by Ward Wagher
“He hadn't heard about Mom. He was upset about that.”
“Tough negotiator?”
“You wouldn't believe. I got up to walk out several times.”
Frank chuckled. “I don't doubt you.. Been there, done that.”
“Well, I think I got out of it in good shape.”
Frank chewed on his lower lip for a bit and took another sip of the coffee. He then threw the remaining contents of his cup into the pond. “Bah! I'm going to tell Cedric to get us a coffee maker today. What other bad news do you have?”
“I'm probably going to get married.”
Frank stared at his son for a few moments and then began walking again. “At some point, son, I have to let you make your own decisions. That's both for our businesses and the personal stuff. You can't learn unless you make your own mistakes. I surely made enough. Your mother was not one of them, though.”
“I think you will like her.”
“And who is she?”
“Signe Foxworth.”
“Glenn's...”
“Daughter.”
Frank nodded. “I like Glenn and Monica. I just hope he can stay on the wagon. He had climbed into a bottle last spring.”
“One way or the other, I think he's kicked the booze.”
“Oh?”
“Well, for one thing, he's got religion.”
“Oh, Lord.”
“My thoughts, exactly. Although, he's now sober. And it seems to have helped Monica a lot. You wouldn't have wanted to see her after we got her back from the pirates. I mean, those people are a bunch of animals the way they treated them, Dad.”
“The note I got from Carlo,” Frank said, “indicated as much. She lost her marbles?”
“That's putting it mildly. I thought she was a candidate for the looney bin. It was frightening. She would just start screaming at odd moments.”
“That's sad.”
“Scary too. Well, she seems to have pulled out of it. Still kind of fragile, but seems to be a going concern. She sure was glad to see her Woogie.”
“Louie?”
“Yep.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He and I have gotten to be very good friends. He is a surprisingly good ship's engineer.”
“You've heard the saying – A Woogie for a friend is a guaranteed good-luck charm.”
“No, I haven't, but I can believe it. He keeps surprising me how smart he is.”
“There's no such thing as a stupid Woogie,” Frank said. “Oh, they will make an occasional mistake. But they never, ever repeat it.”
“That's been my experience with Louie. People tend to underestimate them.”
“For sure. Now. Tell me. What are you doing out here?”
Franklin told him.
Frank stared at his son. “I have worked very hard not to interfere with your management of the Margraviate. I have things structured in such a way that it doesn't impact the shipping line if you crater things. But do you really know what you are doing here?”
“Dad, I came to the conclusion that if I didn't lock down the minerals issue, somebody else would. It's not something that can be kept secret forever, you know.”
“I know. But I've seen the trash dumps some of the mining groups have left behind and I do not want to see that happen in Montora. I'm almost of the opinion that planetary mining ought to be outlawed and operations restricted to the asteroids.”
“Good in theory, but it's like the old story about robbing banks.”
Frank raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Because it's where the money is.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “You got me there. Okay. It's your fiefdom. I've got to let you manage it. Honestly, I'd like you to get all your mistakes out of the way before you inherit the shipping line. You mess that up and I'll come out of the grave and hunt you down. That's your mother's legacy.”
“You know, Dad. I found that I really enjoy managing things. I mean commanding a ship is fun. But, a business like the margraviate has so many moving parts. I love the challenge.”
“That's your mother in you. She really loved running the business. I'm happiest buying and selling.”
“I prefer leaving that to others.”
“Just keep Louie close to you. Maybe you'll survive.”
chapter thirty-nine
The gates to the Nyman compound swept open automatically as Sergeant Smith drove the car through. Hopper was in the front seat with Smith, and the two Nymans were in the back seat.
"It looks like most of the homes have walls around them," Franklin said. "Is there a crime problem here?"
"There is some," Frank said. "Not as much as other places. Better than most."
"I suppose you have other measures in place to discourage people from coming over the wall?"
Smith chuckled. "You might say that, Franklin. The top of the wall is embedded with glass shards, and there's a hotline running along it. The grounds are well sensored too. The main risk is that we don't have enough people here to defend the place against any determined assault."
Franklin looked over at his dad. "Sounds like you've had some experience."
Frank nodded. "We've had some excitement a couple times since we bought the place. We were finally able to settle matters."
"We haven't been bothered since," Smith said. "Word gets around."
"Nice-looking place," Hopper said. "Much nicer than a drafty old castle."
Frank leaned over to Franklin. "Is he always this way?" Frank asked quietly.
Franklin smiled. "Only when he's awake."
"And you haven't spaced him yet?"
"Hey!" Hopper said.
"Aside from his obvious faults," Franklin replied, "he's not a bad Steward. And he comes well regarded by Major Boodles as a gunslinger."
"Yeah, but there's only so much pain you can take."
Franklin chuckled. "I notice Smith is still around."
"Granted. However, he is on borrowed time."
Smith breathed a deep long sigh as he swung the car around the drive and stopped in front of the double front doors.
"Be it ever so humble," Frank said as he opened his door.
