A Dubious Peace

by Olan Thorensen

  “Again, I thank you for this news. I hope I’ve conveyed enough in the past about how much we value your help with the Narthani and your contributions to our military. If you haven’t been kept abreast of all developments, it’s because you are, after all, not a Caedelli. Might that change? Or, more bluntly, could you change loyalty from Fuomon to Caedellium?”

  Kivalian laughed and slapped his right thigh. “Right to the heart! That’s one reason I’ve always liked you, Yozef. None of this saying half of what you mean and expecting other people to understand what’s unspoken.

  “As for loyalties, I can’t phrase it like that. I’m a Fuomi and don’t plan on changing. But that doesn’t mean I can’t also be a Caedelli. What loyalty I have to Fuomon is to the people, not to those who happen to be ruling. Sometimes I think they’re the same, but not always.

  “I’ve lived on Caedellium longer than any place except when I was growing up. The only family I had were an elderly aunt and uncle who raised me. They died just before I joined the marines. Since then, the military has been my home. Oh . . . I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’ve traveled, seen things, and would be lying if I pretended the marines have not been exciting, even the battles. But I like it here. I don’t plan on returning to my previous life in Fuomon. Maybe I’ve lived here too long. Maybe I’ve made too many friends I’d hate to lose. Of course, then there’s Elsik. She’s not leaving Caedellium with our son, and I’m not leaving without them.”

  Kivalian smiled. “It doesn’t take one of your Caedelli scholastics or mysterious Amerikans to figure out that means I intend to stay permanently on Caedellium.”

  Revelations

  Two days later, a smug Kivalian and a puzzled Eina Saisannin walked with Yozef to a set of buildings no Fuomi—or ex-Fuomi, in Kivalian’s case—had been closer to than a quarter-mile. Mark met them at the closed main door to the largest building.

  “Welcome to dreamland,” said Mark, smiling.

  “A reference to a place in Amerika where surprises originate,” said Yozef to Kivalian’s raised eyebrow.

  I guess Mark could have called it Area 51, thought Yozef. The restricted-access Nevada base was used for the secret testing of aircraft and NASA rovers and was famous for persistent theories that the site housed a discovered alien spacecraft—something both Yozef and Mark considered ironic.

  Mark knocked three times on the wide double doors and moved away so someone inside could swing the doors open. Noise previously muted now poured through the door.

  “Follow me and have a glimpse of the future.”

  The Fuomi entered the building, expecting it to be dark, but workers began unshuttering windows to join large skylights already providing ample work light. Machines unlike any they had ever seen were doing what the Fuomi didn’t recognize—beyond drilling and working metal surfaces. Most machines were operated by one man, but they passed two men at an apparatus six feet tall and twelve feet long. A foot-diameter cylinder was being rotated for what Kivalian thought must be finishing work, as water poured on the surface where a fixed-position edge ground off dustlike particles of metal. At least, that’s what Kivalian thought was happening.

  Both Fuomi were too busy observing as much as they could to ask questions . . . if they had known what to ask. Workers greeted Mark and Yozef, looked curiously at the visitors, and only briefly interrupted whatever they were doing. The four visitors stopped at another large apparatus, this one emitting both smoke and steam from different funnels. They saw burning coal through the open door of a brick furnace. On top of it was, first, a metal box and then on top of that, a cylindrical component with a rod connected by a chain to a rocker arm six feet long and centered on a vertical beam ten feet tall. The other end of the arm had another chain connected to a metal bar partially encased in piping. At Mark’s signal, a work crew turned valves and pulled levers. The arm began rocking back and forth.

  Eina’s eyes widened within seconds. “A functioning steam engine! Is that what this is?”

  “Yes,” said Mark. “This one is designed for pumping water. The intended use is for mines with too much water leakage into the shafts for safe mining. With some modifications, it or another pump will keep the air clear in the shafts, which will make mining safer for the miners and greatly increase production.”

  Eina sighed and looked to Kivalian. “Did you know about this?”

