The Snows of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 3)

by Ward Wagher

  The Snows of Montora

  The Chronicles of Montora – Book 3

  Ward Wagher

  The Snows of Montora

  The Chronicles of Montora – Book 3

  Ward Wagher

  This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2012, 2017 Ward Wagher

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1547256990

  ISBN-13: 978-1547256990

  Cover picture by Nico Benedickt via https://unsplash.com

  Books by Ward Wagher

  The Saga of Scott Baughman

  Hannah Sorpat’s Eye – A Novel of Alien Abduction

  Without Beginning of Days

  Witnesses in the Cloud

  The Chronicles of Montora

  The Mountains of Montora

  The Margrave of Montora

  The Snows of Montora

  Christmas in Montora

  The Diamonds of Montora

  Harcourt’s World

  The Wealth of the Worlds

  The Parallel Nazi

  Accidental Nazi

  Improbable Nazi

  The Caledon Emergence

  Dynastic Ambition

  DEDICATION

  To those who struggle to seek the Savior while at the same time pushing him away. And finally surrendering to His call. Great is His Salvation!

  CONTENTS

  DEDICATION

  CONTENTS

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to 2-eyed Bob, who helped with the copy-editing of this second edition of TSoM. And please note: 1-eyed Bob is a Woogie.

  PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

  I recently resumed my gradual development of print editions for my earlier works. So, it was time to do The Snows of Montora. As usual, the second edition is focused on textual cleanup as well as correcting some minor errors. In some cases I was unable to resist the temptation to improve some of the text and dialogue. However, the story has not changed. And it’s still a great story.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Frank Nyman leaned against the railing in the observation room and watched as the planet New Stockholm rotated beneath the starship. The railing demarcated the edge of what looked like a circular balcony. Instead of overlooking a lower level, the passengers peered down into a holographic projection of the planet they orbited.

  Frank was not a large man, but people kept their distance from him. He projected either a sense of authority or intimidation towards those who came into contact with him. The salt and pepper beard was a good match to the silver streaked sandy brown hair, and he gave the appearance of a healthy man easing into middle age.

  "What do you think, Skipper?" Sergeant Cedric Smith eased over next to Nyman. "Are we going to be able to do business here?"

  Nyman pulled the left side of his mouth back, not in a grin; but perhaps more of a grimace. "We can probably do business just about anywhere. I suppose this place will be as good as any other." And, I wonder if it really makes any difference in the long run, he thought to himself. Whatever time I spend without Wendy will be far too long.

  A tall, cadaverous looking gray-haired man approached the other two. He was dressed in a slightly overdone captain's uniform.

  "Well, Frank, looks like we managed to get you here without scattering your atoms across half the galaxy," said Archimedes Wainwright, the captain of the CMS Ambrosia.

  Frank turned with a grin on his face. "Archie, the trip's not over yet. If your shuttle is in the same kind of shape the ship is, I'll hold my breath until I set foot dirt side."

  "That's a hard way to go, Frank."

  "So is falling out of the sky in a shuttle. On the other hand, I have to admit the service on this tub was a lot better than I would've gotten riding out here on one of Jesse Spelling's courier boats."

  Wainwright laughed. It was not the deep bellied roar that might have been expected, but more of the squeaky wheeze characteristic of someone old and emaciated. "I should hope to think so, Frank. Old Jesse won't spend a Centime on customer service. I wouldn't stay in business if I operated like he does."

  Frank shrugged. "The way things are going it'll be a miracle if any of us are still in business a year from now."

  Wainwright sobered. "You have a point there, Frank. If I wasn't superstitious, I would be tempted to change the name of this ship to The Handbasket."

  Frank choked. "That's kind of scary, Archie. But, I do appreciate the humor. There's little enough funny these days." There is really nothing funny these days, he thought to himself.

  "I've got you and your party in the first class cabin on the first shuttle flight down, Frank. Is there anything else I can help you with?"

  Frank reached out, and shook Wainwright's hand. "No, Archie. I appreciate your great service on the trip. Make sure to give me a call next time you put feet on the ground in Gustav. I'll treat you to dinner."

  Wainwright nodded. "I shall certainly do that." He looked over at Smith. "Take good care of him, Cedric."

  Smith snapped to attention and gave the captain a short bow. "Captain, the honor is mine."

  Wainwright nodded again. "Thanks for traveling with us. If you will excuse me, I must go thank the other passengers."

  Nyman and Smith watched the captain walk away from them. “He really does do a good job, Skipper.”

  “He's one of the best,” Frank said. “I'm glad I don't have to compete against him.”

