by Ward Wagher
"Yes, but with that ten percent he can throw his weight around where Montora is concerned. This is a little scary."
"Things like this are always scary," Franklin said. "But my parents borrowed money from him to finance their ship, and that worked out okay. He likes Dad."
"But does he like you?"
"The jury is out on that. I think he's the sort of fellow you have to prove yourself to."
"I expect you will have that opportunity, Sir.”
"I expect I will." Franklin paused and leaned back in his chair. "Any issues on the ship I need to be aware of?"
"I've been exercising the crew against the sims in the tactical computer. I am beginning to see signs that things might be coming together for us."
"You mean we actually might be able to fight the ship?" Franklin said with a grin.
"We can hope, Sir."
"That's good," Franklin nodded slowly as he spoke.
Daphne studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Uh huh. Okay, Skipper, drop the other shoe."
"Our old friend Charles Steelmaker not only provided our armaments, but also gave us access to some intelligence. I think we have a pretty good line on the pirates, and where we can find them."
"And where might that be?"
"We are going to take a run out to Tetrarch."
“To Victor?”
"Yep. It confirmed what we had been thinking. It makes sense," he said. "I think every other pirate in the known universe goes there to fence the loot.”
“Was Steelmaker guessing, or did he actually have some hard evidence?" Daphne asked.
"All of the big industrialists maintain intelligence operations. They have to. I gave him the emissions data Boodles' people collected on the pirate and he was able to match it. Or rather his people did."
"Do we have a name for Mr. Pirate, Skipper"
"I thought you might ask that question, and yes we do. Does the name Manfred Higginbotham mean anything to you?"
She shook her head. "Not to me. May I assume you recognized it?"
"Oh, yes. Dad had an encounter with him several years ago. He's a nasty piece of work."
"And your dad got out of it intact?"
"Yep. But it was a close run thing."
Daphne looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you should allow me to handle all of the formal communications when we make orbit around Victor – just to avoid having someone recognizing your name"
Franklin nodded. "Once we complete our business here, you, the TAC officer, and I are going to lock ourselves in the conference room for some intense brainstorming."
"You mean you don't have this figured out already, Skipper?"
"Ha! My navy background is tactical. That doesn't include sneaking and peeking. I'm counting on whatever experience you picked up from Hai Ciera to help us out."
"I wish he were here with us, Skipper."
"Me too. I don't understand why he hasn’t shown up. I think Dad expected him to stick around and help us, and frankly, I did too."
"He left, what, a week after your dad did? Have you heard from him?"
"Not a word."
"Strange."
Franklin shrugged. "I don't propose to worry about it right now. We will just have to muddle through somehow."
There were a few moments of quiet as Franklin and Daphne sat in the captain's cabin pondering things.
"Is there anything else, Exec?"
"One other thing: Signe and Ensign Chaplin found a software wizard in Braxton. They seem to have gotten Louie fixed up."
"So he is making sense, now?" Franklin grinned.
"Probably as much as he ever has. He is still Louie."
"That's a relief. As light as the crew is, we can't afford to have any die of mirth."
# # #
"And just where have you been, Commander?"
Hai Ciera was sitting in Martin Boodles’ office, across the desk from the major.
"I don't even know where to begin, Major. For the past several months I have been in the middle of a unicorn romp. I thought I was making a quick trip out to Alsace. Admiral Krause caught me and sent me on an errand to New Prussia. The Elector thinks he is Frederick the Great, and has been casting longing eyes at Alsace. I spent all my time politicking with the noblemen there to convince them to throw a leash and collar on their attack dog."
"And the admiral could not do this?" Boodles raised his eyebrows.
"No, the admiral told me he can't come trotting out every time one of the local panjandrums gets out of line. My mission was to teach the ruling class to maintain control."
Boodles snorted. "With all due respect to the admiral, he really doesn't like to get his hands dirty."
