Because half her practices had turned into performances, Tanya lost some time due to interruptions but she also got valuable feedback from the hidden audience so it wasn't a total loss. Frau Seidel's critiques had gotten more exacting but that fit in with her desires, so she didn't mind. The rest of her time was for relaxation and planning so all was well in line with her schedule.
Her chief-of-staff seemed disturbed by this apparent indolence. "President... are you sure there's nothing we can do or prepare?" He had a worried look on his face that he thought was hidden.
"Lukas, don't fret. Treat this as a vacation that you will earn after we arrive. And have no fear, there will be plenty to do in the Unified States!" They are all good workers, so if I give them a free boon now, I can expect even more productivity once we arrive. They do remind me of the 203rd, though. Instead of combat maniacs, maybe they are work maniacs? Workaholics? I'll have to keep an eye out for signs of karoshi. Casualties are expected on the battlefield, but not in the office!
"Our colleagues have gone ahead and started preparations already. When we arrive, we can give them some leave – some vacation that is – and we'll take over. Later on, we'll make sure duties are rotated so that no one is over-worked. Refill your tanks now... that's an order!"
What a wonderful employer! She's always looking out for us and is even making sure we have plenty of vacation time. I'll have to work harder than ever once we finish this trip!
"I'll make sure the others know, ma'am."
"Make sure you relax, too. We have a lot of work to do in Chicago and elsewhere. Rest well, but be ready for more travel, eh?"
* * *
"Are the contracts in?" Tanya's rail manager looked up from his work as his assistant came in.
"Yes, just this morning. The Francois were surprisingly reasonable, so there won't be any delays."
"Good. Our momentum depends on keeping nonsense to a minimum." He looked at the chart posted next to the map of Europa. Tanya had called the method of tracking tasks that depended on other tasks a 'Gantt chart' without explaining why she picked that name. These contracts completed a lot of dependencies and kept him from making further changes to their plans.
"Is the Arene Plan still a go?"
"Naturally. The president wants this to happen. Why would we stop?" He looked over the plan. "But our speed will slow down because we are pushing our expansion wider rather than just going for distance. Arene won't work unless everything else is in place."
"Don't worry, boss, we'll make it work."
"We have to." We have to.
* * *
Cal was visiting the consulate again. Actually, he felt stupid calling it that as it was like a miniature city in a city. He looked upwards like a hick seeing a skyscraper for the first time. No individual building was particularly odd but there was something different that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He knew it was one of those things that would make him feel like an idiot when he finally figured it out. Or a genius!
"Yoo-hoo! Mr. Soldier!" Gisela grinned at him while waving. This was her standard greeting for him even though they were on a first name basis now. "Why are you just standing around?"
He smiled back. "I'm not just standing around. I'm talking to a pretty girl."
She had the good grace to blush and punch his arm lightly. "Oh that's no sense!" Her Anglish was nearly perfect now unless she was flustered or rushed. "But you did seem a little confused."
"He...ck, Gisela." He had a wry expression. "There's something 'off' about all of this." He waved his arm as if to encompass the whole neighborhood.
"Something bad?" She looked around, trying to spot what had bothered him but spying nothing.
"No, no I don't think so. Everything is fine. The buildings are nice, old and new. The restaurants are great. The drinks are interesting. The people are nice. The streets are clean. So what's getting under my skin?"
"Well, let's have lunch and we can talk. There's a cute Waldstatte confectionary that also has sandwiches."
"Hey! Isn't the fella supposed to make these kind of decisions?" He mock-argued as he walked with her, arm in arm.
"Of course! That's why, as an insightful gentleman, you'll decide to take me where I want to go."
"I can't argue with logic like that, can I? Please lead the way while pretending I'm the one guiding us."
Cal discovered that the sandwiches were more for flavor than to fill the void inside of him, so the little plates stacked up quite a ways before he was half-sated. Gisela nibbled on a few and let him finish off her plates.
"Not hungry? The food is great here."
"Food is fuel; I came for dessert!" A selection of chocolate goodies arrived in a largish sampler platter and he spotted a glittering in her eyes that must have been a trick of the light.