Franklin stepped out and looked at the house. "Wow! This is quite a dump. How many square feet do you have here?"
"About 8,000 and change."
Franklin whistled. "Knowing you, you must've gotten a rat-killing deal."
Frank smiled as he walked toward the door. "You might say that. Come on; let me give you the cook's tour."
"You don't think we will faint from hunger before we get through the place, do you?"
"Ha! You're just afraid I'll walk you into the ground."
"No argument there, Dad."
"I did hire a housekeeper and groundsman, a man and his wife. They're retired Navy. The husband died in the recent unpleasantness."
“Why is it we always seem to lose people like that?” Franklin asked.
“I don't know, and it never gets easier.”
Franklin looked up as they move towards the steps. "Are those dormers part of the attic, or does this place have three stories?"
"Three floors, Son, and a basement. It is a lot of house, but I bought it mainly for the security. Well, and the price was right."
Franklin stopped and looked between Frank and the sergeant. "Okay, who's after you?"
"Come on in the house."
They stepped into a granite floored three-story foyer. A massive crystal chandelier hung at the second floor level with a brass chain running all the way to the ceiling. Polished brass accent lights circled the foyer at each level. At the back a wide stairway ran to a landing with stairs to each side going to the second floor. Above that another set of stairs ran to the third floor. The stonework was contrasted with polished mahogany woodwork. Double doors on either side led to the rest of the house.
Hopper stood in the center of the foyer and spun around slowly with his mouth open as he took in the architecture. "Nice place, Sir.
Very impressive."
Franklin stood with his hands on his hips, also studying the house. "It's a good thing the climate is so mild here, Dad. If this place were in Montora, it would be a stone quintapod to heat in the winter."
"I have to keep the cooling system on most of the time," Frank said. "The cost for that is bad enough. And despite all of the nice things I can say about Montora, I don't miss the winters. Let's head this way. The library is rather impressive."
Later, at the dinner table, Franklin brought the subject back to Frank's business. "I hate to keep nagging at you, Dad, but what is going on around here? Our tour guide this afternoon said something about a change of government. Smith hinted around that you might have had something to do with it."
The two Nymans were the only people at the table. Hopper was helping Mrs. Brundage, the housekeeper, serve the meal. Smith & Jones were elsewhere, Franklin knew not where.
“And how was your tour of the town this afternoon?” Frank asked.
Franklin laughed. “Good enough. I think Hopper was smitten by our guide.”
“I'm in love,” Hopper said, simply, as he walked into the room carrying a platter of desserts.
“Down boy,” Franklin said. “She's not your type. Now, Dad, quit changing the subject.”
Franklin leaned back and dabbed his napkin at the corners of his mouth. "Okay, I had an early run in with the local criminal syndicate. I thought I was helping out the Provost, that's the local potentate. Turns out he was in the pocket of said criminal syndicate. I sort of helped the local business interests put a proper government in place. There was already a mayor, so we vested him with some authority.”
“Sounds like an improvement to me, Dad.”
“One would think so. However, Willard Krause came in and told me to keep my fingers out of the local politics. So right now, I've got everybody mad at me."
"Why can't the Admiral leave you alone ?" Franklin said. "It's like he is hounding you from one planet to the next."
Frank folded his arms as he pondered the question. "I've given it a lot of thought myself. Krause never does things without a reason. He helped arrange things for me to buy the two new ships we have in the fleet now. I got a note from him the other day that there might be three more listed for disposal, and I've got right of first refusal."
"He did promise to look out for you."
Frank pulled his mouth to one side. "Yes, yes, he has. I have almost doubled our net worth over the past year, and that's even after all the money we shelled out in Montora. We have three ships, free and clear. I picked up that office building for cash, although the locals were upset about that too. The Corporation has minimal debt. We are really in pretty good shape."
"But Krause is still a jerk!"
"You know the old saying, son. At least he is our jerk."
"But, is he really?"
Frank pondered some more. “Yes, I think he is. Oh, there is no question that he and Carlo Roma are playing a deep game. On the whole, though, Willard Krause has been a friend over the years."
"With friends like that…"
"True. There are times when I would have happily spaced him, and I'm not exaggerating one bit. But, there's a storm coming. We all see it. Krause and Roma are part of just a few who are in a position to do something about it. If Willard Krause had to pitch me out of an airlock in order to save civilization, he would do it in a heartbeat. Now, tell me about this girl of yours."
The subject had been changed.
# # #
After an evening's conversation that turned into reminiscing about Wendy, Franklin called it a night. Hopper showed him to a palatial guest suite. Franklin dismissed Hopper for the evening and wandered around the suite, wading through the deep royal blue carpet. He walked to one window and looked outside, then moved to the next. He studied the neo-baroque artwork on the walls briefly, then stood in the center of the room in indecision.
He turned and left the suite and walked down to the first floor. To the left of the foyer through one set of double doors was a reception room, or more likely a ballroom. He was intercepted as he walked across it by Sergeant Smith.
"Looking for something, Franklin?"
