by Ward Wagher
“The trip to Earth was fun,” Smith said.
“Yes. Yes, I guess it was. There was a lot going on, and it was challenging to figure out where the Woogies were headed with this. And with Carlo and the Admiral putting their own unique spin on things, I had my hands full.”
“So what have you been doing the past couple of weeks?”
“I've been thinking, Cedric.”
“About what?”
“What I could have done differently on Hepplewhite. If I had moved more quickly on my hunches, Wendy would probably still be alive.”
Smith walked across the room to the small table in one corner. He pulled out a chair and sat down on it backward. “Are we back to that, again, Skipper? I thought we had settled this. There is no way to second guess yourself. You've said it yourself.”
“But, I keep thinking that things could have turned out differently.”
“But things didn't, Skipper. You cannot keep blaming yourself.”
“Oh, I know that, Cedric. But, on the other hand, I am at least somewhat responsible for Wendy's eternal soul.” Frank sat in an easy chair and wrung his hands.
“Pardon me, Sir, if I'm out of line,” Smith said, “but I always understood that a person was responsible for his own soul.”
“But you don't understand. I discouraged her from talking to the village priest and going to church.”
“You've got to break out of this, Frank. It'll drive you mad.”
“I can't.”
§ § §
“I need a favor, Frank.” Willard Krause said as they sat at his dinner table.
“What's that, Admiral?”
“I've taken my Tactical Officer about as far as I can in her training. I was wondering if you could take a week or so and run her through some of your sims?”
Frank stared at Krause for a half minute. “Cedric been talkin' to you?”
“Just that you had some spare time.”
“I don't know why people keep hovering around me like I need a checkup from the neck up.”
“Come on, Frank,” Krause said. “I really could use some help with Lieutenant Oldridge. You're a vastly better tactician than I could ever hope to be. Karen could use the help.”
Frank stirred his fork around his plate for a minute. “Okay, what the hay? I really do not have enough to do right now. You want me to start tomorrow?”
“If you can be ready.”
“I'll have to review my simulations after dinner,” Frank said. “In fact, I should probably get started as soon as possible.” Maybe I can slip away without having to endure another scintillating evening with the old dragon.
“Don't let me keep you then, Frank,” Krause said.
“In that case, if you will excuse me, Admiral.” Frank got out of his chair, and nodded to the flag captain and left the room.”
Grimes Gorstead, the flag captain, looked at Krause. “What was that all about, Sir?”
Krause shook his head. “Our friend, the Captain has had too much free time. I'd like to keep him from meditating on the events back on Hepplewhite.”
“I understand, Sir.”
“I really doubt you do, Grimes.” Krause said.
“Sir?”
“Oh, don't look like a whipped puppy. I'm not trying to put you down. Frank Nyman is a complex man. He blames himself for the death of his wife. The only thing I can do for him, is to give him enough time to get some perspective.”
“Was it his fault?”
Krause looked down at the table and grimaced. “No, Grimes. It was mine.”
It was quiet in the flag dining room as Willard Krause continued to stare at his plate. Gorstead sat quietly, not knowing what to say.
After a long pause, Krause spoke again. “I sent Frank in to try to stabilize Hepplewhite. Something had gone wrong and Carlo Roma asked me to see what I could do. I had no idea the wheels had come off as badly as that. I knew Guilietto; liked him. I knew he could be difficult, but his illness had turned him into something very different... and far worse. I initially thought Frank had gone in half-cocked. By the time any of us realized what was really going on it was too late. Wendy Nyman was dead, and the duke was dead. God, what a mess.”
“What did you do?” the Flag Captain asked.
Krause shook his head. “I threw Frank under the jitney. For reasons I cannot explain to you right now, Grimes, my working relationship with Carlo Roma is critical. I trust him, and I must be in a position where he can trust me. I think he realizes how roughly we used Frank, and he is trying to make it up. But, Frank is carrying around a load of guilt that, by rights, belongs on my shoulders.”
§ § §
Gough Brundage waited in the Dancer Limousine as the Corona's shuttle landed. He drove over to where the boarding ramp slid from below the access hatch of the shuttle.
Sergeant Cedric Smith stepped out to the top of the ramp and looked around carefully. He then stepped down and shook hands with Brundage. A Navy enlisted woman stepped out of the shuttle, carrying luggage. Frank Nyman followed, and Sergeant Martin Jones came last, also carrying luggage.
“How's it going, Gough?” Frank asked.
“On the whole, not bad, Sir. Some issues we need to talk about, but things are coming together.”
“Good.”
“Is this all the luggage, Sir?”
“I think there is another load coming, but it should all fit in the car.”
Brundage began fitting the parcels into the luggage compartment of the Dancer. A lieutenant stepped out of the shuttle and walked over to Frank.
“An honor to assist you, Sir,” he said. “Will there be anything else I can help you with?”
“Frank smiled. “Please convey my thanks, again, to the Admiral. He saved me a couple of weeks' transit time.”
“Very well, Sir. Consider it done.” He looked over at the rating standing by the shuttle. “All right, Claire, let's get ourselves back to orbit before the Admiral leaves without us.”
