The most interesting thing about the hall, now that Jessica had gotten thirty minutes to size everything and everyone up, was the way the small hearing room had been organized, small by government standards anyway. It had been arranged such that a speaker could address the Committee from a slightly-raised platform, one that still put his head several steps below that of the men and women facing him at a long angle, safe atop their own high stage, behind a heavy and official table, the one with their names and planetary ridings spelled out in front of them.
The nineteen men and women who sat on the Senate Select Committee for the Fleet of The Republic of Aquitaine.
The Committee.
The exact group that were the civilian control of the Navy itself. Most of them were long-serving politicians with significant experience on the topic. Several were retired fleet officers of one type or another, usually from one of the Fifty Families that formed the social backbone of the Republic.
At the center was Senator Tadej Horvat, former Premier of the Senate, former Command Centurion, and, for the last several years, Chairman of the Committee after his party had lost control of the Senate, brought down in the same scandals that destroyed Jessica’s old nemesis, Bogdan Loncar.
Tadej was a tall and broad-shouldered man sporting a round build, with sandy-blond hair finally fading to white, although she doubted that the original color was natural. The man was in his sixties and known to be a touch vain.
But at the same time, he and Nils Kasum, First Lord of the Fleet and Jessica’s mentor, seated opposite at another table, had been friends since boarding school. Horvat had become one of her guardian angels, and one of the reasons Jessica had gotten as far as she had, as early as she had, promoted to Fleet Lord younger than any other person in more than a century.
She owed Horvat, and Kasum, a debt she doubted she could ever repay.
Jessica wondered how far today would stretch that. Angry scowls were brewing.
Interestingly, from her seat in the audience, she had the best view of all the players.
On her right, the Committee, dressed like resplendent peacocks in colorful tunics and suits. On her left, the seven men and women who were the Lords of the Fleet in black. Civilians, but frequently at odds with the Committee, from whom they took orders and tried to carry them out.
In the audience, several random groupings of folks, some she knew and some she did not, with two very special characteristics about them: important and interested enough to be invited to something this secret, as well as possessing a security clearance at the highest possible level that would allow them to be here.
Even the man at the podium, having finished addressing the room and now taking questions, didn’t meet the second, especially as he wasn’t even technically a Republic citizen, but Yan Bedrov was the reason they were all here. He looked out over the room like a lion beset by feisty rabbits. Anyone who didn’t know the man probably mistook the serenity on his face for calm.
Jessica knew he was angry enough to chew nails right now by the stiff way he held his shoulders and the fact that both hands were palm-down and flat on the lectern. Normally, Yan fidgeted when standing and addressing a group, hands going all directions. Movement helped him think, so he said. But he was handling their questions with grace and even occasional charm.
Probably measuring throats for knives in his head, though.
While she waited for the unconscionably-long-winded Fourth Lord of the Fleet to perhaps finally get around to possibly making his way to some meaningful point, Jessica studied the rest of the audience.
Down at the end of the front row furthest from her, the current Premier, Judit Chavarría, a stocky fireplug of a woman with mahogany skin, black hair, and perfect nails, sat next to Calina Szabolski, President of the Republic, an erect, lean lady with laugh lines on her face and long, silver hair. The President was a former professional athlete of impeccable family, in direct descent from the Founder of the Republic himself, Henri Baudin.
A few others of note amidst the three to four dozen people in the audience, mostly politicians with an interest in naval affairs, or busybodies lacking better hobbies. A goodly number of bodyguards and aides in addition, mostly toward the back of the auditorium until called upon.
Jessica was in a first-row seat, almost in the center. Moirrey was on her right and Casey on her left, the two women wearing the identical maroon outfits Moirrey had originally sewn for their audience with Karl VII. Vo Arlo had ended up one row behind them, a quiet Gibraltar of a man in a Centurion’s uniform custom-made for the giant.
Beside Vo, the one true stranger in this group, even now, so many months later.
