by Ward Wagher
They left the car and walked down a sloping sidewalk into the old town.
“This is nice,” Franklin said. “A little weather would wash it all out to sea, however.”
“My thought, too,” Frank said. “The locals claim that never happens.”
“Never is a long time, Dad.”
“Egg-Zactly.”
Smith and Hopper walked fifteen or twenty feet behind the Nymans to give them some privacy.
“Any known threats here, Sarge?”
“Not really. One of the local hoods is a waiter at Rapunzel's. You'll probably meet'im. It's his day job, you see. Anyway, he makes a nuisance of himself from time to time. Jones pitched him into the canal once. Made him a little more respectful.”
“There's not a lot of maneuvering room here if we have a situation.”
“That's always worried Jones and me, too,” Smith said. “Plus the office here is a fire trap. I'm just as glad we got the new building.”
With a rush, a Dimaton erupted from the water ahead of them. Frank danced out of the way, swearing merrily. Franklin stood with his hands on his hips staring at the marine animal.
“Lordy, lordy, what is that?” Hopper yelled.
“That's Charlie,” Smith laughed. “He's a Dimaton. He's decided he's Frank's special friend. Scares the bejeebers out of him every time he walks through here.”
“Is it dangerous? I mean, that's a big fish.”
“They've never been known to attack a human,” Smith said.
“As my boss said a few minutes ago, never is a long time.”
“Point taken, Hopper. But, they do seem to like humans. And I've seen Spanky down here talking to it.”
“And Spanky is...”
“Our local Woogie.”
“If it was talking to a Woogie, then it probably doesn't have a sense of smell.”
“I hadn't thought of that,” Smith laughed. “You may be right. Come on, they're walking again.”
They walked into the restaurant with the name Rapunzel's painted on the sign hanging over the door. The proprietor walked quickly over to them, while wiping his hands on a towel.
“Elias, this is my son Franklin,” Frank said.
Franklin stuck out his hand. “Franklin Nyman.”
“Elias Rooste. Welcome to Rapunzel's. I hope you will find your visit with us satisfactory.”
“Thank-you, Sir. My dad has said good things about your restaurant.”
“Very well. I have a table over here in the corner for you gentlemen. Fillbee will be with you shortly.”
The round, oaken table had six chairs and the battered finish of hard-worked furniture. Its placement allowed business to be conducted without the ability of neighboring tables to eavesdrop.
After they were seated, the scrawny waiter brought paper menus to the table. He swung his head to flip his bangs above his eyes.
“Welcome to Rapunzel's, Gentlemen. I can take your drink orders now. That will give you a chance to study the menu.”
“Iced tea,” Frank immediately said. Franklin also ordered the iced tea. Smith ordered coffee; Hopper water. Fillbee then left.
“Squirrelly looking guy,” Hopper commented.
“And you want to watch out for him,” Smith said. “He worked for Benjamin Chavis, who is now missing. He could possibly be dangerous.”
Hopper nodded as he watched the waiter disappear. He continued to watch as a willowy brunette walked across the room and slipped into a chair at their table.
“Gentlemen,” Frank said, “allow me to introduce Stephanie Howard, who is one of our most promising young employees. Stephanie, this is my son Franklin. And this is Hopper, who sort of functions in the same role as you.”
Franklin shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Hopper nodded, but said nothing. He continued to watch her.
“So is it something Hopper or Hopper something?” she asked.
Hopper hesitated. “Um. Murray...”
“Nice to meet you Hopper Murray,” she said, her eyes dancing.
Franklin grinned openly at him. “Come on, Hopper, now's your chance. She just handed you the straight line.”
“Er.. yeah. Um. It's Murray Hopper, um, Ms. Howard.”
“Murray is my steward and body guard,” Franklin said.
“Ah,” she nodded.
“What I thought,” Frank said, “was that maybe you could show them around the Old Town this afternoon. The Provost craves a meeting with me.”
“Sure. No problem, Mr. Nyman.”
Fillbee returned with the beverage order, and set it in front of the diners.
“And what would you like to drink, Miss?” he licked his lips as he stared at Stephanie.
Hopper sat up straight in his chair and watched carefully. Smith reached out and put his hand on Hopper's arm. Franklin looked over at Hopper, and then at Fillbee. He looked down at the menu and rolled his tongue around in his cheek.
“Water with lemon, please,” Stephanie said. After he walked away, she shuddered.
“He's not a threat in here,” Smith said quietly to Hopper.
“But outside he's fair game?”
“Well you don't want to get yourself arrested for assault.”
“I understand,” Hopper said quietly.
Stephanie looked back and forth at the men sitting around the table. “I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself.”
“She's an artist with a slug thrower,” Frank murmured.
“Oh, I wouldn't say that, Skipper. I just practice with it when I can. Fillbee gives me the creeps, though.”
“Is he still hanging around?” Frank asked.
“I haven't seen him around much lately, but he always manages to walk by the office on his way to and from work. I happen to know where he lives, and coming by the office is out of his way.”
“You know where he lives?” Franklin asked.
“Know your enemy, Mr. Nyman,” she said matter of factly.
