Princess Valerie's War

by Terry Mancour

  “I do,” admitted the Duke. “About two million square miles of the northern Gamma continent – the region is called Morlanda, now,” he said, a little defensively. “I have a hunting lodge there, and plan on building a manor as soon as . . . well, as soon as I have the time. The largest town is only six thousand people, though. I’m sure some skilled labor improving the countryside wouldn’t hurt.”

  “You can do that with military POWs,” reminded Nick. “As long as it isn’t dangerous and you give them adequate rest, food, medicine and shelter.”

  “I’ll put them under a couple of squads of Home Guards,” reasoned Morland, “and get them to start developing the town.”

  “What did you name the town?” Rathmore asked, sotto vocce.

  “ ‘Paytriksburg’,” the Home Minister said, defensively. “Yes, I have an ego, all right?”

  “Fine,” Valerie said, ignoring the comments, “Civilian prisoners will go to the Ministry of Commerce, military prisoners to the Home Ministry. And we’re still taking an average of a hundred or so political prisoners from Marduk every few months.”

  “The bright side is that the germanium mines are booming,” added Rathmore. “Really high quality ore, too. Cavendard’s population is about to break the five-thousand mark, and there’s even a real restaurant there, too. And Baroness Ellis has declared that she wants to open up a resort area, too, on the coast.”

  “While I’m sure that’s important, let’s get back to the war,. On to the next item,” Nikkolay continued, tiredly. “Status update on Garvan Spasso. Duke of Hamsley?”

  That was Alvyn Karffard, and if he was considering building anything in his holding on the other side of the Gamma continent, he hadn’t made a move to do so. It was still as wild and pristine as it had been when civilization was reborn on the world. The big man cleared his throat noisily as he activated the clerical robot he’d arrived with, his fat fingers tapping away at the controls.

  “From what the Golden Hand reports, there is a 99% chance that Spasso fled Tanith through some means unknown – but based on his past actions, it’s likely he had a pinnace stashed somewhere he could reach easily, and fled off-world as soon as he could. Exhaustive searches of both the Slags and the abandoned tower building haven’t turned him up, although it did roust a lot of derelicts and petty criminals. And in the process we’ve discovered all sorts of unpleasant things about life underground in Rivington, including four other labs or storage facilities Spasso had in the ancient sewer system. Some of them date back to before he went to Gram, apparently, so I think it’s safe to say that Spasso had bee scheming from the very beginning.

  “Now we’ve sealed off all of those hideouts, but there’s always the possibility that there are some we didn’t find – believe me, those tunnels seem to go on forever. The important thing, however, is that we have plenty of prisoners eager to tell us everything about their former boss, and they all agree that Spasso would have high-tailed it out of Tanith the moment he could. And they’re all interested in qualifying for the reward, apart from a few Merthan mercenaries who consider him some kind of blood-brother. The Rivington Police have snitches and spies all over the poorer parts of town, and there’s a special detachment of Golden Hand who are searching, as well, but I think it’s safe to say he fled. In addition to a few, uh, Ministry of Everything Else agents who were willing to wager money on the matter.”

  Alvyn Karffard’s network of spies was extensive, but to this point had been mostly passive. Finding a wealth of talent in those candidates to the Golden Hand who had washed out of the incredibly difficult training, Karffard had established a small but highly dedicated crew of intelligence agents to augment his intelligence-gathering resources. They worked out of the offices of the Ministry of Education and Cultural Affairs, over at the Planetary Building, and each of them had perfectly innocuous-sounding desk jobs. But when Karffard needed to know something sensitive, he dispatched one of his trusted team. They had taken no nickname, no unit insignia, nor any other overt recognition that anyone could see, but outside of the Golden Hand, they were the most capable people on the planet for espionage and intelligence.

  “So our best estimation is that Spasso has fled. Where, is unknown – I’d say Mertha, perhaps, since it is close, or perhaps Xochitl. But I don’t think he tarried on Tanith a moment longer than necessary.”

  “You seem very certain about that, Duke,” Valerie said, warily, her eyes narrowing to slits.

  Karffard bowed from the waist – a difficult maneuver for the portly man. “I might be utterly wrong, Highness, but I am not uncertain.”

  “Very well,” Valerie said, with a sigh. “I’m going to take your word for it. Spasso would have to be insane to want to be within a parsec of me, anyway. He’s ruthless, ambitious, and calculating, but he hasn’t proven insane.

  “But that does bring me to another issue,” she said, calling up a diagram on her clerical robot and displaying it on the common screen. “Spasso’s most recent attempt has revealed a number of flaws in our defenses, my lords, most of which we’ve discussed at length. But one which has not been addressed to my satisfaction is the issue of the ruined northern tower. Spasso was able to successfully infiltrate it and use it as a post against us.”

  A three-dimensional image of the structure floated into view, slowly rotating on the screen. There were heads nodding, all around. No one had seen that coming, and they should have. “Now we’ve all put that tower in the back of our minds, figuring that we’d restore it after we ran out of space at the Planetary Building. I suggest we don’t wait that long.”

