by Ward Wagher
A group of six people eased past looking curiously at the tableau.
Neckersulm pulled a pistol from his jacket, and pointed it at Frank. “You will come with me.”
A couple of the girls in the group squealed and the group trotted away quickly. Frank held his hands away from his body and stood very still. The Dimatae grew restive.
“You really do not want to do this,” Frank said. “You are putting yourself in grave danger.”
Someone else walked up next to Frank. “You need to put that away, Andreas, before somebody gets hurt,” Inspector Standish said.
“That was convenient,” Neckersulm rasped out.
“I think so. Half the Old Town is watching, now, Andreas. Let's not make things any worse.”
“Oh, but I expect to improve things. Everyone watching will see me take charge again and they will thank me. It's time to decapitate this glorious revolution. We will finish it here and now. We will save this planet and these poor creatures here.”
Frank shook his head and sighed. “I don't know why we are afflicted with such idiots.” He threw his hands up in the air and moved over to the edge of the boardwalk.
“Hold it right there,” the Provost said as his gun wavered between Frank and Standish. “I will shoot you if I must.”
“Oh, I don't think it will be necessary,” Frank said as he stepped off the boardwalk, and disappeared in the water. There were several shouts from the onlookers.
“What are you going to do now, Andreas?” Standish asked.
“I... just hold still!” he yelled. He walked over to the edge of the boardwalk. Almost more quickly than the eye could follow, one of the Dimatae rose up and knocked him into the water with his head. A second later Frank was propelled out of the water by one of the creatures. He landed on the boardwalk and lay sputtering.
“We need to take Mr. Nyman to the hospital,” Standish yelled out.
“I'm all right,” Frank said.
“No you're not. You will shortly begin experiencing a toxic reaction to the residue in the water from the Dimatae. When they come into season, they start emitting chemicals into the water. Did you notice the odor?”
Neckersulm broke the surface of the water and had time for a single, “Help,” and a Dimaton leaped out of the water and crashed on top of him, dragging him under again. The three creatures swam in a close circle about him and kept him from the surface. He managed to get a hand above the water again, but then was forced to the bottom.
“I wonder if he believes you now,” Standish said.
Frank was beginning to shake. “Go jump in yourself, Inspector.”
Standish was still chuckling when a bystander brought a blanket and wrapped Frank in it. “You probably won't die, Mr. Nyman. You will just wish you did.”
A group of men picked Frank up and carried him to the parking lot where one of them had backed his van up and opened the door.
“I'll see you at the hospital, Mr. Nyman,” Standish called.
Elias Rooste walked over to stand next to the Inspector. “You aren't very nice to Mr. Nyman, Warner.”
“I do not particularly like Mr. Nyman,” he responded.
Rooste gazed at the policeman. “I don't either, Warner, but we owe him an awful lot.”
Standish nodded. “True. He has brought us the rule of law. But I would not grieve if he died of toxemia.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
“All right, where is he?” Smith said as he walked in the hospital doors. Inspector Standish was sitting in the waiting room smoking a cigarette.
“In the tank.”
Smith swung around and walked over to sit down next to the policeman. “Talk to me, Warner.”
Standish carefully tapped the ash off his cigarette into the ash tray. “Your boss had an encounter with the Provost in the Old Town.”
“What was he doing in the Old Town?”
“You'll have to ask him that yourself. As far as I can tell he was minding his own business.”
Smith snatched the cigarette out of Standish's hand and ground it out on the floor. “Quit screwing around, Warner. I almost lost my boss tonight.”
Standish stared into Smith's face for a few moments. “Yes, I can see where you would be excited. Let me tell you what I know.”
The policeman carefully pulled out a small silver case and extracted another cigarette, then lit it.
“Give me one of those,” Smith said suddenly. Standish held the lighter for the sergeant.
“Thanks. Now, please continue.”
“Mr. Nyman was sitting on a bench on the boardwalk. There were three Dimatae clustered around. Oh, and he had this.” Standish handed Smith Frank's Bible.
“He was talking to the Dimatae?”
“Cedric, everybody knows the Dimatae can't talk. I don't know what Mr. Nyman was doing. But Andreas Neckersulm approached him and threatened to arrest him for the death of Charlie. I stepped in when Neckersulm pulled out his gun.”
“What was your role in this, if I may ask?”
Standish snorted. “I was enforcing the peace. I don't mind telling you I do not like your boss. But he did nothing to provoke the Provost. I tried to settle things down. If I had taken Neckersulm to the lockup, there would have been no end of trouble on the University campus.”
Smith shook his head. “So Frank Nyman is in the hospital and the Provost went his merry way?”
“Let me finish the story, Cedric. The Provost was waving his gun around. I was very much afraid for the citizens and tourists wandering around. Frank worked his way over to the water's edge while arguing with Neckersulm, then just stepped into the water.”
“Frank doesn't know how to swim,” Smith said.
Standish held up a hand. “Bear with me, please. The Provost stepped over to see what happened to Mr. Nyman and one of the Dimatae knocked him into the water. They held him under until he finally drowned. One of them pushed Mr. Nyman out of the water.”
