by Eric Flint
“Don’t assume that the locals lack subtlety.” Marie Easley shook her head. “Murderers and slavers certainly, but they are also political operators as good as any lobbyist who ever bought a congresscritter back in the world.”
“I agree, ma’am,” Anders said, then gave a half chuckle. “But all that means is they will be better able to use it against us.”
It was true, Marie knew, that the absolute neutrality of the Queen of the Sea was a powerful tool in their political arsenal. But they didn’t just have to be neutral, they had to be seen as neutral. Up until now, that included all the ship people and New America. But from the series of messages over the last week, that was about to change. Roxane, as queen regent for Alexander, and Eurydice, gone to war with Eumenes and acting as queen regent for Philip, were about to sign an agreement with New America that, if not an alliance, was the next best thing to it.
It was a trade agreement that offered delivery of war materials to Eumenes’ army. And that meant that if the Queen of the Sea didn’t deliver the cargo, the Reliance would. The Reliance wasn’t going to be an easy ship to take, especially now that it had steam cannons and black powder breech loaders. On the other hand, the Reliance only had about twenty feet of freeboard even unloaded. It was, as had already been demonstrated, much easier to take than the Queen. And without the Reliance and the fuel it carried, the Queen was going to have its options severely curtailed. On yet another hand, if the Queen did deliver the cargo, it would be seen as taking the royalist side in the current war within the empire. “I don’t disagree, Anders. But I don’t see much in the way of options either. The Queen of the Sea can’t dictate policy to New America,” Marie said.
“No, ma’am, but we own a share of the Reliance.”
“That’s right, Anders,” Lars Floden said. “We own a share. Specifically, we own forty-two percent of the holding company that owns the Reliance. New America owns forty-six percent and as part of his agreement, Adrian Scott owns ten percent. The rest is owned by private investors, including, by the way, Roxane. Also, the Reliance is registered out of New America and Adrian is inclined to support Roxane and Eurydice in this. We don’t have the votes to stop it.”
“But Adrian is—” Anders started.
“The captain of the Reliance,” Lars interrupted before Anders said something irretrievable. “It’s his call. And, like it or not, it’s not unreasonable from his position—or for that matter, Al Wiley’s. An alliance with a stable Alexandrian Empire that owns a good part of the coast of the Med, and a land route to the Red Sea and the Persian Gulf, opens up trade with India even without the trip around the Cape of Good Hope. And the empire is a major trading partner in its own right, even without that. But broken up into warring factions, the Alexandrian Empire is almost useless as a trading partner. The whole technicalization program that New America’s economic forecasts are based on becomes a lot harder. They are going to need nations to buy the steam engines and potatoes, and not broke third-world nations. Nations that have their own machines and tools, that have something to sell other than slaves and hand-spun thread.”
“Skipper, I’m not saying they are wrong, not even that bas—not even President Wiley. But however good the reasoning, it still leaves the Queen’s neutrality in tatters.”
All through the meeting, Dag Jakobsen had remained quiet, head down, looking at his slate computer and making notes on something. Now he looked up and said, “Are you sure that’s a bad thing?”
Anders Dahl looked at Dag, opened his mouth, and closed it. Everyone in the room knew Dag’s relationship with Roxane. It was only imperial politics that had kept them from getting married. Most of the Macedonians were willing to look the other way about Dag and Roxane, though Cassander, Antigonus, and some of the eastern satraps were using their relationship as a propaganda tool. But if Dag and Roxane were to get married, legitimizing any children Roxane might have and making potential competitors for the toddler Alexander IV, well, at least three satraps would go over to the other side, and it wouldn’t do the army any good either.
All of which meant that Dag’s opinion was suspect when it came to dealings with Roxane and the Alexandrian Empire. Which, Marie knew, was why he hadn’t spoken up till now.
“No. I’m serious,” Dag continued, staring at Anders. “And I am not speaking for Roxane here. I am thinking about the political situation of the Queen of the Sea.
“Neutrality can be taken too far. I’m not saying we should take sides, but we wouldn’t be taking sides. Just delivering a contracted cargo. If Cassander can come up with the money and buy a cargo from New America, let him. Hell, if he can come up with the money and wants us to build him a stamp press, or ten tons of black powder, fine.
“But right now, New America has contracted for ten breechloading four-pounders. They are building the gun carriages in Fort Plymouth and the Reliance will pick them up and carry them to the Med. We have the induction furnaces to make the steel, and the boring machines to bore the barrels, and the other equipment needed to make the breech blocks which the government of New America is buying from us. And the government of New America is selling them to their trading partner at a profit.
“The fact is, we won’t be breaching our neutrality. We just won’t let that neutrality outlaw trade.”
Pella, Macedonia
March 31, 319 BCE
Malcolm Tanada sat in a handcrafted chair with cushions on the back and seat and read the radio message. The comfortable accommodations in the plushly furnished radio room didn’t help at all. It wasn’t that he was fond of Cassander, but this was going to make his position less stable. Well, no time like the present, and he sure as hell didn’t want Cassander getting this over the signal fires or by courier.
