The Margrave of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 2)

by Ward Wagher

  "Gentlemen, I hope this will be satisfactory," the adjutant said. "We try not to build up too much infrastructure while we're on the job.”

  Franklin walked into the living room of the small guest cottage and looked into a compact kitchen. On either side was a bedroom with a fresher at the rear. "This looks very nice, Captain; I appreciate the courtesy."

  "The quarters should be completely set up. There is a bar over there in the corner. The refrigerator is stocked. You will, of course, be free to guest in the officers mess and the enlisted mess respectively. I will have someone bring you a portacomp along with access to our network."

  "Once again, thank you, Captain. I greatly appreciate the hospitality of the Regiment."

  The captain smiled. "It's the least we can do for our Margrave." He snapped to attention, clicked his heels together and left the quarters.

  "Close the door, Hopper."

  The steward closed the door and turned to Franklin expectantly.

  "Before we do anything else, Hopper, I want to make something very clear."

  "Yes, sir?"

  "While I can endure a certain amount of flippant remarks, indeed I'm guilty of it myself, you will not ever shoot off your mouth like that in front of another officer. Ever."

  "Sir, I didn't…"

  Franklin stepped close to Hopper, and lowered his voice. "Have I made myself clear?"

  Hopper shivered. "Clear, Sir. I apologize, Sir."

  Franklin stepped back, and glared at Hopper for a few moments more. “Very well, Hopper. Go see if you can find a coffee pot. I would like a cup before we lunch with the Colonel."

  Franklin slumped into an easy chair with a sigh. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

  The steward studied Franklin for a few moments, as he would a coiled rattlesnake. Then he walked in the kitchen and started opening cupboards.

  A sergeant with communications brassards arrived a few moments later with a portacomp, which he set up for Franklin. Franklin logged in, and then jumped across the planetary net. He spent some time searching for mining companies and tried to associate them with key individuals. This was more difficult on Addison's planet, than other places. Because of the ever present danger of kidnapping by the Barkers, the wealthy, and the senior managers kept a low profile.

  Hopper quietly set a mug of coffee on the table next to Franklin, and then retreated to the bedroom. Franklin worked at his search for a while, then took a sip of coffee. He grimaced at the taste and continued working.

  Hopper came out of the first bedroom and walked across towards the other.

  "Hopper, when the opportunity presents, try to pick up some decent coffee. This tastes like the hot water was poured through camel dung.”

  "Aye, aye, Sir." He scooted into the other bedroom.

  Franklin looked down at the portacomp screen and entered some more search parameters. "The people hide themselves pretty well around here," he muttered.

  Forty-five minutes later Franklin and his Steward walked back over to Colonel Putin's office. Putin met them at the door. "I have a table reserved in the Officers Club. I hope your Steward will not mind eating with the enlisted."

  "Not a problem, Colonel" he nodded at Hopper who stepped away from them and walked towards what was clearly the enlisted men's mess tent.

  "I'm working on getting your luggage back out here from the hotel, Margrave. If it's not here by sometime this afternoon I will have the adjutant issue you some clothing. Is there anything else you might need?"

  "Your people have taken good care of me, Colonel. I'm anxious to begin the business I traveled out here for, but I realize events have intervened."

  "Quite. The Barkers have apparently decided this was a great time to stir up trouble again. I'm having to send out patrols into the city. You will understand, of course, that this has captured much of my attention."

  "I understand, Colonel. As I said, I will do my best to stay out of your way."

  "Let's go enjoy our lunch, Margrave. I want to hear what your desires are vis-à-vis Hepplewhite. We don't get many visitors here, plus we are motivated to help the Margrave."

  # # #

  “I want to thank you, Colonel, for your assistance over the past couple of weeks. I know the timing of my visit was execrable.”

  “You shouldn't think of yourself as imposing, Margrave,” Putin said. “Our job here is to suppress the insurgency, but I am surely capable of managing several tasks at once; particularly when one of those tasks is helping to stabilize our host nation.”