  He shook his head but grinned with delight. “No, but I knew something was going on and being kept secret.”

  Eina’s face was noncommittal when she faced Yozef.

  “This was supposed to be a joint project between Fuomon and Caedellium.”

  “We’ll talk about that later,” said Yozef. “Mark has more to say.”

  “This model of a steam engine is designed for direct transfer of power. However, there are other uses that require converting to rotary motion. We have an example outside.”

  Kivalian loitered to watch the pump action before he followed the others. Behind the structure and surrounded by the ten-foot wooden fence was a fifty-foot stretch of what had to be train rails. However, the differences were striking. Instead of iron- or steel-capped wooden rails, these were made of steel. Instead of the space between parallel rails being free for horse teams to use, wooden beams supported the rails, which were fastened to the beams with clamps and spikes. Sitting on the rails at one end of the rail set was a metal carriage on wheels from which steam and smoke rose.

  “Let me speculate. This is a steam engine train,” Eina said drolly.

  “Actually, what you see is what in Amerika we call a locomotive. It provides the power to pull many wagons behind it. In front, too, but not usually. This is a model only. We’ve just worked out the problems and will be moving to build bigger locomotives soon.”

  He was only “sort of” lying. The model locomotive had been operational in spurts before something broke or the single piston seized up. The equal transfer of rotary motion to wheels on both sides of the chassis was problematic. The model also had no provision for crewmembers riding the apparatus. The first time Yozef saw it, he had told Mark it looked more like a pile of junk than a locomotive.

  Mark and Yozef exchanged a look before Mark called out to workers near the locomotive. The boiler was already fired up, so all one worker had to do was throw a single lever serving as a throttle. The small hulk quivered first before rolling forward. Two workers walked alongside as the apparatus moved down the track, one of them adjusting the throttle several times.

  To make sure it doesn’t crash into the barrier at the end, thought Yozef. He didn’t quite hold his breath. Not quite.

  The throttle was adjusted near the end of the line, and the engine stopped four feet from the barrier. The machine was strictly unidirectional. Repeated demonstrations required releasing the wheels from the gearing and pushing the engine back to the starting point.

  “Of course, this is just the first model,” said Mark. “The full-size locomotives will pull hundreds of times the weight of any horse-drawn train or even the biggest wagons using roads, and speeds will get up to thirty miles an hour on flat terrain.”

  Eventually, thought Yozef, not as optimistic as Mark’s conviction that his words would be accurate within a year.

  “I think Reimo might be especially interested in one more thing we have to show you,” Yozef said to Eina. “Then you and I can talk, while he keeps looking at what he’s seen. He can also ask questions. We don’t have far to go . . . just on the other side of this fence.”

  Mark again led the way, this time through a fence gate to a small table on which lay a firearm. Kivalian rushed right to it and leaned down to examine it more closely without touching it. He peered into the end of the barrel.

  “All right. It’s a rifle, but I’ve never seen anything like it. And all this in back of the barrel?” He looked to Mark.

  “It’s called a Sharps rifle. It’s loaded at the breech with the self-contained cartridges in the box on the table.”

 
This was another exaggeration of sorts. Mark had prevailed on Yozef for support to push a project on breech-loading. They spent hours going over what they remembered from the history of breech-loading firearms—which did not include detailed knowledge of any one example. Yozef had limited details from his gamester group and Mark, a similar level of knowledge from a family of hunters, including an uncle and his sons who were aficionados of old weapons.

  Between the two of them, they came up with several proposed models of breech-loading rifles from different countries and eras: a crude-looking Norwegian or Swedish, they couldn’t remember which, rifle that was the first breechloader adopted by a nation for its army; a French rifle that fired a cartridge using a needle in the bolt; and the Sharps rifle circa 1860s from the United States. After their failures and sifting through problems, the rifle on the table was closest to the Sharps, though it wasn’t an exact copy.

  “Can I examine it?” asked Kivalian.

  “Go ahead,” said Mark.

