by Ward Wagher
“We need to move on to the rest of the agenda,” Foxworth said. “I suggest we meet again next week to work specifically on this item. In the meanwhile, I’d like you two to start scratching around for ideas on how to fund our brand new navy. I’ll do the same.”
“Maybe by next week it’ll be all better.”
“Shut up, Franklin.” Foxworth’s grin removed the bite from his comment.
“Always happy to carry my side of the conversation, Prime Minister.”
“Yeah. Right. Okay, next item. We’re behind on the improvements to the road between Cambridge and Castle Paravel. I believe that’s your item, Franklin.”
“Tell me about it. We put a road crew down there and all the villages assumed we would take care of it, and didn’t contribute labor themselves as they are supposed to. I’m going to have visit them personally I expect.”
“Anything we can help you with, Franklin?” Foxworth said.
“No. Thanks for the offer, but it’s my responsibility and you both have plenty to worry about yourselves.”
“My road crew has finished already,” Wilson said. “How about I start them working in from the border on my side?”
“I really appreciate that, Joe. That’s very generous.”
“Pure self-interest, Franklin. I need the commerce moving.”
“I understand. Gentlemen, this will be my number one priority for the week.”
“Okay, then. Next item…”
The meeting went on for another two hours, consumed by the various items necessarily for governing a world like Hepplewhite.
“Anything else?” Foxworth said.
“Um, yes,” Franklin said. “I had a couple of journalists from Cambridge News wandering around the village this morning. Even asked to see me.”
Foxworth frowned, and placed his hand on his forehead. With the folds in the skin on his face, when he looked sad, he looked sad indeed. “I hope you didn't talk to them.”
“No. Daphne warned me off. May I assume I was right to take her advice this once?”
“According to them, Monica was involved in some sort of occult business with Louie and I had a still running in my back yard.”
“I'd wondered about that,” Franklin said.
“What? The still or the witchcraft?” Wilson asked.
“The still of course. Nobody would believe anything like that about Monica and Louie. But the rest of the story hangs together.”
“Not a word of truth to it,” Foxworth said righteously as he held up an index finger. “I never drink more than a quart of whiskey a day.”
Everyone laughed. “Seriously, Franklin. Those people are bad business.”
“Bad for business, I think.”
“Right. Anything else?”
No one spoke.
“That’s it, then,” Foxworth said. “If there’s no other business, Joe needs to get back for his golf game.”
Wilson interrupted with a sharp bark of laughter. “Just like your appointment at the local bordello.”
“I’m glad I’m industrious and upright,” Franklin said. “Notice I’m setting the example for the working class to follow.”
“Get out of here before I have you arrested,” Foxworth laughed.
# # #
“Hi Daphne,” Franklin sat in the back of his aircar holding his hand-comm to his ear. “Give Major Boodles a call and see if he can put together a team to go with me in the morning. We need to drop in on some of the villages along the trans-Ducat road and encourage them to get the crews out. Wilson and Foxworth are yelling about it.”
“I told you something needed to be done,” Daphne said.
“Water over the dam at this point. But we need to get something done.”
“If you had done something like this a couple of weeks ago when I brought it up, our lordships wouldn’t be unhappy.”
“Well, they're unhappy and I need to get on the stick.”
“I told you...”
“Look, Daff. You were right, okay? I should have made the call sooner, okay? It’s my responsibility and I’m not going to try to blame anybody else. So get off your high horse and call the Major.”
“All I’m saying, Franklin, is you should pay more attention when I warn you about this stuff.”
“Okay, okay. Also, tell the Major I need to have a private conversation with him. We can do it tomorrow before I leave with the team.”
“What do you need to talk to him about?”
“Still on the need to know list, Daff. Not sure when I can bring you into the loop.”
“My need to know is pretty broad, Franklin.”
“Right. I should be back to the village in fifteen minutes.”
“So you’re not going to tell me?”
“Not right now.”
Franklin closed the comm unit before she could say anything further, and dropped it beside him. He muttered to himself, “If she wasn’t so good at what she does, I’d ashcan her. What a mouth!” He looked over at soldier from the Baltic Regiment, who was acting as a personal guard today. “What are you grinning about Corp?”
“The Lieutenant would have made a great DI in the Regiment, Sir.”
“She may just end up there.”
“If I may be so bold, Margrave, she’s perfect for the job where she is right now.”
“You’re right, Corp. Although, she doesn’t have a formal job description.”
“Exactly,” he said with another grin.
Franklin sighed and leaned his head back in the cushion. They were still using the aircar Smith & Jones had liberated. An assassination squad had been sent in to kill Frank and Wendy shortly after their arrival. After neutralizing the threat, Frank had kept their vehicle . Smith & Jones were a pair of former Marine sergeants who provided security to Frank and Wendy. They accompanied Frank when he left Hepplewhite.
# # #
Because Montora Village was nestled in a deep, narrow valley, Panoz dipped behind the mountains long before it got truly dark. Franklin liked this time of the day to take a stroll through the village. Since there were usually tourists about, he dressed up a bit and took the opportunity to greet the visitors to the village.
