by Ward Wagher
“Fifty K.”
Frank sighed. “It was bad enough when I was in the navy to have guys like you thinking they ruled the known universe. I can't seem to leave them behind here, either.”
“But Skipper, it's what you have noncoms for.”
Frank turned red. “I refuse to have sergeants and chiefs running my company,” he yelled. “This is not the military, this is a business!”
“Suppose you tell me just what it is we done wrong, Skipper!” Smith yelled. “Jonesy and I are bustin' our butts helping you here.”
“I don't need you two wiping my nose or my butt!” he roared. “I am fully capable of looking after myself, thank you very, very much.”
“Begging the Captain's pardon, Sir,” Smith came back, “we are here precisely because you need someone to wipe your nose and change your diaper. The sooner you realize it, the sooner we can get on with business.”
“Get out of this room, Smith! I'm done with you.”
“No, I don't think so, Skipper. You may not recognize it, but you haven't been tracking too well the past three months. I know why and I'm as sorry about it as you are...”
“How dare you...”
“...but that doesn't change the fact that there are a number of people counting on us to keep you out of trouble.”
“This is my life, Smith. It's nobody's business.”
“Starting with Admiral Krause and Colonel Putin.”
“Do you think I give a flying...”
“And ending with Franklin.”
Frank's mouth snapped shut.
“That's better, Sir,” Smith said. “Before we left, Franklin pulled me aside and told me to keep an eye on the old man. Now, why do you suppose he told me that, Frank?”
Frank was quiet for fifteen seconds before he spoke again, quietly. “I'm not so old, Cedric. I just feel like it.”
“Yeah, well, you're making yourself that way. Franklin sees it. We see it. You need to have your kaboodles together, and they're not.”
“And so you think it's your business to do this?” Frank asked.
“Hey, I know you didn't ask to come out here. You didn't ask for a lot of things to happen. I suppose Jones and I could have skipped out. But the colonel gave us orders, and I respect him enough to obey.”
“And you're suggesting I'm not following orders?”
“I'm suggesting you need some help. Whatever else may or may not be true, you can't do it all by yourself here.” Smith looked around the room and raised his arms, palms up. “What were we supposed to do, Skipper?”
Frank took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. “I don't know why I'm yelling at you, Smith. I have few enough friends.”
“Look, Skipper, I'm sorry if I was out of line.”
“You weren't out of line, Cedric. I just decided I wanted to be mad at the world.”
“No problem. I guess part of my job is letting you yell at me once in a while.”
“No it's not,” Frank said. “I'm sorry about that.”
Smith shrugged. “Forget about it.”
Frank walked over and collapsed into an easy chair. “Call the agent tomorrow and tell him we'll take the property. It really is a great deal. And since I was in such a snit around the Brundages, could you give them a call and tell them I would be honored to have them aboard.”
“Will do, Skipper.”
Frank looked around the room again as he sat in the chair. Finally he stood up again. “I'm going to bed.”
Smith watched him walk into the bedroom. He then walked over to the door and opened it. Jones was outside.
“Skipper alright?” he asked.
“Just peachy,” Smith said. “He can't let go of Wendy and he's tearing himself apart.”
“How do we fix it?”
“I wish I knew.”
CHAPTER NINE
Frank finished off his coffee and looked at the wreckage of his breakfast. He glanced around the hotel dining room and then looked at Smith.
“I apologize, once again, for being such a louse, Cedric. I don't know what I was thinking.”
“Not a problem, Skipper. I really need to keep you better informed.”
“No, you're doing fine. And while we're at it, let's go ahead and close on the house before somebody buys it out from under us.”
“If you're sure it's not too much house,” Smith said.
Frank chuckled lightly with a one-sided smile. “It is too much house. But I like the security and the location. Besides, it's hard to pass up a deal like that.”
“I read you, Sir. I'll get on it first thing today. What about the Brundages?”
“Check with George Liston and figure out a fair salary. Then offer them either that or what the former owners were paying, whichever is more. We've got to begin staffing up here, and I suspect both Brundages discovered retirement is not what it's cut out to be.”
“Right. I'll get it done.”
“Good. Let's get to the office. We've got another ship to find cargo for.”
Frank signed the check, and they both stood up.
“You don't suppose Spanky will find another cargo for us?” Smith asked.
“I would be delighted if he did, but I'm not going to sit around waiting. I'll probably need the good car and either you or Jones today.”
“It'll be Jones today, Sir.”
“That's fine,” Frank said. “Maybe I can get him to talk more.”
Smith laughed. “Good luck with that. He probably talks to me more than he talks to his wife, and it still isn't much.”
“Not a bad habit, I think,” Frank said as they headed for the car.
Stephanie was already at the office when Frank and Smith walked in. As she learned how Nyman Trans-Space worked, she became more efficient at managing the office. She looked up.
“You had a call from the Provost's office,” she said. “They would like you to call. I wasn't sure whether to transfer the call to your comm, so I told them you weren't available.”
“Good decision, Stephanie,” Frank said. “I am really not civil until I've had my coffee and breakfast.”
“And not much better afterwards,” Smith muttered under his breath.
