by Ward Wagher
"That's not it, Glenn. If we are going to get married, Signe and I have to learn to work through these differences. Besides, I'm a big boy. I can take it."
Foxworth tapped the stylus on the blotter on his desk and looked out the window at Hepplewhite Castle. The rebuilding of the interior had slowed considerably after the Prime Minister returned. Apparently they were less frightened of him than of Franklin.
"What are you thinking, Glenn?”
"Not that it's any of my business, Franklin, but these are not just differences of opinion between you and Signe. I'm beginning to realize it's a fundamental change in outlook."
"I'd prefer you didn't start preaching to me too, Glenn," Franklin said quietly.
"If it won't help, I won't do it."
Franklin chuckled. "It really doesn't help in the slightest."
"What's Signe think of you haring off like this?"
"I haven't told her yet."
Foxworth folded his arms across his desk and leaned forward. "And when do you plan to tell her?"
"I haven't figured that out yet." He pondered for a few moments. "I am giving serious thought, though, to sending her a message once I reach orbit."
The Prime Minister snorted. "Just what I like to see: the unshakable courage in my future son-in-law."
"Give me a break, Glenn. What would you do if you were in my shoes?"
Foxworth smiled broadly. "I am not in your shoes. Therefore, I do not have to answer that question. I shall, however, watch with great interest."
"Oh, thank you so very, very much.”
# # #
On balance, Franklin decided he preferred Daphne's reaction. Signe sat next to him on the sofa in the living room of the Prime Minister's residence. "I don't want you to go," she said softly.
A single tear rolled down her cheek. Somehow it bothered him more than if she had really turned on the waterworks.
"It's only for three months. I have business to take care of, and it requires me personally. Besides, this will give us some space."
"You want to be away from me?" She looked at him.
"That's not what I meant, Precious. I will really miss you while I am gone."
"Then, what did you mean?”
"Well, we have been arguing a lot about your… faith. Maybe we can take a fresh approach to it after I get back."
"But what if you don't come back?" Her eyes welled up with tears.
"Come on, now. Of course I am coming back, Precious. I wouldn't leave you."
"That's not what I meant. What if you get killed?"
"I'm not going to get killed. I'm just going on a business trip."
"But if you got killed, I would never see you again."
Franklin looked at her with his head tilted. "Well, of course. That happens when people die. But, don't worry. Nothing is going to happen."
"But if it did." She stifled a sob. "I would not be able to look forward to seeing you in heaven. You would be…" She buried her face in her hands and began sobbing then.
Mrs. Saint Simons stepped around the corner into the living room and suddenly stopped. She looked at the tableau before her and quickly turned, exiting the room.
Franklin stood up. Signe quickly reached out and grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"
"I was just going to walk around the room. I just don't understand this."
"Please go with me to talk to Father Riggs. I'm sure he can help you to understand."
"Darling, Father Riggs talks to me every time he sees me. Believe me, I understand."
She began sobbing again. "Just… go."
He looked down at her as she cried. He began to reach out twice, but finally turned and slowly walked out of the room. He let himself out of the house and walked to the car parked in front. He stopped, looked back at the house, and then kicked the tire on the car. He stared at it for several moments, then climbed into the car and left.
chapter thirty-five
“How'd you rate a ride on one of Jesse Spelling's boats?” Prime Minister Foxworth asked.
“He's an old friend of Dad's,” Franklin said. “There's kind of an agreement between them – they call it professional courtesy.”
“Have you heard that old joke about the lawyer who fell in the ocean and the sharks wouldn't eat him?”
“Yeah, but neither Dad or Spelling would appreciate being called a lawyer.”
Foxworth laughed. “I guess we know their professional makeup then.”
“They're both sharp operators. I think they're friends because they don't directly compete with one another.”
“Must be,” Foxworth observed. “I've never heard of any of CourierNet's boats taking passengers. Message packets and small cargo only. Your Dad has some rich friends.”
