"Mr. Smith, even if I had not learned the folly of my father's ways, rest assured, Mannie would never let me attempt such pretentions. I believe I've learned my lesson. The Empire is too big for any one man or woman to tell it what to do. My father, the Emperor, lived an illusion. I am fully aware of that."
"Thank you, Your Grace," Mr. Smith said, and with a slight bow, withdrew.
"That just leaves you and me, Alis. Feel familiar?" Vicky said.
"Yes," he said with a chuckle. "Your Grace, you've proven yourself a wise student. We all agreed that only you could raise the flag of rebellion. You demonstrated great wisdom in choosing the time to whip it out and begin waving it about. I understand fully what you want to do and why you are willing to accept risks to your body to achieve your goal. However, I am worried about you."
"How, good admiral?" Vicky asked.
"I fear that you feel under obligation to do penance for the sins of your father and the other Peterwalds. I hope you understand that you owe the Empire nothing in atonement for their misdeeds and folly. Yes, I understand your desire to be a focal point for people as we stumble our way toward a new political structure. I will support you to my fullest extent to achieve that end. However, if I think you are about to do something from a feeling of family guilt, I swear, I will lock you in your quarters."
Vicky laughed, "Thank you, Alis. Thank you for understanding what I am trying to do, for supporting me . . . and for being my faithful watchdog willing to shove me away from the cliff of my own guilt for the mess my father has made of life and his rule. Trust me, I will listen carefully for your growl."
Admiral Bolesław eyes sparkled as he said, "Your Grace, I think that's the nicest way that anyone has ever been called a SOB."
"Alis, I think you're right," Vicky said, laughing. "Now, you have work to do, and I have one more bloody meeting before I can have lunch with my husband. No doubt, by the time he finishes this morning, I shall be Citizeness Peterwald."
"I'll have a word with him about that," Alis said.
"You do that. Maggie, do you know where I'm going for my next meeting?"
"Yes, Your Grace. It is an office building in the industrial park near the docks."
"Call me a cab and let's get there on time."
The cab Maggie called was a limo surrounded by gun trucks, but it got her there on time without any annoying distractions.
4
The breeze from the sea smelled fresh; it reminded Vicky of her fragmented honeymoon. For a moment, she just enjoyed the memory.
However, the Marine captain who opened the door for her was struggling to control his impatience; he clearly wanted her into a building and out of any potential shooting gallery.
Now! Not later!
Vicky humored him by walking quickly for the glass double doors to the nine-story brick and stone building in front of her. The captain and a dozen armed Marines in their red and white dress uniforms moved with her. Two of them hastened ahead to open the doors wide for her.
She and her detail swept into an atrium resplendent in gray and black marble and life with a near forest of growing things. Vicky quickly spotted a harried young man waving at her.
He shouted from outside the buzzing elevator whose doors he was forcefully holding open. "Your meeting is on the ninth floor. Please hurry."
Vicky and thirteen heavily armed Marines proved too much for the elevator car. The young man and two Marines were left for the next car, leaving Vicky to smile as she was moved to the back of the car.
The door closed and the buzzing stopped. Vicky smiled as she was somehow moved to the back of the car without being shoved or felt up once. A year or two ago, having the tight asses of nine strong young men crammed in around her would have been such fun.
Now, she conducted yourself like a dutifully monogamous wife and well-behaved Grand Duchess.
How the party girl has fallen.
The elevator proved to be slow. Maybe, if the young man had stayed at the controls, they would not have stopped at two floors. The men and women waiting for a ride took one look at a car full of Marines under arms and blanched.
They chose to wait for the next one.
At the ninth floor, they were greeted by an out of breath young woman who apparently had raced down the hall to take the place of their other native guide who was still waiting on the first floor.
"If you'll come with me, Your Majesty," she pleaded.
Vicky smiled and chose not to fluster the young woman worse by correcting her. That was what a gracious Grand Duchess did.
Vicky and her escort were ushered through an outer office to a room on the corner of the building. It had a great view of the sea and docks. Unfortunately, the seat at the head of the table they had set aside for Vicky would put her back to the view.
The moment she entered, two dozen men leapt to their feet.
With a smile, she went to the one open seat.
While the Marines spread out along the wall beside the door, the captain stayed at Vicky's elbow. He held the chair for her as she sat. As the other men in the room settled into their seats, the Marine officer took two steps back and went to an alert attention.
Vicky surveyed the room. Eight of the men could be identified as management or owners by the cravats they wore on their Nehru jackets. The other sixteen were clearly the design and engineering staff. They all wore open neck shirts and had large commlinks at their wrists. Some even wore two.
Of course, all of the computational power in the room could hardly hold a candle to the computer Vicky wore as a collar around her neck.
"Gentleman, We thank you for coming on such short notice. However, We think a quick glance at the order We have placed will more than explain Our haste."
The tall, thin man to her right cleared his throat. "Your Grace, the design is very primitive. It took only one glance at it by my engineering support staff and they spotted three ways to improve it."