He stepped into the hotel restaurant and slipped into a table at the back, which was his usual haunt.
“What will it be for you tonight, Sir?” the waiter asked.
“Just a cola on ice, if you please.”
After his soft-drink arrived, he leaned back, and enjoyed the atmosphere as he sipped from his glass. The hotel manager, Modest Marple, was constantly tweaking the décor of the hotel and restaurant and the results were usually effective.
“Out hob-nobbing with the little people tonight, Margrave?” the village minister asked as he slid into the chair across from Franklin.
“Hello, Father. Yes, I'm just cynical enough to believe some of the tourists will be more inclined to come back if they get a chance to meet a real live margrave.”
The Reverend Edmund Tracy Riggs was the minister at the small Anglican Reformed church in the village. Not only did he provide cradle to grave spiritual guidance for the village, he was plugged into the gossip circuit as well.
“That young couple you greeted on the way in seemed impressed, anyway.”
Franklin smiled. “I have to admit I enjoy making people smile. Those two are here on their honey-moon. I told Marple to let them have a meal on me. Maybe they'll make regular anniversary trips.”
“But you did that because you liked them, right?”
“Yeah,” Franklin shrugged. “Cute couple. But, don't tell anybody. It'll ruin my image.”
“Speaking of image, Margrave, I haven't seen you in the church yet. It encourages the villagers if they see their rulers worshiping with them.”
“Ha! Dad told me about you, Father.”
Riggs raised both hands, palms upward. “Me?”
“Yes, you. He said you were a nice guy and a good friend when you weren't trying to get everybody saved.”
>
“He must've been talking about someone else.”
“You're the only one in the village who regularly uses all three names. Must be you.”
“Since you've clearly identified the clergy, tell me about your soul,” Riggs said.
“I think it's in there and it works, Father.”
“Yes, but does it know God?”
Franklin waved his hand with a grin. “Not tonight, Father. I'm just here to enjoy my imported cola and see the people.”
“I'm not trying to be pushy, Margrave.”
“Yes, you are. It's your job. I'll let you sit down sometime and explain it all to me, but not tonight.”
“Fair enough.” Riggs stood up. “Always good to see you, Margrave.”
“The same, Father.”
chapter three
Martin Boodles was a retired Major of Logistics with the Baltic Regiment. Retired meant Boodles managed the base camp for the mercenary Regiment. Colonel Otto Putin, the regimental commander, was dedicated to providing a haven for the people who spent a career in his mercenary organization. Boodles was a very good logistics officer and was also well thought of by the Regiment in general and the retirees in particular.
“Come on in to my office, Major,” Franklin said. “You’re in field dress today, I see.”
“Thank you, Margrave.” The major was a trim, middle-aged man who looked much younger than his years. “Yes, I’m leading the team that’s going with you this morning.”
“Today’s tasking is not so critical as to require the base CO, Major. One of your senior sergeants would have been fine.”
Boodles smiled as Franklin waved him to a chair. “I had a couple of reasons for this, Margrave…”
“Please, call me Franklin. At least in here.”
“Of course, Franklin. And I am Martin. As I was saying... First of all, I believe this is the first time we’ve had a Tiger Team go with you. I’d feel more comfortable if I were along, even though the non-coms will be running the show for us. Secondly, I feel the need to get out and directly lead from time to time. I’m not comfortable sending people out on jobs I am unwilling to do myself.”
“I somehow don’t believe that’s what your people think.”
“Let’s put it this way, Franklin, it’s part of the job.”
“Now, that I understand. So it wasn’t just an excuse to get out of bed this morning?”
“Certainly not!” he grinned. “I’m an early riser.”
Franklin looked at him. “I should say so. I thought I got up early, but I’ve seen you jogging through the village on PT with the troops as I was working through my first cup of coffee.”
“It baffles my clerk, Sergeant Dancey. Most of the combat people join me each morning even though they are technically retired. Of course, she is usually at her desk by six o’clock in spite of my instructions to keep reasonable hours.”
“You’ve got great people here, Martin. We are very appreciative of their contributions to life in the village as well.”
“This is their home, now,” Boodles said. “They are as much interested in moving this place forward as the original residents.”
“Probably more so, if you ask me. Anyway…”
“Yes, Franklin,” the Major said. “You wanted to see me before-hand?”
“Yep. Let me call Daphne in too. She needs to know about this. She’s still mad because I wouldn’t tell her yesterday.”
Franklin tapped a spot on his computerized desktop. “Daphne, could you sit in on this please?”
Daphne stepped into the office and gave a nod to the Major.
“Sit down Daphne. I thought you should be in this meeting so you will hear the same thing I’m telling the Major.”
She nodded at him and, for once, had nothing to say.
“Okay, the Navy is turning a destroyer and crew over to Hepplewhite to provide security. The duchy will be responsible for paying the crew and upkeep on the ship.”
“Pardon me, Franklin, but that will require more money than the duchy has, won’t it?” Boodles said.