She gave a short, sharp nod, and stepped back aboard the shuttle. The lieutenant followed her, and the ramp immediately started retracting.
“Must be in a hurry,” Brundage said.
“I don't think the Admiral really wanted to stop here, but I have done several big favors for him recently. Shall we go?”
Jones climbed behind the wheel of the limousine and Smith climbed in the passenger side of the front. Brundage held the door for Frank, and then trotted around to the other side. Jones eased the car away from the shuttle and headed for the exit from the field. The shuttle spooled up its turbines and lifted off.
“All right, Gough, what's first?” Frank asked.
Brundage pulled a hand-comp from his pocket and activated the screen. “Emily put together a status report. She told me I wouldn't remember everything.”
“Far be it from me to argue with Emily,” Frank laughed.
Gough had a rather sour look, but looked at the display. “First of all, we have an office staff covering maybe half of the administrative load for Trans-Space. This is mainly thanks to Randolph Love, and Stephanie Howard's efforts. I expect the net dump from Corona will be the balance of the data from the Operations Center on Earth. If that is the case, we can assume operations here.”
“I can confirm that,” Frank said. “I shut down the Earth offices when I was there.”
“Good, good. Our rented building is full. We had to move the second floor offices to the house.”
“Mine and Cedric's?” Frank asked.
“Yes, Sir. We have spotted a couple of possibilities if you wanted to buy a building. Otherwise we will need to find more rental space.”
“I think we need to buy something, Gough,” Frank said.
“I agree, Sir. Now, the most pressing need is for someone to manage the office. Emily has been doing it for the moment.”
“Right, and I want you two helping me develop new business. Ems is as over-qualified managing the office as she is being the housekeeper.”
“Well, Sir, she's still doing that too.”
“Couldn't find anyone?” Frank asked.
“Not that we felt we could trust. I thought my nephew was going to come out, but he changed his mind at the last minute.”
“Let me talk to Spanky,” Frank said. “The Woogies are a pretty good judge of people.”
“I should have thought of that, Sir.”
Frank shrugged. “Perhaps, but I would submit that I know the Woogies just a bit better.”
“Very well, Sir. I will await your recommendations on that.”
“Okay,” Frank said. “What's next?”
“Our protectors are getting greedy.”
Frank looked over at Brundage. “Who? Chavis or Neckersulm?”
“Yes. They've noticed the additional employees and assumed more business. I've been able to put them off until you returned, but you will likely face some immediate demands. And I've had to throw Fillbee out a couple of times.”
“Fillbee,” Frank snorted. “I'll have Smith & Jones have word with him. As for the grasping hands, I think you handled it correctly. I will take it from here.”
“We are starting to generate more business. The locals are more comfortable with us, and are calling for quotes. Spanky keeps feeding us cargoes. And we're starting to get some consignments from Cardiff.”
“At least we're keeping the wolves away from the door. Any word from Franklin?”
“Just that he had recovered the Foxworths – is that their name? - from the pirates.”
“That's great. Any details?” Frank asked.
“Just that things got a bit dicey during the escape and the Foxworths were badly used.”
“Sounds like Franklin has things under control, then. I was a little concerned about him going after the pirates with a scratch crew.”
“I get the impression he is competent,” Gough said.
“He is,” Frank replied, “but there's knowledge and then there is experience.”
“Good judgment comes from experience?”
“Right. It'll be good to be back in the office again. I just about went crazy during the trip home. Ran out of things to do. I saw that, Smith.”
Smith had glanced back at Brundage with a raised eyebrow. Brundage gave Frank a questioning look.
“Smith is convinced my bucket won't reach all the way to the water,” Frank said. He rolled his eyes, and leaned his head back on the seat cushion. “Everybody gets a little loopy when they run out of things to do.”
“I understand, Sir,” Brundage said.
“I hope you do. Now that I'm back, I expect to be very busy for a while.”
“Ems is preparing a homecoming meal and invited the Listons as well as Ms. Howard.”
“That's fine. It'll be good to see them again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Dinner at the Wilton Street house was served in the large dining room that evening. As Gough Brundage indicated, the guests included Stephanie Howard and the Listons. Though Emily Brundage had prepared the meal, she and her husband both sat at the table, at Frank's insistence. Sergeant Smith was at the table; however he insisted that either he or Jones stay on guard duty during the meal.
"This beef is great, Emily," Frank said. "I would be tempted to say that you were wasted as a starship commander, except that you were very good at that too."
"Thanks," she said. “I think."
"I think you can assume you were just complemented, Commander," Smith said. "If he intended to slight your skills anywhere, he would have been a lot more brutal about it."
"Thanks, Cedric," Frank said. "I love you too."
"So how was the trip, Frank?" Emily asked.
"Probably the best way to describe it would be that it was interesting," Frank said. "In no particular order we foiled a hijacking, saw the Woogies deliver a chamber pot full of money to Carlo Roma, and watched Charlie Schubach wet his pants."
"What ?” Emily and Stephanie exclaimed.
"And then we had to endure five weeks of Willard Krause on the way home."