It wasn’t that Captain Wald hadn’t been a perfect gentleman, and even a touch shy. Jessica had found him charming and quite witty once he got over his natural reticence, the outsider in the larger group. And Casey truly had needed an economist of his skill for what was coming.
Jessica still had not decided if she was going to kill Emmerich Wachturm for presuming. Or thank him.
It didn’t help when Wald leaned forward to tap Casey on the shoulder and whisper some key, arcane point into the woman’s ear. The ear on Jessica’s side. Where she could smell his after-shave lotion.
Fourth Lord finally seemed to be winding down. Perhaps. The man was a long-winded blowhard who seemed in love with the sound of his own voice more than anything. Still, it broke her concentration on things that were superfluous right now.
“And in conclusion,” the man said, angrily slamming his hand down on a binder on the table in front of him and making several people jump. “These designs are insane. You propose to throw away over a century of accumulated knowledge and wisdom about proper naval architecture. Why should we even entertain the notion of listening to such rank imbecility from a foreigner? A barbarian pirate, no less.”
Rabbit, challenging lion.
Jessica wondered if Bedrov would actually yawn at the man before replying. She could tell even from here that he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes. Which was a step up from actually, publicly threatening the man.
The silence stretched as Yan seemed to look for the right words. Presumably, less profane ones than he would normally use on his gun deck, given the delicate and august company he found himself addressing today.
Yan eventually settled on a vague shrug.
“Because your ideas are stupid and impractical,” Bedrov replied. “It would require a logistics train some seven months long each way, just to support the border. Perhaps Seventh Lord could explain the absurdity of that task to you in smaller words.”
“How dare you?” the Fourth Lord snarled, starting to rise.
“I was given this task by someone I like and respect far more than you, buddy,” Yan countered with a voice edging finally into an angry snarl and a finger coming up to point at the Fourth Lord.
For a moment, Jessica wondered if Alois Dominguez was going to let his temper get the best of him and cause the man to issue a challenge to the pirate, a man who had previously killed three men in duels. With blades.
“And I don’t personally give a damn what you think of the designs, pal,” Yan continued, grinding broken glass into the wound. “You aren’t being asked to adopt them, and if you don’t want to build them, I have several other interested parties I can talk to instead.”
“This information is classified at the highest level,” Dominguez snarled. “I’ll have you arrested for treason.”
“No, you will not,” Yan snapped the whip on the man with an audible crack. “I am not a Republic citizen and not subject to such laws. And, as of yesterday, I have resigned all of my commissions: here, Fribourg, and Corynthe, so I am a private businessman, protected by your own commercial laws, which I have studied rather closely before this. So bring it, you stupid, fat clown.”
“I’ll have you know-”
“That’s enough, Alois,” Nils Kasum broke in on the man.
Jessica was always amazed that such a deep voice could emerge from such a skinny chest, but he still did that better than anybody she had ever met. Especially when he was angry and willing to let everyone within earshot know it.
Like now.
Fourth Lord snapped his head around angrily, focusing his rage on First Lord, having already forgotten Yan.
“I do not answer to you, Nils,” Dominguez barked. “As Fourth Lord, all design and construction decisions are mine. You’ll get what I decide to build.”
“While you may not report to Nils Kasum,” Tadej Horvat suddenly called out in a dry, sharp voice that seemed to fill the entire auditorium. “You do answer to me, Alois Dominguez.”
Sudden stillness filled the room. Pregnant. Stagnant. Angry.
Dominguez fell quiet, his breathing audibly labored. Tadej pointedly glanced slowly right and left, taking the temperature of his comrades as the room held on the edge of a precipice.
“The Committee feels that it has lost confidence in you as Fourth Lord, Alois Dominguez,” Tadej pronounced. “I will expect your resignation on my desk in one hour.”
“And if I refuse?” the man challenged in a rising voice.