The thought of eating that many sweets were frankly somewhat nauseating to him, but his date managed to put away quite a few... apparently enjoying each one. "These are so good! I can't believe you have no appetite for them."
"I get enough enjoyment watching you eat them!" He sipped his tea (unsweetened, no sugar... the closest he could get to black coffee here). "So what do you think about my odd feeling?"
"You said that nothing seemed odd or bad or wrong, correct?"
"Yeah. Everything is great. Honestly, except that all the furniture is undersized and the sandwiches are too small, I have no problems at all."
She looked at him over her teacup. "Some would argue that, in matters of scale, you are the one out of place, hmmm?"
"That aside..."
She nibbled on a multilayered confection that somehow had a deliciously soft interior and also a crunch snap to it. "If all the parts are right individually, then that leaves three options. One, they are wrong together, two there's something extra, and three there's something missing. Simple logic, no?"
"Three options? You have a good point." The thought that he was missing something really, really obvious came back to him again. "Ah, sh.....oot. Let's just go dancing; I'll think about this later!"
She popped the last treat in her mouth. "I thought you'd never ask!"
They had a great night of dancing with just a touch of drinking and he even daringly got a good-night's kiss at the end that she didn't object to. He was whistling on his way to his quarters but his thought turned back to what had been troubling him. The place they were housed wasn't in the best part of town as it was close to the consulate. True, it wasn't a terrible neighborhood, nor was it very posh. Just an average, lower-end neighborhood. As a very tall, very muscular man, he wasn't afraid of being assaulted so he didn't bother being too wary. The flickering streetlight threw staccato shadows on debris in the gutter or made the depths of the passing alleyways even darker. Night people, gender indeterminate or all too blatant, either backed away or approached him. He ignored them all.
The walk ended and he climbed up four flights to his apartment. Perhaps because the area was a bit run down, the rents were cheap and all the consulate guards could get their own place. It was small but the bedroom had two beds that he had rearranged into one long, skinny bed. He kicked off his shoes and laid back on the bed, looking at the peeling paint on the ceiling as he continued thinking.
He closed his eyes and might have drifted off when he saw an image of the consulate grounds side by side with the neighborhood he was in. He sat bolt upright. "Fuck! So that's it!"
The next day, he was going through his regular debriefing with the Major. All the consulate guards were required to do so but, until the Ambassador arrived, it was mostly just updates on construction or any suspicious activities (there were none).
"Anything else to report?" The major had noted anything relevant and irrelevant. In intelligence, even small, seemingly trivial, details might be important.
"Yes sir. I'm not sure if it's important but I think I figured out something about the whole consulate. I mean beyond the beer and booze and restaurants and things. I mean, that's odd but not wrong."
"Go on." He was patient as these impressions were sometimes more important than that of the most experienced agent.
"It's just that there's nothing bad there. I mean nothing. There ain't a speck of litter, no beggars or whores (pardon my language), no run-down buildings. It's almost like a perfect place to go. Just a block away, though, you can find all that and more. Hell, if I had kids, I would be fine just letting them run around there for a few hours and enjoy themselves. No one tries to mug me, not the way I'm built, but I bet a woman would feel just as safe even late at night. It's, It's..." he searched for the right word.
"Idealized?"
"That's it! It's like a place where nothing bad can happen and everything is just... just right in the world." He rubbed his short hair with one hand. "I don't know if that makes any sense."
"Your unfiltered impressions are invaluable, soldier, keep them up."
"Yessir!"
After Cal had left, he pondered what he had heard. "An ideal place, eh? No filth, or crime, or war, or misery. What's her plan for this? Why would she make something so attractive for no gain?" He leaned back in his chair and wished that his bottle of gin were still in its usual place. "Hahhhhhh... the picture-perfect place. Hm?"
He sat back upright and thought about that phrase and where she came. "She's a war orphan. Maybe it's exactly what it seems to be. It's a perfect place for her. It probably matches her vision of an ideal Germania as well. So instead of an ulterior motive, it's an obvious one." As a soldier, he was well acquainted with the concept of war but most of his experience had been blissfully free of the consequences of war. But you could only look over so many intelligence photographs of destroyed villages, mountains of bodies and ruined landscapes without getting a feeling for it.
