The Diamonds of Montora (The Chronicles of Montora Book 5) Read online

  Hawkins nodded. “I honestly don’t expect to be waited on hand and foot. I’ve never had servants in my house back on Earth, and I don’t plan to start here. I’m happy to let you guys help with the housework, but I don’t want it interfere with your main job.”

  Kletschka nodded in return. “Absolutely correct, Sir.”

  “Oh, one other thing: please address my daughter as Sadie. I think you heard a little of her experiences over the past year, and she’s very fragile. Calling her the girl subconsciously reinforces an attitude of making her an object rather than a person.”

  Kletschka blushed. “Sir, I apologize. I never thought…”

  Hawkins raised his hand to forestall the guard. “No, no. Don’t take it as a rebuke. It wasn’t intended that way. But I’ve got my job cut out for me in bringing my little girl back to the land of the living. She still has a long way to go.”

  “Sir, if we haven’t said it before, I’m very sorry about what happened to your wife and daughter.”

  “Thanks, Ray. What happened is behind us, now. As far as the future is concerned, we're in the Lord’s hands. We just need to pray that God will give us the wisdom to help Sadie recover.”

  Both guards stood looking uncomfortable. A moment later Hawkins rubbed his hands together. “Now, let me look at your grocery list. I will probably want to add to it.”

  Satava handed it over. “Of course, Sir.”

  § § §

  Raganhild Bora paced back and forth in the great room of the keep at Montora Castle. Standing in front of her was the castle staff. Behind her were two representatives of the Panslavic company, her clients. Standing about the room like attack dogs were five of the twenty troop she brought to the castle. She pointed to the large, heavy set man standing with the staff.

  "You, sir, what is your name?"

  "I am Eden Prary, Colonel." The incredibly deep voice seemed to come from subterranean depths.

  "And what is your job here, Eden Prary?"

  "Whatever the Margrave tells me to do."

  Bora whipped around and stalked over to where she was nose to nose with the huge man. She was nearly as tall.

  "My charter, and code of ethics requires me to treat civilians properly," she spat. "But I warn you not to take liberties, Sir."

  "I would not think of it." Prary's face maintained the same placid countenance it had when he carried it into the room. "I do not have a title. I simply do whatever the Margrave tells me to do."

  "Eden takes care of matters in the village or with the infrastructure," the slight balding man standing next to Prary said.

  "And who might you be, Sir?"

  "I am Gerard Blakely, Colonel. I am the Seneschal. I manage the keep for the Margrave."

  Bora nodded. "Very good, Mr. Blakely." She stepped back to scan the rest of the castle staff. "I have not been successful in my line of work by mistreating civilians. However, because of the nature of the crimes we are here to investigate, I must assume control of the castle. Mr. Karkos and Mr. Moriarty will be quartered here along with some of the Highlander Troop. I don't have the time, or the resources to manage this domain. Therefore, Mr. Blakely, since you are the seneschal, you will continue to run this place, subject to the wishes of Mr. Moriarty. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Colonel, I understand. May I ask how I should manage the disbursement of funds? I always did that under the supervision of the Margrave?"

  Bora nodded. "A very good question, Mr. Blakely. We have frozen all governmental funds on planet, pending later disposition. Mr. Moriarty has the authority to release funds for routine activities. He will supervise you."

  "Any further questions?"

  Bora again scanned the staff standing in the room, who stared back in sullen silence.

  "One last thing. I have emphasized our policy of respect towards civilians. However, let me qualify that statement in that I will not tolerate any criminal activities against the Regiment. Do we understand each other?"

  Blakely spoke up again. "Yes Colonel, we understand you completely."

  Bora turned to Moriarty. "I must move on to Paravel. Major Markakides will be responsible for the regimental functions in Montora. He will report to you."

  Moriarty was very short – barely five feet tall, and stocky. His dark hair and heavy beard reinforced his serious nature. He gave a short bow. "Thank you, Colonel. You have been most efficient."