Franklin looked down and scraped his boot around on the tarmac. “Well, Dad is not exactly worried about next month's rent, himself.”
Foxworth nudged Franklin with his shoulder. “I'm just pulling your chain, man.”
“If we keep jawing and I miss the shuttle, the skipper will likely leave without me, no matter what my name is. And Martin insisted I travel with an armed retainer,” Franklin said, looking around.
“The way I heard it, you asked for an escort,” Foxworth said.
Franklin shrugged. “Whatever.”
“One final question before you go, Franklin: why are you really going?”
“I need to consult with Colonel Putin and then I'm going to take a couple of days to visit Dad.”
“And why do I suspect that is not the whole truth?”
“Would I lie to you, Glenn?”
Foxworth laughed. “Boy, what a loaded question.”
“I told you God's honest truth, Glenn.”
“Okay, Margrave, I'll stick to my business, then. Only one thing: Signe wants you back in one piece, so take care of yourself.”
“Of course. Is that why she refused to see me off?” Franklin picked up his carry-bag and turned towards the waiting shuttle.
“Franklin, you know how upset she is about this.”
“And I don't know what the big deal is. I'm just taking an interstellar trip. I've done it a dozen times.”
“I know that, and you know that.”
“Right. And I'm going to miss her. But I'll be back. I guess I can tell you this, Glenn, even if she is your daughter. She's driving me crazy.”
“I understand. You should try living with two women in the house; actually three now, but the little one doesn't talk.”
“I know. Signe keeps me posted on Sarah.” They still didn't know the identity of the little girl they had rescued from the pirates, so Signe had begun calling her Sarah.
“Sarah's another kettle of fish, altogether.”
“Right. So what do we do about Signe? I'm at a complete loss.” Franklin looked frustrated.
“Take your trip, Franklin. And come home.”
“Right. That I'll do.” He walked towards the shuttle.
“And Franklin,” Foxworth said. “I'll be praying for you.”
Franklin stopped and turned around. “I guess it can't hurt. Might even do some good. See ya, Glenn.”
A figure carrying a zippered duffel trotted towards the shuttle. It was Murray Hopper.
“Murray,” Franklin called. “Carrying the luggage today? And where's Boodles' man?”
“Hey, Skipper. The Exec asked me to ride shotgun for you on this trip.”
“Daphne did? No offense, Murray, but I think the Major had some kind of a guard in mind; not a steward.”
“I'm qualified, Sir.”
Franklin hesitated, then visibly made up his mind. “Okay, Murray, we're out of time. Get aboard.”
Foxworth watched as Franklin Nyman, the Margrave Montora, stepped aboard the shuttle. Okay God, he prayed, I don't know what else to do or say. You're just going to have to take care of him, so we can get him to come to You.
# # #
Avis Brody, the captain of the Vickers Sprite was not a happy man.
The CourierNet Sprites were small fast starships designed to move information quickly between star systems. This information might take the form of data packets, physical mail pouches, or even small cargo. What they did not have was a surfeit of space for human crew. The four man crew consisted of the skipper, the exec, the engineer, and the navigator / supercargo. Having a passenger on board meant two of the crew had to double up in one of the meager cabins. It disturbed the routine and upset the crew.
“Well, Mister Nyman,” he ground out, “the owner says I have to take Frank Nyman or anyone in his family as a passenger anytime it is requested. But he did not say I have to like it.”
“I apologize for the inconvenience, Captain Brody,” Franklin said. “Keep in mind that my dad extends the same privilege to Captain Spelling, as well as to his employees. Do you suppose there was a reason for this reciprocity?”
“I don't know and I don't care. You are assigned to cabin four. So is your fellow passenger. You will, by God, stay in your cabin except for meals and to use the head. You do not have the freedom of the bridge. You will not converse with the crew. I have never had to space anybody, but there is always a first time. Have I made myself clear?”
“As crystal, Sir.”
”Then git!”
Franklin got.
