Grantville Gazette, Volume 72 Read online

  Pat had started clearing the Reservation in September. The wood had been sold to sawmills in Suhl in exchange for seasoned wood for the Reservation. Much of the work was hand labor. With the end of the harvest season, he had recruited additional workers from the neighboring farming communities. They appreciated the opportunity to make money when they ordinarily would be waiting for the arrival of spring. A tent city had grown on a flat parcel of the Reservation. Another piece of their initial funding had been spent buying tents and establishing a logistics chain to keep the new employees housed and fed. It was a cost of doing business and had been included in Gary's project plan.

  "Good. Nicki Jo?"

  She stood and, with Katherine's help, tacked a map of the Reservation on the wall. "As Pat said, I've started on the plant layout." She used a pencil as a pointer. Whenever she described a building and its function, she pointed to its location on the map. "The manufactory sites on this side of the ridge are the easiest to place. I'm assuming one production line per building. I don't want to put all our eggs in one basket." She moved to the other side of the map and pointed again. "I'm doing the same for the chemical and primer plants on the far side of the ridge. It's hard to see the scale on the map, but they're about a hundred yards apart with a berm in between." She pointed to two buildings on the map, separated from one another. "They are here, and here."

  "What about the primer compound?" Gary asked.

  She walked back to the table and sat. The presentation part of her report was over. The rest would be done verbally. "As for the primer compound," she confirmed, "like you originally thought, I'm leaning towards DDNP. I'm still looking at lead styphnate because there are issues with either approach. However, DDNP is made from picric acid. We know how to make that. The issue is a matter of keeping contamin . . ." Her voice wavered briefly. She paused, took a breath and continued, ". . . contaminants out of our materials. We may have to do further refining and purify some of the ingredients ourselves to improve their quality and remove any remaining contaminants."

  That didn't surprise Gary Reardon. Osker Geyer had discovered he needed to add ore extraction to his list of tasks. He had assumed there would be additional work for making the primer compound. Nothing was as easy as it was planned.

  Nicki Jo paused to refer to her notes again. "There are clear-cut risks with either approach; however, I believe we can minimize workers' risk by going with DDNP. The long-term plan is to have at least five primer production lines. Each line will be in separate facilities some distance from one another with berms around them. There will be three separate DDNP production lines placed along the same lines—separate buildings with berms around each production plant. I'm using the same concept for the final production facilities."

  "Do we really need that many DDNP fabrication plants?"

  "I only had two, at first—for redundancy. But I had a discussion with Pat and Archie, and I think we can use any excess DDNP to make blasting caps and perhaps some industrial explosives."

  That surprised Gary and it brought him up short. Another product, maybe two. Useful ones, too, in more ways than one. "Good idea, Nicki Jo. Now, when do you think you can have a pilot plant for DDNP production?"

  "Mid-January, assuming I've no issues with resources and raw materials, and we can finish the buildings in winter weather."

  "Thank you, Nicki Jo."

  The meeting had started an hour previously. Gary called for a short break before people's butts overrode their capacity to remain attentive. He noticed Nicki Jo and Katherine, followed by Ruben, leave the dining room and turn towards the private lavatory downstairs where Archie and Dieter had once lived. One of the building staff entered with pitchers of hot broth and beer. The innkeeper's wife arrived carrying a plate full of small pastries. Gary wondered for a moment who had planned that small courtesy; he hadn't. It was probably Marjorie. She was known to arrange for small items such as this dessert even if she wasn't attending in person. The tray included, especially for Nicki Jo, cookies freshly baked by Greta Issler.

  When the innkeeper's wife left the room, Gary and Geyer converged on the buffet table. Geyer filled a mug with beer and took two pastries. "I'm glad you thought of this, Gary. I always get hungry in the mid-afternoon." Gary didn't bother to inform Geyer the dessert wasn't his idea. He usually worked through lunch. Food just wasn't something he would think of on his own.