“That would please me,” Horvat replied in a chilling tone, another lion provoked by the same, angry rabbit.
Alois Dominguez turned white. Jessica suspected that there were probably decades of bad blood playing out right now, in public, although she knew next to nothing about the man about to become the former Fourth Lord of the Fleet.
Tadej Horvat was probably the most dangerous opponent a person could have in this room. Many people had found that out, usually the hard way.
Fourth Lord was already standing. He turned and stomped out of a nearby door.
“Sergeant At Arms,” Horvat called in a lighter voice, a rapier rather than a battle axe. “You will enforce my will.”
Jessica watched the tiny blond woman rise from a spot at the left end of the front row they shared. Svetlana Ognianov had the long, lean build of a dancer, a voice like a history professor, and moved like an assassin. Jessica had met a few of those, now.
“As you command, Chairman,” the woman said in a tone that conveyed no emotional loading whatsoever.
Dominguez must be truly hated around here. Or he was being made an example of.
Either way, dangerous games.
Jessica let a small grin escape her rigid control.
These people had NO idea what really dangerous political games looked like. They had never stopped a coup, or faced a warship dropping nuclear explosives on an inhabited world.
Lady Casey could give them some pointers, if she chose. As could Jessica.
Tadej extended his serenity over the room.
“My apologies to the rest of the chamber,” Senator Horvat said, as if nothing had happened. “Unfortunately, that wasn’t even the stupidest, most asinine thing that man had said, even this week. Yesterday, he asked me why Fleet Centurion Keller has not been brought up on official charges of treason, for her role in the recent events at St. Legier. Apparently, even his own vote to send her on that mission had escaped the man’s memory.”
The Senator scanned them all now, slowly, settling his eyes on Jessica for several long seconds before he finally turned back to Yan.
Lions, having cowed the rabbits back into submission.
“Now, Sri Bedrov,” Tadej said firmly. “You have resigned all official stations, is that what I understood you to say?”
Yan actually nodded to the man, almost a slight bow. One lion recognizing another.
“That is correct, Senator,” Yan replied. “As of this morning, Bedrov & Keller, Registered, opened its first business office, down in Penmerth, Ladaux.”
Jessica found it highly amusing that every single head in the room turned to look at her at the same time. All of them, including the ones who should have known better. Shocked looks. Amused. Curious. Angry.
“No,” Yan continued. “Not her. Miguel Keller is the Chairman, being a Republic citizen. Vyacheslav Keller, his son, is my Chief Legal Officer. Having not passed Aquitaine’s rigorous educational and credentialing requirements, I may not call myself a Naval Architect, so my title is simply Principle Designer. I will, however, stack my warship specs up against anything that any of you want to submit. I will guarantee you a distant third place, behind me and Pops Nakamura, Crown Naval Designer of Corynthe.”
All the emotions turned to confusion at that point, except for the very few people in the room who actually knew who Iorwerth Nakamura was, and who therefore understood that he might be the most original and skilled starship designer alive. At least until he and Yan finally went head to head. Jessica looked forward to that competition, and not just as the woman who would get to build those lovely designs, someday.
Corynthe might be a poor star nation, but necessity truly was the mother of invention. Nakamura and Bedrov had both come out of that poverty with dreams of building starships, and, further, with the understanding of the need to make them compact, efficient, and deadly. And to do so at an acceptable price.
No Fourth Lord had ever had to measure costs to the fraction of the Lev when building a star fleet.
“I see,” Senator Horvat replied diplomatically. “Based on?”
It was a simple question. And a bear trap was a simple piece of steel. They both looked innocent and harmless, until you put a foot in them.
Jessica wouldn’t have put Yan up there today if he hadn’t hunted his own fair share of bears over the decades.
Yan actually grinned at the Senator. It was unnerving in what should be a very sober and serious discussion.
Lions, discussing rabbits.