  She took a glance outside the window as the council studied the diagram, and saw the roses staring back at her. Sanguine little blasts of red, against neatly ordered green lines of the rest of the garden. Of all of the flowers arrayed there, the roses seemed to throb with hope. Perhaps, Valerie thought as she prepared to propose the biggest and most ambitious project in Tanith’s recent history, there was a little hope left in her heart, just little red splashes against a green sea of despair.

  And on that hope, she had pinned the future of the entire world.

  Chapter Fifteen:

  The Marvels Of Mr. Dawes

  “What I propose,” she continued, when the others had studied the drawing to their satisfaction, “is that we transform the structure of the ruined tower into a hardened, well-defended fortification. It would house the War Ministry, Planetary Defense, and any other military-associated functions within. We would reconstruct the upper stories as defensive platforms, adding heavy air defense guns, anti-ballistic missile systems, combat contragravity launch sites . . . you get the idea.”

  She looked out at a line of shocked, startled, and intrigued faces. Nikkolay was the first to speak.

  “That’s . . . quite an ambitious plan, Highness,” he conceded. “And it has some merit, at first glance. Something needs to be done with the building, or we risk a repeat of Spasso’s use of it. And it did prove remarkably tough to attack. But this . . .”

  “I think it has a lot of merit,” Harkaman said, decisively bringing his fist down on the table. “If we transferred a lot of the administrative functions of the spaceport barracks there, then we could use that space for commercial purposes. With all the new merchant traffic, things are starting to get crowded out there. And we’ve needed a better command headquarters for ages, now. Combining both in one place might be handy.”

  “Put a military target in the middle of a populated area?” Rathmore asked, troubled. “That seems begging for casualties, Highness.”

  “But Rivington would be a target regardless of how many military targets there were,” argued Valerie, firmly. “The spaceport’s here, the commercial area, the shipyard, the Planetary Building . . . having a strong defense here isn’t going to make Rivington more tempting, it will make it more daunting to attack.”

  “Could the structure be hardened?” asked Ffayle, interested. “It’s half a millennia old . . .”

  �
�Indeed it could,” Valerie said, chewing her lip with satisfaction as she keyed the next diagram. It was the tower transformed, augmented with structural supports and brilliantly shiny. “We add lateral supports, additional foundation supports . . . and we plate the exterior in collapsium. Independent air, power, and water. A massive spaceship, in other words, just one that’s permanently grounded. There’s something like it on Odin, actually, the military building known as Speartip – that’s their supreme military headquarters. The architecture would be different, of course, and it would be expensive . . . but once we finished it, it could take a fifty megaton strike without falling.”

  “That is ambitious, Princess,” Morland said, thoughtfully. “I think it’s brilliant. If we were attacked, the attackers would ignore the civilian population to focus on the fortress. I like it. I expect a generous area from which to run the Home Guard, of course,” he said, not-so-subtly naming his price for his support. “But I like it.”

  “Can we afford it?” asked Basil Gorram. “I mean, that’s a lot of collapsium!”

  “Not as much as you might think – about the same as a three-thousand footer,” Valerie answered casually. “And no engines or Dillinghams to put in. Just twice as much armament. Including some modified Dragons.”

  “Our Princess seems to have all the answers,” Karffard said, suspiciously. “Have you been studying military architecture in your spare time, Highness?”

  “Wife, mother, schoolteacher, sovereign, and military engineer?” Valerie said, with a quick smile. “No, Duke, you’re absolutely correct. I can’t claim credit for the idea. Mr. Dawes is responsible for it. He made the suggestion, and when I expressed an interest he produced a remarkably complete set of plans for me. Including cost estimates. It turns out this will cost as much as building a new two-thousand foot ship . . . but I think the defensive advantage it gives us makes it well-worth the cost.”

  “I’d actually appreciate seeing an investment in our defense that didn’t fly away,” admitted Duke Lothar. “And I think it would be also a tremendous advantage to have a strong, visible sign of Tanith’s strength constantly on the horizon. It would help keep our government bond prices up. Besides, it would be an ideal secure environment for the Bank of Tanith.”

  “And the Royal Family,” Valerie confessed. “In case of all-out attack, it would be the most secure shelter on the planet.”

  “Let’s build the monster,” the Warlord said, enthusiastically, pounding the table. “I think it’s a grand idea!”

  “Getting the work crews for it will be the hardest thing,” Morland said, sourly. “We’re already creating labor shortages with all the reconstruction work from the attack, and the work at the Planetary Building and the spaceport, and . . .”

  “We’ll get the crews,” Nikkolay dismissed. “It will keep the economy going, for one thing. Basil, will we have the spare capacity at the collapsium mill?”

  Gorram shrugged. “Capacity? Sure. We’ve actually scaled back a little, since we haven’t begun any new projects since we completed those merchantmen. And the plant on the moon is almost idle. After we get the last shipment bound for Beowulf done, it will free. But you said this Dawes character came up with the idea? The man the Wizard sent?” he asked, skeptically.

  “Yes, Baron Gorram. Mr. Dawes has proven himself an invaluable counselor over the past several months,” Valerie agreed, patiently.

  “He still won’t submit to verdication, will he?” the shipbuilder asked. “I trust your judgment, Highness, but how can we know we can trust Dawes?”

