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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Winterfall had never quite appreciated the term calm before the storm until Diactoros reached the New Berlin system. At that point, he learned what exactly the storm in that adage truly consisted of.

And that was even after he and the other Manticorans missed the first part of the flurry. As soon as the group of ships hit the hyper limit and Basaltberg transmitted the news of what had just happened at Tomlinson the Andermani took off at full acceleration toward the planet Potsdam, spitting out reams of data and lists of orders as they went while leaving the slower Damocles and Diactoros in their dust. By the time the Manticorans finally settled into their prescribed orbit—an orbit, Winterfall noted, that was far removed from the Andermani warships and the busy ant-trails of shuttles bringing in supplies and personnel—the general shock had passed and the navy settled into the grim task of ramping up for what Winterfall had no doubt would be a withering response to the Tomlinson insurrection.

Still, Basaltberg didn’t leave them completely high and dry. They’d been sitting in orbit only about seven hours before the admiral sent a shuttle to take Winterfall, Travis, and Lisa to the capital city of Zizhulin.

“Are you ready for this?” Travis asked quietly as the shuttle broke free from Diactoros and headed toward the planet below.

“What, for diplomatic discussions in the middle of treason and betrayal?” Winterfall asked, trying to keep his tone light. “At least I’ll be safe on Potsdam. You’re the ones I’m worried about.”

“Warfare is always a gamble,” Travis admitted. “But the fact that Emperor Andrew has transferred Admiral Basaltberg to Friedrich der Grosse and put him in overall command of the fleet is a good sign. I’ve seen him in battle, and if anyone can finish this with the least amount of overall damage he’s the one who can do it.”

“As long as he’s still not angry with the two of us,” Lisa murmured.

“He’ll cool down,” Travis assured her. “Besides, it was the Emperor who insisted he take us along, not us.”

“If that matters,” she said.

“It’ll matter to Basaltberg,” Travis said firmly. “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” Winterfall said.

Still, his brother’s assurances notwithstanding, this was probably the part that worried him the most. Andrew’s request—his command, really—that Travis and Lisa accompany Basaltberg aboard Friedrich der Grosse to act as impartial observers to the coming conflict had been an unexpected capstone to their private audience with the Emperor.

Certainly there was sound logic behind the decision. With the Andermani going up against rebels in conquered territory, Andrew was clearly concerned about future Tomlinson propaganda as to the Empire’s behavior during and after the battle. With personnel from Manticore unexpectedly but conveniently available, it made sense to send them along as witnesses, especially after their stories of previous battle had confirmed that they had both good memories and a firm grasp of detail.

Which wasn’t to say Basaltberg had been thrilled by the idea. Even aboard Diactoros, where Winterfall was nominally in command, he’d noted a certain prickliness in Captain Cherise on the rare occasions when he’d intruded on her bridge. He could only imagine what the conversation between Basaltberg and the Emperor must have been like.

Winterfall had no doubt that Basaltberg would get over whatever anger or annoyance he’d left that meeting with during the two-week voyage back to Tomlinson. He was more concerned about the subtle but very real effects having two foreigners on Basaltberg’s ship might have. He’d read enough of Manticore’s limited collection of battle reports to recognize that anything that could distract a captain or crew member at a critical moment could mean the difference between life and death.

He didn’t like the fact that his brother and his brother’s new wife would be standing squarely on top of those critical moments.

Maybe Winterfall wasn’t the only one thinking along those lines. Lisa, seated beside Travis, seemed to be gazing into the future with the same trepidation her brother-in-law was feeling. “You okay, Lisa?” he asked.

Her eyes came back from whatever she’d been contemplating. “What?”

“I asked if you were okay,” Winterfall repeated. “You seem a little…odd.”

“You mean odd for someone heading into a major battle?” she replied, giving him a tight smile. “Don’t worry, I’m fine.” She took Travis’s hand. “At least I’ll be with Travis, who knows what he’s doing. You and your team are the ones who are going to be all alone down there.”

“And none of us has any idea what we’re doing?”

“I wouldn’t put it quite that way.”

“But if you had, you’d be right,” Winterfall conceded. “Tell you what. You two worry about your military miracle, and I’ll worry about my diplomatic one.”