"I don't know why you're here, Dev... Degurechaff, and I'm going to keep my eyes on you, but I'm going to trust you enough that you aren't making this beautiful town just to destroy it." He signed off on a stack of approvals and clearances required to finish the so-called consulate that he had been holding up for weeks. He stated at the map of the area, "The next move is yours."
* * *
Coincidentally, many miles away on the ocean aboard a ship, Tanya was looking the very same map and her plans for it. There were areas left out for future development and she couldn't see any way to immediately improve it. But what was there made her smile. This is great... it's going to make me so much money!
Her maid, Mercedes, looked out the window. Long experience with sea voyages, she was a better weather predictor than most of the sailors. "It's going to rain, storm actually, and a bad one." She pro-actively closed the porthole windows to the suite. Outside, deckhands were efficiently gathering the chairs and umbrellas for storage.
Tanya, no stranger to terrible weather, had to agree. "With those clouds, I don't doubt you at all."
"Ummm... with the humidity and wind, it's quite easy for hair to get disarrayed or frizzy." She pulled a brush out of her pocket that she had been keeping with her waiting for an opportunity.
Oblivious, Tanya looked a touch cross before she just sighed. "No sunning myself today and the storm will make piano practice difficult at best. I suppose I could finish that project. It has so many parts that it'll take days to just write them down. But I know how it will turn out, so it's just a bit of drudgery."
She pulled out paper and pens while Meche reluctantly put the brush back in her pocket. Before she even a bit of ink touched paper a mighty explosion shook the ship!
"Ah! Relampago!"
Tanya grabbed her cane and a bag. Her eyes glowed as magic suffused her system. "I don't think so."
Chapter 62 - Man vs. Nature
Despite the massive noise, most of the passengers were little disturbed. Like Tanya's maid, they assumed it was just a louder-than-average peal of thunder during the storm. To all appearance, nothing was amiss... nothing at all.
Like hell, nothing's wrong! "Assemble!" Her voice, amplified greatly by her magical powers (even unconsciously), could be heard by a third of the ship. It was hardly necessary, as the veterans of war knew instantly that this was no act of God. Before the echoes of her summons could die away, they were surrounding her, ready for action.
Officially, weapons were not allowed and all ships leaving Germania were very, very thoroughly searched. Coincidentally, though, Degurechaff's employees had an astonishing variety of non-weapons that either had sharp edges or could take mage energies.
Half of them had shovels in their luggage.
"Commander, all combatants assembled!" Rudolf was a grizzled veteran that was lucky and skilled enough to have survived the Great War and a half dozen preceding it with all his limbs intact. He did sport a rather impressive scar across his left cheek but he always claimed it had been done by a particularly passionate woman and would never elaborate further.
"Time's short, so I'll be brief. We've been hit and hit hard. By my guess, we're probably taking on water and there may be undetonated explosives, probably below the waterline."
"Yes Ma'am. No submarine would dare so I'm guessing the cargo hold is the best bet. Probably smuggled aboard in our last stop."
She passed out some rugged-looking orbs. "These are for mine detection. Keep your shields on and I don't care how you do it, but get those bombs off this tub!"
"Yes, Commander!" They rushed off, shields on and determined looks on their faces.
"Ella!"
"Ma'am!"
"Contact the Captain or First Mate. Tell them we are on the move and come back with any information they give you. Don't give them the option of saying no. March!"
"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" She raced in the opposite direction.
"The rest of you, keep the civilians calm and under control. This is going to be hard if they figure out what's going on and start panicking. I need space to work; get it for me!"
"Aye!" "Yes Commander!" "Yes ma'am!"
Tanya took to the air, the mini-orbs in her shoes glowing a bright blue as she pushed them into flight. They were more robust than the old ones and could handle such a chore without fear of overheating. From her vantage point, despite the darkening skies, she spotted a possible oil slick forming on top of water frothing a bit too much... a sign that air bubbles might be coming from below. There it is!
She landed on a middle deck, much to the amazement of the passengers there. While not uncommon, most people had never seen a mage in flight, much less one so close. "Sorry, no time right now," she said brusquely.