  Bora nodded to him, then left the room without another word.

  Moriarty gazed at the assembled staff. "All right, people. I am not under the same limitations that the Highlander Regiment subscribes to. On the other hand, my goal is to limit the unpleasantness as much as possible. I don't expect you to like me, or enjoy my presence here. But, if you will treat me and my people as guests, we will in turn treat you as respected hosts. Please understand the warning implicit in that."

  He clapped his hands together. “All of you, back to work. Mr. Blakely, our first order of business is to take a tour of the keep. I need, particularly, to see the strong room, and the armory."

  Blakely gave a curt nod. "If you will come this way, Mr. Moriarty."

  As the staff dispersed, a small group consisting of Blakely, Moriarty, and Karkos, followed by four troopers, toured the castle. Following a thorough inspection of the premises, they returned to the Margrave's office.

  Moriarty looked down and touched the swirls of light on the Margrave's desktop. "I will need the password to this system, Blakely."

  "Mr. Moriarty, the Margrave changed the passwords on the system before he left. He did not leave them with me."

  The Panslavic employee glared at Blakely for about thirty seconds before speaking. "I am not prepared to force the issue right now. If I find out you have lied to me, I will not be happy."

  "I am not lying to you."

  Moriarty looked at Karkos. "Oliver, why don't you take a couple of the guards and pick two bedrooms for us. Make them in close proximity, so we can maximize the use of guard force."

  "Sure, Andrew." Karkos left the room, followed by two of the troopers.

  Blakely watched Moriarty for a few minutes as he made guesses at the password on the large comp term. "Mr. Moriarty, I would like a receipt for the items removed from the armory, as well as what you took from the strong room."

  Moriarty's eyes flashed. "I am not obligated to give you anything, Blakely. You are out of line to ask."

  Blakely turned pale, but persisted. "Sooner or later you and I will be standing in court to sort this out. It is my job to give an accurate accounting to the Margrave. If you give me a receipt, you can't be accused of simple theft."

  Moriarty stared at Blakely for a full minute before speaking. "All right you little weasel, prepare a statement of what was removed from the armory and strong room, and I will sign it. However," and he held up his finger, "you will sign it too."

  Blakely nodded. "Of course. I understand completely."

  "I believe you do."

  With both men's signatures on the document, it became a business transaction. Sooner or later the actions of Panslavic would end up being adjudicated by the Merchants and Manufacturers League. Blakely had cleverly arranged for Panslavic to admit responsibility for looting the castle. By signing the statement, Andrew Moriarty protected himself from any possible criminal charges, regardless of what happened to Panslavic.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Major Martin Boodles leaned back in his chair and looked about the office. The Baltic Regiment’s base in exile was in a cave under Hartz Mountain, hidden up one of the valleys along the western slopes of the Mountains of Montora.

  The adjutant, Corporal Simon Clifford, knocked on the door, and stepped into the office with a fresh pot of coffee. He poured a cup and handed it to Boodles, then set the pot on a hot plate resting on a bookshelf along the wall.

  Boodles sipped the coffee, and sighed. “This is good, Corporal. I'm amazed you found it, considering what a tearing great hurry we were in to assemble the base.”


  “We didn't have much warning of the Highlanders' invasion, Sir.”

  “I guess we had enough. How long before we run out of this stuff?”

  Clifford raised an eyebrow. “I asked the mess sergeant the same question. He told me not to worry about it.”

  Boodles snorted. “That means he will manage to liberate whatever coffee he needs from somewhere.”

  “It's sometimes best not to ask, Sir.”

  “One thing we can learn from this, Corporal, is that the contingency planning paid off.”

  “You were not happy with the margrave about that, as I remember, Sir.”

  “You're right about that, Corp. I thought he was being an old woman. I'm just happy we located these caves last summer.”

  The major’s specialty was logistics, and he knew he did it well.

  “After the margrave blew the whistle, how long did it take to retreat up here?”

