by Ward Wagher
"Worried about Daphne."
"Me too, Louie. She's pretty banged up."
"Not a believer, either. Worries the Woogie."
Franklin clenched his fists at his side. "I don't know why everybody keeps bringing that up. We've got enough problems without scheduling a church service."
"How many problems do you have to have before you let the Redeemer solve them for you?"
"One thing's for sure, Louie," Franklin ground out. "We're not going to answer that question here."
"Can solve it here." The vocoder did not completely mask the emphasis in Louie's words.
"You just stand by. We will be going back into action soon." And Franklin left the office.
Franklin stepped out into the corridor door and the door to the engineering section slid shut behind him. He dropped his helmet on the deck, and rubbed his fists into his eyes. Why can't you leave me alone? He thought.
# # #
Franklin strode into the control room. "Any activity on the part of our friend?"
"Just sitting there," Kane said. "We will reach our closest point in about fifteen minutes, and then the range will start to open up again."
"Why don't you go ahead and go get your suit cleaned up," Franklin said. "Be back here in fifteen minutes."
“Aye, aye, Sir.” Kane stood up and walked from the room. Franklin moved over and sat down at the tactical station.
"Chief," Franklin said. "When Kane gets back, I'll brief you and he on what we're going to do next. It's time to take this guy out."
"Do you have any intentions of boarding him, Sir?"
"I'm open to suggestion, Chief, but right now my feeling is that it is probably too dangerous. They knew the risks when they joined up for their little project. Unless they start screaming for help, I'm just planning to destroy them."
"I understand, Sir. I thought, perhaps, there might be some salvage value to that cruiser. It's a pretty heavy unit."
"I agree it's tempting, Chief. I'm just afraid that if he waves a white flag and we slide in there, he'll pump us full of shells when he gets the chance."
"We could send in a shuttle with a boarding party."
"Would you want to do something like that, Sabbath?"
"No, but Lenson and Crocker probably would. That's what Marines are for, Sir."
"We've had more death and dismemberment already than I really care to think about in this little adventure. No, I think Mr. Pirate just bought himself the short end of the stick. I don't want to mess around with him any longer."
Franklin began laying out tactical plans at Kane's workstation. Before the fifteen minutes were up Kane walked back into the Auxiliary Control Room.
"Ah, Mr. Kane. We were about ready to start the party without you."
"I caught myself in my zipper, Skipper."
"Other than you're beginning to sound like Louie, that could be incredibly painful, Ensign."
"I agree on both points, Skipper. I'm not looking forward to visiting the SBA once we get this over with."
"You didn't."
"I'm afraid I did."
Franklin looked around the control room with a grin. "It's rude to laugh at an officer's misfortune, Sabbath."
"I was sharing his pain, Sir. Got the T-shirt."
“Please, no appendage jokes,” Kane said.
Franklin nodded. “I think I can do that. Okay then, people. Here is what we're going to do. We will come port one hundred degrees, and drop our acceleration to two percent. We know about where he was able to detect us last time; so I plan to launch just before then."
"Won't he see the launch, then?" Kane asked.
Franklin smiled at the acting Tactical Officer. "Normally, I would say yes. But, instead of a combat launch, we will use an unload cycle on the tubes. Once we've eased the missiles out, we'll light them off under low-power on diverging courses. When and if Higginbotham wakes up, we kick the missiles to full power."
"Projectile weapons, Sir?" Kane asked.
"Only in the terminal phase. I'm planning four missiles on this run. If he starts maneuvering then we'll fire a double volley of shells. I want to be as sneaky as I can be here. But, we do need to pay attention in case he starts spitting shells at us again."
Franklin punched the general comm button on his chair. The double chime sounded throughout the ship. "This is the Skipper. We are getting ready to make another run against the pirate. Prepare for maneuvering, and for close combat. You have done very well, and I am proud of you. I plan to see each of you when we arrive back at Hepplewhite later today."
He pushed the button again, and then pointed at Sabbath. "Execute!"