“You people have no conception of poverty whatsoever, Senator,” Yan said, encompassing the entire room with one, rude sweep of his long arm. “Your entire war with Fribourg could be described by an outsider such as myself as an argument over who had the prettier mansion and the most mistresses.”
Yan paused to glance at the rest of the gasping audience before returning his attention to the one place that really mattered. The murmuring slowly subsided.
“Until I was fourteen I lived in a slum, Chairman,” he said in a calm, hard voice. Emotionless only because any emotion now could be interpreted as a challenge and Yan was smarter than that. “With a brackish well that was a thirty minute walk each way. Power that blacked out regularly because the generators overloaded, or a line failed, or because someone had pissed off the man with his hand on the switch and got made an example of.”
Yan took a deep breath. Jessica watched him almost literally shake off the cloak of his past as his chin came up.
“Your ships, your entire navy, are built around spending Levs like you own the printing press,” Yan continued. “Primaries by the pallet. Missiles by the gross. Corynthe doesn’t use either of those because we can’t afford them. With the logistics train you and Karl VII envision, they will not be possible, so I eliminated them. The result are a set of designs that are smaller, deadlier, and specifically tailored to the task the Emperor of Fribourg demanded of me. The next step is yours.”
Jessica thought Moirrey might be able to throw a glitter-filled water-balloon at someone right now and not be noticed, from the sudden, shocked silence. She did not lean over and suggest it to the woman, as much as she wanted to.
Instead, she turned to look past the Evil Engineering Gnome.
Jessica had whispered in Judit’s ear, as the Premier had first entered today, that the woman might need to engage in the conversation at some point, without mentioning why. But Judit was a canny politician. She saw her opening now and stepped boldly into it.
“Sri Bedrov,” she called over the murmuring. “You say you have gone into private practice? Who, then, are your backers? This may become a matter of national interest for the Republic.”
Technically, even the Premier wasn’t supposed to speak in this setting, given that this was something of a secret Committee hearing. At the same time, no one the least bit intelligent was going to gainsay that woman.
Yan actually smiled, for the first time in twenty-some minutes.
“Based on the advice of my Chief Legal Officer, Slava Keller,” he replied in a lighter tone, “we have recruited two Bond Investors at present. Stock itself is severely curtailed, with the Chairman, board members, and other officers collectively voting just under forty percent of the shares, while I retain a significant controlling majority.”
“Bond Investors, Sri?” Tadej called. His tone had gotten light and almost playful, but he had known most of these people for decades, and knew that Jessica had vouched for Yan. And finance was a realm where his expertise probably rivaled Captain Wald, seated behind Jessica and waiting.
Tadej had probably never actually met Jessica’s little brother, at least not yet, but Slava was a well-known chandlery attorney in this town, working on both civilian and military contracts. It had made him quite successful. This venture was likely to make him filthy, stinking rich.
Not as rich as his sister, but she was a Queen with a government and a treasury behind her.
Still, Jessica’s niece and nephews would never be hungry.
“That’s right, Mr. Chairman,” Yan replied. “The financing was structured around an eventual goal of three major investors to provide initial funding and maintain a joint, personal interest in our affairs, without being able to dictate terms or seize control.”
“I see,” Tadej said in a tone that would have made most people take a step back. “You’ll pardon me for not having had a chance to study your incorporation documents yet, Sri Bedrov. Who are your two current investors?”
Anyone else might take umbrage at the tone. Jessica had prepped Yan for exactly this occasion. It was going to happen, best that it be done right.
Lions, talking over the heads of the rabbits.
“Two private, galactic citizens, Senator,” Yan’s smile had broadened. “Women with impeccable political credentials, given the sensitive and serious nature of the business. My plan at present is to recruit a third person to round out the group. The two are Casey zu Wiegand and Jessica Keller, strategically representing Fribourg and Corynthe.”
Again, every head turned her way. Most were probably seeing the pretty, blond girl seated next to Jessica for the first time.