  “About three hours, Sir,” Clifford said. “We got all our personnel, and I think all of the critical equipment.”

  Boodles chuckled to himself. “I'm not one to pat myself on the back, Corporal, but this went well. There was no doubt it will take several days to sort things out completely, but the Regiment is ready to go to war.”

  “All things considered, Sir.”

  “And what does that mean, Corp?”

  “We are a bunch of retirees going up against a crack regiment, Sir.”

  As Boodles leaned back in his chair, he considered the current situation. He recognized that his biggest problem was the age of his personnel. Montora Base was the home of the Baltic Regiment. The Regiment itself was currently tied down in operations on Addison’s planet. Montora base managed the administrative functions for the regiment, and was populated by the regimental retirees.

  His next biggest problem was that the retirees did not consider themselves to be retired. While they had acquiesced when the Colonel told them they had served long enough, and in fact were honored by his directive, most of them itched to get back into the field. For that reason, Boodles suspected most of them were far less horrified by the situation than he.

  For some reason, the Regimental troops here on Montora had developed a considerable respect for Major Boodles. He did not consider himself to be a great tactician, but he also was not willing to order the troop to do anything he was not willing to do himself. One of the first things the Baltic regimental retirees had done upon their arrival at the cave was to construct a comfortable office for their commanding officer.

  Boodles was touched by their concern. He had always been very careful to stay out of the way of the noncommissioned officers, most of whom had decades of experience. He was able to govern the base with a light hand, and had considered himself to be a rear echelon chair warmer. He found himself embarrassed that the troop would spontaneously shower him with these acts of kindness.

  Clifford watched as the based commander settled into contemplation. “Will there be anything else, Sir?”

  “No, Corporal. I need to wade through all of these intelligence reports before the 18:30 meeting. Just make sure I’m left alone for a while. No comm calls, unless it’s the margrave or the governor.”

  “Of course, Sir.” Clifford backed out of the door, and quietly eased it shut.

  Clifford was another surprise. Prior to the current unpleasantness, Boodles was actively looking for a way to cashier the corporal. The combination of laziness and incompetence had worn upon the major’s nerves. But Clifford had stepped up to the challenge when it became clear the incoming starships were actually an invasion fleet.

  Boodles rested his head in his hands and continued scanning the reports on his comp term. He wondered how in the world he was going to deal with an invader who was sitting astride his major cities. He was also outnumbered, and outgunned, not to mention the folly of going up against first-class mercenary troops with a group of retirees. They were very capable retirees, but they were spotting the Highlanders a lot of years.

  § § §

  Sergeant Clifford “Balto” Gage of the Baltic Regiment burrowed into a snow drift just below the military crest of the hill they had traversed. Sliding in next to him was Corporal Robert Ghormley. Gage brought his electronic binoculars to his eyes and gazed into the Moody River valley, and the activity going on there. As waves of falling snow blew across the valley, the encampment shifted in and out of focus.

  Gage and Ghormley had slipped away from the Regiment once it was clear the retreat was successful, and now were focused on reconnoitering the Montoran lowlands subsequent to the invasion. Gage passed the binoculars over to Ghormley.

  “What do you think of that, Bob?”

  Ghormley scanned the activity along the river carefully. “I guess we have us a mining camp down there, Balto. We got us maybe four heavy lift shuttles, and it looks like construction equipment being unloaded.”

  “I get the impression these guys are planning to be here for a while.”

  “Yeah,” Ghormley continued to scan the area. “Did we get caught with our pants down around our ankles, Sarge?”

  Gage bit his lower lip as he also scanned the area. “No… I don’t think so. The major and the margrave was pretty quick off the centime when that squadron came over the event horizon. It’s just that we don’t have a whole heck of a lot to work with here.”

  “You can say that again. I’m happy to be in the field again, Sarge, but let’s be honest here. Most of those guys down there are twenty years younger than me.”