"No doubt they did," Vicky said, agreeably. "However, would any of those improvements make for an increase in delivery times?"
The fellow glanced down the table. Several of the techs shook their heads.
Turning back to Vicky he said, "Apparently not."
"Gentlemen, I know this is an unusual request, but we don't want it good, we want it Tuesday, by which I mean as soon as possible."
"But Your Majesty," said the younger man at the tall one's elbow, "just a few tweaks of the design and we can lengthen the life of these buoys by fifty percent. I don't know where you got that design, but it's not efficient."
"Maggie, where did you get that design?"
From Vicky's neck came, "Nelly designed them for Kris Longknife when she needed to have several jump buoys knocked together quickly. They are optimized for easy fabrication."
The looks from around the table were priceless. Most of the managers had no idea what had just happened. Most of the tech staff were in awe.
"Thank you, Maggie," Vicky said. "I repeat, I need these as quickly as you can make them. Do any of you tech support types see anything in the design that will slow fabrication locally? I understand that what works well in one place can be a show stopper in another."
The guys with the big commlinks exchanged a lot of glances around the room. Finally, one of the older ones said, "No, Your Grace. The design is easily done with our fabrication devices. We should be able to have the first few rolling off the assembly line by late tomorrow and be at full production three days later."
"Very good."
"Okay," one young manager said, "you want them quick and dirty. Where's the fire? Why can't we give you a good, decent product? One Dresden can be proud of."
"You'll have to excuse my brother," the tall one said. "He likes to know why as much as he likes to know how much."
The room chuckled. Apparently, Vicky had walked into a long-running joke.
Vicky tried to not sound too pedantic as she began, "We need to restore the jump buoys at all the jumps within a cert
ain distance of Dresden so we can bring trade back to life."
When she paused for a breath, the younger manager interrupted her with, "Why? It's not like we have a lot to trade right now. We're barely able to take care of our own needs."
Vicky took a deep breath and let it out slowly, while giving the fellow a look she'd learned during her apprenticeship to Admiral Krätz.
When she began again, she spoke as if to a rather dull three-year-old. "Not only do buoys make it safe for ships to use the jump system, but they also alert us if fifty ships or more should suddenly appear in a system with a buoy."
You had to give the kid credit. His ignorance was invincible. "We don’t have fifty ship trading fleets. Even during the worst of the pirate threat, we'd only sail six or eight freighters with a pair of armed merchant cruisers."
"Yes, you are correct," Vicky said, and left the question hanging in the air.
The younger man eyed Vicky, then glanced around the room. "What am I missing?"
His brother covered his eyes, "A fleet of fifty warships likely does not intend us anything good."
It took the young fellow a long moment, but the light finally dawned on him. "Ooooh," he said.
"Riiight," his brother said.
Others around the table just shook their head.
Having finally been schooled, you would have thought the young manager would have cowed in his seat. Nope.
"Okay, so she wants to set up a warning system around Dresden. Still, she's ordering three or four times what she needs. Are we going to have to swallow the cost of these? Do we really want to pay for all those unnecessary buoys, even if they are cheap and crude?"
"Your Grace?" the tall man pleaded.
"Young man, We cannot answer your question because it goes to Naval operations and security of the same. Trust me, We need every last one of those buoys. Indeed, We may have to add to the order as Our war operators refine Our requirements."
The young man looked totally puzzled. So did most of the managers. One of them glanced down the table to a senior tech.
"Joe, you were in the Iteeche War. Do you have any idea why she wants so many buoys?"
"Yeah, boss," Joe answered in a gruff voice. "There are still a lot of planets with redcoats prancing around on them. She wants to outpost them so she can safely move the fleet in there and do to those bastards what she just did to our bastards. Right, ma'am?"
Vicky considered his answer and found it both right and safely vague. "Without giving away future operations, yes, soldier, you got it in one," she said.
"Sailor, ma'am. I ain't no puke to sleep in the mud."
There was a small rumble from the Marines in the back of the room, but the captain cleared his throat and it stilled.
Vicky smiled. Even after eighty, ninety years, this squid was still willing to pick a fight with her jarheads.
Oh, the joy of joint operations.
"Now that you understand both the importance of the work you're doing and the need for all haste, can we get down to the nuts and bolts of the contract?" Vicky asked.
"Yes, Your Grace," the tall manager said. "We expect to split the contract up with seven of us doing subassemblies and truck them over to my assembly hangar. Now, I think I understand that we need to get that assembly going as quickly as possible, so we'll start by shipping one set immediately, then maybe two, then three and so forth, getting as many ready for you as soon as possible."
"Good. Do you think only one test item will be enough to prove your production quality?"
Joe from down that table stepped in. "We'll test the first subassemblies to the max as they come out of the fabricators. We'll deliver the second one. Karl here can test the fully assembled buoy. You say we can trust the design."
"If you trust Kris Longknife's computer, I believe you can trust this design," Vicky said.
"I never heard that you couldn't," Joe answered. From his end of the table there seemed to be general agreement.