“Deal,” Travis said with a smile.

Lisa smiled, too. But her odd expression remained.

* * *

They said their good-byes at the spaceport. Then, Gavin was whisked off to Sorgenfrei Palace to meet with Außenminister Yuèguìshù Shān and palace security to arrange for his team’s lodging and to work out the preliminary meeting schedule. Lisa and Travis were whisked off the opposite direction to one of the staging areas transferring supplies to Friedrich der Grosse and the other ships of Basaltberg’s force.

And through it all Lisa glowered at herself.

She should have known Gavin would notice. She’d taken care to hide her mood from Travis, but Travis’s brother worked on a different set of visual cues and she hadn’t taken that variance into account. She’d covered it up, all right, but she shouldn’t have let him get even that much of a glimpse behind the curtain.

Especially since the whole thing was so stupid.

Back during Basaltberg’s unexpected arrival at Manticore, she’d let all the old books and dramas of her teenage years tangle up her emotions and thoughts, to the point of wondering if getting a good-bye kiss from Travis would inevitably bring death and destruction to their relationship. Now, with the two of them about to be thrust into a looming battle far from home, those same emotional reflexes had once again kicked in.

Two weeks from now, all those old tear-jerkers whispered at her, one of the newlyweds was going to die.

“Hey,” Travis said quietly. “You okay?”

“Sure,” Lisa said, putting as much conviction into her voice as she could. “Why?”

“You seem worried, that’s all.”

“No, not at all.” She smiled at him. “How can I be worried when you’re right here beside me?”

“I can think of a whole stack of reasons,” he said dryly. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” she promised.

No, she wasn’t worried. Her emotions might be worried, but she wasn’t.

And there was a difference, she told herself firmly.

The transport to Friedrich der Grosse was waiting when their shuttle landed. Standing at the hatch, clearly waiting for them, was a short man with olive skin, curly black hair, and wearing the insignia and rank designations of an Andermani lieutenant commander.

“Greetings,” he called in heavily accented English as they walked toward him, lifting a hand in salute and giving them a dazzling smile. “I am Korvettenkapitän Cristaldo Carrino, Friedrich der Grosse’s chief engineer. I’m told you’ll be traveling with us on our mission of justice and retribution.”

“Jawohl, Herr Korvettenkapitän,” Travis said.

“Ah—you speak German,” Carrino said, shifting to that language. “Excellent. I must apologize for my English, but it’s been twelve years since I left Haven and I’m afraid I haven’t had much chance to practice it since then. Even back then, to be honest, my English was hardly what one might call flawless.”

“German is fine,” Lisa assured him in the same language, feeling only a twinge of concern. Travis was only marginally better at the language now than she was, but she still felt self-conscious about some of her grammar. “Our German is hardly flawless, either. So you’re a Havenite?”

“Was,” Carrino corrected, gesturing to the hatch. “But we’re on a tight schedule, so if I may ask…?”

“Our apologies,” Travis said as the two of them picked up their pace. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Not at all,” Carrino assured them. “I was supervising a spare-parts shipment when word came that you were on your way. I thought it would be simplest for us to travel back to Friedrich der Grosse together.”

He ushered them through the hatch. “Especially since I’ll be the one giving Lieutenant Commander Travis his tour of the ship.”

“I’ll be getting a tour?” Travis asked.

“A complete tour, too,” Carrino confirmed. “By order of Admiral Basaltberg himself.”

“That would be wonderful,” Travis said, and Lisa could hear the excitement in his voice. “Admiral Basaltberg has on occasion graciously permitted me to spend time aboard Zhong Kui, but as a foreign national there were of course many areas that were off-limits to me. This is an unexpected honor.”

“It shouldn’t be all that unexpected,” Carrino said as he waved them to seats along the shuttle’s starboard side. “As Emperor Andrew’s personal observers, you’ll need to know every corner of an Andermani battleship, and all the ways of getting from each of those corners to all the others. You’ll also be getting a tour, Commander Donnelly Long. Your escort and guide will be Friedrich der Grosse’s assistant tactical officer, Oberleutnantin Jingyi Unterberger.”