  “Well, I'm amazed we were able to put together a mining consortium as quickly as we did. I appreciate your help with that. The engineers will be arriving on Montora about the same time as I will. Panslavic promises to have equipment on site within six months.”

  “The economy is not great here at the moment,” the Colonel said. “I'd say they jumped at the opportunity.”

  Franklin was waiting to board the shuttle, which would take him to an orbiting liner. “I'm not prepared to complain about things. My next stop will be interesting, however.”

  “Your old man always has been difficult,” Putin said. “I think you are more like your mother.”

  “Probably so, although I've been told I have my dad's sense of humor.”

  “Your dad doesn't have a sense of humor,” Putin laughed. “He just thinks he does.”

  “Just so,” Hopper said as he stood beside Franklin.

  Putin turned to glare at the steward. Hopper colored. “I will go check on the seating assignments, Sir.” And he scurried into the shuttle.

  “I had hoped the dressing down you gave him would have made him think twice about shooting off his mouth,” Franklin said.

  “It normally has that effect on people,” the Colonel mused. “I wonder what went wrong.”

  During one afternoon's meeting, Hopper was the target of a blistering lecture from the Colonel on the proper deportment of aides de camp. Hopper had been subdued for days afterward.

  “I don't know. The chewing you gave him certainly frightened me.”

  A dry chuckle leaked from Putin. “Then you probably needed it too, young Franklin. While you show the necessary gravitas for a margrave, you don't have it all of the time.”

  “I acknowledge the hit, Colonel. My Executive Officer reminds me of that all the time.”

  “You should listen to her!”

  “You are right, of course.”

  “Yes, well, have a good trip and say hello to your father for me.”

  “Will do, Colonel. And don't stay away from Hepplewhite for too long.”

  Putin nodded and stuck out his hand to shake with Franklin, then stepped back and saluted. Franklin returned the salute, and entered the shuttle with a lump in his throat.

  As the shuttle climbed to orbit, Hopper watched through the window as the sky turned from a light blue to a deep purple and then to black. The stars shone with a clarity unfiltered by planetary atmosphere.

  He leaned back in his seat and looked at Franklin. “I never get tired of that view, Sir.”

  “You'll get no criticism from me over that, Hopper.” Franklin mused for a few moments and then snorted. “You look out there and almost want to believe the nonsense that Father Riggs keeps spouting.”

  Hopper looked outside again. “I think about that sometimes, Sir. I mean, what if Riggs is right?”

  Franklin sighed deeply. “It's not just the good father. I now have Signe and her parents trying to draw me to the Saviour, as they call it. Much as I like and respect the Prime Minister, I get annoyed by the constant talk. But, you're right. If they're right and we're wrong, the consequences could ultimately be catastrophic.”

  “I thought about that when the Colonel was yelling at me,” Hopper said. “I mean, if the Colonel got that mad at me, I wonder what God would say. I don't think I'd like to have Him really mad at me.”

  “If I were you I would pay attention to the immediate consequences of Otto Putin's tirade.”

 
Hopper shrugged. “It's sort of like one of the thunderstorms that rolls up over Cambridge during the summer. It can get kind of scary for a while and then it blows itself out.”

  Franklin looked over at Hopper with shock on his face. “Hopper, have you ever seen anyone get struck by lightning during one of those storms? I mean, I'm not sure I believe in a supreme deity, but I'd think twice about shaking my fist at Him. You toy around with the Colonel like that, there might be some permanent results.”

  Hopper chuckled. “What's he gonna do, pull out a gun and shoot me? I just wipe the spit off my face and get on with life.”

  “He has been known to do just that, Hopper. He is not to be trifled with.”

  Hopper laughed. “Come on, Margrave. Old man Putin wouldn't do something like that.”

  “God's honest truth, Hopper. Dad told me about it. It was during a tight moment during a tough ground campaign, but he did it. You'd better start listening to people.”

  Hopper leaned back in his seat and stared straight ahead, but he still had a smirk on his face. “He sure does swear a lot.”