From the crowd, an Anglish voice chimed in. "Absolutely correct, Degurechaff. Pardon, Colonel Degurechaff. There's skullduggery afoot, I say." The speaker was indeed Anglish, excessively so. He sported a magnificent mustache, a monocle and an attitude that would be offensive if it were so thoroughly a part of his personality that it was obviously not intended to draw ire. "I'll keep the riff-raff and sight-seers away while you go about your business. More her than just a blow, eh?" He glanced significantly at the deckplates, obviously indicating some situation below."
"My thanks." She turned sharply.
"Reginald Higgsbotham, at your service!" he called to her back, no trace of displeasure in his voice at being dismissed.
She met Ella on the way with an obviously distressed First Mate in tow. Though the man was about twice her weight and six inches taller, he hadn't the battle experience of retired soldier like Ella.
"Miss Degurechaff! I don't have time for this, the ship is..." He looked around furtively to make sure no one could hear him and hissed. "The ship is in danger!"
"Good," she responded, causing his jaw to drop open in shock. "That means I don't have to convince you the situation is dire. We, in fact, have very little time and you are wasting it. Me and my men are everyone's best hope to survive this mess so just do what I say and no backtalk."
Perhaps used to being under command, or perhaps the utterly implacable tone in her voice, he straightened up and said, "Ma'am!"
"Take me to the site of the explosion and send word that no one working for me is to be hampered in any way. They are trying to find the other explosives now."
"OTHER EXPLOSIVES?!" he shouted forgetting he was trying to be circumspect. Fortunately, no one was nearby and the rising storm drowned out his words.
"Someone trying to sink the ship would be foolish to just rely on one set, don't you think? They'd want to puncture all the flood compartments so that there would be no way to recover. Now, move it!" She raced behind while thinking. That's how I'd take down this tub... we had enough theory and practice when wargaming with the Navy. With her tonnage and configuration, if two compartments flood... Another massive explosion interrupted her thoughts!
"Damnit!"
* * *
[Ten minutes earlier]
Rudolf yelled to be heard over the ship's engines and panicked sailors. "What have you found?!" Lights flickered in the gloomy belowdecks, damaged by the bomb, throwing weird shadows through the metal corridor.
"Four more traces! All spread out in different compartments! The first compartment can't be sealed because the explosion warped the hatch between the sections!"
"Scheisse! Don't bother trying to patch the hole, the water pressure is too much! Get the welders to seal the hatch. Move!"
"Aye!" He raced off and pushed through any sailor that failed to yield soon enough.
Rudolf was, by inclination and training, a civil engineer. But going through and surviving the Great War taught many lessons. Getting crews of hard-headed workers into line was as natural to him as breathing by now. He didn't have the same gravitas as the Argent, but he got stuff done and he had a mission now.
"We found one, this way!" One of his men led him to a different compartment. There, against the bulkhead behind other cargo was a nondescript crate but the nervous mage standing nearby just nodded. "In there, I'm sure of it."
"Good, haul it off and throw it overboard."
"What?!"
"Look, the trigger can't be anything too complex or detonated remotely. There are too many random things that can happen on a ship. That means a timer. But the salty air would make even the best chronometer lose accuracy so we don't know when they'll go off. So stop wasting my time, you idiot, and throw that damned thing into the sea!"
With shields at max, the mage grabbed the crate magically and nearly flew off. The orb he had was built for sturdiness and not speed but you could hardly tell with how fast he was pushing it.
"Spread the word to the others that don't understand this: Don't just stare at those bombs, get rid of them!"
With fresh understanding, two more explosives were found and disposed of in less time than it would take to describe the process.
"Sir, we found the last but..."
"But, what, man? Spit it out!"
"You'll need to see this."
They raced to where the last bomb was located and Rudolf ground to a half. "Oh, bloody balls, what a mess."
Apparently what effort the bomber had skimped on the other explosives, he had reserved for this one. The device had actually been hidden behind a hullplate... effectively turning what was supposed to be a defense against breaches into the bomb itself. And this one was bigger and more elaborate than all the others.
"Parker, I want all the mages down here... NOW!"
He deliberately slowed his pace as they gathered. All the mages were either veterans or had been near construction sites. All were well aware of how much sheer power was in that wall.