  The Fuomi picked up the rifle and initially held it out with both arms as he rotated it in all planes. “Heavy and solid feeling.”

  He put the rifle to his shoulder into firing position. “Yes, but not a bad balance.”

  “Pull the lever down,” said Mark.

  Kivalian did as instructed, and a metal block lowered to reveal the breech where a cartridge could be inserted into the end of the barrel.

  “What’s the range?”

  “Targets have been hit at more than a mile, but I wouldn’t depend on that. This model is strictly sighting down the barrel, but it’s possible to add sights that can be adjusted for long ranges. As it is, probably 400 hundred yards. With the best sights, then out to 600 to 700 yards. For sniper purposes, we think a telescope sight can eventually be made to push the range out to maybe 1,000 yards with a reasonable chance of hitting something.”

  “Rate of fire?”

  “Under battlefield conditions, six to eight rounds a minute. More important, you can load lying down and even on horseback, though that takes some practice and can’t be done as fast if the horse is moving. We can make a version with a shorter barrel, so it’s easier from horseback, but our current tactical doctrine for our dragoons is to ride to battle and fight on foot.”

  “Can I try it out?” asked Kivalian.

  “I’ll leave you with Mark,” said Yozef. “Eina and I will retire to a quieter place.”

  They walked back toward the capital complex, hearing the Sharps firing before they were a hundred yards along. When they reached the complex, Yozef pointed to two ironwork chairs facing each other beneath a small cluster of Anyarian trees with feather-like leaves. Eina suspected the chair arrangement had been prepared.

  “Why don’t we sit here? It’s such a nice day.”

  “‘Interesting’ hardly describes your tour, Yozef. I suppose I’m now to hear the reason this was shown to us today.”

  “There are changes coming that you should be made aware of, Eina. Or maybe I should say changes that have already occurred, and it’s time for all parties to be honest.

  “I’ll start with our side. I admit we’ve violated part of our original agreement with Jaako Rintala, at least by implication, if not directly. I gave Rintala everything I knew about steam engines. The problems encountered by your people in Fuomon and our joint effort here to get the engines to work were due to my limited knowledge and making some outright guesses. Our current level of success is due to Mark Kaldwel. He actually knows how the engines work and how the principles are adapted to various purposes. There was no such agreement to share what Mark knows.”

  He held up a hand to forestall Eina’s response.

  “Yes, it’s arguable, but there it is. The important point is why our separate project was kept from you. It comes down to a combination of wanting to hold onto what we could use in future negotiations with Fuomon or other nations and our not fully trusting Fuomon. The last part is more important today.

  “We have withheld information from Fuomon, but also the reverse is true. When were we going to be told your navy plans to leave Caedellium?”

  Eina sighed. “I was afraid you had found out. I’m sorry, Yozef, but I was put in an impossible position when Koskanin told me, and that was well after he arrived with knowledge of what was planned. Despite the work I’m doing with the university, I am part of the Fuomon diplomatic mission here on Caedellium. When Koskanin replaced me as ambassador, that left me obliged to follow his directives, one of which was not to tell you about the navy’s movement. And let’s be clear. It’s not that Caedellium will be completely abandoned. Our ships will move to be closer to a position where they can take action against Narthon. It can be argued that they will keep Narthani ships away from Caedellium better by being farther south.”

  “Even if I believe that to be true, it still doesn’t mitigate why we were not informed right away. That would have given us more time to try to argue against the move or make whatever other plans are possible.”

  “I admit the mistake, and I argued strenuously about the decision as soon as I was told. I’m afraid I can’t give a good answer as to why that was the decision.”

  Yozef gave a dismissive hand gesture.

  “Naturally, I’m interested in the reason, but the main point is that Fuomon hid what we consider a major decision involving Caedellium. I’ve yet to have a productive meeting with Koskanin. He’ll ramble on saying nothing whenever I press him for information on Fuomon’s intentions, and he makes little effort to hide his disdain for anything about Caedellium. As much as we appreciate Fuomon’s previous help, we have to look to the future, possibly one without Fuomon. Which brings me to another issue. We’ve started to wonder whether Fuomon is putting its best effort into defeating Narthon. And no, I won’t explain why we wonder this. There are also recent events to feed that thought.”

