them.

The Empress’s four battle squadrons had stopped trying to swing around Vicky’s two. Apparently, someone had noticed that if the Empress’s ships got too far out trying to surround Vicky, they risked being defeated in detail.

Grand Admiral Kuznetsov seemed content to fight it out here. The Empress seemed content to let the Grand Admiral
call the shots so long as almost all her battleships sent salvo after salvo ranging against Vicky’s flagship.

Sooner or later, they would have to get lucky,
Retribution
would run into a few shots, and once damage began to accumulate, things would go downhill in a hurry.

“How do we change this?” Vicky asked no one in particular.

“All ships,” Admiral von Mittleburg announced, “prepare to cut deceleration for thirty seconds to point-five gee on my mark.”

Admiral Bolesław got a happy grin on his face. “We change things by playing their game better than they do.”

As the clock counted down to the next broadside, Vicky found herself holding her breath.

“Announce to Second Battle Squadron that we go to Evasion Plan 5 on Admiral von Mittleburg’s mark.”

“Order transmitted,” Comm reported.

“Will this get messy?” Vicky asked.

“I hope it does,” the admiral said through a jolly laugh. “We stay alive if they mess up.”

“You think it will joggle Guns’s elbow?”

“Not Ulryk’s elbow, it won’t.”

Vicky tightened her five-point harness on her station chair. The high-gee station stayed empty.

“Mark,” Admiral von Mittleburg announced.

The bottom fell out of Vicky’s stomach as
Retribution
cut power. Still, it kept up its bounce to the right or left, a bit slower in the fall or faster.
Retribution
reached out for the
Empress’s Punisher
, a 16-inch battleship. Hammered hard, it fell out of the line and lost all deceleration. It began to spew survival pods. Four turrets did manage to fire, but their shots were ragged and went wild.

Several of the Empress’s ships were either showing the effects of hits or poor maintenance. Two big battleships in the low squadron were hammered by four of von Mittleburg’s ships. Their course grew erratic and their fire less effective.

Again, the Empress’s ships aimed for
Retribution
. They didn’t seem prepared for the sudden drop in deceleration. Even those who did failed to allow for the dodging and weaving.

Still, three shots caught Vicky’s flag. Two were just glancing blows. One however, got burnthrough forward.

“Hull breach. Hull breach,” rang throughout the ship.

“Damage control parties responding,” reported the flag comm.

“We surprised them that time,” Bolesław still crowed. “They didn’t see that one coming.”

For their part, they didn’t see the trick Grand Admiral Kuznetsov now pulled out of his sleeve. As they reloaded, his entire fleet changed the direction of their deceleration, pointing their nose over forty-five degrees toward Vicky’s ships and blasting their way to close the range.

“He wants to get those 14-inch battleships in range before he runs out of bigger ones.”

Vicky eyed what the grand admiral had done. She studied what showed on her board and made her decision. “Admiral, it’s time to order the destroyers forward.”

“I think you’re right. You want to pull the rocket boats up?”

“No, not yet. I’m none too sure those truncated merchies can stand in line with the battlewagons. At least not for too long. We aren’t ready to launch our antimatter missiles. Hold the boats back, but advise Admiral von Mittleburg that it would be nice if his destroyers could join with mine.”

A few quick words were exchanged, and three of the destroyer divisions were aimed nearly bow on to the Empress’s battleships, accelerating in their direction as they still decelerated toward St. Petersburg.

“Permission to join the attack,” came from the commodore of the Fourth’s destroyer division with the hard-hit and crippled little boys.

“You don’t belong out there, Cibor,” Admiral Bolesław said.

“We sure as hell don’t belong back here, Admiral.”

“Be it on your head, my old boy. You have my permission to go.”

The Fourth Division edged over, aiming itself gingerly at the approaching battle line. As they passed below the battle line, Vicky could hear a cheer rise in
Retribution
and likely in all the battleships.

“It’s a death’s ride,” Bolesław said softly.

Back at the battle lines, another ragged volley rolled up and down the battleships’ lines. The salvos from many of the Empress’s big-gunned ships were weak. Lasers were out of action or masked as they closed in on Vicky’s ships.

The Empress lost two ships: One, a 16-incher across from Vicky’s squadron, exploded,
Retribution
’s fourth. One of the 18-inchers engaging Admiral von Mittleburg fell out of line, lost power, and began to drift.

Retribution
took two hits: one knocked out a 6-inch secondary turret. The other made a deep gash in her armor, but the extra ice kept it from burning through.

“We may be able to get one more broadside in before the old battlewagons come in range,” Admiral Bolesław said.

“Should we wear away from them to keep the range where we want it?” Vicky asked.

“That would be the smart thing to do,” Admiral Bolesław said.

“I do hate to run away from a fight. I don’t want to be like my stepmom, using everyone else as a shield for my body.”

“You do need to be alive to win this little rebellion we’re involved in.”

