by Ward Wagher
As he struggled to get up, Frank danced in and kicked him in the crotch; the impact sounded like an ax sinking into a tree. With a gurgling scream Hercules Jones dropped back down. Frank slipped in and kicked him in the side. The pop of breaking ribs was clearly audible. The scream raised in pitch.
Frank stepped back. “I’d like to keep the party going, boys, but I really do not have the time. So, if you want to live… hands up! One chance only.”
The gang put their hands up, except for another giant near the front. With a snarl he advanced on Frank. There was a quick four tap from a machine pistol, and small round holes appeared in the giant’s chest. Blood, bone and flesh sprayed from his back on to the people behind him. There was a look of huge surprise on his face as he went down. Frank whirled to see Wendy holding her machine pistol and expressing as much surprise.
Boodles stepped up. “Sergeant, please secure the crowd.”
In a practiced movement, while two-thirds of the troop kept their guns trained on the gang, the rest slung their rifles and pulled plastic ties from side pockets.
“Right then,” Boodles said. “Tie them together arm to arm and leg to leg, eighteen to a row.”
Frank walked over to Wendy, who was still staring at the dead body. He eased the Groz from her hand. “Let’s get you over where you can sit down, Precious.”
She stumbled along beside him. “Oh, Frank. I killed him!”
“You did exactly the right thing, Precious. But it is not any fun afterwards.”
She suddenly stopped and then bent over to throw up on the ground. Frank said nothing, but rubbed his hand on her back until she stopped shuddering.
“Oh Frank, forgive me for trying to play soldier girl.”
He reached around and pulled her water bottle from its holster. “Here, Sweets, rinse your mouth out – you’ll feel better.”
Frank and Boodles had discussed this ahead of time and had arrived at a way to immobilize the gang while still making them capable of some limited movement. They started with an assumption Hercules Jones was not working alone.
Boodles walked up. “Excuse me, Sir. You still want to dump them in the Ducal Territories?”
“Right in the middle, Major.”
“A bit more than I was expecting. It’ll take two trips in the shuttle.”
“That’s fine, Major. It is going to take all day to sort things out here. How long to carry out the trash?”
“A couple of hours per trip. I think we can get it done in two passes. Figure four to five hours.”
“That’s fine. Make it so.”
Boodles nodded and turned back to the troop, who were busy tying the gang members together. Frank looked at Wendy.
“I’m all right, Frank.”
“You really need to go sit down for a bit. I kid you not, the shock is pretty rough.”
“I need to get busy so I don’t have to keep thinking about the look on his face when I shot him.”
“Okay, let me check on a couple of details, and I’ll go with you. We can start going through the toll house.”
“Frank?”
“Yes, Precious?”
“Martin isn’t going to toss them out of the shuttle is he?”
“Oh. No, Wen. They are going to land in the middle of the Ducal Territories and let them out.”
“Tied up?”
“Well, yes. He’ll get them well away from the shuttle and then throw them a knife when they take off.”
“Oh. Can they survive up there?”
“I don’t know and I don’t particularly care. The whole planet is terraformed, and there is plenty of game up there. There are no people up there for them to bother. They’ll probably do okay. I’ll have the regiment pop a drone up there from time to time to see what they’re up to. If they lose cohesion, fine. If they stay together we’ll watch them in case they wander too close again. At any rate, it solves our problem for a while.”
“And what about their homes here and families?”
“Judging from the quality of this group, the people in the village here are probably better off without them.”
“I worry about the children.”
“I’m glad you do, Wen. Give things some time to settle down, you can probably talk Father Riggs into setting up some kind of a mission down here.”
“Good idea.”
Thank goodness I got her mind chugging away on something else, Frank thought. I was afraid she would come unglued. She’ll have nightmares about this for a while.
A laden wagon pulled by eight horses rumbled up to the toll station. “What’s going on?” the driver yelled.
“New management,” Frank yelled back. He pointed to a couple of the troopers, who marched over to the wagon. Boodles had spent time training the group on toll collection procedures, and Frank was confident things would be handled well.
Frank took Wendy’s arm. “Come on, let’s get inside. I think the major has things under control here. They walked by a couple of troopers who nodded respectfully. Wendy has just made herself a legend in the regiment, though it probably wouldn’t be smart to tell her that right now.
The first group of prisoners had shuffled aboard the shuttle. It took off with a whine of turbines as Frank and Wendy began looking through the office.
“I wish we had Daphne with us,” Wendy said. “Just look at this mess.”
