Vicky Peterwald: Target by Mike Shepherd Page A

else?
    But all this was only the start. Only the first of what she had to wade through to get to the present day’s crimes. The Navy knew a lot that wasn’t in the news. The Navy knew that six of its best battleships had been dispatched without flags or recognition signals to blast Wardhaven back to the Stone Age.
    Vicky remembered how casually she had let drop to Kris and her team that she had heard an admiral raging at her dad for losing six battleships. Now she knew that Kris and her friends had fought those ships to destruction. And some of them had paid with their lives.
    Oh my God! How could they stand to look at me after that?
    Vicky found herself wondering if she should order Admiral Gort to take her straight to Wardhaven. They’d grant her political asylum if she asked for it, wouldn’t they? She’d read about political asylum being used back in the old days during the buildup to the Unity War.
    But what would she be if she got asylum? Nothing! Just another penniless person, looking for a handout.
    I’d be alive.
    Yes, but at what price?
    Vicky had been a nonentity for most of her life. She had no desire to go back to that again. She’d been a pawn since her brother’s death . . . and a weak one at that. Now, facing death, she found herself filling with a determination to stay in this game, and to stay in it as much more than a pawn.
    Mr. Smith had retreated to the desk chair and silence as she had sunk deeper and deeper into the knowledge of where she came from. Now Vicky sat up from where she lay on the bed. “Okay, enough of this history,” she said. “Let’s see what we can learn about the present. That’s the game we’re in, right?”
    “It certainly is, ma’am.”
    By suppertime, Vicky was ready for whatever questions the admiral might throw her way.

CHAPTER 9
    C AP TAIN Hoffman, the chief of staff, was a handsome man, a few years younger than his admiral, with alert eyes and a mouth that seemed never to smile. He was usually quiet, letting his admiral take the lead, but was quick to fill in when the admiral found himself at a loss for words. He was also quite ready to offer his opinion on most any topic . . . if the admiral asked for it.
    He reminded Vicky a bit of Jack Montoya on Kris Longknife’s staff. The relationship between Admiral Gort and Captain Hoffman was very much like that between Kris and Jack . . . only without any of the sexual tension.
    The admiral started with just the facts. Did Vicky know which planets were suffering riots, had famines haunting the cities, or were totally suppressed by the Bowlingame Security Services under her stepmother’s protective cover?
    Vicky rattled of the answers with ease. After all, there were only eighty-six planets now in the Empire . . . and Vicky could always ask her computer if she forgot.
    No wonder Kris Longknife seemed so smart.
    Then they got into the harder questions.
    “How would you stop the Empress and Bowlingames from adding another planet to their orbit?” the admiral asked.
    “Your friend Admiral Balk had a pretty good idea,” Vicky said.
    The admiral raised an eyebrow to his chief of staff. Captain Hoffman took over the questioning.
    “But he was asked to assist by the at least semilawful government of St. Petersburg. Your Mayor Artamus had a system in place. When the incoming assault claimed it was merely there in reply to a request for help, he had a mechanism to quickly prove the lie. Could Captain Balk have threatened to open fire without a request from the civilian authority below?”
    “I see your point,” Vicky admitted. “Those circumstances do seem a bit unique to St. Petersburg.” She paused for a moment, then asked a question of her own. “However, isn’t there any way to duplicate something like the council of mayors on other planets?”
    Once again, the chief of staff took the lead in a response. “That would involve the Navy in civil affairs. How do you think your father would take to