Winterhome

by Blaze Ward

  “So you’ll be safe meeting Jessica and all her people?” Pops confirmed.

  “I should be,” Summer said with a serious tone. Then she turned playful. “If not, I’ll tell everyone I seduced you.”

  “You kinda did,” he pointed out.

  She grinned and stuck out her tongue in a way that suddenly made her look seventeen.

  “True,” she agreed, shifting up and around so they were suddenly face to face.

  She kissed him once.

  “I had heard so much about you from them, and others,” Summer said. “It took a while, but I eventually managed to find my way to Petron to meet the man everyone called Pops.”

  “Was it as good as you’d hoped?” he asked, nervous.

  Sixty-four-year-old men were long past being sex symbols, in any culture. At that point, all you had to work with was brains and personality.

  “Better,” Summer grinned and kissed him again. “Wouldn’t have stayed more than two weeks if not.”

  Pops relaxed. Let the nervousness bleed out of him as he slid an arm around her and pulled her against his body again.

  At least he had never gotten fat, like some of his surviving friends. Him and Uly were still the only two that could still fit into the same pants they might have worn forty years ago. Even David was starting to get a little pudgy, but that was time spent in too many meetings and not running laps or corridors.

  Another kiss, and then he leaned back.

  Studied her face from close enough to breathe on. Watched pupils dilate and focus on him.

  “So can I ask where you studied naval engineering?” he asked.

  “What makes you think I know anything, Pops?” she suddenly cooled a little.

  “You don’t get lost when Bedrov and me get nerdy,” he said. “Even Ainsley gets glassy-eyed from time to time. Moirrey mostly follows, but she’s more interested in weapons than generators and stuff.”

  “Maybe I find smart men sexy,” she volleyed.

  “You ain’t learned that much from just being around me for three years,” Pops noted with a grin. “Unless you’ve been secretly studying things.”

  Instead of an answer, her grin was back. And a kiss or three.

  “You didn’t want a dumb one, Pops,” she chuckled. “Couldn’t have kept you interested in me, even with this hot body, unless I knew something about coolant systems and resistance loads.”

  “Truth,” he agreed, nodding nerdily.

  It was a weight off his back. Not that he would have minded being her cover, if she was really a deep-cover secret agent of some sort. And he was pretty sure the stories she told people about being an actor were pure hokum. But Moirrey had known her, and accepted her. And hopefully Jessica would, as well.

  Pops found himself really looking forward to seeing the boss again. And bringing her a couple of presents.

  For now, he let Summer distract him in the awesomest way possible.

  Chapter XLI

  Date of the Republic January 19, 403 IFV Indianapolis, Osynth B’Udan

  Jessica studied the projection of Osynth B’Udan as the fleet made its way into the inner system. They could have simply stayed at Whughy’s Forward Base, but she wanted the opportunity to have the whole team get a little R&R. Looking around her flag bridge, she wasn’t the only person thinking that.

  Plus, she wanted to catch up on the latest news from home. Well, all of her homes. It was messy to even think about, with Corynthe, Aquitaine, and Fribourg all having some claim on her heart.

  The system had been reinforced again. Which was to be expected, as small squadrons had been out and about, locating and dismantling the secret corridors of communications satellites that Buran had managed to rig everywhere when nobody was looking.

  If you could just sail through JumpSpace without having to emerge regularly, why would you even notice?

  But with them destroyed, Buran’s squadrons would have a much slower time moving around. Plus Emmerich had made it a point to build a number of Imperial Corvette Scouts in the first batch of new ships. Those ships trolled the same spaceways looking for incursion, prepared to run like hell for the nearest fleet base in the event of another raid.

  None had happened since Second St. Legier, but Jessica thought that was the result of her striking so hard into their interior and destroying things. At some point, The Eldest would have to decide to either abandon Samara, or let Jessica Keller gut his inner frontier.

  Either way, she would win a massive psychological victory for the Empire. And make the galaxy that much safer.

  “We just got a message,” Enej said with a devious grin on his face. “Lag time five light seconds if you want to reply.”

