War World: Discovery
Page 23
Harry had a spring to his step as he strode out of the barracks building, turned his collar up against the cold, and headed for Erica’s. He couldn’t wait to get back. She was going to be pleased and in the mood to celebrate. He had been pushing her to join him in a threesome, and while she had hinted for some time that she was willing, she had never given in. His eye had been on a tight-bodied little Korean girl who had just joined the brothel. Maybe tonight was the night, thought Harry, whistling as he strode down the frozen street.
A T-month after the planning began, a Kennicott helicopter landed on Splashdown Island and picked up Lieutenant Frasier. It then flew to the Harmony compound, and besides the Lieutenant, four men got out, and demanded to see Charles Castell. Two of the men were obviously guards. One of the men, a short rabbitty man with glasses and a goatee, who introduced himself as Ronald Waddell, appeared to be in charge. But he often glanced at the large, silent man with him, Martin Peltz, whose function among the visitors was not explained.
Reverend Castell might be an aesthetic, but he was no fool, and understood these men were here to discuss the new transportees. He had acolytes offer the men refreshments while Kev Malcolm, Mr. Naha and Deacon Miller could be gathered.
Once everyone was gathered, Mr. Waddell got right to the point. “We’re here to discuss the miners that arrived with the latest transportees. They need to be moved downriver to our mining camp, get settled in their new homes.”
Charles Castell was not a man who smiled, but he came close to it as he replied. “We already have plans to move them downriver in the spring. But they will not be moving into your mining camp. Unless they want to, of course. I am exercising my authority under the planetary charter to commission a new settlement. It hasn’t been named yet, but we are provisionally calling it Minerstown. I have appointed Mr. Naha here, a representative of the miners, as the mayor for this town, and vested in him legal powers to manage that town and the surrounding region.”
“But our charter,” answered Waddell, “comes directly from the CoDominium itself, and is not subject to your jurisdiction.”
“I understand that,” said Castell, “and we have no plans to, shall we say, ‘undermine’ your efforts.”
“This is what I was trying to explain to you,” interjected Lieutenant Frasier. “These folks have this all thought out, drawn up all legal and proper. In the future, I’ll have to lend support not only to your mining camp, but also to the new town and mayor, who exercise legal authority under the Harmony CoDominium Charter.”
Waddell looked at Peltz, who gave him a baleful glance, and then looked at the others in the room like a cornered predator. “But these miners were sent here to support Kennicott operations, they simply ended up arriving at the wrong location because of interference from the Humanity League, who had some misguided ideas that all transportees should be treated alike. Surely you mustn’t want to put up with the strains all these newcomers have placed on your community?”
“Because of the CoDominium’s interference, we’ve unfortunately become quite used to accommodating transportees,” said Castell. “And from what I hear, we accommodate them better than your camp does. Now certainly, under the agreement made with my Father, you have every right to conduct your mining operations. And as free people, these miners have every right to work for you.
“I have no objection to hosting a recruiting effort here in our barracks, and whoever you recruit, you can bring back to your camp. Or, you can wait until summer, and recruit workers from the new town. Although, I think you’ll have to offer them better wages and benefits than your current workforce. And my people will give you information on the user fees you will be providing to promote social welfare and infrastructure projects.”
Castell was now clearly enjoying this, finally finding a vent for the frustrations he had felt ever since Kennicott had arrived on a planet he thought of as his own. Waddell was stunned, and you could see his mind working through the implications of this revelation. Every twitch on his face probably represented another hundred thousand credits that would have to flow to wages instead of profits.
Peltz looked at Frasier. “Lieutenant, you need to do something.”
Frasier kept his face neutral as he replied. “The only thing I can do is what I always strive to do, uphold the laws of the CoDominium. And in this case, even if you don’t like it, the law is on their side.”
The Kennicott representatives rose to leave, and stalked out of the room, with
Lieutenant Frasier following at a respectful distance. It didn’t help matters when everyone erupted in laughter behind them.
Erica leaned back in the bed with a contented smile. This man Peltz was the first man in years that had gotten her to enjoy herself in bed. As soon as she had seen him at her bar, and learned who he was, she had the staff bring him to her. This was more than a trick, she felt that they had real business to discuss.
The kitchen boy, Jack, who shared the bed with them, stroked Peltz’s arm, and leaned in to kiss him, but was pushed rudely out of bed for his troubles.
“Get out of here,” Peltz growled, “your boss and I have business to discuss.”
Erica had quickly discovered that Peltz liked his sex with a lot of kink involved, and summoned Jack to help meet those urges. She was pleased to see that Peltz had mixed feelings about his own desires--shame was a lever you could use to bend a man to your will. Look how well it had worked with that Pakistani, Khan, when she first arrived in town.
“It seems to me,” she said as Jack closed the door behind himself, “that Kennicott will need some friends in our new little town.”
“Yeah, that’s for sure, but why the offer? What’s in it for you?”
Erica smiled. This man was no fool.