  § § §

  Frank walked off the shuttle and down the short ramp to the ground. He walked several steps across the tarmac, and then stopped to wait for Smith & Jones. He glanced idly around the starport and looked at the sky.

  "Nice day, Skipper," Smith said.

  "Yeah," Frank said as he continued to gaze about, "nice not to arrive in the middle of a blizzard or a thunderstorm."

  "Just as happy to avoid those, Skipper, thank you very much," Smith said. As us
ual, Jones said nothing.

  "Okay," Frank said, "let's go look for some transportation to get us and our luggage to the hotel."

  The three men marched across the tarmac to the small terminal. Frank looked straight ahead, while Smith and Jones carefully surveyed the environment. The terminal was small, but neat. Made of blond brick and tinted windows, it resembled the ancient Earth Bauhaus style. Shrubbery and flowers were planted in their appointed spots around the perimeter.

  “Nice little starport,” Smith said. “Seems like they take good care of things around here.”

  Frank merely grunted in response.

  "What do you think, Skipper, it's about seventy degrees, maybe?" Smith asked.

  "Something like that," Frank responded. "The weather here is supposed to be decent most of the time."

  In the terminal building Jones split off to retrieve the luggage, while Frank and Smith walked into the building. Frank looked around them curiously.

  “See any customs desks, Cedric?”

  “Doesn't look like it.”

  “Trusting bunch... or maybe they just don't care.”

  “The building looks like somebody cares,” Smith said.

  “There's that,” Frank replied. “I think that's the groundcar rental counter over there.”

  They walked over to it.

  "I need to rent a van for about a week," Frank said to the clerk at the desk.

  "Certainly, sir. I will just need proof of identification and a credit tab. How many drivers?"

  "Um, just the three of us," Frank said.

  "That will be fifteen Centaurans a day, plus a ten Centauran fuel charge."

  "You need everything up front?" Frank asked.

  "Yes, sir, if you please. It makes returning the vehicle much simpler."

  Frank simply nodded and laid his transaction card on the counter. He watched as the clerk typed madly on his keyboard. With a surprisingly loud kerchunk, the vehicle key card leaped out of a slot on the counter, and landed in front of Frank.

  "There you go, Sir. It will be the blue Rancher Maxi in the fourth parking spot."

  "Thanks," Frank said. He turned to Smith. "Seen Jones?"

  "I seen him a minute ago, Skipper. He was headed this way pulling a cart."

  Frank eased his way over near the entrance to the terminal. "I suppose there's no hurry."

  Smith said nothing, apparently deciding no comment was called for. He moved a little closer to Frank and continued to scan the area. A minute later Jones came into view pulling a cart piled high with boxes and luggage.

  "Got everything, Jones?" Frank asked.

  "Yes, Sir."

  Frank handed him the key card. "Blue Rancher Maxi. Fourth parking spot."

  "Aye aye, Skipper." And Jones slipped out the door.

  Frank turned to Smith. "Think we can get this out to the curb without dumping it?"

  "I don't know about you, Skipper, but I believe I can."

  Frank grinned slightly. "Your overwhelming confidence cheers me."

  Smith sketched a brief salute to Frank. "Right, Captain."

  The baggage was heavier than it looked, and by the time Frank and Sergeant Smith wrestled the cart to the curb, Jones was there with the van. In a few minutes they were able to pack the baggage into the van, and climb in. Jones sat behind the wheel, and Frank took the passenger seat in the front. Smith climbed in the second seat where he could watch the following traffic.

  Smith looked at the portable terminal in his hand. "So, according to this we are staying at the Trimeck hotel?"

  "Right," Frank said. "It's a chain based out of Caledon. Never stayed in one, but I've heard good things about them. I made reservations from orbit."

  "I trust you've reserved a suite, Skipper," Smith said. "Jones won't like sitting in the hall all night, otherwise."

  Jones glanced quickly over at Frank, then returned his careful attention to the driving.

  Frank chuckled. "You were right, Cedric. Jones doesn't look too happy at the thought of spending the night in the hallway."

  "Too right," Jones muttered.

  Frank leaned back, looking at Smith. "It's pretty late in the day to do much business. I think we'll get settled in the hotel, and have a good dinner. We can get started tomorrow."

  Jones, who was watching the road carefully as he drove, said, "Skipper."

  Frank shifted around to face the front so he could see the roadblock ahead.

  "Well, well, well," Smith said. "I thought we had left this kind of fun and games back on Montora. What do you want us to do, Skipper?"

  "Do you see any problem with taking this pair at any time?"

