We spent the whole day with Res, not only drawing up incorporation papers, but also drafting offers and contracts on a couple of ideas I'd already had, as well as Heidi's bra deal. I liked Res. He was smart, imaginative, and knowledgeable. Besides, incorporating in Cellia would make it more difficult for Duke Richard. Despite Len's death, relations between New Home and Cellia were strained, and had been for years. Most Cellians considered New Home an old enemy. Oh, Business was conducted, of course, but still, the hostility was obvious and deep.
And I finally got to see one of those 'manual typewriters' Lisa had told me about. It was a machine nearly as large as one of Adventurer's onboard terminals. On its slanted front ran rows of buttons, or 'keys'. Each of these 'keys' was mechanically linked to an arm in the middle of the machine. Paper was wrapped around a cylinder on the machine's top, and between the arms and the paper was an inked ribbon. When the operator pressed hard enough on one of the "keys", it would activate the mechanical arm, on the end of which was a raised letter in both capital and lower case form. The arm would swing up and hit the inked ribbon and then the paper, leaving the imprint of the letter on the paper. It sounds incredibly clumsy, but Lettie, Res' secretary, could operate it amazingly fast. Res claimed she could type nearly 60 words per minute. Okay, one of Adventurer's printers could produce a page in a few seconds. But this was a single woman, working this complicated mechanism by hand. Watching her fingers fly, I was impressed.
"Hey!" I said, suddenly realizing something. "I was told that all you 'assistants' were skilled 'typists'! Can you do that?"
Heidi shook her head. "No. At least not nearly as well as Lettie does. I type, but barely break thirty words per minute."
"Well, brush up," I said. "I think it would be handy if I had someone I could trust who was able to type up simple contracts and stuff."
She looked annoyed. "Yes, sire."
We went to lunch, and finally, I gave up. Heidi had been very close-mouthed about the diamonds I'd given her to sell. I'd been waiting for her to bring it up, and she'd been waiting for me. It had become something of an unspoken challenge: who would be the first to mention diamonds? Apparently, she'd gotten enough to buy that farm, but, well …
"All right, Heidi," I said. "You win. Tell me about the diamonds."
Her smile blazed, and she leaned forward, causing an instant distraction. "Well, Messer Carver, Sire, Boss, I'm afraid you're going to have to study up. You're going to have to learn that 'M' word you've been so afraid of. As in 'millions'. You are now worth over ten million New Home crowns, even after buying that farm."
The smile faded, and her tone became more businesslike.
Heidi had been trickling my diamonds into the legitimate trade channels, in an effort to keep the transactions anonymous. She had been successful, but rumors and questions were beginning to circulate in gem trading circles. There were several experts worldwide who could identify the work of nearly every diamond cutter on Haven, or at least the region in which a stone had been cut.
But my diamonds were from off-planet. They were flawless stones, and the mechanical perfection of the cuts was unequalled on Haven. It was becoming a major mystery, and the theories to explain it were becoming uncomfortably near the truth. So, Heidi stopped while still holding six stones. When the excitement settled down, she explained, we could resume trickling the stones onto the market, though more slowly than before. "Right now," she said, "You have accounts in all four of the major nations' largest banks, under a variety of names."
I frowned. "Hmph," I said. "If I'm already rich, maybe we don't need to go through all this cloak and dagger stuff."
She shook her head, frowning. "Don't be ridiculous. We talked about this for hours on the airship. You've got a ship full of things this planet can use. Now, you can give it away, just dump it, and expect us to find a way to use it. Of course, then you'd be dependent on your income from the transportation franchise, which Duke Richard would be happy to grab. Or you can carefully plan how to introduce it, a bit at a time, along with detailed information on its use, and help the planet develop, without exposing yourself to Duke Richard. If you're going to stimulate business, you have to make them invest in the product. Businessmen don't trust people giving them things.
"Look at your idea for choc," she continued. "You're going to create an entirely new product. You've got enough capital to start your own company to produce it, and make billions with a monopoly, while probably driving dozens of tea companies into ruin. But you've come up with this plan to sell the product and the production details planet-wide, while making sure everyone gets a piece of the pie. Yes, you'll make a huge profit, but so will everyone who deals with you. We just have to keep your name and your face out of it.
"And even my bra deal," she continued. "That bra is your property. You're the one that should be raking in the money from a lingerie manufacturer. Instead, you just gave it to me. I had to talk you into taking a share."
I shook my head. "No. The bra deal is all you, Heidi. To me, that thing was just leftover belongings of a dead woman. You're the one that saw the potential. How did that go, by the way?"
The smile was back. "It went very well, up to a point. I took it to Pretty Woman, the planet's largest bra maker. They had a model try it on, and she loved it. So did the designers. The problem is that no one could identify the material in it. If you can provide the materials, or the details of its manufacture, they're prepared to offer 100,000 crowns cash, and 10% of the net profits, split between us. Just between us, I think they'd pay a lot more than that just for the material."