Gough rotated his fork and said, "Back up to the beginning, Skipper. This sounds interesting.”
Smith stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I need to go take over for Jones so he can eat.”
"He just doesn't want to sit through this," Frank said.
“Having been in the middle of things, I don't need the post-game analysis,” he replied.
“That's why Otto Putin never promoted him. He never wanted to review his mistakes.”
"I've never wanted to be an officer," Smith replied. "My parents were married."
Gough Brundage burst into laughter. "Ho ho ho. Great way to run up the score, Cedric."
Smith just winked, and walked out of the room.
"I'm going to have to do something about him one day," Frank said.
"I'm planning to live to a ripe old age," Emily said, "but I never expected to see that."
"Let's get on with the story, Frank," George Liston said. "I want to hear about this."
"Short story on the hijacking is that when we dropped out of FTL for a bearing check, our friendly naval escort demanded we heave to for an inspection."
Gough whistled. "Out there in the middle of nowhere?"
"You got it. When Charlie started powering up his drives to scoot out of there, they threatened to open fire on us."
"Who was the commander?" Emily asked.
"Rogers Cambaert."
"I know him!" Emily exclaimed. "He's always been an ass, but that's over the top even for him. What did he expect to prove, anyway?"
"We had 15 or 20 billion Centaurans worth of specie on board. He was planning to seize it under some pretext."
Frank watched the wheels turning in Emily's head. "Got it figured out yet, Ems?"
She nodded. "Some of it, anyway. He would've had to kill everybody on your ship to do it. It would depend on how many of his own crew were in collusion."
"Exactly," Frank said. "The investigation showed that the boarding party was in on it, but the rest of the crew had not the slightest idea of what he was trying to do."
"Did they give an intelligence test to the XO?" Gough asked. “He would have to be pretty dense.”
"I wondered about that," Frank said.
"I cannot believe a naval officer would have the nerve to try something like that," Pamela Liston said.
"It is a little unusual," Frank agreed. "But apparently Cambaert had been skating just this side of the line for quite some time."
"Why did they keep him in the Navy then?" Stephanie asked. “It seems unprofessional.”
Frank shrugged. "Political influence. His aunt is a major industrialist on Earth. But, you're right, Stephanie. It is unprofessional to tolerate behavior like that."
"So, he got away with it?" George Liston asked. "I guess we're getting ahead of ourselves. Since you are alive, and breathing; how did you get out of this one?"
"I slipped across to the cruiser in a spacesuit, along with Smith and Jones. I waved my credentials around, and that, my friends, was that."
Stephanie looked askance at him. "Just like that?"
He grinned at her. "Well, it wasn't just like that. I had access to some things which are really classified. Let's just say that Cambaert landed in the brig."
"And the boarding party?" Emily asked.
Frank grinned again. "A group of Woogies accompanied the cargo to Earth. At the time I assumed they were going to honor Carlo Roma, or some such. It turns out they were a security detachment for the loot, and for the Nest Guardians."
"The Nest Guardians went along with this too?" George asked.
"Right. Now imagine you and your boarding party running into about forty Woogies with Woogie Whackers."
“And how many in the boarding party?” Gough asked.
“About fifteen, I think.”
Everyone around the table began giggling.
"And that, my friends, was how we foiled this hijacking without a single in
jury, except for the leader of the boarding party who fell on his face."
"I suppose it wasn't very funny at the time," Emily said.
"It depends on your point of view, I guess," Frank said. "I was pretty ripped about it. That's for sure."
"You said something about Captain Schubach wetting his pants?" George asked. Pamela slapped him on the arm.
"We see now who has his mind in the gutter," Frank said. "Yes, Charles Schubach made quite a spectacle of himself. It seems everything the Woogies do or say, he finds hysterically funny."
"I didn't know he had a sense of humor," George said.
"He doesn't. But, during our initial ceremony on Woogaea something tickled him, and he never quite settled down after that. The head of the security attachment, named Sooozie, took a liking to him, and you know how the Woogies can be."
"So Suzie kept him wound up, then?" Emily asked.
"That's Sooozie," Frank said. "They made sure I got the name right. And, not exactly. During the back-and-forth when the Woogies were presenting the treasure to Carlo, he got going again. Then when the Nest Guardians said something that the vocoder garbled, he completely lost it. That's when the industrial accident occurred."
"It must've been exciting," Gough said.
"After the meeting I was fully prepared to kick his can around the block, but the Woogies told me they were going to give him an additional bonus for services rendered. At that point there was nothing more I could say."
"I would have loved to have seen it," Stephanie said. "The smell alone must've been overwhelming."
Frank chuckled quietly. "To tell the truth, I was so keyed up about the meeting I didn't even think about the Woogie smell."
"And the Woogies gave Roma all that money just for their planetary charter?" George asked. "He should have just given it to them."
"That's what I thought, too," Frank said. "But, there was some kind of quid pro quo going on. Roma and Krause included me in a discussion of some of their plans, and I probably shouldn't talk about it. It's safe to say, though, that they're playing a deep game. And I suspect the Woogies are too."
