Vicky peterwald dominato.., p.30
Vicky Peterwald_Dominator, page 30
51
Vicky's eye recovery very quickly fell off the critical path. She would not be needed to address the new Senate any time soon. Mannie and the provisional congress couldn't decide how to elect a senate or who could be in one.
As she'd heard from her nurse, Mannie was trying something experimental. Negotiations had deadlocked over how to divide up the territory of each senatorial district. An ancient word called "gerrymandering" got dragged out and thrown about like a club. It quickly began to look like things would fall apart entirely.
However, trust Mannie to dig into his bag of tricks and come up with a batty idea. Why not allow Senatorial candidates to seek out the signatures of voters to endorse them? Let them get so many people to back them for the senate, and they got a seat. The limit was set so that if anyone got eighty percent of one five hundredth of the population of Dresden, they got a seat. They should get up to one five hundredths so there would be five hundred senators.
There were a lot of people running around seeking signatures. Some made it quickly while others stalled out. After four days, everyone with less than thirty percent was taken out of the running.
A couple of platforms began to show up. The farmers elected their own thirty-two senators. The factory workers were divided, but the three groups they formed settled on ninety-eight senators between them. Other associations, no one wanted to say parties, included unmarried women, married women, several religious groups, and college students with a few professors admitted to their ranks among many others.
The oligarchs who had been running things under the Empire found themselves having trouble gathering many signatures. They got called out for offering money for signatures by one of the new independent medias that sprung up. Sure enough, quite a few people admitted they'd signed a wealthy man's enrollment for money, and the Business and Management Association took a major hit.
Vicky followed the developments dirtside, first by having Maggie read her the reports. Then, when the coverings finally came off her eyes, she watched them on the screen in her night quarters.
She still had to avoid focusing on anything, even a spoon of soup, but her vision was getting better.
So it was, that two weeks after being brought up the space elevator on a stretcher, Vicky was ready, under her own power, to go down to the surface to address the senate.
The day before she was due to address parliament, Admiral Bolesław showed up with Captain Blue and the newly promoted Army captains. Grinning from ear to ear the admiral said, "I have papers for you to sign, Your Grace."
With a flair, the admiral had a lieutenant following him present four very fancy Imperial warrants from a portfolio he was carrying. There, on imitation parchment, complete with fancy calligraphy were warrants very formally prepared for Vicky's signature.
Three of them awarded a Pour la Mérite to each of the three officers who had stood beside her and kept her alive for one eternally long night.
Vicky settled down at her desk and signed the three of them with delight.
That left a fourth one. She studied it long and hard. It was just like the other three, only it had her name on it. Did a Grand Duchess deserve a Pour la Mérite? By giving it to herself was she degrading the awards she had just signed off on for these other three brave men?
"Your Grace, don't hesitate," said the captain who'd been a tech sergeant handling explosives until a very few days ago. "You earned it. You kept that mission going time after time when anyone with good sense would have taken the excuse and run for the hills You stuck your neck out just as far as we did, and none of what we did could have been accomplished if you hadn't been there."
Vicky eyed the three men she'd almost gotten killed.
"So say we all," said the captain who'd been a sergeant major.
"Captain Blue?" Vicky asked. She'd known him the longest, and she'd trusted his sensor support through way too many battles to doubt his intelligence and street smarts.
"It's been a long time since a Peterwald has risked his neck for anyone, ma'am. Your dad awarded a Pour la Mérite to a certain Wardhaven Princess for what I would consider less. I would say that our Gracious Grand Duchess has earned her order at just as much risk to her life as that princess. Moreover, you rescued a more populous planet with your effort. If you didn't earn that cross around your neck, you should ask Kris Longknife for hers back."
Vicky chuckled at that. She could just see herself chasing down one Kris and trying to yank a decoration from around her neck.
With a warm, satisfied smile, Vicky signed her own warrant.
Admiral Bolesław handed her one more stack of papers. These were slightly less gaudy. They awarded the military cross to three corporals, who now were sergeants. Not being officers, the Pour la Mérite was beyond their reach.
Vicky signed their citations with pleasure.
"Now, my good admiral," Vicky said, leaning back in her station chair, "being blind has given me much time to think."
"Oh, God. We're in trouble now," Admiral Bolesław interrupted.
"Behave yourself, Admiral," Vicky interrupted right back. "Now, having thought much on this, I have concluded that the Empire would be well served by an Imperial Victorian Order. It would have several levels starting with Lord Knight Commander. That would be reserved for those who have personally saved the life of the Emperor or Heir. We'll come up with three or four lesser levels later, but I intend to induct you four as Lord Knight Commanders tomorrow.
"Your Grace," came in four soft breaths.
Vicky reached into the middle drawer of her desk. In it were five the Imperial Decrees that Maggie had arranged to produce for Vicky. The gold calligraphy on parchment was lovely. Each one had a gold seal with her coat of arms hanging from a blue ribbon. She picked up the five she'd ordered and . . .
Below the bottom one was another decree.
"Maggie, I ordered five of these."