  Jones studied the two men with rifles standing next to the truck parked across their lane of traffic. "Nope."

  "Then let's wait and see what their game is. I don't want to stir the pot until we understand the environment better."

  "Aye, aye, Skipper," Smith said.

  Jones eased the van to a stop and rolled down the window. One of the men stood off to the side holding his rifle at ready, though not pointing it at the van. The other stepped up to Jones’ window.

  "Nice and easy, now," he said. "We need to collect a toll for your travel on the roadway."

  "What might the toll be?" Frank asked.

  The man standing at the window glanced at the van and looked at the luggage stacked in the back. "Oh, I'd say maybe 250 Centaurans. It looks like you're just visiting, so we don't want to discourage you from touring the city."

  Frank reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin sheaf of cash. He counted the entire stack out on to the seat. "You got a twenty, Cedric?"

  "Sure thing." Smith dug into his pocket and pulled a couple of bills out. "Here you go."

  Frank leaned across the seat and handed the cash out the window. "I would like a receipt for that."

  "Ain't you the funny one?" The man laughed. "Hey Fillbee, the man wants a receipt."

  The other toll keeper laughed. The man at the window spoke again. "What you will get from us, Mister, is a big thank you." He stepped away from the window and waved Jones on.

  Jones eased the van across to the other lane to slip around the parked truck, then picked up speed again.

  "I hated to pay him," Frank said.

  "One of these nights Jones and I might go hunting for him and Fillbee," Smith said.

  "Let's get ourselves settled in. Then we can talk about dealing with the local garbage. Admiral Krause told us to keep our heads down, and that's what I intend to do."

  “It's the scraping my shoes off that's annoying, Skipper,” Smith said.

  “Patience, Cedric.”

  Frank Nyman's arrival at Sarah's Star followed his eviction from Hepplewhite by Admiral Willard Krause and industrialist Carlo Roma. As the Margrave of Montora, Frank was forced into a delicate balancing act between the need to build his economy, and dealing with a deranged Duke intent on taking everything from him.

  Krause was the senior officer in the sector for the Merchants and Manufacturers League Navy, and was tasked with keeping the peace. Roma was the brother of the Duke, and was working with Krause to sort out the mess. Complicating the situation was the Duke's final act before his death, which was ordering the murder of Frank's wife Wendy.

  The face saving compromise arrived at by Krause and Roma was for Frank to place the Margraviate of Montora in the hands of his son Franklin, and leave Hepplewhite. Roma left control of the Duchy of Hepplewhite with Prime Minister Glenn Foxworth, who along with Frank had previously struggled to control an increasingly erratic Duke.

  Krause suggested that Frank focus on the management of his shipping company. He also promised to swing some attractive deals Frank's way. Frank responded that he did not have the character to refuse, and also commented that this would not bring back Wendy.

  § § §

  Jones eased the van into the circular drive in front of the hotel. Without a word Frank got out of the van and walked into the lobby.

  "Skipper's
madder than I thought," Jones said.

  Smith shook his head. "No question about that, Jones. Nobody likes a shakedown, and him less than most. I'll send a bellhop out to help you unload. I need to cover the skipper."

  "Right."

  While Smith and Jones often varied their duties in guarding their principal, Jones was often happier leaving Sergeant Smith to deal with other people. He also preferred not to deal with Frank when Frank was angry. Smith was much better at settling him down.

  After Smith and Jones had installed Frank in their two-bedroom suite, they began the discussion about dinner. As they talked, Frank paced back and forth in the room.

  "After what just happened I'm almost hoping someone will look cross-eyed at me so I could deck them," he said.

  "Skipper, why don't we just order dinner from room service?" Smith asked.

  Frank glared at Smith. "I don't need you casting broad hints about how to make me behave, Cedric," he growled.

  "Of course not, Skipper," Smith said. "I would never suggest such a thing."

  "Uh huh," Frank said. "You clowns got so good at managing the colonel that this is probably child's play for you."

  Smith shrugged. "Well skipper, if you want to know the truth, you have your moments too."

  Frank rolled his eyes and marched over to one of the easy chairs and sat down. "Compared to Otto Putin, I'm a nice guy.”

  “You're not as profane, anyway.”

  “I'll have to think about that one, Smith. Did you just insult me?”

  “Of course not, Skipper. I would never do anything like that.”

  Frank raised an eyebrow. “I really don't need you guys pulling my chain tonight. I just want to eat and go to bed.”

  “We're about six hours ahead of ship's time, Skipper. The time change will take more out of you than you think. It's dinner time here. Let's just order in.”