Oh, certainly she was a beautiful, Imperial Princess, and thus something of a unicorn in this land, but she was also a Ritter of the Imperial Household. Aquitaine did not even have such a concept, although they would be more willing to accept such a woman here than Fribourg would, Aquitaine lacking the foolish gender notions of the Empire.
“Princess Kasimira?” Tadej asked in a very stilted, very formal tone. Someone would be recording this conversation. Probably several someones, if for no other reason than future blackmail.
Politics in Aquitaine wasn’t blood sport, mostly because actual blood was so rarely shed. It still came close, from time to time.
Jessica twitched the slightest bit when Casey suddenly stood. They were going off script, but Casey probably had a better nose for politics than Jessica did, having been raised to it her whole life. Jessica smiled serenely at the few faces that hadn’t followed Casey upright.
“No, Mr. Chairman,” Casey called across the room. “As a Ritter, I of course am authorized to speak for the Emperor, and do so occasionally. However, I made this particular investment as a private citizen, out of my own funds that are not tied up in anything official. My personal, majority inheritance was quite substantial. Income from my Duchy is also significant.”
Judit had a calculating look on her face when Jessica glanced over.
“And yet,” Judit interjected. “You can speak for the Emperor, when you choose?”
Casey nodded. At her core, the woman had been raised an Imperial Princess. She was made of extremely stern stuff. Most people here just weren’t aware of that, with the exception of stories they largely discounted. And nobody had truly understood Casey’s role in defeating Sigmund Dittmar’s attempted coup.
Fools.
“Why should we engage?” Judit pounced, making it clear that We represented the entirety of Aquitaine.
Before Casey could speak, Yan laughed out loud. The man had spent a great deal of time in meetings with her, Casey, and the rest, on the flight from St. Legier to Ladaux. Planning, evaluating, questioning.
“Because Lady Casey is one of only two women alive entitled to wear a blade in the Imperial Presence, m’lady,” he said. “Not even Jessica Keller has that privilege. I considered asking the other one, and I might, one of these days, but she’s already deeply involved with this project, and most of her funds are currently locked up on Thuringwell. That’s a better investment, both for zu Kermode and the Republic, right now.”
Without even looking, Jessica could feel Moirrey’s blush. Her very skin turned warm, sharing the arm rest with Jessica. She would be red to the tips of her ears, uncomfortable at being the center of this kind of attention.
“And you propose a third, Sri Bedrov?” Judit pressed.
“That would be a private affair, madam,” he fired back. “I have not had the chance to make an approach, and it would be inopportune to name the person, that being the case.”
For a pirate, Jessica was always a little amazed at how well the man could handle his diction, when pressed into a corner. Probably too much time spent with Imperial busybodies.
Judit seemed satisfied, however. She nodded to Yan and let it go.
Tadej had remained quiet through the exchange. He might represent The Committee, but this woman politician, rival though she be, was the government. He had been there. He understood how things worked. Better than anyone else, probably.
“And your designs, Sri?” Tadej finally asked. “I have studied the vessels. Impressive, but the weapon systems are experimental, and my experts do have their reservations.”
“Battle-proven for two of them and then improved on in both cases,” Yan answered, matter of factly. “First Thuringwell. Battle of St. Legier. The third is an obvious and logical extension of the existing systems it will replace.”
“And the fourth?” Judit suddenly asked. Her voice was ever-so-slightly playful. “The one you refer to as a Bubble Gun?”
“Really?” Yan was surprised. “I thought I had corrected all the notes and references in the schematics.”
“You missed one on diagram 193,” Tadej added tartly.
“Oh. Oops,” Yan grinned and shrugged. “Still, I trust my expert that the Reversed Field, Pinch, Plasma Implosion Generator will work as designed. Her opinion was enough for the Emperor. It’s certainly good enough for me. And you people made her an Advanced Research Weapons Technician. You don’t get to complain when she comes through and invents new stuff. All these weapons designs are hers, by the way. I just built the ship around them.”
