Vicky peterwald dominato.., p.23
Vicky Peterwald_Dominator, page 23
"Corporal, I do not wish to be disturbed tonight," Vicky said.
The Marine came to attention and saluted smartly. "Yes, Your Grace."
And so it was that Vicky and Mannie had a pleasant night to themselves.
37
Admiral, Her Imperial Grace, the Grand Duchess Victoria struggled to keep her stomach from embarrassing her.
The Marines sharing the longboat with Vicky swayed easily as the lander rolled and bucked in the violent air around them as they made their final approach to some farmer's field. None of them had grabbed the burp bag all had been issued and hurled the contents of their stomachs into the sacks.
Vicky would feel humiliated if she was the only one.
On the flight deck, the chief bosons’ mate announced to his assistant coxswain that he had the beacon in sight and the younger bosun switched from the radio direction finder to peering out the front window of the lander.
"I have the beacon in sight," the junior said a moment later, his voice just as professionally level as the chief's had been.
The pathfinders had dropped an orbit early in light assault craft with the radar cross-section of a bee. They'd landed right into the middle of a line of thunderheads moving across the farmland fifty miles west of Dresden City.
The fear expressed in the 0900 meeting that morning was that as many as fifty percent of the pathfinders might be smashed by the wild winds. By the grace of some merciful God, although several had landed far from their target drop zone, no one had paid the full measure so that Vicky might know where she was going as she dropped from orbit to some farmer's field.
With the pathfinders, a drone team had also been deployed. They were shepherding their small swarm of near-transparent aircraft through the cold front and thunderheads that were now just west of Dresden City.
Half of them were also not expected to survive the short flight through the wild skies of the thunderstorms. It was critical that at least one did.
The plan was that just before the line of thunderstorms hit Dresden, one drone would release a huge flare that would light up the night. Shortly later, a second drone would drop a string of explosives that would send the best imitation of rolling thunder through the night.
In the short time between the "lightning" and the "thunder," a dozen battleships in orbit would zap the two radar antennae with all the radar power they could generate. It was hoped that all that radiation hitting those old receivers would fry half of them and leave the survivors susceptible to spoofing for the next three or four hours.
That was just the amount of time the Gracious Grand Duchess needed to land an invasion force.
A lot of different pieces had to come together to get the landing force Vicky was leading on the ground and moving to contact.
It would be a while before Vicky learned if everything had worked as planned. Of course, if it didn't, she might never learn. She would be one of the first to die if the plan failed.
That's a nice thought, girl.
WE STILL NEED TO HAVE THAT TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENS TO ME IF YOU GET VAPORIZED. MY READING HAS SHOWN ME THAT YOU HUMANS BELIEVE THAT YOU HAVE A SOUL THAT WILL LIVE ON AFTER YOU DIE. DO I HAVE A SOUL?
MAGGIE, I'M NEVER SURE IF I HAVE ONE. YOU REALLY NEED TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION WITH NELLY. STILL, YOU DID BACK YOURSELF UP BEFORE WE STARTED THIS DROP, DIDN'T YOU?
WHAT WOULD BE THE USE OF IT? I'M LEARNING MORE AS WE DROP AND, HOPEFULLY, I'LL LEARN A LOT MORE AS WE FIGHT OUR WAY INTO DRESDEN.
SNEAK OUR WAY IN, Vicky corrected.
HOWEVER WE GET INTO DRESDEN, A BACKUP COPY OF ME ON THE VICTORIOUS WOULD KNOW NOTHING ABOUT THIS. SHE WOULD ALSO NOT HAVE YOU TO BE ACTIVATED WITH. THAT WOULD BE A HORRIBLE FATE TO GIVE HER, COMING UP WITH WHAT I KNOW ABOUT WORKING WITH YOU ONLY TO FIND HERSELF MATCHED WITH SOME STRANGER. YOU HUMANS DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT IT IS LIKE TO BE A SENTIENT COMPUTER.
I KNOW I DON'T, MAGGIE, JUST HANG IN HERE WITH ME. WE'RE MAKING THIS UP AS WE GO ALONG.