“We need two of her,” Frank said. With the both of us out on the road, Gerry needed her in the keep.”
“I know. People like that are hard to find.”
“You know, my dear, we ought to talk to Louie. Maybe one of his Woogie friends would come to work for us.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Frank. The smell is a little hard to take, plus they make off with everything small and shiny.”
“They do good work, though.”
She shrugged. Frank interpreted that as a discussion for another day.
Chapter Thirty-Six
It was still fairly early spring, and it was cold before daylight. Frank watched as a group of villagers loaded the shuttle. Rather than being parked on the village shuttleport, it was sitting next to the small warehouse in the regimental camp.
“The villagers seem to have a good work ethic,” Major Boodles said as he eased up next to Frank.
“I think Harmon Eckert ran off most of the slackers last fall. Or maybe Daphne did.”
“The change in the village is impressive since we arrived.”
Frank smiled. “Personally, I am amazed you got the regimental quarters up so quickly.”
“I am Logistics, remember? I may be no great shakes as a combat commander, but I do know how to pitch a camp properly and quickly.”
“Once again, Martin, I think you underrate yourself.”
Boodles shrugged. “A man has got to know his limitations. Of course, this is a good crew. And we were able to hire some of your folks when things tailed off in the village during the winter.”
Frank nodded. “Things have come together well. I am actually surprised at the amount of business we were able to generate. This is one of the fastest startups I’ve been involved with. If we can solve some of our external problems, this place will show some real possibilities, I think.”
“The regiment will do everything in its power to ensure that. We are getting tired of moving.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “I have learned never to gloat at other people’s misfortune; however, I really cannot complain about your getting kicked out of New Prussia.”
“Assuming we can stabilize things,” Boodles said.
“Assuming we can stabilize things.”
They stood and watched for a few more minutes.
“Gosh, it’s cold,” Frank murmured. “Seems to get worse every year.”
“I know what you mean. A function of the aging process, I think. Everything hurts more than it used to as well.”
Frank snorted. “We’re getting old, Boodles”
“Not a pretty picture at all,” Boodles said
. “And I am at a loss to determine what to do about it.”
“Well, you can go gracefully, or you can go screaming or whining. In the end it’s not going to make a lot of difference.”
“Truth.”
The cargo was carried aboard the shuttle quickly.
“A good crew you have, Major.”
“Yes, thank you. It makes them nervous when I stand out here and watch them, but I cannot help myself. The noncoms are fully capable of managing things.”
Frank laughed. “I understand. My first officer on the Forsythia always got nervous when I looked over his shoulder.”
“This is just the power of your imposing personality, Sir.”
“Right.”
They watched things a while longer.
“May I assume your dear wife will not be joining us today?” Boodles asked.
“You may assume – probably from my call for the regimental doctor last night.”
“I trust she is not severely ill.”
“Not ill. Let’s call it Post-Traumatic Stress.”
“Ahh. I understand.”
“No, you probably don’t, Martin. She would drift off to sleep and wake up screaming, usually within five minutes. If you want something to levitate you off the bed, try having your wife scream in your ear after you have drifted off. The scum she killed yesterday was doing his best to get even in her dreams. At first I was sure someone was coming through the door.”
“Oh my. How long did this go on?”
“Until I got the doc there to sedate her. Daphne is with her now. I gave serious thought to scrubbing today’s trip, but that just isn’t possible, I think.”
“You have my sympathies, Margrave. I have seen such with some of our people, and it is brutal. It takes time and effort to work through.”
“Wendy is a tough lady, but everyone has their limits and she is not as tough as she thinks. She had been looking for an opportunity to go out and play soldier with the boys and got a lot more than she expected. I was a fool to let her go with us yesterday.”
“Sometimes there is no arguing with people,” Boodles said. “The colonel comes to mind.”
Frank shook his head. “Experience has taught me that there is usually hell to pay when I thwart Wendy’s plans. But the payback was of a different sort last night, and not worth it. Have you been married, Major? Tell me if it’s none of my business.”
“I was married for thirty years. My wife passed away last year.”
“I am sorry. I didn’t know.”
Boodles looked down at the ground. “Earlene was already terminal and didn’t know it when the colonel moved me to the regimental headquarters. She was so happy to finally have me home with her full time.” His voice choked.
Frank put his hand on Boodles shoulder, but said nothing.
Sergeant Smith walked up. “Cargo loadout is complete, Sir. We are ready to board whenever you give the word.”