"Yes, Your Grace, however, it is normal for the monarch to be a member of any order, so I had an extra one made for you."
"It is normal for the monarch to head each order," Admiral Bolesław put in, grinning.
Three of those before her looked startled and totally in the dark. One admiral did not. Not at all.
"Maggie, have Kris Longknife and Nelly given me a computer that no longer does what I tell her to do?"
"Your Grace, you did not tell me that I could not enlist the help of others to assist in this project. I needed help getting access to the 3D printers and the gold supply as well as being allowed to use artists and craftsmen from the fleet to design and produce the orders and seals. The same was true if I were to arrange for the red sashes and golden starbursts that are the proper dress for this order."
"So, she brought me in on this," Admiral Bolesław admitted.
Vicky rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. It was clear that she'd been jobbed on this one. Of course, the admiral doing the jobbing was also the one that had saved her neck way too many times.
Okay, when you've been had, smile and act like you know what you're doing.
"Okay," Vicky said, slowly. "I'm going to sign these. All six of them. I'm also going to be dropping down to address the senate tomorrow. I can't think of a better time or place to award the recently earned Pour la Mérite and invest the first Lord Knight Commanders into the Imperial Victorian Order. Any complaints?" she said, eyeing the admiral.
"That sounds great by me. I have the four Pour la Mérites already printed out for you to hang around three necks, and the gaudy sashes and fancy gold starbursts for the new order. However, Your Grace, I would suggest that you have to wear yours to the investiture. You can't invest yourself."
"Suddenly, I've got a lot of men that think they can boss me around. Men and one wayward computer," Vicky growled.
"I am not bossing you around, Your Grace," Maggie interjected. "I am following your orders and improvising where your orders are vague."
"Yeah, right," Vicky said, dryly. "And you, Admiral?"
"I'm getting bossy," he admitted freely, "although in my defense, I will point out that most of what I've done was just to fill in the holes between what you want and how we got it done."
Vicky gave him a scowl, but knew she had too much up around the down of her mouth to make it stick.
"Okay, Admiral, will you help me figure out how to adapt my uniform to this new fruit salad?"
The admiral was immediately all business. They retired to her night quarters and soon had her dress whites spread out on the bed.
Admiral Bolesław eyed the orange sash of the Order of St. Christopher, Star Leaper and the blue of the Imperial Victoria Order. "Do you want to wear two sashes or is one order senior to the other?"
"Let's make the Imperial Victorian Order senior to this gaudy Star Leaper one," Vicky said.
So, the orange sash was put aside, and the red sash was laid across her dress whites, right shoulder to her left hip. The star of the Order of St. Christopher, Star Leaper was penned to Vicky's left breast to the left of the more stylish starburst of a Lord Knight Commander of the Imperial Victorian Order.
Above it, all she had was a good conduct medal.
"Your Grace," Admiral Bolesław said, "We've been awarding campaign medals to our sailors for battles fought and planet's taken. I notice that you haven't included yourself in any of these rewards."
"It didn't seem right," Vicky said. "Everyone else put their lives on the line for me. I just did what I had to do to stay alive."
"You put your life on the line for every man jack in the fleet, Your Grace, time after time. I disagree with you. Everyone who wears these campaign and battle medals will feel more honored to know that they share in the same award as you."
The admiral snapped his fingers, and the lieutenant who's carried the Pour la Mérite warrants stepped forward and pulled a long line of medals from his portfolio.
"I didn't earn all of those, did I?"
"You were at the First and Second battle of St. Petersburg, the Battle of Brunswick, that one at the unnamed system one jump out from St. Petersburg, and, of course the Battle of Cuzco. I put you in for the Space Combat medal with two stars for those little fights we got in. Remember when they damn near blew away my first command, the Attacker?”
"How could I forget?" Vicky said.
"We even borrowed one medal from Wardhaven, the Humanitarian Operations for Presov and Poznan."
"Good Lord, did I earn all of those?"
The admiral pointed at the chest of his own dress blues. "I'm wearing them, and I was standing just behind you on the bridge most of those times."
"You were in command, most of those times," Vicky pointed out.
"Let's not quibble."
Vicky motioned for the lieutenant to lay her medals down, along the chest of her dress whites. It did make for a rather imposing rank.
"Okay. Do I need to sign any paperwork?"
"Nope, as admiral commanding this fleet, I signed them."
"That can't be right, but as you said, let's not quibble," Vicky said, then had a second thought. "We also need to have some civilian medals for the people who stepped in and kept planets running during the change over from confusion and anarchy to something close to Mannie's democracy."
"We can do that, Your Grace. I'm sure Maggie can help us research successful uses of various orders to reward subjects for courageous innovative and selfless action."
"I never thought that being a good Imperial could be so difficult," Vicky muttered to herself.
"It's easy to be Imperial, Your Grace," Admiral Bolesław said, "just ask your father. It's a whole lot harder to be a regal king."
"As opposed to a pirate king?" Maggie asked.
"Oh, God. She's telling jokes," Vicky sighed.
"Was that not a good one?" Maggie asked.