* * *
The royal-audience chamber was much warmer now on a sunny day at the end of March than it had been in February. There was a cool breeze, but that just kept the day comfortable.
Cassander and Thessalonike were seated on two thrones, and there was a gaggle of courtiers wandering around in the large round room that had marble-covered pillars circling the hole in the roof.
The seneschal saw Malcolm, and waved him over.
Malcolm told him the basics. “New America has signed a trade agreement with Roxane and Eurydice.”
“The Queen?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Wait here.”
The seneschal moved quickly to the throne and spoke to Cassander, who listened, then waved Malcolm over.
Malcolm bowed and Cassander grimaced. Normally, Malcolm made it a point to not bow, so this must be bad news. Malcolm handed over the sheet that he had printed out, and Cassander read. He didn’t read quickly. Even a rich bibliophile in the fourth century BCE had limited access to books. You could spend only so much time on it before you had read everything there was to read. Even bookworms spent much of their time on other pursuits and got less practice than most ship people did.
Lips moving, Cassander finished the sheet and after a gentle cough from the other throne, he passed it over to Thessalonike.
“What else can you tell me?”
“Nothing, sir,” Malcolm said. “I came here as soon as the first news came over the radio. I have my people watching for more, but I should get back.”
Cassander waved him away, but Thessalonike said, “Wait a moment. Please send a message to Olympias for me, asking for any insights she has to offer.”
Cassander nodded, but didn’t look happy, and Malcolm made his escape as Cassander called over a string of courtiers.
Babylon, west side
Susan Godlewski sat on the inflated leather cushion on her chair and read the report with some relief. News of Eumenes’ defeat at the hands of Lysimachus had hit morale on Attalus’ side of the river fairly hard. Even though it was a raid and Eumenes was left in control of the battlefield, it was still seen as a defeat. Partly that was because the Macedonian nobility wanted Eumenes to be defeated, because it confirme
d their prejudices even if it wasn’t in their best interest. But partly because it was a defeat. Eumenes’ rockets were gone, and those rockets had a morale effect even greater than their direct military effect. So did their loss.
But this would almost reverse that political damage. Roxane and Eurydice had an alliance with New America. That meant an alliance with the ship people. In theory, they were neutral here, but all of her people were on this side of the river. They only crossed the river to deliver messages, and then only after heavy negotiations.
She leaned back in the chair and waved at Karrel. “Take a look at this.”
He walked over, leaned over her shoulder, and read the file off the screen. “That’s not going to help relations with Antigonus.”
It was true their neutrality, and the ship people neutrality in general, made them the natural negotiators for the siege. And it was a strange siege. Porous on both sides of the river. Both sides mostly free to come and go as they chose, but with Antigonus having at least loose control over the surrounding territory. It was only their guard contingent that had allowed them to get into the west side of Babylon. And now that they were here, they couldn’t leave. Not safely.
“I don’t think it matters,” Susan said. “Antigonus wasn’t going to settle for anything short of surrender, anyway.”
Karrel grimaced, but nodded agreement. The status quo was to Antigonus’ advantage. He could come and go with relative impunity. In fact, he wasn’t even here at the moment. He’d left a week before on a diplomatic mission to the Persian Gulf.
“So how goes the glass factory?” Susan asked.
Karrel stood up and went back to his seat where he was working on a set of plans. Using access to the few engineers that were on the Queen of the Sea when The Event happened, and Wikipedia, Karrel was designing a glass factory for Babylon. He had the land and agreements with the garrison and the citizenry.
“Pretty well. We have the building. It’s just the crucibles and the kiln. We need refractory bricks. What about the hospital?”
“Alibaba is doing fine.” Alibaba was Susan’s nickname for the Persian doctor who was using them and the ship people knowledge to revolutionize medical care and drugs in Babylon. Alibaba made regular trips across the Euphrates from Attalus’ west side to Antigonus’ east side, and ran hospitals on both sides. After several successful surgeries, he was generally considered to be a miracle worker, as were his medical staff. He also charged a fortune. At least to those who could afford it. Hence the nickname.
This wasn’t unusual. All the radio teams were doing similar things wherever they happened to be.
Carthage
Tina Johnson looked at her dad, feeling something more than surprise, but not quite shock. “Are they nuts, Daddy?” She’d just read the report from the Queen about New America’s actions.
James Godfrey looked up from the report on strawberry production in the Carthage area and considered. “I don’t think so. At least, Al Wiley isn’t.” He waved out the window at the brightly painted almost-adobe houses and buildings that made up the city of Carthage. “Look, Carthage may be an empire by local standards, but by the standards of back home it’s a banana republic with a shortage of bananas. And way too many banana peels. They can make glass and now that we’ve taught them how, they can make clear glass. But not in anything like the quantity we need. They can’t make rubber, they can’t make power tools, and I wouldn’t want to be standing near one of their steam engines. But the USSE is almost big enough to be a real country, if it’s not chopped into chunks by the diadochi. Which is why Carthage, Rome, and what’s left of the Etruscans are all scared of a United Satrapies and States of the Empire. They are justifiably afraid that they will be conquered.”
“Do you think they will be, Dad?”