  So, someone deep down in the well, catching her force as soon as they emerged. First Expeditionary wasn’t in a hurry to get anywhere, except maybe Valiant, and that was just to get to a place where everything could be fixed fastest, so they could get back out and do more damage.

  Jessica checked the message.

  It had originated from Patrol Cruiser Qin Lun, an IFV flag flying next to a Corynthe one. Galen Estevan commanding. And an upgraded Marco Polo, now a 2-ring with some fighters added, in attendance. Another freighter with only a long alphanumeric as a name.

  Oh, ho, what’s this? Lincolnshire War Catamaran IFV Robert Fitzwalter? Captain Niall Aulay Henderson, commanding?

  “Well, Casey did say she would ask for help from everybody,” Jessica grinned back at Enej. “Royal Compliments to Qin Lun, Enej. And Imperial thanks from Admiral Keller to the Lincolnshire boat. And pass a message along to Denis, Tom Provst, and Iskra. Looks like we’ll need to figure out how to add at least two ships to the raiding squadron when we head back out.”

  Chapter XLII

  In the Tenth Year of Jessica Keller, Queen of the Pirates: January the Twenty-first at Osynth B’Udan

  Galen had never been physically aboard the Lincolnshire ship, but otherwise, he had observed all proper courtesies on the flight from St. Legier to Osynth B’Udan, over and above what he normally would have. Probably would have scored one hundred percent on a Master Mariner’s Certificate, if this had been a quiz. No corners cut. Prompt and courteous signals and responses. The works. Gotta make Jessica look good with the provincials.

  Hopefully, news of that wouldn’t get home, or those folks would never let him hear the end of it.

  Right now, he and his wife Kari were riding sedately, side by side in the neck of Badger, flying across to be part of a cocktail party that Robert Fitzwalter’s captain was throwing for Jessica. Galen was dressed a little better than he normally would have, pressed slacks and a nice burgundy tunic, while Kari had dug out a cocktail dress she had apparently been hiding somewhere for exactly this reason.

  She was tiny, like all the Larionov clan. Galen always felt like a giant at a meter-eight tall, when his wife was maybe a meter-five on her toes. But she looked good for any age, let alone forty, with brunette hair just starting to show grays and dimples that hadn’t changed one iota in twenty years. Hazel eyes promised all sorts of gossip and showing off, since she had missed all his adventures with Jessica the first time he went to St. Legier. And had demanded he bring her along this time.

  At least he’d make a damned pretty penny on this run, better than even the first trip to the Imperial capital. Half of the original trade goods on Marco Polo had been sold at Ladaux, replaced and then the whole load sold again at St. Legier. And since he and Kari owned Marco Polo outright, they got all the profits. Best part had been the Grand Admiral chartering him to haul a bunch of war materials out here, and paying the normal override fee when a freighter got sidetracked for military traffic. Like he wasn’t already coming out here, but now he was going to tack a twenty percent margin on top of everything else. The joys of legal force majeure, with people who had money to burn.

  He might have just married into the Larionov family, but they had certainly taught him way more about banking and money than he ever imagined possible.
<
br />   Like how to afford to buy a light battlecruiser and then manage to get it flagged three times, each for a nice fee. It was even better than marque and reprisal, doing it this way.

  “Galen, we’re about to land in the docking bay,” the pilot called. “Seat belts on? And no necking please, until we come to a complete stop.”

  Kari laughed. So did he. They might have been smooching a little on the flight over. There was a camera over the cockpit, so the pilots could have watched.

  Clunks as the vessel landed and the magnets engaged. Galen rose and handed Kari up.

  Open the hatch and down the steps quickly. This wasn’t an official visit, so he didn’t rate red carpet or anything, just a young Lincolnshire Lieutenant in gray dress uniform that stood out against his red hair to escort him to the party. After he and Kari were clear and Badger left, then they would roll out the fancy stuff, but that was for Jessica, and this technically qualified as a State Visit.