“I heard that, Smith,” Frank said. “Let me look at my desk before I return the call. Something might have come in overnight.”
“Yes, Sir,” she said. “And, don't forget you have an appointment at 10.”
“I did forget. Who is it again?”
“Randolph Love with Norge Creek Resources,” she said immediately.
“Okay, I remember now. The payroll people. Thanks, Stephanie.”
She nodded as he headed for the steps to the upper level. The aroma of hot coffee swept around him as he entered his office. The girl is getting good. I need to have Cedric slip her a few Centaurans extra this week.
Once in his chair with a fresh cup, he scanned the in-basket on his porta-comp. I wish I had something like my brother had in Montora Village. Now that was a computer.
One of the items Frank had inherited after the death of his brother was not only the Margraviate of Montora, but also the high-powered desktop computing platform in Montora Castle. The device was built into the top of the desk, so the surface of the desk was a screen. It allowed the user to move documents about as if they were really pieces of paper.
Okay, here's a note from Franklin. There's one from the village priest too. He tapped to open the note from his son.
Hi Dad – A freighter was leaving orbit today so I decided I'd better bring you up to date. First, the bad news. We had a pirate raid two weeks ago. The Baltic Regiment managed to take out one of the pirate shuttles as well as one of the missiles they shot at the village. We took a missile hit at the base of one of the castle walls, which took the wall down. We lost Carlisle Beddings. Also, Sarah Dancey, the Major's adjutant, was killed.
Cambridge Castle was burned, and the Foxworths were kidnapped. The pirates managed to sack a couple of the banks in Cambridge before they pulled o
ut. All things considered, we got off lightly. I suspect the presence of the regiment came as a nasty shock to them. The villagers have nearly repaired the damage to Montora Castle. For a bit of good news, Admiral Krause sent us a surplus Navy Destroyer. I am thinking seriously of putting together a scratch crew to go rescue the Foxworths.
The big problem here, as usual, is the lack of cash. Montora is holding its own. One of Louie's friends, another Woogie, is coming to help the Earl Paravel build a hotel. Having Cambridge Castle gutted didn't help things. If the raid doesn't scare off the tourists, I think we will just about keep our heads above water.
Gerry Blakely is hanging around outside my office door, which means he wants something. I hope you're doing fine.
-Your favorite son. F.
Frank read the message a second time, then forwarded it to Smith. He leaned back and sipped his coffee as he considered the contents of the message. The news wasn't good, by any means, but Franklin seemed to be fully engaged in what he was doing. Franklin is cutting his own way through the universe. Too proud to ask his old man for help. But I'm proud of him.
He leaned forward and selected the next message in the stack. Now let's see what the Reverend Edmund Tracy Riggs has to say.
Greetings Frank – I know Franklin is sending a message too, so you will hear about the pirate raid. There's no need to go into details, then, but your son is doing very well. After the kidnapping of the Foxworths, he has become the de facto leader of the planet. Everyone is looking to him to solve their problems, which is a mixed blessing as you might agree. He has encouraged the people to work on the problems themselves, which is something nobody else has been able to do in decades. The question is how much can get done before the snows arrive.
I trust you have been able to look at the Bible I gave you. I got the impression you are trying to run from God. He wants you, Frank. Based upon personal experience, I can tell you that there is nowhere to hide from Him. He not only wants to rescue your soul from the burning hell, but He wants you to serve Him. Read the Bible, Frank. I will pray for you.
Regards, Trace.
Frank carried his cup of coffee to the window, and looked down at the smooth, almost oily surface of the canal. The water was dark, but not murky. A Dimaton cruised by intent on whatever business a Dimaton engaged in. The ranks of clouds floated over, briefly occluding Sarah's Star, their brilliant white in contrast to the pale blue of the sky.
Frank leaned against the window-jam and drank more coffee. I'm glad the little priest is keeping an eye on Franklin. I just wish he would leave me alone about the God stuff. I don't want to think about hell. It makes me wonder about Wendy and I don't want to think about that either.
After finishing his coffee, Frank shook his head and walked back to the desk. He selected the number Stephanie forwarded him for the Provost and made the call. New Stockholm was unusual among the settled planets in that it was originally founded as a college. With the school being only modestly successful, the regents recruited settlers and began developing what was an attractive planet. Political control was carefully retained by the college.
Over the time the College, and later University Provost became more powerful at the expense of the Board of Regents. The current provost, Andreas Neckersulm, had succeeded in making the board largely ceremonial. This had solved his governance problems at the University. His challenges with the rest of the planet were rather greater.
“Mr. Nyman, so good of you to return my comm call,” the Provost said.
“How may I help you today, Sir?”
“First of all, I wanted to express my thanks for your basing a significant shipping business on New Stockholm.”
“We're really not that big, but I appreciate the thought,” Frank said.
“Any company with the ownership of two star freighters is significant, Mr. Nyman.”
It's three ships, but I'm not sure I want to pass that much information around. “We looked for a good place out here to set up shop, and New Stockholm is attractive.”