“I’d be honored,” Lisa said, feeling some fresh excitement of her own. Being Damocles’s XO was an eminently satisfying position, but she sometimes secretly missed her earlier days as the ship’s tactical officer. Meeting someone in a similar position would feel almost like going home. “I was once a tactical officer myself.”

“Yes,” Carrino said, smiling again, this time mischievously as he strapped into one of the seats across from them. “We know.”

From the shuttle launch site and Friedrich der Grosse’s orbital position, Lisa had estimated it would take twenty minutes to reach the battleship. In fact, it took just over sixteen. Either Andermani shuttles were faster than the Manticoran equivalents, or Basaltberg was in a hurry. Most likely both.

Carrino had received word en route that he was to bring Travis and Lisa directly to the bridge. Along the way he gave them a quick primer on the layout and the Andermani compartment numbering system. It was slightly different than the RMN’s pattern, but it was very logical and easy to remember, and by the time they reached the bridge Lisa had it down pat.

She’d expected to be impressed by the bridge, and she was. Not only was it at least three times the size of a Manticoran heavy cruiser’s, but there was also considerably more empty space. She puzzled at that a little as Carrino floated them across to Basaltberg’s command seat until it occurred to her that with this many people and stations there would be a lot more of people moving around, switching out one officer for another or bringing in replacements, than ever happened on a Manticoran bridge.

Basaltberg was on the intercom, talking with someone elsewhere on the ship, when they reached his station. He looked up, acknowledged them with a nod, and brought his conversation to a quick end. “Wilkommen, Commander Donnelly Long; Lieutenant Commander Long,” he greeted them, nodding to each in turn. “I trust Korvettenkapitän Carrino has taken good care of you?”

“He has, Herr Admiral,” Lisa assured him. As was the case in the RMN, here the senior officer of any group was the de facto spokesperson. “Thank you for the opportunity for us to be part of this operation.”

“Thank Emperor Andrew,” Basaltberg said. “At least this was an order I could obey.”

Lisa felt her forehead wrinkle. Had there been orders recently that the admiral couldn’t obey?

“I’m certain you will fulfill the task the Emperor has set before you,” Basaltberg continued. “The first step, as I’m sure Korvettenkapitän Carrino has already informed you, will be to learn everything possible about Friedrich der Grosse.” He beckoned across the bridge to a trim young woman. “Oberleutnantin Unterberger: attend.”

“Ja, Herr Admiral,” the woman said briskly, unstrapping and giving herself a push that sent her floating to Basaltberg’s chair. Her eyes flicked across Lisa’s face, then Travis’s, then settled on Lisa’s.

“This is Oberleutnantin Jingyi Unterberger,” Basaltberg introduced her. “She will be your guide, Commander Donnelly Long, and will be at your disposal for whatever you need whenever she’s not on duty.”

“Danke, Herr Admiral,” Lisa said, offering her hand to Unterberger. The woman took it and gave it a quick double shake. “Friedrich der Grosse is a magnificent ship. I’ll look forward to learning everything there is to know about her.”

“Then we’d best get started,” Unterberger said with a sly but friendly smile. “We do only have two weeks, after all. With your permission, Herr Admiral?”

“You’re relieved of duty, Oberleutnantin,” Basaltberg confirmed. “You and Korvettenkapitän Carrino may offer full access to our guests, and may answer any questions except those which would breach security.” He smiled at Lisa and Travis. “And you will deliver your charges to my dining compartment at eight o’clock. The Manticorans and I have a great deal to discuss.”

* * *

Außenminister Yuèguìshù Shān had a way of speaking which, combined with her normally rather reserved expression, made her just a bit intimidating. But as she and Winterfall talked she gradually opened up, and by the end of their first conversation he knew she was someone he’d be able to work with.

The preliminary schedule had been settled, Winterfall had screened Diactoros to get the other three members of his team transported down, and he was looking over the set of rooms they’d been assigned in the Imperial Palace when there was a quiet knock on his half-open door.