Moirrey’s blush got worse, if that was possible. She really had called it a bubble gun, after a late-night brainstorming session that involved bubbles blown in liquid soap and left to float about the salon chamber. And copious inebriation.
There had been weirder inspirations. Newton had his apple, and Archimedes his bath. Moirrey could have her bubbles.
And the glitter that was her signature.
Jessica just thanked the powers that be that Moirrey had never figured out how to scale glitter up to a naval weapon.
So far.
Judit turned back this way.
“zu Kermode?” she asked simply.
Moirrey rose, mirroring the already-standing Casey in their matching outfits, to make Jessica feel tiny. And protected. She could do much worse than those two beside her and Vo at her back.
Jessica fought down the giggles when Moirrey spoke. Normally, excitement made the woman fall back into a cant so thick you had to parse it with a knife. When she got focused, she could give diction lessons to Republic politicians. Like now. Obviously, she and Yan were both up to no good.
“The design for the so-called bubble gun is based on battle reports and empirical research provided by Imperial scientists,” she said in a voice that sounded utterly alien coming out of that mouth. “It will exploit technological aberrations in the defensive systems that Buran uses instead of the powered shield designs on our vessels. We should be able to kill a Buran vessel without fully rupturing that defensive fabric, and capture it more or less intact, which is something that Fribourg has never managed.”
“Which reminds me,” Tadej spoke up. “I will note that the starship designs you submitted all have an excessive number of gyroscopes, especially for this mass tonnage. Why?”
“Alber’ d’Maine,” was Yan’s whole reply.
Jessica noted the five heads that nodded at that, while the rest looked on in utter confusion. Those were the ones that knew her crazed berserker. Nobody else could envision executing a high-energy turn on gyros in anything larger than a shuttle, let alone something the size of a battlecruiser.
“And the other designs, Sri Bedrov?” Tadej pressed.
“You will need escorts for the Expeditionary Cruisers I have envisioned,” Yan said flatly. “Your destroyers are, kilo for kilo, the least efficient use of space I have ever seen. Pops and I actually discussed the replacement design years ago, but never got around to proposing them. I dusted those off, updated them to Moirrey’s new technology, and included them, but Pops gets most of that credit. And the licensing fees if you decide to build them.”
“But, corvettes?” Tadej let some level of confusion and disbelief into his tone.
“Nomenclature, for the most part,” Yan grinned. “Smaller than your basic destroyer design, but larger than the cutters you phased out a generation ago. Using your standards, the first one would be Corvette/Escort hull number 401, bumping up from where you stopped, seventy-five years ago.”
Jessica watched Tadej flip open the notebook before him a touch theatrically, rifling pages and then putting a finger down to mark his place. She suspected he had already memorized most of it, but the man was playing for the galleries today.
“Escort, Minehunter, Patrol, and Assault variants,” Tadej noted dryly. “Plus proposals for several others, at a future date. Why a Corvette/Assault, Sri?”
“I am reliably informed of the need by the Fleet Centurion, Senator,” Yan replied. “Tomas Kigali will want to kill things. CA-264 will do that rather well.”
Jessica noted the tiny shake of the head and nascent eyeroll that Nils Kasum was trying to suppress. Kigali had refused to be promoted out of his tiny Cutter/Revenue, CR-264, into a Survey Cruiser when his comrades had upgraded, because “they don’t kill things…”
Silence descended.
“If there are no other questions for Sri Bedrov?” Tadej asked the room. Pause. “Hearing none, the witness is dismissed.”
Jessica took a deep breath. Up until now, things had been technical and straightforward. This was when it would get interesting.
Tadej took a moment to study the audience, focusing this way like a lion spotting a whole new herd of rabbits.
“The Committee calls Casey zu Wiegand, Ritter of the Imperial Household, to the stand.”