“You got it. The Prime Minister, the Earl Paravel and I are scratching around for ideas on how to finance this. You may surmise we are open to suggestion. But the main purpose today is to let you know you will have some responsibilities in liaising with our new Navy. We’re going to meet again next week to start fleshing out the details. But for intents and purposes, you represent the ground forces for Hepplewhite. Neither Foxworth or Wilson have a military worth sneezing at.”
“Do I have your leave to send a report to the Colonel about this?”
“Yes, Martin, I think you do. From what Dad has told me about the Colonel, I expect some negotiations to take place before we formalize the role of the Baltic Regiment in this mess.”
“That is self-evident,” Boodles said with a smile. “I will also do some thinking about this. May I assume the Navy was looking ahead when they arranged this transfer?”
Franklin raised an eyebrow.
“In terms of the galactic political situation.”
“Yes, you may assume,” Franklin said.
“The Merchant’s League is going down the tubes,” Daphne said. “And the Navy with it.”
“You’ve got the gist of it, Daphne,” Franklin said. “This probably won’t happen tomorrow, or maybe even next year. But Carlo Roma and Willard Krause are convinced it’s as sure as Panoz coming up in the east tomorrow morning.”
“Well, it came up in the east this morning, so that’s probably a safe bet,” Boodles murmured.
“Exactly. Now, you two have about as much information as I. Any questions?”
“You want this held close, Franklin?” Daphne said.
“For right now. I forgot to ask the Prime Minister if this was public knowledge. If he releases it to the newsies, then we can talk about it. Probably, though, we don’t want to say anything officially. I’m happy to let that come from the Duke’s office. If anybody asks, just tell them we’re excited about the possibilities and are working with the Duke’s office for a smooth implementation.”
“You know, Franklin,” Daphne said, “just when I’m convinced you’re an idiot, you go and do something competent.”
“I have my moments.”
Boodles cleared his throat and stood up. “If there’s nothing further…”
Franklin jumped up too. “Thanks for coming, Major. I guess we’ll be skids-light in another half hour or so?”
Boodles looked at his wrist chrono. “Twenty-eight minutes. I need to make sure the team is properly turned out.”
“Of course.”
Boodles walked out of the room.
“Thanks, Daff.”
“Anytime, Margrave. Is that what you’re wearing today?”
“Is there a problem?”
“You look like you just came out of the fields.”
“I hear you, Daff. In this case, I want the villagers to believe I am just like them.”
“Nobody’ll believe that.”
“True, but I need to send them a message. I think this is the best way to do it.”
Daphne cocked her head as she considered what he said. “I guess I’ll have to reserve judgment.”
“In other words, you think I’m right, but you don’t want to admit it.”
“Go to hell, Franklin,” she said as she spun on her foot and walked out of the office.
“Such language, Ms. Locke!” Franklin said.
Franklin walked into the courtyard of the castle followed by Alex Nesmith. Franklin looked up at the sky.
“Have you looked at the weather for today?”
“The usual,” Alex said. “It’ll be clear this morning and then cloud up after lunch. We’ll either have to get back at lunch time, or later afternoon to dodge the thunderstorms.”
“I’d place my bets on late afternoon,” Franklin said. “No telling what we will encounter down south.”
“Yes, Sir. I do believe the Major packed a lunch for everybody
.”
“I would be shocked if he did not. The man seems to be frighteningly competent.”
“He is frighteningly competent.”
There was a splat as a pair of water balloons splashed into the courtyard. One narrowly missed the Guard Captain.
“Uh oh,” Franklin said. “Do you think Harmon figured things out?”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “More likely a little birdie has been singing to him.”
Franklin began walking to the gate. “Well, whatever you do, don’t let Daphne know about it. We’ll never hear the end of it, otherwise.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“And fill up some more water balloons. After we get back today, we’re going hunting.”
Alex laughed. “Absolutely, Sir.”
# # #
The combat shuttle cruised at twelve thousand feet as it moved south along the Moody River Valley in central Montora. The margraviate spread out below them in a panorama. As they moved south, the heavy forests gradually diminished and the grasslands began to predominate. The wilderness was broken in patches where villages and smallholdings were planted. Hepplewhite was still a sparsely settled planet.
The Regimental shuttle was crewed by pilot, copilot and flight engineer. In addition to Franklin Nyman and Major Martin Boodles, sixteen troops were aboard. All were in their fifties and sixties. Though officially retired, they still loved getting in the field and were dedicated to providing security to Montora. Two of the troops manned the weapons hardpoints. Normally members of the shuttle crew took care of this function, but Frank Nyman had designated two other groups from the Regiment to handle customs chores at the Montoran borders, and Boodles improvised a bit to accommodate the crewing requirements.
“Have we had any problems at the customs sheds, Major?” Franklin asked. He was careful to observe the forms of address when the troops were about.
“Not recently, Margrave. Actually, when your father kicked Hercules Jones out, it sent a strong message.”
“I don't doubt that. Dad is good at things like that.”
“Yes, well, it worked in this case.”
“Think you could risk pulling back a bit on the resources?”