Staterooms on the Sprite class vessels were slightly larger than coffins. This one was no exception. It contained two bunks, stacked vertically. The rest of the furniture consisted of a built-in desk and a chair.
Murray Hopper was sitting in the only chair in the stateroom when Franklin walked in.
“Up! That's my chair.”
Hopper jumped up. “Skipper, there is only one chair in here.”
“Murray, you have amazing powers of deduction. If you follow that line of reasoning, you will note that one of us can sit down. Guess who?”
“I learned from you, Sir.”
“Right. Now guess what we're going to talk about next?” Franklin eased into the chair and pointed to the lower bunk.
Hopper squatted down to slide his rear into the lower bunk. When he leaned back, his head banged the upper bunk. “Oof. You wanted to talk about the itinerary, Sir?”
“Strike one, Murray. Three strikes and I'll tell the Captain he can go ahead and space you.”
“I'm just getting warmed up, Sir. Next pitch?”
“God, this is going to be a long trip.”
“I don't think God is in this room, Sir,” Murray said.
“According to my girlfriend He is. But we're not going there. That's strike two, Murray.”
“I'm trained in unarmed combat. I'm pretty good with most weapons. I was Louie's bouncer and acted as his bodyguard when he felt the need.”
“I missed all that somehow, and Louie never mentioned it. How did you end up as my Steward on Canopus?”
“I was also the head waiter at the restaurant in the Cambridge Arms. Louie suggested me to the Exec.”
Franklin stared at Murray for a while before speaking again. “So what else are you good at?”
The steward looked uncomfortable.
“Come on, Murray. Out with it. Do you dress in women's clothes at night, or something?”
“Uh, Sir, I'm good at what is called sneaking and peeking.”
“You're a peeping Tom?”
“No, Sir!” Murray said indignantly. “I'm really good at getting in and out of places without people seeing me.”
Franklin rubbed his chin. “You know, that might come in handy.”
“I do my best, Sir. If you could give me some idea of the itinerary, I can be planning and getting things lined up for you.”
“Didn't the Major brief you?”
“No, Sir. The Exec didn't either.”
“Martin must be falling down on the job. Daphne I can understand. Okay, in summary I am going out to Addison's Planet to meet with Colonel Putin of the Baltic Regiment – that's Major Boodles' boss. I expect to spend a couple weeks there. Then over to New Stockholm to see my dad. That'll just be a family visit. Then home again.”
“Thanks, Skipper. I hope you don't mind my asking questions as we go along. I think I'm going to need more than that to help you.”
“Fair enough. Right now, though, I'm going to get some shut-eye. I've been up twenty-seven hours straight getting ready for this stupid trip. Wake me up in time for dinner. And, by the way, I get the bottom bunk. Please stay out of my way.”
“Of course, Skipper. You don't snore, do you?”
Franklin stopped while in the process of removing his turtleneck and turned back to Hopper. “Ever had any experience breathing vacuum, Murray?”
“I take the Skipper's point.”
Some time later Franklin awakened to the smell of coffee. He rolled over and opened his eyes. A second chair and a narrow table had magically appeared in the stateroom. On the table sat a carafe and a cup.
“If the Captain decides to pitch me out the airlock, Murray, you'll be along for the ride.”
“No problem, Skipper. The engineer does the cooking and he's a good guy. Dinner is in fifteen, by the way.”
“Whatever anyone says about your warped personality, I won't criticize the job you do. That coffee smells good.”
The steward carefully poured a cup and handed it to Franklin. “I know you like a little wakey-wakey after you sleep.”
Franklin cradled the cup in his hands and took a sip. He groaned. “That's good. How long was I out?”
“About three hours, Sir. I'm surprised you didn't hear me. You were out about five seconds after your head hit the pillow.”
“My first duty station in the Navy had me bunking with a Lieutenant who stayed up about twenty-two hours per day, I think. I learned to sleep with the lights on, and people walking in and out. And Lieutenant Podchenko was not what you would call quiet.”