I shrugged and called Lisa. Bras, I learned, were typically made of a stretchable synthetic material that likely didn't exist on Haven. According to Lisa, though, the ingredients in the synthetic were reasonably common, Perhaps I could interest a chemical company in producing the stuff. The chemical industry was still rather small on Haven, and was mostly centered on explosives for mining and military use. It had already received a boost from producing the nutrients for the hydroponics plants. Surely at least one of the companies would be interested in another "space formula". It seemed that the opportunities for profit on Haven were endless, with one leading to another. Maybe I was doomed to be a tycoon despite myself!
Res just shrugged when I happened to mention my reluctance to be rich. "I really can't imagine a situation like that," he replied. "But if you're really serious, there are hundreds of charities on Haven that would gladly take your excess wealth. Or you could start your own. You happen to know a lawyer who would be happy to set up a nonprofit corporation for you." He grinned. "And of course, contributions to the Res Vont Retirement Fund would be gratefully accepted." He was literally rubbing his hands in delight. He paused and the grin faded. "You know, Jerd, I think you'd better put me on retainer, and find a way to get a telephone. You're going to need me a lot!"
Actually, I did put him on retainer. As an old slum rat, I liked his irreverent attitude toward his profession and his cavalier attitude toward the law itself. His grin was wide. "I've always wanted to really become a shady lawyer! Maybe I'll have my 'Attorney At Law' sign changed to 'Shyster'."
I shook my head, grinning. "I wouldn't advise it. Advertising that you are one would make it harder to be one!"
He sighed in mock disappointment. "I guess you're right," he said sorrowfully. "Pity."
Lettie had actually typed up several copies of the contracts and offers we'd discussed already, using thin black papers with one side covered with carbon dust placed between each sheet. We had four copies of each, although they became increasingly unclear, and the letters tended to smear if touched.
I frowned. "I'll need clean originals to present to the business people," I complained. Res nodded. "Of course. I have several typists I use for that, ones I can trust." Informed that I would need at least one original and a copy for each company, Res nodded. "Give me two days."
I almost groaned aloud. I wasn't looking forward to that blasted train ride again,
or spending twenty minutes at the train station powering up the steam carriage. Nor was I really interested in spending two more nights in that homey but primitive farmhouse.
"Don't worry your pampered little head about it," Heidi grinned when I mentioned my concerns after leaving Res' office. "We already have reservations at Cellia City's finest hotel. Indoor plumbing, and you can get a hot bath, or even a shower."
But we didn't get to use those reservations, and I did have to suffer through the train ride and the steam buggy starting procedure. I had to admit, though; once a head of steam was built up, the steam carriage was powerful and nearly silent. Quite comfortable, actually. Maybe I was becoming acclimated to my new world.
The reason we had to go back was so that I could ask Lisa to send the gig down. Talking with Heidi and Res had only emphasized the urgency Ollie had instilled in me. Things were moving faster than I'd planned, and I needed some samples, and to have Adventurer print up some research on her small supply of paper. I hated to do that; Even if I could replenish her paper and whatever she used for ink, those three printers would have to last me until Haven could develop their own comps and printers. And with the current status of advanced technology on Haven, that could mean the rest of my life. Besides, they weren't mine, They belonged to Haven, like the rest of Adventurer, and I felt guilty using them.
Still, it was important that I learn about doing business on Haven. I thought, and Res and Heidi agreed, that I had items that would be in great demand on Haven. More importantly, though, I could offer everything necessary to make sure the purchaser could assure himself of a continuing supply of the product. The trick was to avoid giving one business a monopoly. Actually, there were no laws on Haven forbidding monopolies; but my intent was not to merely make money. I wanted to promote the development of the planet. So I had to find ways to make certain the purchase was not exclusive, and to make competitors aware of the product.
For instance, aluminum was almost mere legend on Haven. Oh, they knew it existed, or had existed, but nearly all of the samples on Haven had oxidized beyond usability. But bauxite was common in the planet's crust, often becoming a waste product of mines seeking other minerals. Haven scientists knew that aluminum could be produced from bauxite ore; but the secrets of smelting and refining the ore into aluminum had been lost. Aluminum processing is complicated and takes very high heat, beyond the capability of Haven to produce.
But Adventurer contained all the information necessary for a pre-space culture to process bauxite ore and produce aluminum metal. More importantly to me, Startrader carried twenty tonnes of orbitally-refined, chemically pure aluminum metal, in two-kilo ingots. Twenty tonnes is not enough to jump-start an industry; in fact, it would make a rather small individual order. But Aluminum is usually used in alloys; and properly alloyed, twenty tonnes of pure aluminum could produce 50 or even 100 tonnes of metal. Yes, I learned all that from Adventurer, after noticing the cast iron seats on an airship where weight was a paramount consideration.
I had Jane print up a copy of a text that explained the metallurgical properties of Aluminum, and contained a detailed description of the early (pre-space) procedures for mining and smelting it, as well as various alloying possibilities. I also had three copies of a ten page booklet printed; rather a summary of the contents of the book. The summary would tell them what the book contained, but they'd need the book itself to use the techniques.
I had learned from Westin's experience: I sent Heidi back down to have the pages typeset into several dozen books, and to pick up the completed proposals and contracts from Res. The printer was reluctant to print so small a run, and objected to my insistence that he surrender the typeset boards to Heidi for possible future use. It was expensive, since we had to replace the boards, but we did agree that the printer would be contracted to produce any future editions.