“These Harmonies and the miners seem to think that they have you boxed in. But you and I both know that money is power, and most of the money flowing into this new town will be yours. And while I have to pay lip service to the town government, it seems to me that I can do a lot for you. My former head of security, for example, just got the post of First Deputy to the new Sheriff. Imagine what a friend in the Sheriff’s office could do for you, the information we could pass along.”
“Head of security?” Peltz asked. “Don’t you mean boyfriend?”
Erica’s respect went up a notch. She explained her relationship with Davis, and they talked about things that they could do for their mutual benefit once she reached the new town. It was obvious that Peltz had done his homework, and hadn’t just come in here to get laid. This was the kind of man she had dreamed of, the kind of man who had real power, the kind she could be a partner to. She felt a stirring that she hadn’t felt in years, pulled him to her, stopped the conversation with a kiss, and lost herself in lust.
A few days later, the Kennicott men opened their recruiting booth in the mess hall. While they were generally shunned, they did attract thirty-seven miners to their side with promises of perks and leadership roles. And a few days after that, Lieutenant Frasier met with the relocation planning committee.
“I appreciate what you folks are trying to do, and it seems pretty fair and decent to me. But you’re tweaking some pretty powerful noses here, and I’d suggest that you proceed carefully. I’ll be flying a small contingent to that area soon, only a single platoon, to set up a small barracks to keep the peace. And I would suggest that you folks get some of your people down there in person to stake your claim on the town site.”
“Could you bring some of our people along with yours?” asked Deacon Miller.
“Afraid not, that would be seen as taking sides,” Frasier answered.
Miller turned to the others. “He’s right. Now that they know our plans, they could come up with some idea to disrupt them. The river is already frozen. How will we get them there?”
There was a moment of silence, and then Naha grinned. “Where we come from, a river doesn’t have to be liquid to be sailed on. Have you ever heard of an ice boat?”
The four ice boats were each about thirty feet in length, and crewed by six men apiece. Sheriff Sorensen stood in the first boat, Harry climbed into the second, and each of the other boats held at least one Deputy, duly appointed by Mayor Naha to enforce all laws and especially property rights. The other crewmembers were engineers and surveyors who would begin laying out the new community.
The Harmonies would not allow their funds to be used in purchasing weapons, but seeing where their best interests laid, the merchant’s society had raised funds to arm the party, and Harry had a new bolt action rifle at his side. The stated purpose of those guns was for hunting and protection from wild animals, but it was clear they could have other uses as well.
First Deacon Kev Malcolm represented the Harmonies, and gave a nice speech, wishing the contingent a harmonious and safe journey. Mayor Naha rose to the occasion, and had the crowds laughing and cheering for the success of the new town. Preacher Jackson offered a blessing himself. Harry didn’t give a shit about the speeches, he just wanted to get going.
The ice boats had colorful sails, bright to make it easier to keep track of each other, and as they were unfurled, they added to the festive nature of the occasion. There was a stiff breeze out of the north, and Harry was surprised to learn that the boats could move at a pretty quick pace. He hadn’t moved this fast since he had left the shuttle T-months ago. Soon he was whooping like a kid along with the others, and Castell City was soon lost from sight behind them. Harry would miss Erica, but she had packed him a number of bottles of her best whiskey, and whispered promises of what kind of welcome he could look forward to the next time they were together.
Deacon Miller stood on the quay wall in Docktown in front of the first of the completed rafts, now being loaded for their journey. The great day had arrived. Spring was in the air, heather was blooming, and despite the continuing chill in the air, the river was running, open and unimpeded by ice.
Lieutenant Frasier bent his neutrality enough to report that a recent supply run to his Minerstown Marine contingent had seen open water for the entire length of the river. Both Byers’ Star and Cat’s Eye were in the sky, and it was the start of a brightday, when the rosy glow made it almost possible to forget how harsh Haven could be. Docktown was bustling, as the last supplies were loaded aboard the rafts. Captain Doyle and Captain “Mike” were in the steamboats lashed to the first raft, which would also carry the planning committee--himself, Mayor Naha, Preacher Jackson, Jonnie Johnson, Brunet and Deacon Miller.
The march of the “Chosen” through the streets had become a parade, led by a band that included, among other instruments, a cornet, an Irish fiddle, a Klezmer clarinet and some odd Asian stringed doohickey. They had found a musical compromise in an old American spiritual, and the people around them sang along; “Oh, them golden slippers...” The band was followed by the livestock that was accompanying the first group, mostly working horses and mules, but with some barnyard animals among them. Some of the horses were skittish with all the excitement, and braying mules added to the general din.
This group was probably going to be easier to manage than following groups, as it consisted of mostly tradesmen and farmers, serious folks that had some hard tasks ahead of them. But even they had joined in with the spirit, and smiled and laughed as they headed toward the pier, their belongings bundled on their backs.
On the pier, one of the men approached Deacon Miller, and asked, “Brother Moses, which raft is Shop Four assigned to?”
As Miller sputtered indignantly into a cup of Eggbush tea, Preacher Jackson leaned in and interjected, “Raft Three.”
As the man walked off, Miller called out to him, “Who told you my name was Brother Moses?”