Canopus slowly eased around to where she was pointed at the pirate vessel. The reduced acceleration made her sluggish at the controls, but she began drifting towards the other ship. Franklin leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. The green bead on the tactical display which represented Canopus seemed to crawl across the screen.
The time also seemed to crawl by. It was nearly one half hour later when Ensign Kane spoke, "About five minutes until likely detection, Skipper."
Franklin nodded. "Helmsman, stop the drives. Then, give me two percent deceleration."
“Aye, aye, Sir.”
“TACO, go ahead with the tube ejection on tubes one through four."
“Aye, aye, Sir.” A slight shudder rippled through the ship as the unpowered missiles popped out of the tubes. "Green lights on all four birds, Sir."
"Very good, Mr. Kane. Execute the pre-plotted course and power settings now."
"Executing, Sir." He studied his work for a while. "All four missiles are nominal, Sir."
"Good. Now stay on top of them."
Franklin pushed a comm button on his chair again.
"Engineering, Chief Engineer Louie."
"This is the Skipper. Stand by for heavy maneuvering."
"Aye, aye, Blipper.”
Franklin decided to ignore the mistake. He was coming to the conclusion that with Louie, you never knew whether it was intentional.
The missiles fanned out on their courses so that they would approach the other ship directly from the sides. The pirate captain would have to think quickly before he launched against the incoming weapons.
"She woke up, Skipper!" Kane said suddenly. At that moment Canopus shuddered with the launch of a double salvo of projectiles against the pirate. The other ship pivoted into a corkscrew and began nonstop firing of its weapons.
"Skipper," Kane yelled, "she's unloading her magazines at us!"
Franklin had been watching his tactical display carefully. Now he spoke. "Helmsman, come to two eight five point zero five four, all ahead military emergency, and hard over your helm."
Sabbath acknowledged the order and brought the ship quickly about. In engineering, Louie quickly moved over to his main drives panel and watched as the indicators all swung into the red. His single blue eye quickly shifted back and forth as he scanned the panel and the systems came under load.
"Skipper, we are on course, and acceleration is coming up to 425 gravities."
"Helmsman, slave the helm to the radar. There's a lot of depleted uranium coming our way, and this lady has got to dance."
"Aye, aye, Skipper. We are ready to rock and roll!"
Franklin laughed in the heat of the moment. "I actually had the mazurka in mind."
The oscillating pattern of shells ripped through the area of space inhabited by the destroyer Canopus. The ship wove an intricate course, spinning and dodging in an attempt to miss the destruction blindly fired by the other ship. She almost made it.
Four shells intersected with the ship. The first shell hit the forward weapons bay, wrecking another projectile cannon as well as a missile tube. Missile Technician 1st Everett Dodge caught the shrapnel as the remains of the shell ricocheted through the weapons bay. He was left as a smear on the bulkhead.
The second shell opened another hole in the main bridge, which was empty at the time. The third shell passed
directly through Damage Control Central, and directly through CPO Harper Brace. The shock wave converted the damage control technician into a fine, red mist.
The fourth shell passed through the Engineering Section, taking out the control runs for the drives and critically injuring Engineering Rating Emerson Amadia, as well as Ensign Lari Chaplin.
The anti-missile launchers on the pirate vessel were actually quite accurate. They managed to stop three of the four missiles, which were arrayed about the center axis of the ship. The fourth missile, however, bored in to detonate 100 yards off the port amidships side. None of the pieces in the resulting debris field were large enough for Canopus’ radar to discern more than an expanding cloud of plasma.
“Skipper, we are being hailed by the Aerean Venture.” CPO Barrett said.
“Patch it through to my mic,” Franklin said. “This is Canopus, Franklin Nyman commanding.”
“Nice job, there, Margrave,” Smirnoff said. “It looks like you've lost power. Can we assist?”
“We're still assessing the damage, Captain, but any help would be appreciated.”
“Very well. We'll be under weigh shortly.”