  Ruben, with Nicki Jo and Katherine, returned, filled mugs and small plates of pastries from the buffet table. Gary noticed that Nicki Jo added a handful of cookies to her plate. Her reputation of having a fondness for cookies had followed her from Essen. When they were seated, Gary cleared his throat and restarted the meeting.

  "Now for me. The Corporation. I expect to get confirmation of our incorporation by the end of the week. To join, members will have to contribute to the asset and financial pool. For some, that is buying stock. For others, like Osker, it will be transferring a portion of his physical assets to the Corporation. Others, like Pat's U. S. Waffenfabrik, and myself will become subsidiaries of Suhl, Incorporated. We'll own 49% of our companies. Suhl, Incorporated, will own the rest—our contribution."

  Gary took a sip from his cup. He had expected a number of questions but no one had asked any. Have I totally confused them?

  "Ruben, how many others do you believe will be interested?"

  Blumroder looked around the table and then back to Gary. "It will depend, Pat, on what they see as their benefit. I don't see any of them becoming subsidiaries, I haven't decided for myself, yet, but they do want to have access to your products. It's an ongoing negotiation."

  "Do they understand the game plan?"

  Blumroder laughed, "Not all. I don't fully understand myself."

  Okay, how to simplify this? Gary thought. "Tell them Suhl, Incorporated, will be a holding company, a conglomeration of various Suhl industries—of all kinds, not just gunsmiths and weapon makers. Suhl, Incorporated, will not just be a factory. It will also be a marketing organization and will market the members' products outside Suhl, across the SoTF and the USE. I had a conversation just a few days ago with a cobbler who was asking how we could mechanize his shop. He wants to bid on making boots for the army. He's asked if we would be willing to work with him to help design and finance his upgrade. That request created another potential product for us—Process and Mechanization Engineering."

  He cleared his throat and took another sip from his cup. "We will be able to distribute expenses and risk equally across the members. Conversely, we will also distribute profits to the members of the conglomerate in proportion to their contributions. The same for stockholders. Conglomerate companies will be able to buy products from one another at cost and that should allow them to maintain and improve parity with their competitors outside the conglomeration. There are other benefits as well."

  Ruben appeared to understand Gary's explanation. He looked to the other board members around the table, "Hockenjoss and Klott has said they will buy 10 blocks of shares. They want access to Osker's steel and Gary's tooling. They will be making a new model H&K pistol chambered for the .45 Long Colt."

  "That's good news, Ruben. They'll make a market for us, and we for them. Our first products will initially be cartridges in .45 Long Colt and the .45-70 calibers. We'll wait for the market to tell us what other calibers to add later."

  "Well," Blumroder said, returning to the conversation about a conglomeration, "many do not want to be a part of the . . . conglomerate? But they do want a business partnership."

  It was a valid question. Not everyone could nor needed to join. There would still be regular business agreements. "I think we can accommodate them, Ruben. The corporation will eventually become the elephant in the tent but we needn't be arrogant nor a tyrant. These people are our friends and neighbors. Without them, we'll fail."

  Gary scanned the faces around the table. "I've been expanding the construction company that Pat started for the next phase, to build the plant buildings. This
is in addition to those he's already hired to clear the land. I've started hiring carpenters and other construction workers. We'll break ground as soon as Nicki finishes her design. Crews have already cleared the site for the plant admin building. We can use that building as the construction office for the rest of the buildout. Any questions? Comments?" Nicki Jo was nodding her head in agreement. Pat was smiling. Ruben . . . Ruben Blumroder retained his poker face. Gary knew he was excited by the light in his eyes, but Ruben wasn't prepared to display that excitement in public. Hearing no comment, Gary closed the meeting.

  ****

  Gaylynn followed Nicki Jo and Katherine out of the meeting. The previous week, the sisters, as Gaylynn thought of the three women—herself, Marjorie Mitchell, and Greta Issler, had greeted Nicki Jo and Katherine when their coach from Essen arrived.