"I was looking for you, Sarge. Got a few minutes?"
"Yeah. Let's step through here."
Franklin followed him through a disguised side door into a small meeting room. There was space for a desk, two side chairs, and a credenza. Smith waived Franklin into one of the side chairs and a dropped into the chair behind the desk. He spun around and pulled a couple of balloon glasses and a decanter out of the credenza.
"I was just about to celebrate the end of the day," Smith said. "Care to join me?"
"I'll have a little taste, sure."
Smith dashed some of the amber liquid into both glasses and handed one to Franklin. He tipped the glass toward Franklin. "Absent friends."
"Prozit," Franklin replied. They both tipped the glasses back, then Franklin choked and sputtered.
"Come now, Lieutenant," Smith said, "this is the Colonel's best sipping whiskey."
"Oh, I like this just fine. I was expecting Cognac. Does the Colonel know you liberated this from his stash?"
"Of course not," Smith looked indignant. "You know better than that."
"My apologies," Franklin said as he took another sip. "I wanted to talk to you about Dad."
Smith frowned. "He's had a tough time."
"It's been a year, Sarge. I mean, I miss Mom too. But, at some point you get on with life."
"I hear you, Franklin. I tend to agree, although I don't know what I would do if I lost Francine. Your mother was a lot stronger than your dad. He was pretty dependent upon her. You are more like your mother, you know."
Franklin shrugged. "People keep telling me that. I'm not sure if I should admit this to you, but there are nights that I really want to cry myself to sleep. But, life goes on, and so do I."
"That's what I mean." Smith studied him for a few moments before speaking. "We patrol the house at night, you know. The equipment is good, and all. But, there's no substitute for putting boots on the ground. So I start to slip into the library one night at 3 AM, and there is your dad sitting behind the desk weeping. Happened to Jones once too. We are pretty careful about going in there now."
"How long has this been going on?"
"Pretty much since we got here. Hasn't been getting any better. You see how he looks. I sit and watch him screwing himself into the ground, and I don't know what to do about it, Franklin."
"I guess it's a good thing I came out here, then," Franklin murmured. "The thing of it is, I have no better idea what to do than you. I can't believe he hasn't snapped out of it."
"It's not just your mother," Smith said. "He believes himself to be useless. Every time he tries to dabble in something interesting, Krause slaps his hand. He feels like he's being treated as a child."
"Then why doesn't he just tell Krause to perform the anatomical impossibility?"
"In a word, duty. He is as iron-bound as Krause is."
"That's well and good, Sarge, I want to save civilization too. But I don't think that would be a reason to allow the admiral to lead me around by the nose. Whatever Dad's faults, and there are many, I don't think he's afraid of anybody. Has he given you any hints about anything else?"
"No. I was hoping you could talk to him."
"Okay. Let me see what I can do."
chapter forty
Franklin Nyman and Cedric Smith were on the roof of the four story building where Frank Nyman kept his office. The combination of the height of the building and the small hill it was set upon gave them a panorama of the small city and the ocean beyond. Franklin was nursing a soft drink and Smith was smoking a cigarette.
"Nice view," Franklin said. "This really is a pretty place."
"I think it would get boring after a while. On the other hand, it's a great place to come to let the stress boil off."
"I just wish we could get the stress off of D
ad."
"Have you talked to him?"
"You know how it is, Cedric. You make up your mind to talk to somebody and the opportunities disappear."
"Well, why don't you just walk into his office and sit down and talk?"
"Is that what you did?"
"As are matter-of-fact, I did," Smith said.
"And how much good did that do?"
"You may have a point there, Franklin."
"And after that I'm going have to speak to you about the bad habits you keep picking up."
"What are you talking about?"
"That!" He pointed to the cigarette.
"What's the matter with this? With the anti-cancer boosters, they're harmless. Besides a lot of people on this planet smoke."
"It's still disgusting. Why you think everybody makes you come up here to light up?"
"I just do it out of consideration."
"Uh huh. Does Francine know you're doing this?"
"What is this?" Smith yelled. "You're not my mother!"
Franklin just grinned at him.
"One of these days, Franklin…"
"I've heard that one before too, Cedric. Anyway, we're leaving tomorrow, so I'm going to have to talk to him tonight.”
“I just hope you have better luck than I did.”
“Who's he meeting with this afternoon?” Franklin asked.
“The local chandler. One of our ships calls here from time to time and he gets into a spitting contest with your dad every time he calls them to provision the ship.”
“Why doesn't he find another source?”
Smith snorted. “They've actually become good friends. I think they just like to argue out of habit.”
“That sounds like Dad. They've been at it for what, a couple of hours?”
“Something like that. If things follow true to form, you'll get invited to dinner tonight. I suspect your dad will probably want to show you off.”
“Where's Jones at this afternoon?”
“Skulking around the town most likely. We're not well liked by some of the local elements, so it's worth while to pay attention to the threat index. Your dad doesn't need any more surprises.”
“Then why did he park the company here?”