“So Frank almost drowned, too, then?”
“No, Cedric. When the Dimatae come into season, they emit... pheromones, for want of a better word, into the water. The stuff is quite toxic. Mr. Nyman was poisoned. The doc put him into the tank to wash it out of him.”
Smith put an elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his chin in his hand. “It's just been one thing after another since we got here.”
“I think you can rest easier now, Cedric. Anybody who wanted Mr. Nyman dead is either dead themselves or missing – I presume them to be dead.”
Smith shook his head. “I cannot believe he was so foolish as to go to the Old Town by himself.”
“He is not a child, Cedric.”
“Oh, I know that, Warner. I was out for the evening. Frank waited until Martin fell asleep and then slipped out of the house. We really messed up.”
“It ended well, my friend. The doc said they would probably pull him out of the tank in the morning.”
“Then I'd better get in there and keep watch,” Smith said. “No telling what some nut might try.”
“I'd join you, Cedric, but they won't allow these,” he held up the burning cigarette, “in there.”
“I'd say they were wise. You would probably blow up the place.”
“I know you don't think I'm that smart, Cedric, but I do pay attention to little things like the No Smoking signs.”
“You learned from experience?” Smith asked.
Standish cocked his head to one side and bit his lower lip.
Smith chuckled. “What did you do, burn down a building or something?”
“All I can say, is never go to bed with a lit cigarette. I ended up with a ruined mattress and an enraged wife.”
“And you lived to tell about it.”
“Sometimes one survives poor judgment.”
“I suppose I should go look in on the boss. Is there going to be an investigation?”
“Nah. He was completely innocent this time. Andreas Neckersulm was a friend of mine, but he stepped over
a line tonight, and paid for it.”
Smith stood up. “Thanks for your help, Warner.”
The policeman stood up and shook Smith's hand. “Understand, it was part of the job, and that's all it was.”
Smith crushed his cigarette out under his boot, then turned and walked to the doors leading to the treatment rooms.
§ § §
“Hey, look, I said I was sorry!” Frank said.
The warm morning light of Sarah's star slanted into the hospital room. Emily Brundage and Sergeant Smith glared at Frank Nyman.
“You nearly gave all of us a stroke,” she said. “Of all people you should know the risks of running about this place by yourself.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I needed to get some air, alright?”
“And nearly got yourself plugged, Skipper,” Smith said. “Did you think about what Jones would think when he woke up?”
“That he shouldn't have gone to sleep?”
“That's pretty cold, Frank,” Emily said. “He was frantic when he couldn't find you. He called Cedric at the Listons. I could hear his voice over the com from clear across the room.”
“How many times do I have to say that I'm sorry? Come on, guys, ease up.”
“I just wish you meant it,” Emily said. “All you've been thinking about for the past year is yourself. What were you doing on the waterfront?”
“Doing some thinking.”
“With this?” she held up the Bible.
“Well, yes. I'm not getting answers anywhere else. Why not?”
“Frank,” she said, “the way you've been going, I suppose that's as good of a place as any. Did it help?”
“Not a bit. Well, maybe a little. I don't know, Ems.”
“The doctor is concerned about your general condition,” she said. “He thinks you need to see a shrink.”
“Not this boy!” Frank exclaimed. “First thing he'd tell me is that I wanted to sleep with my mother or something. Then he'd sign me up for a six month course of treatments at five thousand Centaurans a pop just to convince me I was conflicted because of the small size of my...”
“Frank!”
“Well, it's true.”
Smith folded his arms across his chest. “I think when we get you out of here, we're going on a trip, Skipper.”
“And where would that be?”
“We received one of the ads for Christmas in Montora. Maybe if you can relax a bit there and enjoy the scenery, it would help. Besides, you need to meet your new daughter-in-law.”
“And you and Jones would like to get back to your wives. I'm sorry. I keep losing track of the time. Why don't you and Jones go? I don't think there's anyone left here who wishes me harm.”
“Other than you, yourself,” Smith said. “We're watching you run yourself into the ground and it has to stop.”
“Okay, okay. Let's talk about it later. I'm getting sleepy again.”
“Right, Skipper. Get some rest. We can talk about it later.”
Frank's eyes drifted shut.
“I'll make arrangements for the trip,” Emily said. “I assume you and Jones can get him aboard ship somehow.”
Smith grinned. “Oh, we will do it if we have to stick him with a sleepy dart.”
They looked over at Frank, who was sleeping again. Emily sat down in the chair to keep watch and waved Cedric out of the room.
Jones stood up as Smith walked into the waiting room. “I'm going home to catch some sleep. You okay here?”
“If you are, Cedric.”
“Don't sweat it, Marty. We all need a vacation. I'm making the boss run out to Hepplewhite. It'll give us a chance to hire a couple more people to keep an eye on him.”
“Think he'll go along with that? That's more than the Colonel has following him around,” Jones said.
“I don't propose to consult with him on it. Frank is more exposed than the Colonel. And the way trouble follows him around...”
“You got that right,” Jones replied. “I don't need another accident like last night.”
“Like I said, don't sweat it. We learn from this and move on.”