"What about payment?" the tall fellow asked. "I know that we're all pretty strapped for cash. They stripped us of every copper farthing we had. We've been operating on a barter system."
"Do you have the materials you need for these buoys?" Vicky asked.
"One of the advantages of the design, ma'am, is that they're using pretty basic materials. Yes ma'am, I think we can all find what we need either in our own warehouses or borrow them from someone else's."
"Then, what you need is payment," Vicky said.
"Yes," the spokesman said. Down the table seven other owners or managers nodded.
"The St. Petersburg mark is being accepted as currency throughout the Grand Duchy, our half of the Empire. Has one of our trade managers been down here to talk with you about what you can produce to earn exchange credit and what you need for that credit?"
The tall man at her right elbow answered for all. "I've attended a meeting with one of your officers and three trade representatives. Yes. We are working with the bankers to get us plugged into the Grand Duchy's financial system."
"Good. I can pay you in cash for these buoys, assuming we can agree on a price. You can use that cash to buy what you need inside the Grand Duchy."
"What are they worth?" a manager, fourth down on the side across from the spokesman asked.
"We've stabilized the mark across the Grand Duchy," Vicky said. "It's not convertible outside the Empire, so what we want from the Grand Duchy requires barter. However, you should have no problem replacing the resources you're using to make Our buoys on a pound-per-pound basis. I understand that the Bowlingames played tricks with the exchange rate. We will have none of that in Our Grand Duchy. None at all."
"Thank you, Your Grace," the questioner answered. "You understand, I had to ask that question."
"We understand that you had to. That is why We answered it."
"Your Grace," another manager said, "you speak of a Grand Duchy. Will we be staying in your Grand Duchy or will we be made to return to the Emperor's side of the border?"
"That is also a good question," Vicky admitted. "At present, the Emperor, my father, is living under Our protection. He is not Our prisoner, but Our guest. We assume that the requirements to change allegiance as specified in the Treaty of Cuzco are met by your parliament hailing me. However, I will not interfere with any effort to call for an election to switch allegiance back to my father, the Emperor. I don't think any of us thought we'd be facing such treachery when we drew up the articles of that treaty."
"So, we won't be forced back to the Emperor's rule?" the spokesperson said.
"No. My father is a very cowed man these days. I doubt if he wants to rule much more than my garden. He was severely mistreated by the Bowlingame faction during his recent stay on Greenfeld."
"They abused him?"
"They didn't so much abuse him as ignore him. They went so far as to turn off the electricity to the palace for an entire winter."
"Good Lord," was whispered around the room.
"So, it wasn't just us the Bowlingames were screwing over?" a manager said.
"Not just you but the entire half of the Empire. They have a lot to answer for," Vicky said. "Now that the political and financial matters are out of the way, let's go over the design, shall we?"
It wasn't so much that Vicky knew the questions to ask as that Nelly seemed to have imbedded the questions in Maggie. The tech team were soon being led through the details of the design and the production techniques. Maggie spotted several issues with the fabrication equipment that could have given Vicky junk that wouldn't last a month.
Different mills used different materials to print out product. Not all of those matched well with Vicky's requirements. The different plants ended up swapping around their assigned subassemblies to better match their mills to Vicky's needs.
The tall spokesman shook his head. "I don't know if they've got more precise mills on Wardhaven or your Nelly just figured we'd spot who needed to produce what, but I'm glad we caught this early."
"Thank you, Your Grace," came from Vicky's throat.
"Now, are there any further matters we need to discuss right now?" Vicky asked.
She was met with a lot of heads shaking ‘no.’
"Good, then I have a luncheon date with my husband. If you will excuse me?"
They bowed her out of their conference room, then quickly started their own meeting. As Vicky left the office, she heard some seriously loud comments aimed at the talkative young manager.
"Maggie, can you get me Mannie?"
"Yes, heart of my heart," in Mannie's wonderful voice answered that question.
"Dear, I've spent all morning in one meeting after another and I'm seriously meetinged out. Have you finished your breakfast meeting yet?"
"Give me a second," he said, and muted her. Vicky made a face to herself. She did not like being kept out of a meeting with any planet's political honchos. She'd have to talk that over with Mannie.
But it was only a few seconds before he came back on. "I think I can claw my way out of this meeting in a few seconds. Where do you want to eat?"
"I was thinking about room service in our suite," Vicky answered.
"Oh, so you've been in some serious meetings and need some serious attention."
"Most definitely, sweetheart."
"I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Don't take too long. Should I order a lunch that will get cold, or start with a cold lunch?"
"Start with a cold lunch," Mannie said, with a leer in his voice.
5
Vicky had Maggie call ahead to order nice salads and a bread basket. She really didn't care what kind of salad, so long as it had small tomatoes she and Mannie could feed each other. She wouldn't even mind if he hand-fed her lettuce. It was so much fun licking the dripped dressing off of each other.
Implacable: Vicky Peterwald, #5 Page 3