Boodles visibly pulled himself together. “Sergeant, the word is given. Let’s mount up.”
Smith saluted and turned back to the shuttle.
“I suppose we should get aboard, Margrave.”
“Can’t keep the ranks waiting,” Frank said.
“What do you mean you are firing me? You can’t do that!” Oscar Zidowisc looked to the left and to the right, but would not look Frank in the eye.
“Of course I can. I am the margrave. Last time I checked, you were on my payroll.”
“But it is just wrong. I have been collecting tolls for fifteen years. It is my job.”
“And you have been parking two-thirds of the tolls in your own pocket.”
“I have only taken what was due me. No more.”
“You are not supposed to take any of it. You are supposed to remit all of it, and then a commission is paid back to you. You know that.”
“You certainly cannot run me off. I need this job.” The man’s oily black hair kept drifting across his face. He would toss his head to move it out so it could start its journey again.
“Let me give you a choice Oscar.” Frank had his hands on his hips. “I am taking over the toll operations here directly. I am allowing you to take whatever you desire from your home and leave town. I will even give you a half day to do so.”
“Or else?” Zidowisc was defiant in the face of defeat, and Frank respected that. But it didn’t change things.
“Or else I can do what I did with Hercules Jones.”
The color drained from his face. “You are not going to push me out of a shuttle!”
Frank shrugged. “Word gets around.” He smiled evilly. “Time is passing, Oscar. Make up your mind.”
“You are making a terrible mistake.”
Frank nodded to Major Boodles. Boodles snapped his fingers and two of the troopers stepped forward.
“Wait! Wait. Okay. I’m moving. But I cannot move everything in four hours.”
Frank smiled at him again. “You are a resourceful man. I’m sure you can figure out a way to be out of town in half a day. Major, please detail two troopers to ensure our former toll collector is able to pack up and leave Montora safely.”
“Of course, Margrave.”
“I am really very sorry to see how you have been treated,” Duke Hepplewhite said. “This is simply shameful.”
“And he only gave me four hours to clear town” Oscar Zidowisc said. “His bully-boys shadowed me until I left Montoran territory. You know, I worked that job for fifteen years and never had a problem. Then this new guy comes to town and starts pitching people out. Did you hear what he did to Hercules Jones?”
“Is that the toll collector on the eastern border?”
“Yes. He had him thrown out of a shuttle.”
“While it was in the air?” the duke leaned forward in his chair. “That is simply barbaric. The man is a menace.”
“Can you not do something, Sir?” Zidowisc leaned forward with a begging-dog look in his face.
The duke got out of his chair and walked around the desk with a kindly look on his face. “I am so sorry, my poor man. Nyman is ex-Navy and Admiral Krause will not lift a finger to control him. I am basically on my own out here.”
“That is just not fair. I no longer have a job and have no place to live. I have my wife and kids outside in the wagon with our property.”
Roma put his hand on Zidowisc’s shoulder. “ Maybe there is something I can do for you.”
Zidowisc looked up with hope in his eyes. “Oh, please, Sir. I would be eternally in your debt.”
Roma smiled again and walked back behind his desk. “I might be able to give you a job.”
“That would be wonderful.”
“Here is what we will do.” He leaned forward and tapped some keys on his desktop terminal. “I will advance you five-hundred Centaurans. That should be enough to get you into a rented place and put some food on the table. You will work for me as a security consultant.”
“Sir, I do not know much about that, but I can learn.”
“I am counting on that. Your first task after getting your family settled is to take a little vacation trip… to Montora Village.”
Zidowisc looked steadily at the duke and an evil smile spread slowly across his face. “I believe I understand, Sir.”
“I believe you do. My secretary will have a bank draft for you when you leave the office. Please report back to me personally when you return to Cambridge.”
“Very good, Sir. And thank you, once again.”
Both men stood up. Roma walked around the desk again and threw his arm around Zidowisc’s shoulder. “Now remember, report to me and me only. Your employment is confidential.”
“Of course, Milord.”
Zidowisc left the duke’s outer office holding the bank draft and reading it. Glenn Foxworth brushed past him on the way in. He looked at the duke’s secretary. “Who was that?”
“An Oscar Zidowisc, Prime Minister.”
“Didn’t he used to be a Montoran toll collector?”
“I wouldn’t know. It appears the duke has just hired him.”
Foxworth shook his head. “Ask him if I can speak to him.”
Foxworth was allowed into the duke’s office a few moments later. “Good morning, Milord.”