“Indeed. Indeed. And that is another reason for my call. As you may have noticed, we don't have a lot of infrastructure on-planet. We have minimal government. This makes funding the University a challenge. You may not be aware that a substantial portion of the University budget is provided through gifts from our business community.”
I can't believe it. The rascal is trying to shake me down. I've got to get Cedric to ask around and find out how much leverage Neckersulm has. “I have always believed in the importance of education, Mr. Neckersulm. At my first opportunity, I will plan to visit the campus and meet with you. As you may suspect, I have some small business experience. I may be able to offer some advice on your operations, plus I will consider some appropriate contribution.”
“Yes, well, we would certainly enjoy having you visit the campus,” Neckersulm sputtered.
Gotcha. Now I need to play stupid so I can get some background on this. “Good, good. When would be a good time for me to visit, Sir?”
“We really need to negotiate on your contribution, Mr. Nyman. There's no need for you to travel to the campus.”
“No, but I insist,” Frank said. “I never like to invest without inspecting the object, don't you know. I like to keep my philanthropic impulses close to home. I believe in holding the recipient accountable.”
“Err... I don't think you understand.”
“I know you're trying to save me some trouble, Mr. Neckersulm, but it's really no problem at all. I will have my office manager contact your secretary and arrange an appointment. I am really looking forward to meeting you.”
There was a long pause before the Provost spoke again. “Very well. I believe we can work something out.”
“Always a pleasure, Provost,” Frank said before he disconnected.
“Smith!” he yelled.
A few moments later Sergeant Smith eased into the office. “You called, Skipper?”
“Yes, I did. I just had an interesting conversation with the Provost. He's looking for a contribution,” Frank said, holding up his fingers in quote marks.
Smith raised an eyebrow. “Curious. I wonder if this is how they handle taxation. There's no tax office on-planet.”
“Really?” Frank asked. “I hadn't thought about that. I want Stephanie to set up an appointment for us to look at the campus. This will give you time to ask around about local tax assessments.”
“Gotcha,” Smith said. “I'll see what I can pick up on the street.”
“Good,” Frank said. “If this is just an informal method of tax collection, I don't have a problem; as long as the amounts are reasonable.”
“And thanks for letting me look at Franklin's note.”
“I figured you needed to see that.”
“Sarah Dancey was a friend. She always ran toward the sound of the guns, so I guess she died doing what she liked to do.”
“Franklin didn't say, of course. Considering the only damage was the castle wall, you probably surmise correctly,” Frank said.
“That's the way I'd like to go, Skipper.”
Frank nodded. “Point taken, but please ask me before you decide to check out. I need you too much around here.”
“If I get the chance to check with you first, I will do so.”
CHAPTER TEN
Randolph Love looked out of place in Gustav. The academics wore the scholars' gowns and the townspeople were casual. Love arrived in a formal business suit, complete with a carnation in the pocket.
“To be ever so glad to meet you, Sir,” he gushed as he shook Frank's hand. “Too capable we are, and to make you glad of our business arrangement, so sure.”
Frank glanced over at Smith as he shook the resource manager's hand. Smith had a bemused look on his face, which then required real effort from Frank to maintain a straight face.
“Thank you for coming to see us this morning Mr. Love. Ms. Howard has prepared a summary of our needs.”
Frank handed him a data chip, which
he immediately popped into a reader.
“So good, so good. To be prepared, I am sure.”
“My immediate needs are for payroll management,” Frank said. Later on I expect to need some fairly permanent office staff, plus people to represent me at the spaceport.”
“Very good, very good,” Love said. “To run payroll is not a problem; not at all. To find the extra humans, not much harder.”
He scanned the document on his reader. “Much as I expected, and to be within our skill sets. To start immediately, if you like, to be sure.”
“How do you price the service then?” Frank asked.
“Three percent for non-benefited,” Love said. “To negotiate on health and retirement. Typically about fifteen percent.”
“That's cheap,” Frank blurted out. “Are you bonded?”
“To be bonded, yes, we are. Lloyds of Cardiff. Close, yes. Reliable, yes. We are trusted here and in Caledon.”
“You have an office on Caledon?” Frank asked.
“Not to be truthful. To do some business there, though.”
“Huh?” Smith blurted.
Love spun around and stared at Smith for a few moments. He then spun back to where he was facing Frank. “To make understood not so well,” he explained. “So sorry, the Randolph.”
Frank waved a hand. “Not a problem, Mr. Love.”
Stephanie brought in coffee on a small silver tray.
“Won't you have some coffee, Mr. Love,” Stephanie asked.
“Sure. To be good stuff, I thank.”
“Er... of course,” she said.
She carefully poured the coffee into the business style cups and handed one to Love. Frank looked at it in surprise. The Nyman Trans-Space logo was printed on the mug. As she was filling a cup for Frank, Love picked up his cup and held it to his lips. He tilted it to sip, and as he did he rocked forward onto his tip-toes. The slurping noise was suddenly loud in the quiet room. Stephanie managed to slop a little of the coffee onto the desktop.
“Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Nyman. Let me get you a napkin.”
“No need, Stephanie. It was just a few drops. Where did the cups come from?”