Herr Foreign Minister Winterfall?” The man standing in the hallway was tall and muscular, and was dressed entirely in black. He held a helmet under his left arm and had a large and nasty-looking gun holstered at his waist. “I’m Major Basle Strossmeyer, third shift commander, Totenkopf Hussars. I’ll be overseeing your security while you’re in Sorgenfrei Palace.”

Danke, Major,” Winterfall said. He’d worried a lot about whether his crash German course on the voyage from Manticore would prove sufficient, but he was already feeling surprisingly comfortable with the language. “Though I don’t expect personal attention will be required. From what I’ve already seen of the Totenkopf, I have no fears whatsoever for our safety.”

“Yes,” Strossmeyer said, favoring Winterfall with a somewhat thin smile. “I should perhaps mention that the security I mentioned is not just yours. This is, after all, also the Emperor’s home.”

Winterfall swallowed, freshly aware of the size of the gun riding Strossmeyer’s hip. “Of course,” he said. “I hadn’t thought about that aspect.”

“Few people do,” Strossmeyer said. “But of course, such thoughts aren’t your responsibility, but ours.”

“I can see you take that responsibility very seriously,” Winterfall said. “I can’t imagine anyone even attempting to make trouble here.”

“Perhaps not now,” Strossmeyer said, his face hardening. “But there was once a time…” He stopped and seemed to shake away an unpleasant memory. “But that’s not why I’m here, Herr Foreign Minister. Along with introducing myself, I also wanted to ask if you or any of your group have any problems I should know about. Allergies, chronic illnesses, special dietary needs?”

“No, nothing like that,” Winterfall assured him.

“Any symptoms over the past ten days that might indicate disease?”

“Again, no,” Winterfall said. “We were checked out by Diactoros’s medic when we first approached the New Berlin system a month ago, and again three days ago. We were also given broad-spectrum vaccines and antibiotics.”

“Our medics will need to confirm that,” Strossmeyer said. “This evening, if that’s convenient.”

“That would be fine,” Winterfall said. “My team should be here in two hours, and we have nothing official scheduled until tomorrow morning.”

“Good,” Strossmeyer said. “I’ll inform the medics. You’ll need to postpone your dinner until after the examination.”

“No problem, as long as the exam isn’t too late,” Winterfall said. “Außenminister Shān has arranged dinner for eight o’clock, and she doesn’t strike me as the sort of person you want to keep waiting.”

“Indeed she’s not,” Strossmeyer agreed. He gave Winterfall another small smile, this one looking more genuine. “I’ll inform the medics of that factor. I presume you’ll be dining in the Marble Hall?”

“Normally, yes,” Winterfall said. “Tonight she said it would be just her and the three of us and we would be in the Audience Room.”

“Yes,” Strossmeyer murmured. “She showed you where that is?”

“Yes.”

“All right.” Strossmeyer gestured past Winterfall. “If I may?”

“Certainly,” Winterfall said, stepping out of the way. Strossmeyer strode past him, set his helmet down on the end of the bed, and pulled out a tablet. “Let me give you a few extra parameters,” he said. “Here’s the palace diagram.”

Winterfall stepped to his side. “Yes, she showed me that.”

“Good for her,” Strossmeyer said gruffly. “I’m showing you again.”

He touched a group of rooms in the palace’s center section’s right-hand wing. “Here are your guest rooms.” He shifted his finger to a pair of spaces in the center. “Here are the Marble Hall and Audience Room,” he continued. “That’s where you’ll have your meetings and your meals. This section—” he indicated the palace’s entire left wing “—is off-limits. Understood?”

“The Emperor’s private living and working area,” Winterfall said, nodding. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good.” Strossmeyer paused, his finger hovering over the area two rooms past the Audience Room.

Gustav Anderman’s private office, Winterfall remembered. “You must have spent a lot of time there,” he said.

Strossmeyer twitched his finger back. “What? No. I was never inside. I was…those rooms are off-limits. That’s all you need to know.”

“Of course,” Winterfall said. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories.”

“They’re not—” His voice faltered. Slamming the tablet back into its pouch, he picked up his helmet and spun around toward the door. “I’ll be back later with the medics,” he said over his shoulder. “Just stay where you’re supposed to and everything will be fine.”