The man turned and pointed to the preacher, who had a huge grin on his face.
“Well, you never shared your first name with us, so we had to guess. What is your given name, anyhow?”
Miller replied, “Abraham,” and flushed as the group burst into laughter. “Father of the Chosen People,” howled the preacher. “Even more appropriate.”
Spring had finally arrived at the site of the new Minerstown, and Harry didn’t think that anyone in the advance party was gladder than him to see the open water on the river, and know that the rafts were soon to arrive. The winds had been with them almost the entire way, blowing strongly out of the west. The ice boat trip had taken only twelve days, and they were fun days for Harry and the other boat crewmen.
But once they reached their goal, Harry had spent some of the most miserable T-weeks of his life. He had to sneak whiskey behind the backs of the others, which he thought would make it last longer, but even still, it ran out far too quickly. There was a lot of brute force labor required to fell trees and build a shelter that would be adequate against the cold of the Haven winter. And after that, cutting and splitting firewood was a daily occurrence. Hunting parties, cutting through the ice to draw water from the river, scouting the area, none of these were tasks that Harry enjoyed.
They had found the new Marine contingent just up the river, and at one point, Harry had volunteered to make contact with the Kennicott camp. Because the miners didn’t want to make too many waves early on, they decided to limit their meetings to management officials. And while Harry reported back the hostility of the mining company, he used this as an opportunity to open some secret side discussions, as he had been coached by Erica and the mining official, Peltz. He didn’t much like Peltz, but Erica had made him understand just what kind of benefits they could reap by playing both ends against the middle.
But all that was behind him now. Spring was in the air, and soon he would
be seeing Erica again.
After all the preparations, the trip down the river was finally underway. Deacon Miller had never spent any time on the water, so this was all new to him. On good days, being on the water was a glorious experience, watching the banks of the river slide by, the air crisp and clear. But in bad weather, the days were miserable in ways that put a bad day on shore to shame. They couldn’t raise awnings, as the sail effect played havoc with navigation, so the cold spring rains were miserable. The proximity to the water kept everything damp for hours and even days. Stack gas from the steamboats often blew across the rafts, bringing coughs and watering eyes.
This got worse as they progressed down river, and started burning green wood gathered off the banks. But the trip would have been impossible without that green wood, and fuel turned out to be an area where they lucked out. Only once, when they were passing through a stretch of grasslands, did they have to borrow wood from the rafts to keep going.
The food was primarily protein paste, and even with boards across the massive egg tree logs, the rafts were uncomfortable places to sleep. Water was collected at the bow of the first raft, and passed back as needed. The heads were located on the stern of the rafts, and consisted of rude shelters that hung over the end of the raft, which many men ignored, although they soon learned the full import of the old sailor’s term “pissing to windward.”
Toward the end of the first day out, they had their first casualty. A miner was trying to get around some others, walking on the last log on the edge of the raft. He slipped and tumbled into the water. Before anyone could even reach out to him, he began to scream, the water filled with blood, and within a minute he was gone. Captain Doyle later explained that in many spots along the river, there were schools of what he called ‘razor fish,’ nasty creatures that threatened anyone who entered the water. The occupants of the rafts moved toward the center after that, and treated the river with more respect.
Miller found the stea
mboats fascinating. Jonnie Johnson did also, and spent hours explaining to the Deacon how they were constructed, and how they worked. The boats were of local manufacture, a standard design about twelve meters long and four broad. One of the few successful bureaucratic initiatives of the Bureau of Relocation was the Indigenous Manufacture Program, or IMP, which had sent designs to the outworlds for simple machinery and devices. Printed on plasticized paper, and accompanied by books on basic trades and manufacture, these guides had been a great boon to progress on worlds too poor to import Earth technology on a continuing basis. The steamboats were among the many successful IMP designs, and had already begun to support a vigorous trade on the rivers of the Shangri-La Valley.
As handy as they were, however, the steamboats were not designed for tug work. They sometimes had difficulty changing the course of the rafts, and it seemed like much of their effort was expended pushing the bows to either direction to keep them on track. The bows of the open steamboats had been reinforced for this purpose with heavy rope cushions and extra bracing.
On occasion, a raft would catch up on a bar, the others would be anchored, and all six steamboats would be used to remove the passengers to lighten the raft, and then to pull it clear. Fortunately for the travelers, the Xanadu was much broader and more forgiving than the Jordan River that stretched east of Castell City. A trip of this scale, moving upstream on the narrow and often rocky Jordan, would have been impossible.
Miller had some rather disgusted reports from Raft Three, where all the livestock was carried, in an area floored by lumber and surrounded by a sturdy fence. This naturally made the raft the least desirable one to be aboard, and there was much rude teasing of those who traveled with the beastly cargo. One farmer had wanted to save the manure the livestock produced for the fields at their destination, but he was soon overruled. The manure was shoveled ashore during rest stops, and mounded with seeds from BuReloc terraforming stocks. Weeds that would push out the Haven wildlife, and make this planet more hospitable for the spread of colonists.