  “Yozef, I apologize as much as I can and hope you understand the position I was in. I’ve also known you long enough to sense the depths of what’s going on in your head. Why don’t you leap right to where you see our conversation going and save us time?”

  He smiled with a self-satisfied expression. “I may not know exactly where we’re going, but I do know changes are coming. Whatever happens with your ships, Ambassador Koskanin is leaving Caedellium as soon as a ship going back to Fuomon can sail.”

  “What!?” exclaimed Eina. “I haven’t heard he’s been recalled, and he certainly hasn’t told me of any such intent. Did he tell you this? If not, how do you know?”

  This time his grin was a smirk. “Koskanin is as yet unaware he’s leaving. As soon as we’re finished here, I’m going to the embassy with armed men to arrest two of his staff and tell him he has three hours to pack anything he can and be on a train waiting to take him to Adris City. He’s being banished from Caedellium for being an accomplice to murder and assault.”

  Eina sagged into the iron chair’s back, shocked. “Murder? Assault? What are you talking about?”

  Yozef had been carrying a tied-shut folder since he met her and Kivalian. He now held the folder out to her.

  “These are copies of evidence stating that Irvod Koskanin ordered Taponi Namaki to carry out spying in Caedellium, which included bribing Caedelli to secretly access information without our knowledge. Now, of course, only the naïve would think we didn’t suspect you weren’t doing some of the same before Koskanin arrived. However, he crossed a threshold. A Caedelli man had already passed on information to Namaki and was paid for it. The man thought what he gave was innocuous, but Namaki wanted him to go well beyond that and access information that the man was unwilling to do. He confessed to us. We planned to trap Namaki. Contact between our man and Namaki was through another embassy staff member. We had our man tell them he would only give the information to Namaki himself. When the meeting happened, we moved to take your two Fuomi embassy people into custody. Namaki pulled a pistol and the other man a knife. One of our men was killed and two others wounded. In the folder is
detailed physical evidence that Namaki fired the fatal shot and testimony from the other man that Koskanin was aware of the spying and the attempt to coerce the Caedelli.

  “I’m assuming you are unaware of any of this. Namaki was captured before he returned to the embassy. At first, he seemed to think he was somehow immune to our laws and that we had no evidence of his involvement in a crime. He even tried to put all the blame on the other Fuomi. We arranged for that man to hear Namaki’s excuses.

  “To jump ahead, both men have confessed and claim Koskanin ordered Namaki to develop a spy network and to avoid implicating Koskanin. That makes Koskanin an accessory to murder and assault. We will recognize a principle called ‘diplomatic immunity,’ where an ambassador cannot be prosecuted or imprisoned for any reason. We will extend the same courtesy to other senior embassy staff members as long as the offense is not extreme—which it is in this case. Therefore, Namaki and the man captured with him will remain in custody, as will two other members of the embassy staff who will be arrested.

  “We also will formally revoke Koskanin’s status as ambassador in front of the entire embassy staff. We recognize the argument that only Fuomon has the authority to do that. Nevertheless, Fuomon can call him anything they want, but we will not deal with him again. We understand that you remain the next-highest-ranking Fuomi on Caedellium. Although Koskanin has pushed you aside, your formal position remains. Therefore, from the moment I tell the embassy staff of Koskanin’s banishment, we will only recognize you as the ambassador.

  “We will also send back to Fuomon copies of the same evidence I’ve given you, along with a letter from me explaining our action.”

  Yozef leaned back, crossed his ankles, and stared at the sky.

  “Lovely day. Nice clouds. I prefer a few of them, rather than a totally clear sky. How about you?”

  “Uh . . . yes. Although I like no clouds, I can appreciate your preference.”