  They hadn't known exactly when the coach would arrive. Marjorie had asked Archie to let them know when the coach entered Suhl. The gate guards were the eyes and ears of the city watch, and, by extension, of Archie Mitchell and Captain Eric Gruber of the Mounted Constabulary. When the coach passed through the gate with its accompanying squad of mercenaries, the guard sent a messenger to Marjorie. The sisters arrived just as the coach halted before the temporary headquarters of the consortium.

  Marjorie had found a small house, with a cook and a maid, to rent for Nicki Jo and Katherine. Gary Reardon, reluctantly, agreed to have the corporation pay the rent. Nicki Jo should be worth the expense.

  With evening coming on, the meeting had lasted most of the afternoon, Nicki Jo and Katherine were heading home with Gaylynn tagging along. "How are you doing, Nicki Jo? Is the house suitable for you?" Gaylynn yammered on. She was a talker, not one to allow silence to occur when a good conversation would do instead. "Marjorie found it but we really didn't know what you needed so we guessed."

  "It's wonderful, Gaylynn," Nicki Jo replied. "I'm not much of a housekeeper. Katy is even less of one. It's a bit big for just the two of us but I don't think we'll spend all that much time there but it's really nice."

  "Well, I, for one," Katherine said, "am looking forward to a nice hot bath."

  Nicki Jo laughed, "You can depend on Katy, Gaylynn, to have her priorities firmly in mind."

  "But, how are you doing, Nicki Jo. We'd heard . . ."

  Nicki Jo didn't immediately answer. Her mind had been elsewhere. She had changed, she realized. She had regained, well, at least she was regaining, her itch to do . . . something. She chose one of the three bedrooms in their house to be converted into an office. She had the maid clear it out, and Nicki Jo installed a table, to be used as a desk, a chair, some storage cabinets, and a chalkboard, a large smooth piece of slate. The room had a western-facing window, just right to catch the afternoon sun.

  The three continued down the street and turned the corner. Nicki Jo and Katherine's house was a block ahead.

  "I'm doing well, Gaylynn. Truthfully, I'm doing better than I had thought I would. I really appreciate you, Marjorie, and Greta, helping us get set up—especially the house. I love it. It's so much nicer than the one we rented in Essen."

  "I'm thankful to hear that, Nicki Jo."

  "You needed worry, Gaylynn," she said, smiling. She realized that she had been smiling more. "I have Katy. She'll watch over me. Do you know she once forbade me to eat cookies? She said I was too . . ."

  "Not anymore," Katherine interrupted. "You've lost enough weight this last year."

  "Hefty." Nicki Jo finished. "You see, Katy and I have this cheese and chocolate company in Brussels, and one of its products is—"

  "Ring of Fire cookies." Katherine said.

  "I love 'em," Nicki Jo confessed. "I could eat my weight of them if Katy let me."

  Gaylynn laughed. "All of us, me, Marjorie, Greta, even string-bean Ursula, Pat's wife, have to be careful when we're around Greta's pastries. They tend to . . . disappear."

  All three laughed. Nicki Jo leaned over to Gaylynn and whispered into her ear, "Do you think Greta could make Ring of Fire cookies?"

  VIII

  Late-November, 1634

  RJ City

  Gary Reardon and Pat Johnson walked through the devastation of RJ City, the name the residents had given the temporary tent city that had sprung up to house many of the construction workers. It had started as a small tent city in September.

  The plan had called for some of the workers, when the site was cleared, to begin building wooden dormitories to replace the tents. The dormitories would house the workers over the winter. It was an ongoing task. Unfortunately, half of the workers still, or had, lived in tents . . . until the storm.

  The storm arrived after a weeklong period of warm, sunny weather. Construction on the chemical fabrication building was the priority with the pilot plant milestone looming on the horizon. The process of moving those workers still living in tents to the sturdier and warmer dormitories, had slowed. Then, without warning, the skies turned dark and the near-freezing rain, followed by high winds, came and pounded the tent city.