  Franklin shook his head and pulled out his portacomp. “Dad said he was the most profane man he knows.”

  chapter thirty-eight

  New Stockholm was a pretty planet, assuming one could generalize. Sarah's Star was not a very energetic primary, and so showered the planet with less than average amounts of radiation, despite the rather close orbit. The lack of significant mountains, as well as not having much of an axial tilt, produced a planet-wide climate which was relatively placid. If there was a downside to this world, it was the swampy coastal areas, which ringed its oceans. The planet was thronged with large cetaceans, and huge insectoids, but nothing much that was very dangerous.

  Franklin and Hopper rode a shuttle down to the starport at Gustav, the planetary capital, and then took a cab into the small city. The driver took them through the downtown area and out the other side where the road wound its way up one of the few hills in the area. He pulled into the parking lot of a four story red brick building. Narrow windows ringed each floor and hanging on the upper left corner of the building was the legend:

  The Garrett Building.

  They walked into the lobby and checked the office listing, then took an elevator to the fourth floor. At the end of the hall they stepped into a medium-sized office with a single desk facing the door as they walked in.

  The middle-aged man behind the desk stood up. "Well, Lieutenant, you seem to get around just a bit."

  Franklin walked forward to shake the man's hand. "Hello, Cedric. I see they don't let normal people share an office with you, still."

  "You see how busy I am," the man responded with a lopsided grin.

  "Sergeant Smith, this is Spaceman Second, Murray Hopper. Hopper, this is Sergeant Cedric Smith of the Baltic Regiment."

  Hopper nodded. "You're a long way from home, Sarge."

  "Yeah, it goes with keeping an eye on thissun's old man. Something about this family, Hopper. It's hard to keep them out of trouble."

  Hopper opened his mouth to speak, but Franklin quickly put his hand up. "Stop right there, Hopper. I've known Smith all of my life, and he can pretty much say what he pleases. You are not quite to that stage, yet."

  Smith smiled more broadly. "Something tells me Hopper has already assumed the role."

  "Yes, and sometime very soon he is going to get caught on the wrong side of an airlock without a suit."

  Smith chuckled quietly. "I shouldn't worry too much if I were you, Hopper. His dad has threatened me with the same for years. When it comes right down to it, they know they can't do without us."

  "I am sorely tempted to try, though."

  Smith did laugh, then. "His dad says that regularly, too."

  "Is he like his father, then?" Hopper asked.

  "Not really," Smith replied. "Other than the idle threats, of course."

  "By the way," Franklin said, "I got directions at the starport, but the last I heard you had an office along the waterfront."

  "We're moving up in the world, Franklin. You're looking at the corporate offices for Nyman Trans-Space, Limited. Your old man is doing pretty well for himself.”

  "Speaking of which," Franklin said, "Is he around?"

  The smile disappeared from Smith's face. He nodded towards the doorway apparently going to the next office. "He's in his office. You can go on in. Hopper and I will go get a cup of coffee."

  "We will?" Hopper said.

  "Don't argue with the man, Hopper," Franklin laughed. He walked over to the office door, opened it, and stepped in.

  Franklin stood in the doorway and stared at his father. Frank Nyman sat at his desk, absorbed in a report displayed on the desktop screen. He looked old and worn out.

  "Either come on in, or go out, Sarge," Frank snapped as he continued reading.

  Franklin quietly closed the door, then moved over to sit in one of the chairs across the desk from his father. He waited for him to look up.

  Thirty seconds later: "Okay, what is it that can't wait?" He said as he looked up. His mouth opened as he stared at Franklin for about three seconds. “What are you doing here?”

  “I'm glad to see you too, Dad,” Franklin grinned at his father's surprise.

  Frank eased out of his chair and walked around the desk to hug his son. "Not that I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing in this neck of the woods?"

  "A long, tawdry tale, Dad. New Stockholm was really not along my route, but since I had to go out anyway, I really wanted to stop and see you."

