Gunpowder God (6 page)

Right now the treasury of Nos-Hostigos was afloat in gold, from the surrender of Greffa City, but that wouldn’t last forever. Not when he needed to keep a fifteen-thousand man standing army paid, housed and fed. First, he needed to consolidate his lands in the Upper Middle Kingdoms, putting one of his men in charge of the Duchy of Baltor and then dealing with the Nythros City States. Thagnor City was filled to the bursting with not only Hostigi refugees but refugees from Nythros, Baltor and from even as far away as Glarth Town.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yes,” he replied.

“It’s Cleon, sire. I have Dean Ermut and Master Ironmonger Paxtros here to see you.”

“Let them in.”

A moment later the head of the University of Hostigos entered the study, with the younger Master Paxtros trailing behind. Ermut was a big man with a shock of brown hair. He was easy to underestimate until you peered into ice blue eyes that brought to mind pools of glacial waters. He had a full ginger-colored beard, but without a mustache like an Amish man.

“Your Majesty, it’s good to see you. You’ve been away too long. We miss your outlandish ideas at the faculty science meetings.” Ermut turned red and washed his face with one of his baseball glove sized hands. “I don’t mean outlandish in a bad way, sire…it’s just that no one else can match your ideas about unheard of devices and
machines
from the Cold Lands.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Ermut. This is an informal meeting. In here we’re a couple of engineers trying to invent better ways of doing things.”

He rubbed his hands. “What’s our next project, or should I say projects?”

Kalvan had decided it was time to introduce the steam engine, primarily for paddlewheelers. With some light armor, a small fleet would guarantee him control of the Saltless Seas. The problem was how to build the boilers using here-and-now technology?

The advantage of a steam engine versus an internal combustion engine was that it required tolerances to the tenth-of-an-inch instead of to the thousandths. Certainly doable here-and-now. The first necessity was wrought iron and lots of it, since most of what they made now went into weapons and armor. Steel, of course, would be ideal, but there were no steel mills to roll the steel for boilers. Here-and-now they used the same kind of small furnaces that they’d used in other-when during the Colonial period. They would have to fabricate the boilers like they did breastplates for the armored men-at-arms.

“How are the new crucible steel furnaces coming along?”

Ermut tugged his beard, then turned to the Master Ironmonger, who said. “We’ve had no problem obtaining quality ore and charcoal, sire. We’re still having problems with powering the bellows. To provide the necessary air flow that Your Majesty describes, mule or horsepower is not going to be sufficient.”

Kalvan paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Try using water wheels to power the bellows, Paxtros. The key is producing enough air to make the furnaces more fuel efficient than the old bloomeries. This will result in improved iron yield as well.”

Ermut started rubbing the bald patch at the top of his head. “I’ll have to work on that. I have an idea for the bellows; now all I need is a design to hook up the water wheel.”

Kalvan was already in deep waters. His knowledge of furnaces was limited to a few visits to the Allegheny Furnace in Altoona as a child. He wished he’d paid more attention when his sixth grade teacher had compared the old Colonial furnaces to the steam powered cold-blast charcoal iron furnaces of the early Eighteen hundreds.

“Good, Ermut, keep me notified of your progress. I may have some ideas once I see what you and your apprentices have come up with. Now, how about that other project?”

“Your Majesty, we have made some progress on the formula for Greek fire you asked us to explore. Actually, it’s the naphtha that is the real basis for the formula. We need a lot more of it if we’re to complete our experiments.”

Kalvan knocked his pipe bowl against his palm while he tried to remember where he’d seen some petroleum pumps during his visits to Michigan. Here-and-now petroleum products were mostly used for medicinal purposes and the caulking of boats, which meant there was little demand and not much on hand. Oil derricks had been a lot more common in Pennsylvania, but if he remembered correctly there had been a number of wells outside Saginaw, which was part of the Princedom of Ragyath here-and-now. He was sure he’d have no trouble enlisting Prince Sarrask’s aid.

“I’ll have College of Military Sciences send a team into Ragyath to search for a better supply. Will that help?”

“Yes, sire. I’ve been working on the siphon so that we can shoot the ‘fire’ at enemy boats, but one of my assistants, Assistant Artificer Halvus, came up with a musket-sized siphon that uses a push stroke. We need more of the basic formula before we test it, though. He’s had problems providing a steady flame.”