Fillbee brought Stephanie her water and then took the orders.
§ § §
Andreas Neckersulm personally welcomed Frank Nyman into his office.
“So good of you to agree to see me, Mr. Nyman,” the Provost said.
“In other words, you want something,” Frank answered.
“Please, have a seat.” Frank sat down across from the Provost's desk and crossed his legs. “I hoped to have a chance to evaluate the current situation with you.”
“The situation, Mr. Provost, is that we now have a government in place that represents the people much more broadly than before. When we finish writing a constitution, we will have a nice representative democracy here.”
“But surely you recognize the preeminent position of the University here on New Stockholm.”
“I understand that was the intent of the founders. But your demographics have changed underneath you. A majority of the population no longer has any connection with the University.”
“But they agreed to live here and support the school.”
“Only as much as anyone agrees to live in an oligarchy. Oh, I agree New Stockholm is a nice place. It'll be nicer still when the citizens willingly vote to pay taxes, rather than having a group of two-bit grifters with their hands in their pockets.”
“I resent that, Mr. Nyman.”
“Since I didn't directly accuse you of these practices, I assume you have a guilty conscience.”
Neckersulm sputtered. “You are not being very fair about this, Mr. Nyman. I am responsible for the upkeep of this campus and its employees. I simply must have revenue.”
“I have never said that we won't help support the University. After all, it is one of the key draws of this place. Besides, why are you asking me? You should be talking to the Mayor.”
“The Mayor will not give me the time of day. Besides, everyone knows you engineered the coup. You can make things happen for me.”
“As one of those people who experienced your hand in their po
cket, why should I make things happen for you?”
“Why, Mr. Nyman, it is simply your civic responsibility. I know you and I do not have a lot of reasons to personally like one another, but surely you can see the needs here.”
“I can see a lot of needs here, Mr. Provost. I see a need for accountability, for transparency, maybe even some new faces. How do you propose to fulfill those needs, Sir?”
“That is not what I meant, and you know it. I simply need to ensure revenue to keep the University open. No more, no less.”
“With tuition and fees along with some tax support, you should have no trouble making a go of it. What do you have, 3,000 students?”
“Tuition doesn't cover our costs. The town must make up the difference. I have already spoken to Admiral Krause about it. He assured me of your cooperation.”
Frank stood up. “Have a nice day, Mr. Provost. Admiral Krause does not pull my strings. I believe the wisest thing is to just leave your revenue issue to the elected officials. I really should not meddle.”
“But, but, we need to get an arrangement settled very soon.”
“As in, before we have an elected government looking at your organization?” Frank asked. “Let me tell you what you should be prepared for – as a condition for supporting the University, the elected government will probably ask you to step down. They will then organize a thorough audit of your finances.”
Neckersulm's voice hardened. “You really do not understand how the real world works, Mr. Nyman. You simply cannot go around interfering with other people's operations without knowing the consequences.”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Provost?”
“Oh, no, no, no. That would be gauche. You persist in misunderstanding me. What we have here was built up over one-hundred-fifty years. It is finely balanced and may come tumbling down if you tinker with it.”
Frank turned around and placed both hands on the Provost's desk. “Sometimes it is necessary for things to come tumbling down as you put it. You cannot see beyond your own self-importance to the needs of the planetary society as a whole. We are all fortunate this regime change was implemented without bloodshed. That's unusual. It is more the norm to see rape, pillage and the old order strung from the lamp posts. When a society gets ossified, it cannot see beyond its own windows. And when it falls, lots of people die.”
The Provost sat gazing at Frank. “That was quite a speech, Mr. Nyman. Do you really believe that?”
“Yes, I do.” Frank straightened up. “I'll see you around, Mr. Provost.” And he left the building.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
“I can't believe Willard Krause still put together that deal on three more ships for you after you threw him out of your office,” Emily Brundage said.
“I think Carlo Roma put the deal together. Krause was the errand boy in this case,” Frank replied.
They were sitting around the table in the fourth floor conference room of the Garrett Building. Also in attendance were Cedric Smith, Stephanie Howard, Spanky, and George Liston.
“The price was unbelievable,” Stephanie said.
Frank looked over at her and nodded his head fractionally. She caught it and immediately stopped speaking.
“Okay people, let's do some brainstorming here. I have an option on three freighters. At this moment my limitations are on crewing the ships and finding skippers I can trust. I'm pretty sure we can crew one of them. Two will be a stretch, and we will probably have to pass on the third.”
“I hate to pass on the third, Frank,” Emily said. “We could almost park it in orbit here until we get a crew – assuming we could find a way to get it here.”
“Is that possible?” Stephanie asked.
“Parking a starship in orbit would cost you a fortune,” Liston said. “You can't shut them down entirely, and you'd have to keep a skeleton crew aboard. No, it would be better to pass on it. Other opportunities would come along.”
“Could Franklin use the third ship?” Emily asked.
Frank shook his head. “No, he's having enough trouble crewing his destroyer. Plus I don't think there's enough business on Hepplewhite right now to support basing a freighter there.”
“Where are the ships located now?” Liston asked.