“Possibly. But, more likely, they will be absorbed relatively peacefully. The Queen is out there in the Atlantic, able to hit the coast anywhere in the Med, and now even to East Africa and India. And we are a civilizing influence.”
Tina nodded. She and her family had made the ship people attitude toward human sacrifice perfectly clear, and they moved in the highest circles of Carthaginian society. Such sacrifices hadn’t stopped, not entirely, but they had been fading out even before The Event and now…Well, there had been one since she and her family arrived. They refused to attend the ceremony and flatly refused to deal with the family that performed the sacrifice. With the things like latex and nut potatoes that were now coming out of New America and off the Queen of the Sea, that by itself had severely damaged the financial position of the family that performed the sacrifice. And the magic of the arrival of the Queen and the knowledge that the gods to whom the children were sacrificed didn’t even exist two thousand years later had prevented a sequel. It wasn’t illegal, but there hadn’t been a repeat either.
She looked over at Eric Bryant and Quitzko. The Native American got incredibly sick with something a few days after the Queen left, and Eric spent several days haunting the radio station to get medical advice from the doctors on the Queen on how to take care of him. They couldn’t tell Eric much more than “Just treat the symptoms,” but it was enough. A week later Quitzko was back up and around.
But in the meantime, Eric became a friend. And something more. They had a lot in common. They were from the same chunk of Alabama. Tina even thought they had met once at an away game back in high school. But now everything was different. She found herself daydreaming about Eric. He wasn’t anything like her husband who had died, but he was a little bit of home here in Carthage. And she had to wonder if he felt the same, because he was sure attentive.
“It is a good move,” Quitzko said in careful English, bringing the conversation back to the possibilities. “The Europes don’t know how to make a nation any more than we do. It is all tribes. If the USSE collapses, New America will be all alone in the world. The only nation made up of…” He stopped and asked Eric a question in his own language.
Eric reached up and scratched his short beard while he thought, then said, “I think ‘disparate people’ is as close as I can come.” Then he said something in Quitzko’s language, and continued in English, “Basically, he means people from different tribes, but also from different cultures, speaking different languages.”
“Disparate,” Quitzko said like he was tasting the word, then he shrugged. “But you do it and we not do it.”
“It’s not easy,” James Godfrey said.
CHAPTER 12
At Sea
Fort Plymouth, New America
April 2, 319 BCE
The Reliance tug pulled up to the dock. The barge was back at the oil depot, being filled with oil. Once they were docked and tied down, Adrian left and caught a bike cab into the city proper. The bike cabs had unprocessed latex over the wooden rims. There was a small factory that processed latex from South and Central America rubber trees into everything from tires to water bottles. But it was constantly running out of sulfur, and calling it a factory was a gross exaggeration. Or would have been, back in the world. There, it would qualify as someone’s small garage business. In the here and now, it was a factory. Fifteen employees, three ship people and twelve locals, six Indian, two Greeks, and four Romans. It had started in Fort Plymouth, but complaints over the smell had forced it to move. But the processed rubber was still too expensive to go on the tricycle cab tires. They used the soft, unrefined latex to act as a shock absorber. Wheels were spoked wood, and the chain was a thick knotted cord. Along with the tarmac streets, a pedal trike pulling a rickshaw-style cab was barely within the tech of the new colony, at least for the town of Fort Plymouth itself. Outside town, there were no roads for them to use. There were ten of the cabs at last count.
The cab took him to the capitol building and he walked through the wood-paneled halls to the office of the President.
* * *
“Have a seat, Commodore Scott,” said President Al Wiley.
“Commodore?” Adrian didn’t take the
offered chair. He was too shocked by the title.
“Yes. The newly named Ronald Reagan has just finished its modifications.” Al Wiley stood up and came around his desk, holding out a hand to shake.
Adrian shook the hand, saying, “Congratulations, sir, but…” Adrian trailed off because he wasn’t at all sure what to say next.
The Ronald Reagan was a converted mega-lifeboat from the Queen of the Sea. It now had a second deck on top of the fiberglass roof with rotating rocket launchers, basically wooden tubes on a stand behind four-foot-tall wooden walls. They gave the ship the ability to launch salvos of black powder rockets. It also now had a set of small sails to augment the diesel engine, increasing its range a bit. The modifications were designed by Richard VanHouten, a retired electrical engineer and aficionado of shipbuilding history. Adrian, Captain Floden, Dag Jakobsen, Bernt Carlson and the Queen’s boson, James Warner, had all gone over the designs and made suggestions. She was intended to provide coastal defense for Trinidad while the Queen and the Reliance were elsewhere.
“Ah…” Adrian paused, then went on. “But what does that have to do with me? And, more importantly, what does it have to do with the Reliance?”
“The Queen and the Reliance have both acted unofficially as the navy of New America since our founding. But Captain Floden is justifiably concerned that the Queen’s neutrality is called into question by our recent treaty with the United Satrapies and States of the Empire.”
Adrian hid a smile as he noted that, as always, Wiley used the full name of the USSE, or called it the Alexandrian Empire, or just the Empire. Al Wiley found USSE to be altogether too close to USSR for his comfort.