Vicky sighed. “Wear away, but make sure we can bring all guns to bear.”

In a moment, Admiral Bolesław had given the order, and the entire battle squadron did a smart turn away.

A moment later, Commander Blue said. “I have the Empress on a clear channel, screaming at Grand Admiral Kuznetsov.”

“Put it on screen.”

The Empress was up, her face livid with rage and large in the camera. “Chase that bitch! Don’t let her get away! Tell your Sailors they can have her warm body when I’m done with her. That ought to get them off their duffs.”

Grand Admiral Kuznetsov stood ramrod tall and looked pained. Almost disdainful. “As you wish,” and right there on an open channel, he ordered all of his battleships to aim themselves for Vicky’s battle line and go to two gees.

On Vicky’s screen, the Empress’s battleships were now chasing her as fast as she was running away. All their aft main batteries were masked—and they were closing on Vicky’s destroyers as fast as the destroyers were closing on them.

Worst, half their secondary guns were masked as well.

“Is he doing this intentionally?” Vicky asked Admiral Bolesław.

“He’s doing exactly what she demanded, and damning her badly.

“That bitch is attacking me!” the Empress suddenly shouted. She’d paced away from the camera, but she had her nose in it again. “She’s trying to kill me! Do something, Admiral.”

On the screen, the Imperial barge had gone to two gees deceleration and was pulling away from the braking fleet.

“Yes, Your Imperial Highness,” the grand admiral said blandly. “But what?”

“Order some battleships back here to protect me.”

“Which would you have me send? Our newer battleships with larger guns have accumulated a lot of battle damage. While we’ve concentrated on
Retribution
, they’ve hammered all our firing ships very hard. The old battleships you had hauled out of mothballs are hardly in any condition to attempt more than one gee. One and a half at the most. I see you are now running away at two gees. Can your liner maintain that deceleration?”

As if to answer the grand admiral, the liner’s deceleration began to fall off—1.98, 1.95, 1.92.

“Admirals,” Commander Blue announced in a loud, clear voice, “I have a message coming in from His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Henry I.”

“The Emperor?” Vicky echoed, and managed not to add.
What the hell is he doing here?

“Put it on screen,” Admiral Bolesław ordered.

CHAPTER 65

T
HE
screen showed the bridge of a light cruiser. The skipper sat in a high-gee station. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week.

“I am Commander Bonaventura of the cruiser
Smolensk
, and I bear a message to all parties from His Imperial Majesty Henry I.” In a moment, the commander disappeared, and the Emperor himself stood before them stiffly, in full regalia.

“You are all hereby ordered to cease immediately this distaff strife,” he said, “and stand aside from each other under the pain of my severest displeasure.”

“Distaff?” Admiral Bolesław asked.

“Womanly,” Commander Blue said.

“Dad’s been reading Shakespeare again,” Vicky said with a sigh.

“It pleases me to have your discord submitted to mediation, so that I may have harmony in my palace once again.”

“Mediation? Who?” Vicky said. And was shocked to hear her stepmother ask the same thing on her net.

“Who could mediate this?” Admiral Bolesław asked. “Really mediate this, I mean.”

Vicky shook her head. “I have no idea.”

“It pleases me to request from another noble monarch the services of Princess Kristine Longknife of Wardhaven. She saved my life, and I would willingly place my trust in her now. She brought you, Grand Duchess Victoria, home from much risk and travail. This pleases me, and I hope it will satisfy you, Victoria.”

“That bitch!” the Empress screamed. Someone cut the feed.

“Doesn’t that woman know any woman she doesn’t think is a bitch?” Admiral Bolesław asked Vicky.

“Nope. I don’t think so,” Vicky said, but her mind was on something else. She really thought she had this battle won. Given a few more minutes, they might blow the Empress’s barge out of space.

Dare I keep this battle going for a few more rounds?

Vicky shook her head. “Comm, put me through on a channel to Grand Admiral Kuznetsov.”

The old man looked flummoxed. “I never heard of a battle ending like this,” he was muttering.

“But it behooves us to end this battle or risk His Imperial Majesty, my father’s, wrath, don’t you think?”

“Yes. Yes I do.”

“Admiral von Mittleburg, I am ordering all the ships loyal to me to stand down, cease fire, and set a course for High St. Petersburg Station. Grand Admiral, I hope you will excuse me if I ask that your ships avoid coming close to that station.”

The grand admiral pursed his lips and studied something off screen. “It appears that my fleet all have sufficient reaction mass to swing wide of St. Petersburg and return from whence we came.”

“Would you mind terribly if I asked you to discharge your capacitors while you make your approach and exit?” Vicky asked.

“Would you be willing to do the same?” the old grand admiral countered.

Now it was Vicky’s turn to worry her lower lip. “I really don’t want to,” she finally said.

“Your Grace,” said Admiral von Mittleburg, “I can understand how, in the past, you have benefited from a certain amount of cautious paranoia.”