"Yes, Maggie," Admiral Bolesław said, as one might say to a precocious ten-year-old, "that was a very good joke and spot-on for the situation."
"I know Nelly tends to tell bad jokes and that gets her in trouble. She told me to be more careful."
"You are doing very well, Maggie, very well," Vicky said while thinking, Curse you, Kris Longknife!
52
Admiral, Her Grace, the Imperial Grand Duchess, IVO, PM, stood outside the side door of the grand opera theatre that was serving as a temporary senate for the people of Dresden. She had her notes, and was ready to start.
In front of her, not quite blocking her way, was an older gentleman in archaic clothing: hose, knee pants, and a fancy coat, holding some sort of staff of office.
Unsure who was waiting on whom, Vicky said, "I'm ready."
"Yes, Your Grace," and the man did a smart about face, went to the door, and rather than opening it, rapped on the door with his staff.
"Who goes there?" a booming voice from inside demanded.
"Her Grace demands entrance to her parliament," the old fellow boomed back.
There was a brief pause, then the other voice answered, "The people of Dresden recognize no Imperial demands nor does this parliament of the people recognize her power over us."
Vicky's head whipped around. Mannie, a step behind her, was grinning.
"What have you done?" she demanded, in a whisper, but it was still a demand.
"Oh, that's just something someone discovered in the history books about how a parliament of the people works with a constitutional monarch."
"You constitutionalized me!"
"No, not yet. One planet can't make you a constitutional emperor for the entire empire. Still, it's a start."
Vicky considered seriously stomping away. Still, she had plans for recognizing some of the men who'd risked their lives to give these people back their lives and saved so many of them from the intended slaughter.
"What does a 'constitutional' monarch do next?" she grouched at Mannie.
"She begs leave to address the parliament of the people of Dresden."
"She does, does she?"
"Yep."
"And if she does, what sort of box is she walking into?"
"She's not walking into a box, good wife. The Grand Duchess is walking into the future for herself and her people."
Vicky knew that she had very little time to make one of the most momentous decisions in the Peterwald family history. Certainly, in the short history of the Greenfeld Empire.
Still, she'd had a lot of time to think, staring into the dark, or up at the ceiling. She knew Mannie. After all, she'd relied on him for so much of what had become her half of the Empire. She knew him well enough to marry him, even if he did have that hang-up on monogamy.
If she was honest with herself, she was not at all surprised by this bit of drama.
"Good man," she said to the welder of the staff. "Please pray permission from the parliament of the good people of Dresden for me to address a few well-chosen words to their hearts."
Again, he did an about face, and rapped on the door. "The Grand Duchess Victoria prays your permission to address a few well-chosen words to the hearts of the parliament of the people of Dresden."
The next voice just barely carried through the door. "Bid the Grand Duchess enter."
The two wooden doors creaked open. Vicky smiled; no doubt someone had sprayed fine dust onto the hinges until they made just the right noise. This was all pure political theater.
But it was political theater that drew people together for the hard work of making the compromises that let a diverse people rule themselves.
Vicky entered, Mannie and Admiral Bolesław two steps behind her. Behind them came the three officers followed by the three new sergeants. After them came several Navy lieutenants carrying the necessary paraphernalia of the awards and orders she would be bestowing today.
None of the uniformed personnel were under arms.
Only Vicky wore a ceremonial sword, and now she knew why Mannie had asked her to. The Provost officer of the parliament stood, blocking her way, his hand out.
Without a word, Vicky handed over her sword and scabbard.
Only then was she allowed to advance to the speaker's rostrum.
The room had been dead quiet as she entered. When she turned over her sword, the applause began. It grew as she approached the rostrum and went on and on. Mannie and the officers and sergeants took station below the rostrum. The other junior officers with the paraphernalia and panoplies of office she would award today stood off to the side.
Still the roar of approval went on.
The applause didn't come from just the floor of the opera house where the six hundred and twenty-two senators and their spouses and families sat. It turned out that 80% of one five hundredths of the population had become both the minimum and maximum for enrolling constituents.
That was no surprise. Mannie had always told Vicky that democracy was messy.
Four balconies rose above the main floor. They were filled to overflowing. Every person there, with the exception of some of the handicapped in the special boxes off to the sides, were on their feet, clapping, shouting, and whistling.
"Admiral, Mannie, get up here and bring the others," Vicky spoke, trying not to carry too far over the roar.
Mannie and the admiral led the six officers and sergeants up to stand behind her on the rostrum. Vicky presented each one of them to the crowd, and the clapping went even wilder.
"Do they even know who you are?" Vicky asked Mannie.
"The pictures of your six teammates has been circulating for the last two weeks. The admiral has been interviewed on the media about how the fleet was only too glad to help, and I, your humble servant, have been flitting about quite a bit."
Vicky went back down the row, now clapping herself after she asked each of them to take a bow. That did nothing to reduce the applause.
Finally, Vicky leaned close to the microphone. "If you will grant me permission to say a few words, I have brought several awards for these brave men. I hope to award them if we don't run out of time."