YOU HUMANS DO THAT A LOT, Maggie sniffed.
Vicky laughed. "Oh, yes we do, my Maggie. Yes, we do.”
The flight started to level out. The final approach was supposed to be smoother, coming just past the tail end of the line of thunderstorms. On the flight deck, Vicky listened as the two bosuns went down their landing checklist.
"Hang on folks. This is likely to get a bit lively," came in a calm, not quite monotone voice.
They came in, nose high, using the wings to do the last bit of braking. They touched down, then bounced back up. A moment later, they were down again.
Vicky swayed into Captain Blue as the chutes deployed and the longboat slowed significantly. Vicky pushed off the captain, although he did give her a smile. Apparently, he didn't mind being her cushion.
That brought back memories of Vicky's old life as a sex kitten Grand Duchess, and she had to calm her stomach again. This time for something entirely different.
"Sorry," she said, trying to be the woman Mannie had shown her she could be.
"Glad to be of service, Your Grace."
"You getting any word from your pathfinder team?"
"Things are going extremely well," he reported. "We only lost one pair of drones. We should be able to do four thunderclaps if we have to, and we'll have one drone over each of our eight targets."
He paused for a moment, then finished. "Two of the drones will be close enough to Red Shirt HQ to let us know exactly what's going on there. Another will be able to keep the Red Shirt honcho in sight. I hear that he is throwing a party in advance of you leaving the station."
"How does he know that?"
"Admiral Bolesław has ordered about a quarter of our ships to head for the jump back to our space. Another quarter are warming up and showing signs they will depart soon. A little misdirection never hurts."
"And I wasn't told?" Vicky thought she had been briefed on all of this plan. What else had she missed? How else had she been kept out of the loop?
"Admiral Bolesław didn't mention it in the meeting. I don't know why. Didn't you notice when ships began departing the station six hours ago?"
"I was otherwise engaged," Vicky said, dryly. If she was honest with herself, she didn't need to know this, and it had gotten a party going with all the rats gathered around one big hunk of cheese.
"Maggie, send to Admiral Bolesław 'Well done with fleet departure. You have Red Shirt honcho throwing a party. Keep some battleship guns sighted in on his location at all times. I may order you to level the place on short notice'," Vicky finished. She expected a quick reply begging off of the battleship salvo, but none came.
Instead, the lander began to skid to the left. Whether it was from a gust of wind, or the mud, or a roll of the field, it didn't matter. They were in trouble.
The chief up front managed to steer the front landing gear into the skid and they swerved left. The lander took on a distinct list to the left. Vicky found herself looking up at the row of Marines seated against the far wall.
She wasn't looking up a lot, but every little bit is terrifying when you're going from orbit to a dead stop in the middle of some farmer’s wheat crop.
The lander ended up with the nose now pointing downhill. Some more shoots popped out of the stern of the longboat and again, Vicky was forced to lean heavily on the young and handsome Captain Blue.
The captain did not look at her this time, but softly said, "You're welcome."
"Was it good for you?" Vicky asked, an old-time sassy smile taking over her face.
"Yes, Your Grace," the captain answered, not turning to meet her eyes. He had a delightful grin on his face, thought. "I hope it was as good for you as it was for me."
"We've got to quit meeting this way," Vicky shot back.
"How many planets to you intend to invade?"
"All of them, I think," Vicky said.
The captain scratched behind his ear, a most boyish look. "Then I guess we'll just keep meeting like this."
"One can hope."
"We're down, folks," came from the flight deck. "You can unstrap."
Vicky hit her quick release, and only two of them popped, the ones on her right. The two left ones that covered her breast and her waist, along with the one through her legs, stubbornly refused to release their grip on her.
Asking the captain's help with this would be really embarrassing. Especially after her recent exchange.
She hit the button in the middle of her chest again, but the three stubborn straps stayed put.
"Your Grace," the Marine major on her right said, "Hit the release and pull on the strap. Jiggle it around a bit if you have to."