* * *

The rest of Winterfall’s team arrived at five. At five-thirty Strossmeyer was back with a pair of medics. The Totenkopf stood silently as the doctors performed the exams, then just as silently escorted them out. At eight, when Winterfall led the way to the Audience Room for their dinner with Außenminister Shān, Strossmeyer was again standing guard.

As Shān had told Winterfall earlier, the dinner turned out to be an informal affair. The food was good, the conversation was light and of the getting-to-know-you variety instead of anything serious. Winterfall had pushed his people hard on their German lessons during the trip from Manticore, but they were still awkward enough that he found himself wincing at some of their more egregious pronunciation errors. But Shān was patient, and was willing to speak in slightly halting English when necessary, and they made it through.

What the rest of the Andermani diplomatic team would think of their visitors’ lack of language skills, of course, would be another matter. If they didn’t seem as forgiving as Shān, Winterfall would just have to make sure certain of his team kept their mouths shut.

Either way, he promised himself darkly, there would be some highly unflattering reports filed when they returned home.

With the morning meetings set to begin right after breakfast, Shān made sure not to push the evening activities too late. It was just after ten when Winterfall herded his charges back toward their rooms, reminding them not to linger over bedtime preparations and suggesting that, if insomnia should strike, they could always fill the sleepless hours with some extra language study.

He’d returned to his own room and was undoing his collar when there was a quiet knock at the door. He opened it, to find Strossmeyer standing outside, his helmet again cradled in his left arm. “Sorry to disturb you, Herr Foreign Minister,” he apologized. “I came to inform you that your part of the palace is about to be locked down for the night.”

“Locked down?” Winterfall asked, frowning. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Strossmeyer said. “It was thought that it would be a wise step to take until the lab work on your medical exams is finished. Unless the medics find something wrong, this should be the only night you’ll be so treated.”

“Understood, and it’s not a problem,” Winterfall assured him.

“I appreciate your cooperation,” Strossmeyer said. “If any of you need anything—food, drink, extra blankets—there are call buttons in each room that will connect you to a steward.”

“Thank you, Major, but I don’t anticipate any such needs,” Winterfall said. “Certainly not food. Not after that magnificent dinner.”

“If you were impressed by that meal, you have no idea what’s yet in store,” Strossmeyer said, almost smiling. “Wait until the Emperor orders a banquet.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Winterfall said. “Thank you for stopping by to let me know. Hopefully, the tests won’t show any problems.”

“I’m sure they won’t.” Strossmeyer hesitated. “May I ask you a question, Herr Foreign Minister?”

“Of course,” Winterfall said beckoning. “Do you want to come in?”

“No, that would not be permitted,” Strossmeyer said. “Your Queen Elizabeth. I understand there were unpleasant circumstances surrounding her ascent to the Star Kingdom throne?”

“Yes, the sudden deaths of her brother and her niece,” Winterfall said, wincing at the memory of that horrific day.

“And were your people…unsure of her?”

Winterfall felt his eyes narrow. “Are you talking about Queen Elizabeth, Major? Or Emperor Andrew?”

A small wince cracked Strossmeyer’s carefully controlled expression. “Emperor Gustav was a giant among men,” he said. “There are some who are…concerned, I suppose, that Emperor Andrew’s youth and inexperience will make it difficult to fill his late father’s shoes.”

“I’m not sure anyone who’s suddenly thrust into a position of authority ever feels entirely ready for the job,” Winterfall said. “Queen Elizabeth rose to the challenge. I’m sure Emperor Andrew will, as well.”

“Perhaps.” Strossmeyer’s eyes flicked around the hallway. “Still, the palace is not the same without Emperor Gustav.”

“Give him time,” was all Winterfall could think to say.

“Of course.” Strossmeyer brought his eyes back to Winterfall and inclined his head. “Good night, Herr Foreign Minister. Sleep well. And…thank you.”

Winterfall’s last mental image as he drifted off to sleep was a picture of Queen Elizabeth at her coronation. Against all the odds and all the opposition, she’d made the throne and kingdom her own.

He could only hope Andrew would do the same.

* * *

The first session of Oberleutnantin Unterberger’s tour of Friedrich der Grosse took four hours and ran Lisa through the bridge, flag bridge, CIC, and the forward engineering compartments.