There were only three major metals refining companies on Haven; and I got lucky. Each of the three was in a different nation. The largest, Cellia Metals, was, of course, in Cellia, not far from Cellia City and on a railroad spur line. Mining and metals production is, in fact, that nation's largest source of income. The second largest, Sarbo Metals, was also the only one that was solely owned by one man, Kel Sarbo of New Home. Sarbo was one of Haven's wealthiest citizens, and ran the business with an iron hand from his office on the plant grounds in Firstlanding.
Close behind Sarbo and closing fast was Westin Mining and Metals. Westin's expanses were proving to have much mineral wealth, and Westin Metals had proven aggressive in pursuing mineral resources.
Heidi was a busy girl, flying all over West Continent and tracking down farms and isolated homes that could be bought or rented, but where she thought we might be able to sneak a lander in at night. It was obvious I was going to need access to at least the capitol cities of all four major nations.
Checking with Ollie, I learned that the hydroponics project was on schedule, and that planting would be completed within days. After that, of course, it was simply a matter of letting nature take its course. Ollie and Turlow had that well in hand, so I decided to return to the Zone, and learn what Toray had been up to behind my back.
All of my "assistants" seemed irritated by my long absence, except Paula Cordo, who still blamed me for Tanya Reyes' death, and greeted me with stony indifference, and Jess, who went out of her way to let me know she was furious. Actually, though, most of the activity in the Zone had been taking place in Chancellor Toray's area. He now had a staff larger than my own, and was planning to expand the compound to accommodate more. My "assistants" had had little to do, except sort through the piles of messages and letters; some fan mail, some asking me to help them get into the University, and others, many others, cursing and threatening me. But without me to spy on, all the women could do was possibly spy on each other. I think that was when I really began to become paranoid.
Ellie was the first "assistant" to be able to get me alone. "It's about time you got back, Captain," she began in an exasperated tone, after capping the speaking tubes.
I grinned. "What's the matter, Ellie? Are your reports getting boring?"
Her frown faded, and a faint smile appeared. "Actually, yes. But President Curran has asked us to please keep you alive for awhile, and that's easier to do when you're here to help."
After Ollie's and Heidi's lectures on the threats to me, that got my attention. "You think there's a threat?"
Ellie shrugged, the frown reappearing. "Maybe. We're not sure. But Becky, Jess and I have all caught Paula creeping around the compound at night, when she's not on watch. Becky thinks she's taking photographs, although it's not easy to get nighttime photos. We've talked it over, and we think Duke Richard has got to her. Yes, she's an agent of Cornwell, but she really hates you, Captain. We suspect Duke Richard has used that to convince her to work for him, too." She shrugged. "If I were you, I'd call up good old President Tyree and ask him to replace her."
Ellie was a trained observer and spy. When one receives advice from an expert, one does well to heed it. I called Tyree on his tablet.
"Yes, Carver, What is it? I'm very busy."
"My apologies, Messer President. But I do have a favor to ask."
His tone was irritated, his frown dark. "I see. We go for months without a word for Cornwell, but when you need a favor, you simply summon me from an important meeting."
"Messer President," I replied carefully, "You are chief executive of one of Haven's most important nations. I was sure you would prefer to not be disturbed unnecessarily by a common spacer. I assumed you would be receiving any information you needed from your agents and your representatives on the Planetary Council, and I was sure that if necessary, you knew that I would be at your disposal."
"Hmph. Yes," he grunted. But his tone was mollified as he continued, "Well, I suppose we owe you something for that methane gas idea. What is it you want?"
"Well, you will recall that during the Cellian attack, we lost Tanya Reyes."
He no
dded soberly. "Yes, of course. Your condolence call and prompt return of her body were our last real contact." His tone had actually softened as he spoke. Perhaps there was more to Tyree than the soulless politician he acted.
I sighed. "Yes, Messer President. Well, unfortunately, Tanya's death badly upset Paula. She holds me responsible, and takes every opportunity to display her hatred and disgust. It's become wearing on me, and is irritating the other "assistants". I was wondering if you would consider replacing her with someone less hostile."
His frown deepened. "Hmm. Well, if we recall her, I'm not certain we'll be able to afford to replace her …"
I shrugged. "Messer President, we all know that my "assistants" are there for the their governments' benefit, not for mine. As you noted, a number of months has passed since the International Zone was established, and circumstances have changed. Whether or not to replace her is entirely your decision. But she is a disturbing influence here, and I hope you can remove that influence."
He grunted. "Hmph. Very well, Carver, I'll recall her immediately. If we decide to replace her, I'll inform you immediately."
I gave him a wide smile. "I thank you, sire. Is there anything I can do for you? I've been quite busy aboard Adventurer, preparing her to become a university. So, as you noted, I've been rather out of touch, lately."
He nodded. "So I have been informed. And if you anticipate spending the majority of your time in orbit, it might not be worth replacing Paula."
I nodded a reply. "You may well be right, sire. But, of course it is entirely your decision."
Stranded on Haven Page 21