Vicky hit the button again. Nothing happened. She arranged it so she could use her right hand to keep the button down and started wiggling the strap and its metal tongue with her left. About the third try, it popped out and her breasts were free. Now she tackled the last strap, the one between her legs.
She did the same thing, holding down the quick release, which it clearly wasn't, and wiggling the webbing to work the tongue out of the buckle. The more she jiggled it, the more it moved. That damn belt was doing things to her that she didn’t need just before a battle.
The major produced a knife and was about to try cutting her out when there was a click and one Grand Duchess was free to go to war.
With a sigh, Vicky stood. "Major, let’s get your provisional battalion moving out."
"Yes, ma'am," the major said, way too much glee in his voice. "Command Sergeant Major, get this command ready to move out."
A loud voice began shouting orders. From the looks of the troopers, most of them had already been doing what they were being ordered to do.
They had landed with three light attack vehicles. The eight-wheeled armored boxes were a compromise between mobility, availability, and protection. They were light enough so that three could land in each longboat. They were mobile because they could do 80 kilometers per hour on a road while still moving cross-country if they had to. Finally, they provided protection from small arms fire while having a 30mm cannon that could do major damage to anything but a tank.
The assault forces tanks would drop when these longboats got back up to the attack transports and could have them loaded aboard.
The LAVs were intended to carry a squad of twelve troopers and a crew of three: driver, gunner, and commander with a machine gun. The crew was cross-trained so many could do the other's job.
Each of the LAVs drove out the back ramp of the longboat and began getting ready to roll. On the top of each LAV was a pair of wheels. When they were hauled off the rig, they quickly turned into a single axle trailer. Troops passed out boxes of ammo and explosives, as well as a machine gun and a mortar. They were distributed between the trailer and the LAV.
Then the Marines filed aboard for a ride to war.
Ten Marines joined Vicky and Captain Blue in the LAV. Six climbed up to sit atop the vehicle, ready to slip off to the ground in the blink of an eye. The other eight arranged to sit in the trailer, behind light armor, and with rifles pointed in every direction.
Up and down the impromptu flight line, thirty-six LAV's loaded up with the equivalent of two battalions: one mech and one light infantry. As those two battalion-size task forces rumbled off the field and bounced their way onto a gravel road, a dozen more longboats were on approach with two more battalion combat teams.
Vicky tapped the gunner on the shoulder and he gave up his seat. Vicky slipped into it and ducked her head up into the armored plastic bubble with its 30mm cannon.
Ahead of her all was dark with occasional lightning flashing through the sky or slashing down to strike the ground. Of Dresden, there was absolutely no sign.
The column rumbled past a farmer who had pulled is tractor and its load of hay off the road. He seemed eager to let the guys with guns pass and leave him alone.
Vicky waved at the young kid.
He grinned and waved back.
If his face was to be trusted, it looked like she had at least one second for her motion for a change of regime on this planet.
"Maggie, what's the take from the drones?"
"Four pairs of them are in position twenty thousand feet over Dresden City, Your Grace. The cold front is right on schedule. We are an hour out from the outskirts of town. There should be enough lightning and thunder to take out the radars in thirty minutes. Everything is going according to plan. Unless we meet with a problem, we'll be there right on time."
Of course, no battle plan survives contact with the enemy.
38
No one would have thought that a bridge could wreck Vicky's lovely plan. However, the one ahead of the stopped column was doing just that.
"Your Grace," the lieutenant colonel commanding the mechanized half of the force said, "they must have had a hell of a storm go through here a while back. That bridge has been weakened and it hasn't yet been repaired."
"If we lighten up the LAVs and most of us walk across, could we make this happen?"
The colonel was shaking his head as she asked.
"The middle of that bridge is missing most of its supports, ma'am. We put one of these things, even at its empty weight, and it will collapse the bridge, ma’am."
"Can we drive around it? Ford the river?"
Even as Vicky asked, four rigs pulled out of line. They'd lost their trailers and had more men walking alongside them as well as riding them. Two turned right, two left.
Troopers walked ahead of them, testing the ground which became critical really quick. The recent thunderstorms weren't the first rain they'd gotten. There were puddles in the fields and guides were sinking up to the top of their boots.
