by Ward Wagher
Franklin stared at the colonel. "The basic problem, Sir, is that your retirees still seem to feel obligated to run toward the sound of the guns. And, for someone I once considered to be a rear echelon chair warmer, Major Boodles does a pretty good job of leading from the front."
Putin looked at Murray Hopper, who was standing just inside the door to the office. "Forgive me, I'm being rude. This would be your adjutant?"
Franklin's grin was one-sided. "Depends on the context, Sir. Allow me to introduce Spaceman Second, Murray Hopper. He is sort of my steward, bodyguard, and general dogsbody for this trip."
Hopper snapped to attention and nodded to the Colonel. "An honor, Sir."
Putin bestowed a wintry smile upon Hopper. "I believe the proper description for your helper, Franklin, is dog robber."
Franklin chuckled. "I agree, Sir. And he is very good at it too."
"And as far as running toward the sound of the guns, I suppose it's too much to expect some of those people to quit doing what they have done all their lives. Besides, the agreement I had with your father implied that our integration into Hepplewhite would be paid for with blood. Ours. I owe my people a quiet retirement, and this was unplanned. But, I cannot think of anywhere else I would prefer to set up a home base."
"I cannot tell you how glad I am to have the regimental headquarters at Montora Village," Franklin said. "I will always regret the bloodshed, but I would be delighted to call the Regiment Montoran. Major Boodles’ people have honored us."
Putin stepped to attention, and clicked his heals together. “And you honor us, Margrave. How may I be of further service?”
"Funny you should ask," Murray said.
Franklin glared back at the steward. "Shut up, Hopper." He turned back to the Colonel. "I apologize for that, Sir. You have just uncovered Hopper's major shortcoming."
"The boy has a mouth on him," Putin observed.
"Not only that, but he thinks he's funny."
"A lethal combination, to be sure."
"I keep threatening to give him a whiff of vacuum, but it doesn't seem to help."
Putin shrugged. "Well, I have discipline problems to take care of in my own organization."
"I don't want to take too much of your time, for I know you're very busy." Franklin held out a small folio. "The Major asked me to deliver his most recent reports, and answer any questions you may have."
"Thank you, Franklin. I would be delighted if you could join me for lunch. That will give me a couple of hours to look at the reports and frame some questions. Now, I assume this is more than just a social call."
Franklin nodded. "Well, yes. I need an introduction to a mining company, as well as any advice you might care to give."
"Asteroid mining or planetary surface?"
"Surface mining. In Montora, actually."
Putin tapped the folio against his hand as he strolled around his desk and slipped into the chair again. "Please, be seated, Franklin. You too, Hopper. Are you desperate for money, or did you hit the mother lode?" He said this looking at Franklin.
"Both, actually. I mortgaged my soul to Charles Steelmaker to outfit the ship. He now holds ten percent of the Margraviate, and I'd like to buy him out."
“Boodles told me something about this.”
“Yes, he told me he told you. I just need to get my finances in order.”
"Before your father finds out?" Putin had a slight grin on his face.
“He already knows, although he hasn’t been updated lately. After I leave here I plan to visit him on my way home. I can't keep him in the dark on what I’ve been doing."
"Good for you. After the way he was screwed over by Carlo Roma and Willard Krause, I really don't want to see his own son do that to him."
"After he gets done telling me how stupid I was," Franklin grinned, "I'm hoping he'll give me some advice on how to get out of this trap."
"As well as why you should not have gotten into this in the first place."
"I tried to think of all the possible angles, Colonel, but this was the only way I could come up with sufficient cash to arm the ship."
"And what did that net you?"
"It pretty much filled the magazines and gave me spare parts and tools."
Putin pondered the numbers in his head. "Two hundred mill?"
"Pretty close, actually."
"And he's going to let you pay him back? That's a little out of character for Charlie Steelmaker."
"I've got a clause stuck in the contract that allows me an early repayment schedule. I don't think he noticed it."
"Or he didn't choose to," Putin said. "You are your father's son. How long did the bargaining session go?"
Franklin's eyebrows raised. "Five hours, near enough. You know about that?"
Putin chuckled. "I've done business with old man Steelmaker myself. If you came out of it with the family jewels still connected, you did okay."
"Well he attached nearly everything else."
"And you think you can pull enough minerals out of the ground to pay for all of this?"
"My local jeweler does a little prospecting on the side. He is harvesting more gold and precious jewels then he can use in his own business. I’ve been selling it off for him, and splitting the proceeds. If he is getting this much from panning and wherever he is finding the jewels, then yes, I think I can come out very well. Also, the former, dead duke had commissioned a study which said that the place is awash with minerals. I've never seen the study, but I have little reason to doubt it.”
Putin leaned back in his chair and continued to tap the folio into his hand. “Let me think about this, and look at the reports. I can have my driver take you to your hotel and bring you back for lunch, if that’s okay.”
“We can make our own way, Sir.”
“I’d actually prefer to have you chauffeured. We’re fighting an insurgency here, and travel is a bit risky.”
“That is more than generous, Sir. Thank you for your time.”
Putin just nodded, already opening the folio to extract the chips.