“Well, we killed off most of the threats on this dirtball.”
“What makes you think we'll be staying here?” Smith asked. “Willard Krause has big plans, and you and I both know they probably include the boss. It's the only thing that really makes sense in this cock-eyed universe.”
“I just wish the poor man could have a life.”
“Ain't gonna happen. And you and I are probably going to spend the rest of our lives keeping him out of trouble.”
“There's a truly depressing thought,” Jones said.
“There's some good news.”
“And what would that be, Cedric?”
“We're going to bring our wives with us when we come back here.”
“That is good news. 'cept...”
“Except for what?” Smith asked.
“You're going to have to break your cigarette habit permanently.”
Smith sighed. “It's been done before.”
“Yeah, but never when you had to work with someone this difficult.”
“You're not difficult, Marty,” Smith said.
Jones grinned. “I was talking about the boss.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
The shuttle set down at the Montora Starport in a wave of blown snow. Frank Nyman leaned forward to look out the window next to his first class seat. As the turbines spooled down, the wind-driven snow resumed its horizontal movement.
“How cold is it out there?”
“The Port Controller said it is ten below, Sir,” the steward said.
“Fahrenheit?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Frank looked over at Sergeant Cedric Smith. “Give me your coat, Smith.”
“Not on your life, Skipper.”
“Okay, give me Jonesy's then.”
A snort from across the aisle indicated what Sergeant Martin Jones thought of the suggestion.
The steward was standing at the front of the cabin and keyed his amplifier. “For those who desire, we have disposable thermal gear for those passengers who are not prepared for the weather. We will debark in a couple of minutes.”
“And I'll look like an idiot in that,” Frank growled.
“Looks like a binary solution to me, Skipper,” Smith said. “Either look like an idiot or freeze to death.”
Frank gave Smith an evil grin. “There might be a third solution.”
“And what might that be, Sir?”
“I take your coat, and we come back later to recover your body.”
The shuttle had landed first at the Cambridge Starport. Besides Frank, Smith & Jones, three of the passengers remained on board for the short hop over the mountains to Montora Village.
The steward, who had accompanied the shuttle down from the orbiting Aerean Venture had disappeared into his cubicle, but was now back.
“Sir,” he said to Frank, “the people meeting you brought cold weather gear. If you would be so kind as to let the other passengers debark first, then you will have room to get dressed before going out.”
“That would be fine,” Frank replied. “Thank you for your service.”
The steward nodded. “Captain Smirnoff expects us to do our best for all the passengers.”
“Tell the Captain thank you for me. It was a pleasant trip.”
“Of course, Sir.”
A strong, cold breeze blew into the cabin when the steward opened the hatch. The three passengers filed past, wearing the plastic thermal coats. While not long lasting, the coats would keep the wearers fairly comfortable in frigid weather.
Frank slipped back into his seat and looked out into the blizzard. The other passengers struggled through the snow to the electric jitney, which waited just off the landing pad. Another person in winter clothes stepped into the cabin.
“Hello, Hopper,” Smith said.
“Hey, Sarge! The Margrave sent me out with winter clothes for Captain
Nyman as well as you two sergeants.”
“Bless you, my son,” Frank said. “I really didn't want to go out into that frozen, howling ragnarok the way I'm dressed right now.”
Frank ducked to pull the coat on and happened to look out the window again. The little electric bus was bouncing away in the snow. “Hey, Hopper, where's our ride going?”
“I have other transportation for you, Sirs. We can wait here for a moment longer until the luggage is aboard.”
Frank nodded. Smith & Jones shrugged into the coats.
“So, Hopper,” Frank asked, “are you still Franklin's Steward, or did his marriage put an end to that?”
“I am,” Hopper said. “Governor Foxworth and Major Boodles convinced the Margrave to keep me around. The Margravina thinks I keep the Margrave out of trouble.”
“Do you?”
“I try really hard, Sir.”
“Diplomatic answer,” Smith commented.
The steward stepped back into the cabin. “Your luggage is loaded, Sirs.”
Frank looked at Hopper. “Lead on. If you happen to fall into a snow drift, I will at least be able to walk on you to get out.”
“Very good, Sir. I have had practice.”
Frank looked at Smith with a raised eyebrow. Smith grinned back. He stepped through the curtain to the entry way of the shuttle. The wind blew past the open door with a low moan.
“Great day to drop in,” Frank yelled over the wind.
“The tourists love it,” Hopper yelled back. He turned and marched into the drifts with an awkward rolling gait.
“His leg,” Frank exclaimed. “I forgot.”
During Franklin's duel with the pirate cruiser, Hopper had lost one of his legs from an errant shell. He was now moving about on a prosthesis. One of Franklin's notes had described the encounter.
“You can apologize later, Skipper,” Smith said. “It's cold out here.”
“Too right.”
Frank walked down the ramp into the snow and took two steps before stopping. Fifty feet away was a large sleigh pulled by six mountain ponies. The open sleigh had two facing seats for passengers and a front compartment for the drivers. Tied on a platform at the rear was the luggage. Modest Marple stood at the head of the team, holding part of the harness.