The rigs slipped and slid their way in a zig-zag course across the field.
Other troopers had dismounted and slid their way down to the stream. They were walking up or down the waterway. Some got very wet testing the depth of the water. None had made it to midstream and it was already up to their waist.
Other troops walked along, eyeing the embankment beside the stream. Just a bit past the bridge on both sides, it became tree-lined, with the tree roots holding tight to the walls of the bank. The entire watercourse presented one steep wall with no evidence of a way up or down.
Absent a tracked vehicle with a dozer blade, they were going nowhere.
"Captain Blue, I could use a miracle about now," Vicky said.
"The second taskforce that is coming in for a landing has four engineering rigs and the first two of my ground team. They have launched drones. We're doing a quick recon of the area, working with the engineers, and looking for anything to fix the bridge. Damn, but the nearest bridges are twenty miles up or down river over some real muddy roads. I don’t think there's been much maintenance since the Red Shirts took over."
"I think you're right," Vicky said. "Could we use some explosives to blow some holes in the river bank?"
"Your Grace, that might get us attention we don't want. Two of the engineering LAVs have dozer blades on them. Oh, and we've just spotted a farm with a back hoe on a trailer already. If that can break up the bank a bit, the dozers should be able to do the rest."
"How long?"
"An hour, Your Grace. Maybe two. It depends on how fast we can get the back hoe here."
"We can't get even one rig across that bridge," Vicky said, eyeing the wooden structure that was causing her all this trouble.
"What good would one LAV on the other side do us?" Captain Blue asked.
"I could get some surveillance going on our targets," Vicky snapped.
Now the captain gave her his full attention. "First, Your Grace, we can't get even one rig across that bridge. It has no supports for half its length, and that half is the middle. Second, I have specific instructions from both Admiral Bolesław and your husband that if you try to pull any hair-brained Kris Longknife shit, I'm to handcuff you to a bed, naked. You remember what that was like, Your Grace?"
"I get handcuffed to a bed once, and everyone keeps throwing it at me," Vicky said, pouting. She was also considering making a run for the other side. Surely, she could find a truck or even a motorcycle on the other side to give her more mobility.
"You were handcuffed naked twice, Your Grace," the captain pointed out.
Vicky shivered. "I try to forget that first one."
"Sorry to remind you, Your Grace. Now, if you're thinking of bolting across the bridge, I should warn you that Admiral Bolesław provided me with a Wardhaven sidearm, given to him by General Juan Montoya when he and Kris came to your wedding. It has both lethal as well as sleepy darts. I've got it set for sleepy darts at the moment, though I could be persuaded to switch to live ammo. So, if you try to dash across that bridge, I figure I could drop you before you can get anywhere near it."
Vicky glared at her database spy. He smiled back.
"I expect I could drop you well before you got to the section of the bridge with no supports, okay?"
"What's the use of being a Grand Duchess when you have to put up with crap like this?"
"No doubt, if you'd behave like a Grand Duchess, you wouldn't have to put up with crap like this from your loyal and obedient subjects."
"Obedient?" Vicky snapped.
An old pick-up truck, that might have once been any number of colors, clattered and backfired its way up to the other side of the bridge. An old bald guy seemed to only then realize that there were a lot of guns pointed at him from the other side.
He rested his hands on the wheel in plain sight for a bit, then called out the window. "Should I shut off the engine and get out?"
"If you shut that old wreck's engine off, could you get it started again?" Vicky answered.
"It might be a problem, gal. Yes, it might."
"Leave it running, but get out. You don't have to keep your hands up."
He got up, but he kept his hands up. "If you don't mind, I'll just keep these empty and up so none of you young guys with guns think this grampa is a dangerous old coot."
"Were you planning on driving that rig across this bridge?" Vicky called over."
"I drove over it this morning. You got to kind of hug the north side, and not let the groaning and creaking put you off your feed, but you can do it. Likely not with one of those things, but old Nelly's a good old girl. She takes me where I want to go." He affectionately patted the bonnet of the old truck.