# # #
The ancient and rickety looking Rancher Vanlet was waiting for them as they left the Colonel's office. A sergeant and a corporal from the Baltic Regiment were waiting beside the vehicle.
“Are you the transportation in these parts?” Franklin asked.
“Yes, Sir. You are registered at the Gallipoli Hotel?” The sergeant asked.
“Yes. Will getting there present a problem?”
“I don't think so, Sir. It has been pretty quiet the past several weeks.”
“Very good, Sergeant. I am Franklin Nyman, by the way. This is Murray Hopper.”
“An honor to meet you, Margrave,” he came to attention and clicked his heals together. “I am Sergeant Maistrantonio and this is Corporal Bagehot.” The corporal also came to attention.
“And do you have our baggage, Sarge?”
“No, Sir. It has already been delivered to the hotel.”
“In that case, I guess we can be on our way.”
Bagehot opened the right rear door of the Vanlet and crawled into the back seat.
“If you would sit here, Margrave,” Maistrantonio said. “And, Mr. Hopper, you can ride shotgun.”
“I'm a Spaceman 2nd, Sarge. My parents were married.”
Maistrantonio cracked a grin. “My apologies Hopper.”
“Not a problem, Sarge. What's with the odd seating arrangements, anyway?”
The sergeant slid the door closed for Franklin, then walked around to the driver's door.
“Some of the insurgents love to kidnap brigade personnel and hold them for ransom. Aside from the resultant morale problems, it really makes the Colonel angry. We've discovered they are far less likely to slip up on us in traffic if we've got somebody watching the back door.”
“So your reference to shotgun was not just euphemistic?”
“Can you shoot?”
Hopper leaned forward and pulled an automatic pistol from behind hi
s back. “I do okay. Major Boodles sent me along to keep an eye on the Margrave.”
There was new respect in the sergeant's eyes. “Well, if the Major thought you could handle the job...”
“The jury is still out, Sarge,” Franklin said with a grin. “The primary requirement of a steward is to be seen and not heard.”
Hopper shrugged. “The Margrave offends easily.”
Franklin puckered his cheeks and made gulping sounds, as if gasping for air.
“See what I mean?” Hopper said.
Maistrantonio put the Vanlet into gear and it moved off with deceptive smoothness.
“Looks like you don't want to advertise the capabilities of your vehicles,” Franklin said.
“There is some of that,” Maistrantonio admitted. “Mostly our Motor Pool officer pays close attention to the mechanicals and doesn't bother with the aesthetics. “
“How does that jibe with the Colonel's spit and polish?” Hopper asked.
The sergeant chuckled. “Lieutenant Kaplin occasionally has a ringside seat for one of the Colonel's screaming fits.”
Franklin laughed. “Dad told me the Colonel has his little tantrums refined to a fine art.”
“Oh, it don't bother us sergeants too much. The officers are terrified of him, though. The first time Kaplin was treated to it, he literally wet his pants. I almost felt sorry for him.”
The vehicle was waved through the gate as it left the brigade compound. Maistrantonio smoothly merged the car into the city traffic. As he drove, he constantly looked to his left and right, and scanned the mirrors.
“Lot of traffic for the middle of a war,” Franklin said.
“A very small war, but yes,” Maistrantonio said. “These people have been shooting at each other almost since the place was discovered. They don't seem to get too excited about it.”
“What was it, about 600 years ago somebody planted their flag here?”
“Something like that. Two groups found the planet more or less simultaneously. That's when the fighting started.”
“Must get old.”
“Tell me about it. This is the third time the regiment has been hired. We get things settled down nicely, then pull out. Then some idiot throws a grenade or pops an IED, and then they start shooting at each other again. This place is almost as ungovernable as Earth.”
“That's pretty bad,” Franklin said. “In my four years at the Naval Academy on Earth, they were killing each other in job lots. It would get heavy, then quiet down a bit, but never would stop entirely.”
“There you have it, Sir. Amazing how much hatred can be wrapped up in one planet.”
“Ain't that the truth, Sarge. We have our occasional tiffs on Hepplewhite, but that's the exception rather than the norm.”
“The wife and kids are at Montora Base, Sir,” Maistrantonio said. “They love it. I'm hoping to get a vacation there sometime during this lifetime.”
“Third car back,” Bagehot said suddenly.
“Yeah, the yellow sedan. I was starting to get concerned,” Maistrantonio said. “Odds are they know where we're going.”
Hopper picked up his pistol and jacked a round into the chamber.
“So we'll find a roadblock up ahead, then?” Franklin asked.
“Entirely likely. Hopper, you might want to take the safety off.”
Franklin laughed. “Strike two Hopper.”
“Hold tight,” the sergeant said. He suddenly whipped the wheel to the right and floored the accelerator. The Vanlet ripped around the corner with tires screaming and the engine howling.
“I think I like your Lieutenant Kaplin,” Hopper said.
“That's why the Colonel hasn't fired him yet,” the sergeant said. “He gets more out of our vehicles...” he stopped talking as he watched an upcoming intersection. A lorry was rapidly approaching from the right. At the last moment he slammed on the brakes. The truck blew through the intersection, passing in front of them and missing by inches. Maistrantonio cobbed the throttle again.