“That’s a very interesting line of development,” Kalvan thought. Here-and-now flame throwers! As a surprise weapon of terror, they could turn the tide of an entire battle.

“Has Halvus tried using a slowmatch?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but he’s having problems adjusting the flame.”

“How about using a wheellock?” The Zarthani wheellocks were an improvement over the Sixteenth Century ones the German Reiters had used in the Wars of Religion and provided a much steadier stream of sparks.

“Yes, sire, but they’re too difficult to maneuver while operating the siphon device.”

Kalvan nodded; he could see that. “Instead of a slowmatch, how about some kind of a wick and then you can use oil to feed the flame?”

“Like whale oil, sire?”

“Yes, Ermut. Although whale oil is expensive now that war has come to Hos-Agrys. We need something like coal oil which is easier to obtain locally.”

“We can distill all the coal tar we need at the coal mines in Rhyl.”

If Kalvan had his geography right, Rhyl Town was near what they called Bay City on otherwhen and the heart of their new iron works. “Good, have Halvus try a wick and see if it gives him the small flame he requires to feed the Greek fire.”

“I will give him your ideas, Your Majesty, when I see him later.”

“Promote Halvus to Master Artificer and see that he gets his own laboratory and as many students as he needs to work on this fire-siphon. Keep me posted on its development.”

“Yes, sire, but first we need a lot more naphtha. The pitch and sulfur are no problem, but we’ll need as much as a hundred barrels of naphtha just for experimental purposes.”

“I’ll have the Royal College send an expedition to Ragyath immediately. Naphtha is distilled from oil and a very useful substance. We can use it for lighting and lubrication, too.”

T
ortha and Vothan Raldor, the Dhergabar Metropolitan Police Chief, took an air-taxi to Dalgroth Sorn’s private residence in Dhergabar City to avoid any premature public notice of the special session of the Paratime Commission. They flew to the Trapezoid Tower and exited the taxi on the airpad on the eightieth floor. They were met at the door by one of Dalgroth’s household robots which took their coats and led them to the Commissioner for Security’s study. Inside, the other eight members of the Paratime Commission were seated at a U-shaped table.

Dalgroth, who had the face of an elderly lion with a toothache, offered drinks and
hors d’ oeuvres
. Vothan ordered a Manhattan, while Tortha settled for a Scotch and water from the auto-bar. The other eight Paratime Commissioners already had their cigarettes out and drinks in their hands.

“I’ll assume this is important, or we all wouldn’t have been called here to meet in private,” Dalgroth stated. “What’s on your mind, Tortha?”

Tortha stood up and said, “I’m going to let Police Chief Vothan Raldor get you up to speed before I make my recommendations.”

He sat down and Vothan rose to his feet. The Metro Police Chief quickly sketched out the problems he was facing from the prole riots and the difficulties he was running into from influential Home Time Liners trying to protect their prole charges. “It’s gotten so bad that we’ve got over two thousand men on permanent guard duty protecting the shops and townhouses in Old Town. It doesn’t seem to matter to the proles; there’s another riot almost every night. I’m at my wit’s end. I’ve had to stop dealing with non-violent crimes just to keep enough active men on riot duty. I need help and I need it now.”

Vothan Raldor sat down.

Commissioner Armtar Rana, the only woman Commissioner, asked, “What do you expect us to do? Maybe it’s time to call in the Army Strike-Teams to restore peace. This sounds like something you need to bring up before the Executive Council, not the Paratime Commission.”

Tortha rose. “Good point, Commissioner, Armtar. However, there’s a good reason we’re not bringing this before the Executive Council; it’s too explosive. Plus, we need to act quickly and decisively without endless debate and backbiting. The Paratime Commission has the power to act on this issue. Quote: ‘whenever Outtime conditions threaten the stability or safety of Home Time Line, the Paratime Commission has the authority to declare Martial Law.’”

“Commissioner Tortha, how do these riots, surely a matter of internal security, have anything to do with Outtime events or actions?” Commissioner Dalgroth asked.