"I agree. But, he's right, though. The Navy isn't going to be around forever. The day it disappears, the whole sector will dissolve into anarchy, unless the local rulers have learned how to govern."
"Nice of him to use you for that little job." Boodles said dryly.
"I wasn't too happy about it myself. However, to be fair, Krause no longer has a lot of resources at his disposal. I was there. He knows me. Ergo, I got pressed into the job. We both figured Montora could survive without me for a few months."
Boodles shook his head. "That may have been a generous overestimation."
"Yeah," Ciera said thoughtfully. "What's going on? And where is everybody?"
"You won't believe this, Commander…."
Ciera leaned back in his chair. "Try me."
"The short version is we had a pirate raid on Cambridge. The Prime Minister and his wife were kidnapped. Franklin and Daphne put together a scratch crew and went after them in the destroyer the Navy just turned over to us."
"And you just let him go?" Ciera was incredulous. "The Pirates will chew him up and spit him out."
Boodles twisted his head in consideration. "I don't know, Hai. It looked to me like he has the makings of a pretty good skipper."
"Willard Krause told me the same thing. But that's not what I am talking about. It's when he is on the ground that I would worry about him. He struck me as naïve."
Boodles shrugged. "He was determined to go, and I helped him. It seemed like a fool's errand to me, but we lose a lot of the stability here on Hepplewhite without Glenn Foxworth."
"Any ideas on where he went?"
"He was heading to Harcourt’s World first, to try to try to find some missiles. After that, your guess is as good as mine."
"What's your guess?" Ciera asked.
"Where does every pirate in the sector eventually end up?"
Ciera snorted. "Right. Victor. I should’ve thought of that."
“With the destroyer he probably can outgun anything in the immediate neighborhood, unless the Navy itself shows up."
"And you know as well as I do," Ciera said with a one-sided grin, "that Victor is the one place the Navy is not likely to show up."
"Precisely. Considering the junk that most Pirates fly, our friend Franklin will have the big guns when he shows up."
"And everyone with a guilty conscience will just keep their heads down until Franklin moves on."
Boodles shook his head. "I'm willing to wait and see. It's Franklin's show, and I have seen some surprising depth in the young man."
Ciera frowned. "On the other hand, Frank expected me to keep an eye on him. I suppose I'm going to have to go out there myself."
"You think Franklin will be glad to see you?"
"Not my problem, nor yours. Any idea when the next ship is leaving Hepplewhite?"
Boodles leaned back and tapped a tooth with his fingernail. "Let's see. You arrived yesterday. That means the next ship through here will probably arrive in another week or so... headed the wrong direction."
Ciera looked disgusted. "So do you, or perhaps I should say the Colonel, have something that would get me to Harcourt's or to Victor?"
Boodles shook his head slowly. "Nope. I wish I did. A courier boat would have come in handy a number of times over the past six months."
&nbs
p; "That's what I was afraid you were going to say."
"Well, don't assume you're stranded here, Hai. Something is bound to turn up."
"I have always liked your optimism, Martin. In this case it is probably unfounded."
"Oh ye of little faith."
"Right. If you don't mind, Major, I'm going to slip into Cambridge and shake the trees. Maybe some information will land at my feet that nobody else caught."
"I admire your work ethic."
"Has anyone ever told you, Martin, that you have a wicked tongue?"
"Every day."
Ciera snorted. "At least you are honest."
chapter twenty
HSN Canopus eased up to the missile collier Cold Steel after a short trip to the outer reaches of the Vance system. Chief Petty Officer Thomas Sabbath was at the helm with Petty Officer First Peter Gosling backing him up.
"Bring her in smartly, Chief," Lieutenant Franklin Nyman said. "If we scratch the paint on that collier, old man Steelmaker will have my hide."
"Aye, aye, sir. Smartly it is."
Lieutenant Daphne Locke, the Executive Officer, sat in her seat next to the captain and watched as the helmsman eased the destroyer into position. She leaned over so she could speak quietly to Franklin. "I still can't believe you talked him into a full missile load out, Skipper."