“... than anyone we've ever had before. Bag, is our friend still with us?”
“No, Sarge. He was just pulling into the left lane to close up when you turned. He couldn't get back over.”
“Was that lorry intended to knock us out?” Franklin asked.
“I think so. We had the light. Whoever it is is thinking quickly. I'd suggest we duck back into the base.”
“Is the hotel secure?” Franklin asked.
“Yes. If we get there, you'll be okay. But it's starting to look like an obstacle course.”
“Our other friend just went through the intersection one block north,” Bagehot said.
“Moving fast then. Is the back door clear?”
“So far, Sarge.”
Maistrantonio waited until they were in the middle of a bubble clear of traffic, then pulled a bootleg turn. He stomped hard on the brakes and threw the wheel to the left. The little vehicle pivoted on its front wheels as the backs locked up. He immediately began accelerating back in the direction from which they came.
“Since we're supposed to have lunch with the Colonel, you might was well head back, then, Sarge,” Franklin said. “We're going to have to get to the hotel eventually for the meetings I have laid on, though. Your call.”
“Right. Bag, call it in. Tell them we're coming in hot.”
“On it, Sarge,” Bagehot said. “Back door looks clean for right now.”
Ahead of them an oncoming car suddenly pulled across from the other lane and stopped in front of them across their lane.
“Everybody down,” their driver said.
Franklin slipped to the floor. Maistrantonio spotted an opening in the traffic and dodged across the opposite lane and onto the sidewalk, and past the roadblock. The windows of the van blew out in a hail of gunfire.
Bagehot was up, squeezing off individual shots with his automatic rifle. Hopper put his pistol on the window sill and began to pull himself up.
“Try not to hit the civilians,” Maistrantonio said.
Hopper popped up and trained his pistol. He then lowered it. “Can't get a clear shot.”
Bagehot had stopped firing too. “Knocked one of the suckers down.”
“That should make them happy.” Maistrantonio slowed as they came to an intersection. He then drove off the sidewalk into the street, turning left.
“The OOD said they'd be ready for us,” Bagehot said.
“Gate open?” Franklin asked.
“The quick reaction team will be out,” the sergeant said. “If the folks chasing us get a bit too close to the gate, they might find an RPG in their teeth. Our guys just love the target practice.”
Franklin crawled back into his seat. “This thing armored?”
“It's got ballistic cloth below the windows. Stops most small arms.”
“How did they know I was coming, or why are they even interested in me?”
“Oh, they didn't. They just watch the gate and wait for somebody to head into town. Then they go into action. Opportunists, they.”
“That is not very nice,” Hopper said.
“Right. But we can usually out-mean them.”
“Our first friend is back,” Bagehot said. “Still out of range.”
The traffic had eased up as they headed back out of town. Maistrantonio kept his boot on it, and yellow car gradually fell behind. They came around a curve and saw the entrance to the regimental base with the gate open. An armored car was parked just outside the fence and a row of shooters lay in the grass.
“And here's the welcoming committee,” Maistrantonio said.
“Somebody's about to get bum-boffed,” Hopper said.
“Hopper, that's disgusting!” Franklin said.
“Sorry, Sir.”
The sergeant let up on the throttle and they coasted through the gate. The pursuer skidded to a stop, then turned around. Two armored cars eased up on to the pavement from the defiles where they lay hidden. The machine guns were trained on the little y
ellow sedan. It stopped and the driver and passengers jumped out, holding their hands high.
“And so ends the trip,” Maistrantonio said.
“That was fun, Daddy,” Hopper said. “Can we do it again?”
chapter thirty-seven
"We're getting reports of insurgent activity picking up all over town," Colonel Putin said. "I think it would be wise to have you stay in the regimental compound for the nonce."
Addison's Planet had suffered from insurgencies for hundreds of years. About one hundred years previously, a group of protesters ran through the streets of Esquire, the planet's capital, barking like dogs. Although subsequent groups were not related, all were traditionally called Barkers after the originals.
"Is flying into the city out of the question too?" Franklin asked.
"For right now. I'm not too concerned about you getting shot down, but I'd rather keep my resources close at hand until we find out what's going on."
"I'd be rather concerned about getting shot down," Hopper said.
Franklin gave him a disgusted look. "Will you shut up?"
The Colonel glared at Hopper for a moment before turning back to Franklin. "The Barkers do not have much in the way of anti-air, but I'd rather not tempt them with a target swanning around up there."
Franklin nodded. "Okay. Do you have some place for us to stay, so that we can be out of your hair?"
"Of course," Putin said. Then he raised his voice, "Sims!"
The adjutant stuck his head in the door. "Yes Colonel?"
"Please escort the Margrave and his Steward to the guest quarters. See that their needs are taken care of."
"Of course, Colonel," the adjutant murmured. "Gentlemen, if you will follow me, please."
Franklin looked at the officer. "Thank you for your time once again, Colonel."
Putin simply nodded before he spoke. "Lunch is in one hour, Margrave. I still expect you."
The adjutant led them across the compound to a small nondescript building set on skids. He opened the door and walked in. Franklin and Hopper followed him.