Franklin leaned back in his command chair. “All right, people, let's secure from General Quarters.” Now maybe the killing will stop.
chapter forty-six
Gerard Blakely, the Seneschal for the Margrave of Montora shuffled his feet as he stood in the doorway to the Margrave's office. Franklin Nyman was sitting at his desk struggling with the reports which had been generated in his absence.
"I know you are there, Gerry. You might as well come on in."
"I'm afraid I have messed up the books again, Sir.
Franklin looked up at him. "Hey, I understand you have trouble with the books. Don't worry about it. We will just do the best we can and when Daphne comes back she can take a few months getting things straightened out."
"How is she doing, Sir?"
"As of this morning, not so well. The doc seems to think she will eventually recover, but they have not seen a whole lot of improvement since we brought her down from the ship two weeks ago."
“A lot of the people are wondering about you and Daphne,” Blakely said.
Franklin looked up sharply. “What do you mean by that, Gerry?”
“It’s just that you seem closer to her than Master Alex, if you’ll forgive me, Sir.”
“Gerry, I spent a lot of time thinking about this over the past year. Alex will be marrying Daphne and I will, hopefully, be marrying Signe – if I can talk her into it.”
“I know that sometimes the rulers do things that must be done, rather than what they would like to do…”
“That’s not it at all, Gerry,” Franklin interrupted. “Daphne is like my sister. I realized at some point that I loved her, but I would never want to marry her. One or the other of us would eventually be arrested for murder. I realized the difference when I met Signe. I want to spend the rest of my life with Signe. I hope Alex and Daphne spend the rest of their lives in Montora. They are my friends and I don’t have many.”
“I hope she lives, Sir.”
“Don’t talk like that, Gerry. Of course she’s going to make it. She was not shot up nearly as badly as Hopper, and they’ve got him out of the tank now.”
"Maybe we should take her to another hospital."
"The trip would probably kill her, Gerry. Besides, the Foxworths think that the hospital in Cambridge is actually pretty good. We just need to give Daphne the time to settle down and get well."
Blakely wrung his hands in front of Franklin. "Do you really believe that, Sir?"
"I don't know what to believe, and I really don't want to talk about it right now."
"Of course, Sir. If you'll excuse me…."
Franklin sighed. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Gerry. I'm very worried about Daphne too."
"It's no problem, Sir. I'm worried about her - not just because she's so important to Montora, but she's a friend of mine, too. I don't have very many friends, either."
She’s a good friend,” Franklin said. "I mean, she drives me crazy, but we work well together."
"Well, I have kept your schedule free, so you can fly into Cambridge this afternoon to see her and the others."
"Thanks, Gerry. Since I'm making the trip, I probably should call Signe and arrange for dinner."
"I would be happy to set that up, Sir. Where would you like to eat?"
"I think I would like to try that new place Edsel Cowan just set up. What's it called?"
"I believe he calls it The Pickle. A strange name, if you ask me, Sir."
"It is that. However, Edsel had quite a reputation as a chef on Caledon. I have no idea what the restaurant will be like, but the food is likely to be excellent."
"So, you know him, Sir?"
"No, Louie knows him. He told me about him. I have found I can trust what Louie says."
"Even where restaurants are concerned?" There was a twinkle in Blakely’s eye.
"Mainly by reputation. And you'd better be careful, Gerry."
“Right. If there's nothing else, Sir, I need to be getting back to my desk.”
Franklin waved him out and turned his attention back to the reports. Fortunately the Montoran news was mostly good. The tourist traffic was picking up again, and that meant Centaurans in the bank. Glenn Foxworth had followed up on Franklin’s gentle clubbing, and was driving the Cantabrigians to get the small city cleaned up – further encouraging the tourist trade.
Blakely stuck his head back in. “Sir, Goldsmith is here.”
“Send him in, please.”
The short balding, beady eyed jeweler walked carefully into the office.
“How can I help my favorite jeweler today?” Franklin asked.