And Unterberger had been right. Two weeks would not be nearly enough time to learn everything there was to know about the massive warship.

“First thing I’m going to append to my report when we get back to Diactoros,” Travis said as they sealed the cabin they’d been given, “is that while we’re upgrading the RMN’s tactics, weapons, and ship design we also need to upgrade the quality of our food.”

“Admiral Basaltberg does set a very nice table,” Lisa agreed, savoring the pleasant aftertaste of sauerbraten and spätzle. “But I doubt everyone aboard gets the same cuisine.”

“Knowing Andermani, I wouldn’t put it past them,” Travis said as he started unfastening his tunic. “So what did you see today?”

“The command centers and forward engineering,” Lisa said. “You?”

“Damage Control Central and the aft missile launchers,” Travis told her. “As impressive as everything else I’ve seen from the Andermani. I’m be getting CIC and the command areas tomorrow.”

“All with Carrino’s sparkling running commentary, I assume?”

“Probably,” Travis said, smiling. “I still wonder what the rest of the officers and crew think of him. He’s so different from both the original Chinese philosophy or Anderman’s adopted Prussian one.”

“Well, he makes me laugh,” Lisa pointed out. “Even the ancient Prussians must have appreciated people who could do that.”

“I think they do here, too,” Travis said. “I spotted a lot of smiles that people were trying to hide along the way. It’s just that they don’t seem to know how to react. Or maybe they just don’t think they could hold their own against him once they got started. How’s Unterberger?”

“Detailed, methodical, and an excellent teacher,” Lisa said.

“I meant sense of humor-wise.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s got one,” Lisa said. “But she doesn’t let it out to play the way Carrino does.”

“You’ll have to work on that,” Travis told her. “If nothing else, I’d love to see a pun contest in German between her and Carrino.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Lisa promised. “In between getting my head stuffed with ship details.”

“Yeah,” Travis said, sobering. “I just can’t help thinking about what Basaltberg said at dinner about unpredictability.”

“The approach to battle must always be as methodical and controlled as possible,” Lisa quoted. “For it is a given that once combat begins, one will inevitably face unpredictable events.”

“One must therefore prepare carefully and thoroughly ahead of time,” Travis picked up the rest of Basaltberg’s words, “in order to prevent mistakes from creeping in any earlier than possible, and to give oneself the strongest platform from which to react to those elements when they present themselves. It does lend itself to easy memorization, doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Lisa said, a shiver running through her. “The worrisome part is that by the time we get there the rebels will have had a full month to prepare.”

“Longer than that if you add in the months or years they’ve been planning this,” Travis reminded her soberly. “Plus the fact that their commander has the same training in strategy and tactics as Basaltberg and the rest of his officers.”

“Going to be like mirror-fighting.”

“Pretty much,” Travis said. “But we should have the advantage in both hulls and throw weight.”

“Unless they have ships we don’t know about.”

“Unless then,” Travis conceded. “But at least Basaltberg will have an advantage Hansen can’t possibly know about.”

“What’s that?” Lisa asked, frowning.

Travis grinned impishly at her. “Us.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Right,” she said. “Two Manticorans who have no official positions and no idea what they’re doing. Hansen must be shaking in her boots.”

“Hey, speak for yourself about not knowing what we’re doing,” Travis said with mock reproof. “I, for one, intend to know every last thing about Friedrich der Grosse before we hit the hyper limit.”

“Only if Carrino stops making jokes and starts actually teaching you things.”

“Oh, he is,” Travis said. “And there are other ways.”

“Like calling up the specs and doing another couple of hours’ work right now, you mean?” Lisa accused. “Like you and your German lessons on Diactoros?”

“And if I do, who’s to stop me?” Travis said loftily.

Lisa tilted her head. “How about someone with a better offer?”

“You have one?”

“Oh, yes,” Lisa said, smiling one of her special smiles.

Travis smiled back. “Sold,” he said.

Eat, drink and make merry, the old quote whispered through Lisa’s mind afterward. For tomorrow you may die.

In this case, it would be another two weeks.

But the thought, and the warning, remained.


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