  “He hasn’t done anything to make us mistrust him – save for being mysterious,” Karffard admitted after clearing his throat. “And in certain trades, being mysterious is a good thing. The intelligence he’s brought us has been helpful. And he gave us the designs for the Dragon – you saw the visuals, Baron, you saw what it can do. This idea is a good one – doubtless we may have thought of it ourselves, but he brought it to our attention. I can’t see how it runs against our interests in the slightest. If you can, I’d love to hear your reasoning.”

  “I’m just skeptical of people who show up out of nowhere and start handing out presents,” he said, crossing his arms. “Sure, he might be that dead kid’s long-lost uncle or whatever, but he’s had pretty complete access to some pretty sensitive areas. I’m just wondering if he’s a security risk, is all.”

  “Your caution does you credit, Baron,” Valerie said carefully. “And I confess I don’t have anything but my own personal judgment to convince you. But if Mr. Dawes – or the Wizard – intends us any harm, I haven’t been able to detect it. And as we seem to be beset by enemies, I think we cannot look too closely at those who call themselves our friends. Mr. Dawes and his patron are mysterious, and their interests are unknown . . . but if they include protecting Tanith, for whatever reason, I’m going to welcome them.”

  “I just think we need to be careful, is all,” grumbled Gorram. “No disrespect intended, Highness.”

  “Understood. And I appreciate your candor, Baron. I’ll have copies of his proposed plans sent to each of your offices for inspection, but I would like work to begin on this at once. But that brings me to another piece of business, also brought to my attention by Mr. Dawes. I felt it worthy enough an idea to bring it to the Council.” She tagged another control on the clerical robot and the image of the building was replaced by a star chart of the Old Federation, the central core dominated by the Great Powers. Each territory was marked in a different color, and other symbols indicated their relation to each other, politically.

  “Aton has established itself as our enemy,” she began. “Marduk is our friend. But we have made almost no attempt at cultivating relationships with the other Great Powers. If Tanith is to survive, then relying on Marduk alone for support amongst the Great Powers is unlikely to be sufficient.”

  “Begging your pardon, Highness,” Valpry said, smoothly, “but we have made overtures to each of the civilized empires. Marduk, alone, was willing to extend us official recognition.”

  “But you yourself pointed out that there are more varied relationships between states than just being recognized. Even if Odin, for instance, or Baldur refuse to officially recognize us, then that doesn’t mean that we cannot encourage friendly relations.”

  “Just what are you proposing, Highness?” Nikkolay asked, cautiously.

  “I would like to send a few ‘good will’ missions to the other Great Powers, specifically Odin, Baldur, Ishtar, and Osiris.”

  “Why not Isis?” Rathmore asked, curious.

  “Because they don’t like us to start with,” she said, ticking off the points on her fingers, “they’re morally opposed to Space Viking raids, they’re arrogantly convinced of their own superiority, and they see Space Vikings as the descendents of traitors to the Old Federation. Also, they have a lot of business interests with Aton, and that’s the most pressing point. Aton has been cultivating an alliance with Isis for decades, now. Trying to make friends with them would be futile.”

  “Then why not extend an olive branch to their enemies, then?” proposed Morland. “Isis has plenty of frontier conflicts among its dependencies, doesn’t it?”

  “Plenty,” agreed Valerie. “They have a love-hate relationship with Freya, where most of their ships are built. They have a half-dozen insurgencies and at least one full-blown civil war. But the Royal Family is solidly in power, and as vicious about keeping it as I was about getting ‘Lainey back.

  “So we skip Isis – but maybe we do make some overtures to their internal enemies. But I would like friendly visits to all of the civilized worlds. Not necessarily military ships – we don’t want to frighten them. We can use the merchant fleet, maybe. Ostensibly we’ll be establishing trading relationships and exchanging cultural items of interest. But the real goal of these missions will be to discover and contact – unofficially – those within the governments who might be influenced to look upon Tanith favorably.”

  “That would
also be a perfect cover to infiltrate a couple of spies,” Karffard said, nodding sagely. “Unofficial ambassadors, if you like. It would take someone with an intelligence background to be able to figure out who’s the power behind the various thrones.”

  “It would be nice to develop more markets,” Rathmore agreed, hesitantly. “Trading with the Sword Worlds is getting more and more difficult. We’re mostly sending our merchandise through Morglay, now, thanks to Omfray and Konrad. Trade with Marduk has been great, but if we could get some good contacts with Baldur or Odin, we could really make some money.” As Minister of Trade Rathmore had an interest in such things – as a major stockholder in most of the commercial firms in Rivington, he’d also have a personal interest in seeing that kind of boom in trade.

  “Wouldn’t that seem pretty obvious, though?” Morland asked. “If I was going to expect a spy from another state to infiltrate my planet, that’s exactly how I’d expect someone to send one.”

  “There are spies,” Karffard explained, reasonably, “and then there are spies. I’m not expecting these agents to perform assassinations or other covert work. I’m expecting them to observe, gather intelligence, and report back. And, if the occasion warrants, make contact with a foreign power through a back channel. Which means that you want that government to know who your spy is.”