“Two are in the Solar system in Mars orbit. The third one is at Festalborg.”
“Feel like taking a ride to Festalborg, Skipper?” Smith asked.
“Not with all the Centaurans around there. Probably why Roma is trying to dispose of it.”
“I Suggest we leave that one aside for the moment,” Liston said. “You're probably not going to find a crew on Festalborg either.”
“Agreed,” Frank said. “George, you have family on Earth. Any contacts that would help us in this case?”
Liston thought for a few moments. “I don't think so, Frank. The turnaround time on communications doesn't help either.”
“That means we have to find crew out here in our neighborhood,” Stephanie said. “I assume you want skippers with a master's ticket.”
“Land, yes!” Frank exclaimed. “You don't even want to ask about insurance rates if the skipper isn't rated. It would probably be cheaper to just run the ship bare.”
“You mean without insurance?” she asked. “Isn't that risky?”
“You bet. That's why it's not an option.”
Emily frowned as she was thinking. “Too bad this didn't come up last month when Franklin was here. You could have borrowed him to get one of the ships here.”
“He was already gone too long from Hepplewhite,” Frank said. “Although the thought is tempting.”
“Is Charlie Schubach's XO ready to take command?” Smith asked.
“I don't know. That's a thought. We could keep Forsythia on a milk run between here and Caledon, and send Charlie in with a crew. Make a note of that Stephanie. We'll keep that one in mind.”
“I don't know of any ships' masters here,” Liston said. “I think we're going to have to recruit on Caledon. We wouldn't have much luck on Tigris or Harmon. I don't think there's anybody there who could command a rowboat.”
“Then we need to get the crews to Earth,” Emily said. “Booking eighty berths on a liner would be expensive; plus availability would be chancy, too.”
“George,” Frank asked, “do you know of anything floating around we could charter?”
“I'll have to check.”
“The Woogie will check,” Spanky said suddenly. “Nest Guardian might have idea.”
Frank looked around the table, and then at Stephanie. “Okay, put that one in Spanky's column.”
“Woogies might pick up ship from Festalborg,” Spanky continued.
“Are there enough trained spacers on Woogaea, Spanky?” Frank asked.
“Probably. Woogies train quickly.”
Frank looked around at the walls and the ceiling as he thought. “Okay, Ems, let's hold on to our option on the third ship. How much time do you need, Spanky?”
“Two weeks.”
“Okay,” Frank said. “I guess I'll take Smith and go to Caledon. Spanky, I assume you know of something that's leaving today.”
“Righto. Couriernet ship. Tomorrow actually.”
Frank rubbed his face with his hand, and then looked at Smith. “Suppose it's worth owing a favor to Jesse Spelling?”
Jesse Spelling was the owner of Couriernet, a fleet of fast courier ships, specializing in information transfer and small cargo. Spelling was a retired Navy captain and a friend of Frank's.
“We may not have a choice, Skipper,” Smith said.
“That's it, then,” Frank said. “Thanks for your help. George, we will need to get together when I get back to talk about bunkerage and victualing for the freighters.”
“What about refurbishing?”
Frank slapped his head. “I didn't think about that. Well, if one of the ships isn't up to standards, I'll have to wave off.”
“Are you going to Earth, then, Frank?” Emily asked.
&
nbsp; “I may have to. There's a good chance I'll have to skipper one of those tubs myself.”
“Are we biting off more than we can chew?” Emily persisted.
“George, you've got, what, three of your kids on Earth?”
“Four. Three sons and a daughter. And their families.”
“Will they come out here if I give them a ride?”
Liston looked surprised. “I don't know. I think they would. They have families too.”
“How many people are we talking about?”
“I don't know. About fifteen. Could be more if one of the spouses brings parents along.”
Frank frowned. “I hadn't thought of that. Okay, George, prepare messages for them. I'll bring them out and offer them jobs here. Couple of them are accountants, right?”
“Frank, that's uncommonly generous of you,” Liston said.
“It's just desperation, George. I'm going to have to bulk up to manage the administrative overhead from doubling my fleet.”
“Well, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Pamela will be thrilled. Let me get right on this. I'll have something for you within the hour.”
Liston walked quickly from the room.
“Are you getting all this down, Stephanie?” Frank asked.
“Yes, Sir. It's getting complicated.”
“It's called logistics. I'd like you and Emily to start putting together the plan. We don't have a lot of time.”
“We'll get on it, Frank,” Emily said.
“And by the way, let's quit fiddling around and get the rest of the people from the old offices over to here. I thought you'd have that done weeks ago.”
Emily and Stephanie looked at each other, but said nothing.
“Is there a problem?”
“We can't seem to get moving crews,” Emily said. “Apparently they all worked for Chavis. Either that or Fillbee is poisoning the well.”
“Spanky, can you help?” Frank asked. “We'll pay whatever is reasonable.”
“Forthwith,” Spanky said.
“Thanks.”
“Is nothing, Friend Frank.”
Stephanie slid her comp term aside and banged her forehead on the table. “I spend three weeks trying to find a moving company and he solves it with one question.”