Franklin Nyman chuckled quietly. "Honestly, Daff, I can't believe it either. On the other hand, there is an old saying about looking gift horses in the mouth. We got our ammunition for what amounts to the deal of the century. With any luck at all, we will not fire a shot and will return to Hepplewhite, not only with the Foxworths, but with a full load of ammo as well."
The helmsman jockeyed the thrusters a bit, then leaned back in his seat and studied his instruments. "We are in position, Skipper."
"That was handsomely done, chief. Please maintain stationkeeping."
Aye, aye, Sir."
"Chief Barrett, let Cold Steel know we are in position, in case they haven’t figured it out."
Aye, aye, Sir."
A few moments later the communications technician raised his head. "Cold Steel acknowledges we are in position, Skipper."
"Thank you, Chief."
Daphne stood up. "I suppose I'd better go supervise the transfer of cargo."
Franklin looked up at her. "I didn't think about drilling the crew on EVA procedures. But I’m glad I’ve got you running things, Exec. You probably have the team suited up and ready to go."
The color drained from Daphne's face. "What did you say?"
Franklin looked at her for a full fifteen seconds and then stood up. "Mr. Simmons, you have the conn."
The TAC officer immediately jumped to his feet. "Aye, aye, Sir. I have the conn."
Franklin took Daphne by the arm and guided her into the captain's ready room. When the door slid shut he turned to her. "So you're telling me you didn't know we would be responsible for unloading the cargo?"
"That's exactly what I am saying, Skipper. I'm not trying to make excuses. I simply didn't know." She looked him unflinchingly in the eye as she spoke to him.
Franklin grimaced and shook his head. "My fault, Daphne. I assumed you knew this. I should have reminded you."
Daphne looked around the room and then searched his face again. "I am at your orders, Sir."
"I know you are, Exec. Let's go sort out the mess."
He turned and walked out of the ready room, with Daphne following. "We will be at the forward loading bay, Mr. Simmons."
"Understood, Sir."
They walked into the elevator and the doors closed.
"Okay, who do we have on board with EVA experience?"
Daphne shook her head. "I really screwed this one up, Franklin. I have no idea."
"Look at me, Daff. That is in the past now. Plus, it’s as much my fault. But we still have to recover. What are you going to do now?"
Daphne bit her lip and looked at the floor. She rocked her head back and forth a couple of times and then pulled out her comm handset. She punched four numbers and listened.
"Stores, Lieutenant Foxworth."
"It's the Exec, Lieutenant. I've got my tail in a crack and need some help."
"If it's within my power, Exec, I'll do it."
"I just found out we're going to be responsible the transfer of the cargo from the Cold Steel. Who do we have with EVA experience?"
"Let's see, we've got five EVA work suits in the forward bay, and another fifteen in the back. I'll send five forward, and dig up some more bodies. Any more than that and we'll have a circus."
"Have her send up a suit for me," Franklin said.
Daphne looked at Franklin in surprise.
"I have EVA experience. I might as well supervise this. I don't want you out there without training, Exec. If we don't pay attention somebody is likely to get killed."
She put the phone back to her ear and turned to face the wall. "And the Skipper said to bring up a suit for him too."
"The Skipper?"
"Yes, Lieutenant. He claims to have EVA experience."
“Claims?” Franklin said.
"Give me a few minutes to figure out who we can use,” Signe said. “Then I'll roll them out and have them up to you in ten or fifteen."
"Make it ten, Lieutenant," Daphne said. "We have people waiting."
"Aye, aye, Exec."
Daphne disconnected and turned to Franklin. "Here's hoping our supply officer can haul our chestnuts out of the fire, Skipper."
"You handled that well, Daphne, I thought."
"There are no prizes for last place, Sir."
Franklin smiled. "You’re right about that. Let’s go take delivery of some missiles.”