  “More'n that. I suspect that’s why the major didn’t have us meeting the landing force with mortars and automatic weapons. They would have wiped us out. The major just wants to be smarter.”

  Ghormley lowered the binoculars from his face and looked over at Gage. “I sure hope the major is smarter than these people. Otherwise, things could get downright dirty.”

  “Things are going to get downright dirty anyway. But you know the major. He’s one of the smartest operators I’ve ever seen. In fact, he probably is smarter than the Colonel.”

  Ghormley chuckled. “If it’s all the same to you, Balto, I’ll let you tell the Colonel that.”

  “I think we’ll just leave that one alone.”

  “Right.”

  “Let’s take the time to get ourselves a headcount, here. I’m sure this is something both the major and the margrave will be interested in.”

  “I don’t see any troop there, Sarge.”

  Gage shook his head. “I was just thinking that myself. Uncommonly stupid of them, if you ask me.”

  “Okay, we got a couple of earthmoving pieces coming off the shuttles.”

  “Is that prefab stuff coming off the other shuttle, there?”

  “That’s what it looks like to me.” Ghormley studied the operation. “And that’s a fusion plant, too. These folks are throwing some serious money around.”

  “Worse and worse.”

  Ghormley nodded to his left. “Maybe we spoke too soon about the troops, Balto.”

  With a light keening of turbines, a military shuttle swooped in, and landed fifty yards from the other shuttles. With a rasping whine that was audible across the valley, the loading ramp at the back of the shuttle descended. Twenty troopers immediately marched off the shuttle into the snow.

  “If Lieutenant Kaplin let our gear get into the kind of shape the hoist on that shuttle ramp is, the Colonel would hand him his head.” Kaplin was the motor pool officer on Addison’s planet for the Baltic Regiment.

  Ghormley snorted at Gage’s comment. “You got that one right, Balto. The troops look pretty sharp, though. At least, from up here.”

  “Well, we don’t want to take them on in a standup fight.”

  Ghormley nodded. “What else do we need to look at, Sarge?”

  “I think that’s about it for here. Let’s slip back to the ridge and call it in at the relay point.”

  Gage took the binoculars back from Ghormley, and slid them into his pack. Then both men eased their way
to the top of the hill, being careful not to present a silhouette. They then hiked across the next valley and worked their way up to the first low ridge of the Mountains of Montora.

  Lieutenant Sean Hummingbird scrunched through the snow as he got his first look at the new mining camp along the Moody River, below Montora village. He stepped aside to let the noncommissioned officers begin preparing the guard infrastructure. He was a relatively recent hire to the Highlanders Regiment, but he had long since learned to allow the sergeants to do their job. By not getting in their way, he encouraged them to give him advice on being a proper officer, when he needed it.

  Oliver Karkos stepped up next to him, and observed the activities.

  “What do you think, Lieutenant?”

  Hummingbird shrugged. “Too early to tell, Sir. But the lack of response from the forces here on planet is encouraging.”

  The lieutenant looked around at the fir trees lining the river, and the rolling snowbanks sweeping over the valley. “Pretty place, this.”

  Karkos shook his head as he bent over and picked up a handful of the powdery snow. It was too cold to make a proper snowball, so he brushed his hands off. “You don’t want to take our official statements about the margrave to the bank, Lieutenant. He was actually quite competent. With him and the Baltic Regiment gone to ground, I don’t know what to predict. But you would be wise to keep your people alert.”

  Hummingbird stared at him for a few moments. Mercenary regiments did not hire idiots, particularly for positions at the sharp end of the stick. And, despite his name, Hummingbird was very sharp.

  “Thank you very much, Mister Karkos. I shall keep that in mind.”

  “Call me Oliver. We are probably going to be spending a lot of time together out here.”

  Hummingbird snorted. “I appreciate the thought, Sir. But Colonel Bora would be unhappy with me if she felt I was getting overly familiar with the clients.”

  “I understand. Far be it from me to get you in trouble with your boss. I have my own challenges in that area.”