  He just got to be wined and dined on somebody else’s dime. And they would be showing off.

  Good thing he had a ride home, and could sit in back and nap, or neck.

  Still, Galen had done his time on warships, back before Uly had convinced him to get into armed trade and profitability well above anything the pirates ever imagined.

  So he took his time and studied the vessel as the young man escorted them slightly forward. Pops had designed the boat, and provided Galen a pretty good rough-out from memory, to which Galen’s bridge crew had been able to add significant amounts of detail.

  Apparently, they had even bribed someone in Ladaux for a sensor log. He hadn’t asked how they had managed that, since nobody sent him an invoice or receipts for bribes paid.

  This ship was just like Pops had explained to Naoumov and Horvat. Two heavy frigates, built identical on symmetrical lines. Add an engine pod like a bobcat’s tail to the center of the frame that connected them. Fill that crossbeam with a flag bridge, centralized engineering, and a third heavy weapons installation. Rearrange some of the old space, and you had a ship almost good enough to take on a Patrol Cruiser.

  Almost.

  Qin Lun didn’t have the fragility of that crossbeam when maneuvering, or the weird blind spots caused by that center engine, but the two ships had about the same firepower nose to nose.

  If he was ever dumb enough to get into a slugging match with someone like that. Patrol Cruiser was a misnomer. He didn’t go on patrols. He just cruised around, usually escorting cargo vessels like Marco Polo or one of Uly’s 1-ring cargo carriers. Anybody dumb enough to bother him found out pretty quickly that they should have brought a 4-ring. And friends.

  And if he had Marco Polo, now upgraded to a 2-ring, then he also had three fast medium bombers to go with Badger.

  Nobody bothered his and Uly’s trade missions anymore.

  Kari poked him in the side as they walked.

  “You’re being too much the serious businessman,” she said with obvious sarcasm. “Fun time. Smile occasionally, and stop looking like you’re fleecing every one of these rubes for every Lev, Crown, and Florin you can squeeze out of them. That’s my job.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied.

  Galen was just the captain. Kari was actually the president of the corporation, since it had been Larionov clan money that got them started originally. Paid back long since, but those folks were business sharks first and only pirates second.

  The party wasn’t particularly moving when the local kid escorted them into a big chamber hung with flags. Punchbowl on the right wall. Open bar on the left. Long trestle table with munchies along the back wall. Round tables with chairs for folks who wanted to sit.

  Still, it looked like the military party of the season. Lots of Imperial officers here being seen being here. Or whatever it was they were up to. Didn’t look like spies, unless they were playing that level of drunken ineptitude as a scam.

  All the Lincolnshire officers he had talked to at one time or another on the flight out, plus a bunch of others he had missed. Very few women, since Lincolnshire was still a little backwards on that sort of thing. Four, but they were officers, and dressed for it.

  Kari was in a slinky blue thing that shimmered and set off her hair. And showed off her butt. Galen let her lead him around as she worked to charm everyone here important enough to get them a trade contract at some future date.

  As he managed to grab two glasses of what he hoped were wine from a passing steward, a band even started playing. Martial tunes, for the most part, which he had expected, but at least better than nothing. At least for now. That might change after the evening ground on.

  And he was not about to offer to grab a guitar and entertain folks. Not without a busking basket out front with some serious seed money in it.

  Galen had showered, and even let Kari put some cologne on him, so the space that opened up around him, when she was off charming an Imperial admiral, wasn’t his smell. Unless pirate was a thing that these people could detect with their noses.

  You never know with lawmen.

  But he smiled. Made small talk with anyone who came close. Sipped wine. Tried to look like an innocent bystander, just in case any of these folks had ever maybe gotten too close to a fuzzy border and gotten hit by pirates.

  Weren’t me. Honest.

  About the time he snagged a second glass of wine, Jessica made an entrance with all her folks in tow. Damned impressive sort of thing, when she and another guy were in red admiral uniforms, along with Iskra Vlahovic doing the Fleet Centurion thing and Denis Jež in Imperial Whites.