Tortha took his pipe out of his mouth and pointed the stem at Dalgroth. “They do because this problem is
caused
by Outtimers. These proles are not Citizens, but workers and drones transposed from Fifth Level Servsec and Industrial Sector.”

Commissioner Lagrath Sart interjected, “Some of these so-called proles have been living on Home Time Line for four and five generations. You can’t call these people Outtimers, not in the usual sense. Many of them are Citizens in all but name.”

Tortha took his time responding. Commissioner Lagrath Sart, a tall man with a short well-trimmed beard, was one of the few political appointees on the Paratime Commission and the only one who hadn’t served with the Paratime Police. His loyalty, as far as Tortha was concerned, was suspect. Another reason he hadn’t informed the Commission beforehand about why he had called the meeting. He’d have to convince the Commissioner for Security to isolate Lagrath after the meeting until the proposed actions were completed.

“I don’t care if these proles have families going back fifty generations, by law they’re still Outtimers. As I’ve said in the past, we’ve allowed far too many proles to immigrate to Home Time Line. They now outnumber Citizens four or five to one. When you consider that at any one time more than ninety percent of all Citizens are Outtime, this means that the proles could easily take the upper hand on Home Time Line by sheer numbers alone.”

“I’ve been having nightmares about that since the Prole Insurrection some two hundred years ago,” said the Commissioner for Security. “That one made the Industrial Sector Rebellion look like a backyard picnic. Back then the Home Time Line didn’t have a quarter of the proles we have today and there were over a million casualties. Some two billion proles were evacuated to Fifth Level during that fracas.”

“Things are different now. People are attached to their servants,” Commissioner Lagrath Sart rebutted. “The Citizens won’t put up with the Paratime Police taking away their friends, lovers and servants.”

“I believe they’d prefer it to having their throats slit in the middle of the night,” offered Commissioner Valtan Ryk.

Lagrath shook his head in dismay, as though dealing with a person of limited intelligence. “Removing the proles won’t wash no matter how you do it. The Proletariat Protective League will never allow it.”

“Since when does the PPL dictate Home Time Line policy?” Tortha asked, his voice reverberating loudly through the room.

“Since they threw their credits and support behind Opposition Party,” Lagrath continued. “The people of First Level, Citizens and proles alike, have grown tired of Management arrogance and complacency. Management’s run Home Time Line, and by extension Out-time, for several thousand years. And they’ve done it badly! The Party’s out of touch with both the people and with the times.”

“Are you running for office now, Commissioner Lagrath?” Dalgroth Sorn asked.

“No,” he answered, no longer bothering to keep the smugness out of his tone. “I’ve been promised your office when Opposition Party takes control of the Executive Council. Once they hear of this cockamamie plan that won’t be long!”

Tortha looked around at the other seven Commissioners, as if to say “I told you so.” He nodded to the Commissioner of Security. Dalgroth Sorn keyed in a code on his wrist com. Moments later three field agents of the Paratime Police entered the room, needlers drawn.

The Security Commissioner pointed out Lagrath Sart. “Take him to Fifth Level Police Terminal. I’ll forward further instructions later.”

They nodded and moved forward. Lagrath rose up spitting, “Don’t you dare lay a finger upon my person!”

Tortha shook his head.
These youngsters sure have a lot to learn
.

Meanwhile, one of the Paratime Policemen jerked the Commissioner up out of his seat and took hold of his thumbs and pulled them behind Lagrath’s back, forcing him to frog march his way out of the room.

“Do you think there’s anything to his threats?” asked the woman Commissioner.

Tortha shrugged his shoulders. “We’ve put off this day of reckoning for far too long. It’s possible we may no longer have the political muscle to do what we have to do. But that shouldn’t stop us from trying.”

Dalgroth Sorn nodded. “Tortha’s right. We’ve sat on the prole problem, let the PPL organize and infiltrate Left Moderate and Opposition Parties. We only have ourselves to blame. When Verkan suggested dealing with the prole problem two years ago, we almost had the Chief investigated at that traitor Lagrath’s instigation. He’s been our leak all along. I should have had him hypno-meched years ago….”

“Why didn’t you?” Tortha asked.

“You know why, Karf. He’s my son-in-law. As it is, my daughter will freeze me out of the family, and my wife will go right along with her.”