He set a small polished cherry box on the desk. “I just finished this last night and knew you would want it.”
Franklin picked the box up and slid the lid off. “Oh! This is marvelous.”
A gold rose and inlaid jewel broach lay nestled in royal blue velvet in the small box.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it. This is exactly what I wanted. I'm hoping this will cheer Daphne up.”
“How is Ms. Locke doing?” Goldsmith asked.
“Aaron, I don't know. Some days she seems more like her old self – you know – ordering me around and the like. Other days, very withdrawn. The doctors don't say much, but I think they're worried.”
The jeweler shook his head. “I'm not a... religious person, Margrave. But over the past couple of weeks I have felt compelled to pray for her.” He chuckled. “I don't even know if there is a God.”
“Couldn't hurt. Nothing else seems to be working.” Franklin held up the box. “This may do as well as anything. I certainly hope so.”
“Me too, Margrave.”
Goldsmith the jeweler had visited the keep the day after Franklin's arrival. He presented to Franklin the results of several months' prospecting. The take surprised Franklin and made a significant contribution to the treasury. Franklin had told no one about the impending mineralogical survey. Those in the know – Blakely, Prary, and Daphne - had kept the knowledge close. The money from Franklin's father made for a comfortable balance in the bank as well.
Lunch was a luncheon. Yasmin Gris, the mayor of Montora Village, regularly updated him on the goings on in the village. Franklin walked down the village square and into the village offices. Gris was not big on pomp, but she did maintain a small private dining room and ordered out from the hotel restaurant. Modest Marple, knowing the attendees, made sure the food was memorable.
“The main item on the agenda today,” Gris said, “is the lawsuit filed by Cambridge News. It's in behalf of the two girls killed in the aircar crash the day you left.”
“Yes, tell me about that,” Franklin said. “Gerry mentioned it the other day, but I'm still in catch up mode. I assume you have been dealing with it.”
'Yes, Margrave. I hired Marlo Loka, a
barrister in Cambridge to represent you in the Duke's Court.”
“What was the gist of the suit?”
“That the Margrave failed to provide necessary air control over the village, allowing the collision that killed their employees.”
Franklin snorted. “As I understand it, they didn't have a transponder going, didn't file a flight plan, and were moving at high speed through the area. Did I miss anything?”
Gris shook her head. “That about covers it, Sir. Marlo is shooting for an outright dismissal. The consensus among the magistrates is that anyone wanting to sue you had better have a pretty good reason.”
“I'm just as happy not to have people suing me, Yasmin, but do we want to discourage people from exercising their rights?”
“In this case we are dealing with what is clearly a nuisance suit and everybody knows it. For some reason, Cambridge News has their knives out for you, and they're not being rational about it.”
“Tell me about our barrister.”
“He's been around for ten years or so and has a reputation for honesty. He flies in every Sunday to attend church here – he's a good friend of Father Riggs. I can arrange a meeting, if you desire.”
“If he gets the suit quashed, let me know, and I'll draft a letter of thanks to him. If not, I guess I'll have to talk to him. What's he going to cost us anyway?”
“If we get things stopped at this point, I'd be surprised if it costs us more than five-hundred Centaurans.”
“Well, that's a relief. You don't think this guy will try to keep the meter running?”
“No. He told me his goal is to keep his clients out of the courtroom.”
“Tell him I appreciate his goal. I've got too many problems as is.”
By two in the afternoon, Franklin was on his way to Cambridge. He was accompanied by two of the Castle Guard, one of whom was flying the aircar. The architecture of Cambridge did not lend itself to numerous aircar pads, so they landed at Justin Voss's FBO at the Cambridge Starport.
Voss handed the key tab to one of the guards. “Here you go. It's that new ground car in the first parking space.”
“Justin, that's a limo!” Franklin said.
“Right the first time, Margrave. I was so happy with that Dancer I bought a while back, I thought I'd try another. Just got it in and thought I'd let you try it out today.”