  Things got hectic at that point. More of Jessica’s people arrived, plus a bunch of Imperials, until suddenly there were over a hundred folks in uniform meandering around, and a like number that looked like civilians.

  Galen wondered if Niall Henderson had been smart enough to bring a government trade mission with him, clear all the way out here. Galen hadn’t been playing at spying on the flight out, because the distances were too great for anything useful to come up, since David’s teams were more interested in Lincolnshire, anyway. And Aquitaine to a lesser extent.

  Salonnia hadn’t sent anyone along on this run, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t later. They shared a long border with Fribourg, so were already a treaty partner of some sort. And generally stayed away from direct confrontation with the fringe pirates, letting bribes do their work.

  About ten minutes later, Galen found himself suddenly facing an old comrade.

  “Tom,” he said. “Noticed that you got hammered pretty good at Severnaya Zemlya. Still good?”

  Admiral Provst shrugged.

  “The other guy was a battleship,” Provst replied. “And he blew himself up not long after Jessica was done with him. The new designs protect my people much better than the old ones, so casualties were lighter than when Firehawk got hurt at St. Legier.”

  Galen nodded knowingly. He had been briefed by the Grand Admiral about Tom Provst. And the battle that killed the Crown Prince, for which Provst still felt a ton of guilt.

  But the man did look good as an Admiral of the Red. Jessica probably should have been in blue, by now, but he suspected that she might dig in her heels, if anyone tried.

  One of these days, she would want to come home to Corynthe. Retire there, as she had threatened many times. Break chauvinistic skulls until the girls were allowed the same freedoms and privileges as the boys.

  “So what’s the plan going forward?” Galen asked.

  “I suggested to Jessica that she take the Lincolnshire vessel and send you with me,” Provost leaned closer and let his voice drop. “Reduces the risk of mischief, and puts an escort-level cruiser in each squadron when we go raiding. You don’t want to try one of the new Tigersharks by yourself, but if my Expeditionary cruisers can distract them, you’ll do a number on the hammerheads. Same with Robert Fitzwalter.”

  “And that just happens to take them off when Jessica leaves shortly?” Galen suggested. “While you stay put here and
get some dry-dock time in?”

  Provst grinned almost ferally.

  “Denis Jež’s squadron is all Aquitaine folks,” Provst noted, his smile warming. “Except Indianapolis. This lets Lincolnshire support their own ally, and I guess I’m stuck with the runt of the litter. You attaching Marco Polo to Iskra for now? Or loading her up with swag to make a profit?”

  Galen grinned back. He and Tom had had a few nights of heavy celebrating together, after the abortive coup several years ago. Heroes of the Empire, and all that. Man knew how Galen thought.

  “That’s Jessica’s call,” Galen replied. “Right now, just hauling mostly commercial stocks for the Grand Admiral. Most likely, Marco Polo will turn into another boat like Mendocino.”

  “Mostly?” Tom asked.

  “I might have saved back a few dozen cases of brandy and bourbon,” Galen suggested. “Never know when you need to bribe an Admiral somewhere. So how long are you going to be here getting repaired?”

  “Probably a couple of months,” Tom replied. “zu Arlo needs time to rest and refit, and rethink some of the things we got wrong. Maybe come up with some new surprises. Valiant had it the worst, but all of my squadron got off worse than Jež’s. Mostly, that’s inexperience with Jessica’s way of fighting and the new things Buran is doing. But they’ve been blooded now, so it will get better.”

  Galen nodded. He would find out soon enough where his sovereign liege needed him to serve. At least he was making a lot of money in the process.

  Chapter XLIII

  Date of the Republic January 21, 403 Fleet Headquarters, Osynth B’Udan

  Jessica studied the man with an obvious eye. And a disapproving one. She hadn’t forgotten how the folks of Lincolnshire’s government had mistreated her, back when she was a lowly Command Centurion sent out on a meaningless diplomatic mission. Niall Henderson hadn’t been involved then, and she felt like she had paid everyone else back with interest later, but she still wanted to set a hard tone.