# # #
None of the Chiefs on board had significant EVA experience, and Signe was only able to find five ratings who had qualified for deep space EVA. Fortunately the captain of the Cold Steel recognized Franklin's dilemma and threw his crew into the operation. After four hours of hard work, the combined crews completed the transfer of the pallets of missiles between the two ships.
After sealing the cargo hatch and re-pressurizing the hold, the exhausted crew stumbled into the corridor. Franklin leaned against the wall and removed his helmet. He reached with his hand and wiped the sweat off his face.
"That's the worst part about jobs like this," he said. "You get sweat floating around inside the suit; gets in your eyes and nose, and you can't do a thing about it."
He looked over at the exhausted crewmen. "You guys done good. I will have the Exec give you one watch to sleep-in, plus you can have a Hollywood shower. Dismissed."
He turned as Daphne strode up to him. "Did the collier leave?"
"Yes, Skipper."
"Okay, make preparations to get underway. I told the EVA crew you would give them an extra watch in the sack, plus a Hollywood shower."
She nodded. "Aye, aye, Skipper. They deserve the long shower. And I'll start scheduling a group of teams to move the missiles to the magazines."
"Very well, Exec. When I get to the bridge we can get underway. Right now, this boy needs a shower."
Ten minutes later Franklin emerged from the elevator in a clean uniform.
"Captain on the bridge!"
"As you were," Franklin said. "I have the conn."
Daphne stepped aside from the captain's chair. "The Captain has the conn."
He slid into his chair and Daphne sat in the chair to his left. "Navigation, is the course laid in?"
"Yes, Sir."
He pushed a button on the arm of the chair.
"Engineering, Chief Engineer Louie," came the electronic voice from the speaker.
"Chief, this is the Skipper. Are we ready to make gravs?"
"Engineering is ready, Skipper."
“Good to hear you making sense, Louie.”
“It is good to be understood, Skipper.”
Franklin looked at the helmsman. "Chief Sabbath, you may proceed."
"Aye, aye, Sir. Timer se
t. Drives engaged on the tick."
A few seconds later the subsonic rumble of the sublight drives could be felt through the deck plates.
"Drives engaged, Sir," the helmsman said. "Propulsion systems nominal. Power levels set to eighty percent."
"Very good, Chief Sabbath. Lieutenant Locke, set the maneuvering watch.”
“Aye, aye, Sir,” Daphne said. “You are scheduled for first watch.”
“So I am.”
She stood up. “Everyone not on this watch is dismissed.”
After the extras left the bridge she turned to Franklin. “With your permission, Sir.”
“Of course, Exec,” he murmured. And she left the bridge.
Franklin leaned back in the captain's chair and observed the action on the bridge. The voyage from Hepplewhite to Harcourt had served to settle the bridge crew in to a smooth functioning routine.
"Helmsman, how long until we transition to FTL?"
"Three hours, 45 minutes, Sir."
Franklin looked over at the TAC Officer. "Mr. Simmons, I downloaded a couple of tactical problems to you. Once we shift over to FTL, you can exercise your department with them. Since the exec is busy moving missiles from the hold to the magazines I'm not going to call general quarters just now."
"Aye, aye, Sir. Is there anything in particular we should know about these simulations?"
Franklin grinned. "Only that I have been working on them for a while. I think you'll enjoy them."
Ensign Sanford Kane, the assistant tactical officer, was not quite successful in stifling a groan. Simmons turned to glare at him
"I always worry about my crews not having enough to do."
"Right, Skipper," Simmons said dryly.
Yeoman Candy Gibson stepped onto the bridge and walked over to Franklin. “Here's the log, Sir," she said as she handed him a hand comp.
"Thank you, Yeoman." Franklin took the tablet and carefully read down through the day's log entries.
"This looks to be in order." He pressed his thumb against the reader at the base of the device, and handed it back. "Thank you, Yeoman."
"My pleasure, sir." She turned and left the bridge
Franklin stood up. "Mr. Simmons, you have the conn. I will be in my ready room."