  Neither said a word as they walked. Clothing, ripped tents, broken tent poles, and scattered food littered the site. As they walked, Pat saw the remnants of a cook stove in what had been a mess tent. The remains of wooded trestle tables and benches lay like matchsticks. Their boots squelched as they walked through the mud and water-soaked turf, their trousers wet to their knees.

  A large number of people from Suhl were present to provide aid where it was needed. Fortunately, no one died, although many had injuries. When the storm arrived, those living in the tents fled to the existing dormitories, some only partially finished, for shelter. Anything was better than staying in the tents.

  "We should have foreseen this," Pat said, angrily. It was their responsibility to see to the well-being of their employees and they'd failed.

  "Yeah. My fault," Gary agreed. "I was focused on meeting the pilot plant milestone. I just didn't think—"

  "About a storm."

  "Yeah."

  They turned and headed back towards the administration building passing a hastily setup aid station. "We were lucky," Gary said. He saw Dieter Issler and the junior deputy marshals on the far side of the tent city. They, along with a handful of Mounted Constabulary troopers, were watching for looters and insuring nothing was stolen by thieves taking advantage of the disaster. RJ City was outside the jurisdiction of the Suhl Watch. Captain Gruber had assigned a half-dozen troopers to assure the people of RJ City that they would be protected while they recovered from the storm. Gary had planned to create a security force for the Reservation; it was too far from Suhl for the Watch to patrol it. He just hadn't anticipated needing a security force this soon.

  "Let's ask Anse Hatfield if he can run a temporary bus service here from Suhl. It'd save some time all around, and Anse can bring in building material when he's not hauling people," Pat suggested.

  Gary agreed. We need some security people out here from now on. The Constabulary can't watch over us forever. "Think Anse and Dieter Issler could organize our security force, too? I had planned for one, just not this soon."

  Pat turned slowly in a circle, trying to encompass the destruction. "I'll talk to them. I think they would. Dieter has a full-time job, but I don't think Archie would object as long as Dieter only worked part-time and met his duties to the Court."

  The wind rose. Tent remnants flapped in the wind. "We must complete the dormitories, Gary. We can't leave our people living like this."

  "Yes," Gary agreed. "When we get back, I'll call a halt on the plant construction and divert everyone to finishing the dormitories, mess halls, and the sutlers. If we don't, we'll lose these people. They'll quit and go home. Then we'll really be in a mess."

  Pat stopped, contemplating the situation and how it would be when the dormitories were finished. "We're making a company town."

  Gary shook his head, looking down at his feet. Making RJ City an official village according to law wasn't in his plans nor did he want to make it one. Never
theless, if that was what had to be done, he'd do it. He took care where he stepped amongst the mess and mud. "Can't be helped. I really didn't want one. It has so many connotations . . ."

  The subject of company towns was still a sore subject for coal miners and their families. That history—a bad history—had not been forgotten. The company towns were wholly owned by the mining companies and had been a tool to enforce control by mine owners over the miners by forcing them to live in company housing. Paying miners in company scrip restricted them to buying from company stores. Company towns, company scrip, company stores, all had been a method to keep miners in debt to the company—economic slavery. "No company scrip, Pat, no company stores. I won't have it."

  "Agreed." When people were paid in scrip, they could only use that scrip at selected locations, all owned or controlled by the company. No, no company scrip. Period. We may have to start some stores to tide us over but we'll invite the merchants of Suhl to take over as soon as they can.

  "I know we'll have a company town," Gary repeated, "but what can we do? There isn't room in Suhl. Some of these people traveled a hundred miles or more to come here. They brought their families, too." Suhl had grown over the last few years. Already, it was one of the larger cities in the region. The mines and local industries were attracting people seeking jobs. When Suhl, Incorporated, began production, sometime in the next few months, the revenue that would be created by the conglomerate would attract more people. Jobs create money and money, used wisely, creates more jobs. Suhl would grow, and it would be up to the city and Suhl, Incorporated, to ensure that growth is managed carefully lest it collapse like a house of cards.

  "At least we gave families priority in housing."

  "That doesn't help the singles. And many want permanent jobs and will bring their families if they have any."