  "Are you by yourself?"

  "I have a minder. Sort of like your Sergeant Smith."

  "I was just about to stop for some coffee. It's a bit early for lunch. There's a shop on the first floor."

  "You don't have a machine here? Smith took my Steward down for a cuppa."

  "Naah. We just got into the office yesterday, and really haven't had time to fix it up with all the comforts of home. We can pick up a coffee, and go for a walk."

  “Nice planet,” Franklin said as they walked past the parking lot into a small grassy sward.

  “Yes, it is. Kind of boring, though. Never gets too hot or too cold. No violent storms – it just rains, politely, between midnight and three in the morning. The planetary rotation is almost identical to Earth's. The locals love it, however.”

  Franklin slurped his coffee and grimaced. “Coffee is substandard.”

  “Yes. Yes, it is. I need to do something about that.”

  “Like get your own coffee maker? The office looks kind of empty.”

  “Or do something about the coffee shop.”

  “Do what? Shoot it up?”

  Frank snorted. “No. I own the building. The fellow who rents the space can either get better or get gone.”

  “Into real estate now?”

  “In this case, the real estate is only a tool. No, we have three ships now and the Admiral suggested I set up my administrative operations out here.”

  “You had that sourced to a company on Earth, didn't you?”

  “Yes. One of those things I was delighted not to have to bother with. I'm not as worried about the Centaurans as Willard is, but the bulk of our business is out here and the move made sense. With the labor costs and all, it'll actually be cheaper.”

  “I can't picture you as a CEO, Dad.”

  “Yeah. Well, I'm finding it's just as horrible a job as I expected it to be. I was so used to having your mother running the show, well, it's just like having my left arm cut off.”

  They walked to the edge of a small pond and studied the water fowl. Franklin looked over at his father. “How are you doing?”

  Frank shook his head. “I was hoping the pain would go away after a while. It's been a little over a year and that helps. But I still miss her, Franklin. I feel... incomplete.”

  “I still can't believe what happened.”

  “Sometimes the universe just up and smacks you down. I've seen it happen enough with oth
ers. You just don't expect it to happen to you. What a mess that was too. How are things going with Montora?”

  “Where to begin?”

  “I'm pretty up to date on things up until the Foxworths got back. I guess we can fill in the blanks. The thing that I keep going back to is how you managed to get your destroyer in shape so quickly. Most metal coming out of the Navy really should be on its way to the scrap yard.”

  Here it comes, Franklin thought. “Canopus is old, but was actually in good shape.”

  “I can see Krause's hand in that,” Franklin said.

  “Oh, very definitely. We managed to put together a surprisingly effective crew. I do have to give credit to Daphne for that.”

  “You had her as the Exec, right?”

  “Yes. When we weren't fighting with each other, we made things happen.”

  The older man chuckled. “When she's not fighting with somebody, she does very well, indeed. In fact, she does startlingly well when she's fighting. The other thing, though, I can't believe even Admiral Krause would turn over a ship to you with a weapons load-out. That's a court-martial offense.”

  Franklin took another sip of the coffee. “This really is atrocious coffee.”

  “Come on, son. What is it I don't want to hear?”

  “Um. I had to get creative to pay for the weapons load-out. They weren't included in what Krause delivered.”

  Frank immediately pounced. “How much and from who?”

  Franklin took another sip of the coffee.

  “You know, I could probably still give you a thrashing.”

  “You just may,” Franklin said. “One-hundred-fifty mil. From Charles Steelmaker.”

  Frank was quiet as he pondered the answer. He stared at the pond, without seeing it for perhaps two minutes. “And how big a piece of your carcass did he get in return. Old man Steelmaker doesn't do anything for free.”

  “I gave him a million-five and ten percent of the Margraviate. I negotiated a kicker so I could buy him out at anytime for the amount of the principal.”

  “I'd like to read the contract.”

  “I brought it with me.”

  “I borrowed money from him when we bought Forsythia. He really liked Wendy.”