“I can be pretty quiet, Sir.”
“I guess we'll test that during this trip. I suppose I'd better grab some time in what passes for a fresher on this bucket and get ready for dinner.”
“Sir, I've laid out your evening wear over the chair here. And your toiletries are on the desk. And I cleaned the fresher this afternoon. It was... not up to standard.”
“Thanks, Murray. We'll erase one strike.”
“Oh, thank-you, Sir. Now maybe I'll get home to the wife and my eleven children.”
Franklin snorted as he headed for the door. “It's really interesting how bodies in a vacuum spin around as the contents eject themselves out every orifice.”
“If it's all the same to you, Sir, I'll just stay inside and watch.”
The sprites were among the fastest vessels in space, so Franklin was not quite to the point of complete mental breakdown from the hours spent with Murray Hopper by the time they reached Addison's Planet. But it wasn't a pleasant trip. The waves of disapproval boiled off of the captain every time Franklin stepped into the micro-sized wardroom. The other three crew-members seemed mostly amused.
“I know you weren't too happy about it, but I do thank you for the trip, Captain,” Franklin said as he stepped into the boarding tube to the shuttle.
“And I'll thank you to get off my boat,” Brody snapped. “I will keep your steward, however, if you want to get rid of him. He, at least, contributed some value to the trip.”
“And thank-you, you bald-headed old coot!” Franklin muttered as he crossed into the shuttle.
Murray chuckled. “I don't think the Captain liked you, Skipper.”
“Correction, Murray. He didn't much like me when we came aboard. He hates me now.”
They moved down the center aisle of the shuttle. “The poker game?”
“Yep. He thought he had a pigeon.”
“How much did you take him for?”
“About five thousand Centaurans.”
Hopper whistled. He put Franklin's carryall in the overhead bin and tossed his bag in too, before sliding into the seat. “That had to hurt.”
“Well, old man Spelling pay
s his captains well, but I think it pinched a bit.”
“I watched you play while I was passing the canapés. You're good.”
“I learned from a Woogie when I was in the Academy. Spike was a terror at cards.”
“Better than Louie?”
“Yep. Louie is good, but Spike was in another league.”
“I never play with Louie. Poker is one thing I have not mastered.”
“Wise, Murray. You might die breathing oxygen.”
“That is my fondest hope, Skipper.”
chapter thirty-six
"What do we have here? Another Nyman, I believe," said Colonel Otto Putin of the Baltic Regiment. His speech was interspersed with profanity. Putin stood up and walked around the desk to greet Franklin.
"Thank you for seeing me, Colonel. I know you are a busy man.”
"No problem at all, young Mr. Nyman. Your esteemed father hauled my chestnuts out of the fire by giving me a base on Hepplewhite. So, not only am I happy to meet you, but I also want to find out what Major Boodles has been doing in the meanwhile."
Franklin had only met the Colonel once or twice before, and studied him as they began the conversation. The tall, white haired soldier stood ramrod straight in his bemedaled black uniform. His tanker boots were polished to a mirrorlike sheen, and the uniform was completely unwrinkled. Franklin thought it interesting that Putin maintained his decorum, other than the language, even while alone in his office.
"Life has been exciting, I'm sorry to say," Franklin said. "We've contended with a pirate raid and a kidnapping. I've also had to outfit a destroyer for the Hepplewhite system Navy."
"But, done so successfully, according to the Major's report."
Franklin wondered if Putin ever spoke at anything other than a shout. "It depends on how you measure success, Sir. We recovered the kidnapping victims with minimal loss of life. We have a fairly effective crew trained for the ship. And, the planetary militias are beginning to come together; no small thanks to Major Boodles. But, financially it's been a disaster."
Putin shook his head. "Tell me about it, young Mr. Nyman. War is always expensive, and the governments that hire the Regiment usually have no idea how ruinously expensive. You are fortunate to have learned this in a relatively controlled environment. I just wish you would quit letting my retirees get themselves killed." The last was a full shout.