"Okay, I've got a plan, but it's a longshot. We can't take any chances with this one because it'll blow a hole big enough to throw a tank through. This one will go off the second it's tampered with so we have ONE shot at this."
"Foreman... what if the plan doesn't work?"
Rudolf smiled grimly, "Then it'll blow us to kingdom come before we ever get the chance to regret it!"
* * *
Tanya made her way through smoke-filled corridors as they went to the cargo compartment on the lowest decks. The rush of air from below, no doubt pushed by the influx of water, and the smell of cordite told her that the explosion hadn't been stopped in time. I have to see how large these damned holes are... if we are going to abandon ship, we'll need to do it fast and first!
What she discovered was odder than she had ever anticipated. All the mages helping Rudolf were scattered around the deck as a geyser of water shot into the room and an odd angle. Rudolf himself wasn't in much better shape but apparently had been much further back from the blast.
He dragged himself to his feet shakily while she assisted him. "What happened?"
Looking confused at first, he remembered to remove his earplugs that he carried around for use on construction sites. "We cut the bomb up, Ma'am. I figured the detonator could only set off one section at most if we sliced it to pieces with mage blades all at the same time. The others kept shields up so that we wouldn't go up with that final section."
"Brilliant. Remind me to give everyone a bonus when we get to shore." She looked at the mages lying all around... all obvious out for the count but still alive. "I guess it's up to me then. Did you see anything around here we can use to patch those holes?"
"Yes, back there a ways, but the water pressure makes it impossible to hold it still for a weld!"
"One explosion rattled your brains so much? Remember that making an enemy into your friend serves you twice!"
She looked over the repair plates... they were massive, easily big enough to cover either hole. Why do they even have ones this large?! There's no way I can take forever manhandling them down the proper corridors.
She looked up and asked the First Mate that she had largely forgotten until now. "What's up that way?" She pointed toward ceiling of the cargo bay.
"There? Nothing much on this side a few corridors toward the outside and the starboard deck."
"Good, you have two minutes to make sure no one is there."
He wasted two seconds to blink and then ran as if the Devil himself were chasing. Rudolf blinked and hurriedly put his earplugs back in.
One minute and fifty-eight seconds later, Tanya raised her cane and shot an explosive round into the ceiling high above! A massive hole was formed as the steel plating and wooden deck above it were torn away.
The hole broke the seal on the compartment, causing water to gush in. She grabbed an orb off an unconscious mage and yelled. "Get them to safety... I'll handle the rest!"
She magically hefted the steel plates with only the utmost difficulty. These things are so heavy! She barely got them through the hole and then pushed them across the ruined deck and into the choppy sea before diving in after them.
She switched from the construction orb back to the cane. Its orb, while very limited, at least had the basic shielding and oxygen spells. Using the buoyancy of water to help, she slid a repair plate toward one of the holes. A flickering light from inside the ship led her to the right spot and, with a bit of effort, she maneuvered it nearby.
The inrushing water pulled the plate against the hole like a massive hand, making a booming sound that Tanya could even hear underwater. The second went into place with equal ease and she wearily flew out of the sea. The relative calm beneath the waves was replaced by the storm which, apparently affronted by human attempts at producing thunder and lighting, had kicked up its game a few notches.
She floated down to the deck, avoiding the hole and barely able to keep her feet from exhaustion. Ellla rushed up and gave her a salute. "Reporting, Ma'am! The ship's welding crews are completing the patches on one hole now. They'll be able to fix the other one as soon as the pumps clear that compartment."
"What's the ETC?"
"Not more than an hour."
As they were talking, two more explosions to the aft threw plumes of water into the sky but were easily dismissed by the thunder above.
"Let's get inside, Ella. I've had enough of dirty seawater for tonight. Keep Rudolf on the repairs while you handle everything else. Unless we are literally going to die, I don't want to be disturbed until morning." Using that much raw energy almost wiped me out! Even thirty seconds longer and I would have passed out.
"Ma'am!"
Tanya made her way back to her cabin which was, blissfully, far from any possible repairs or annoyances. She stripped off her brine-soaked outer clothes, too tired to care about modesty. "Mercedes, a bath please!"
"Yes Miss Degurechaff!" She rushed over with a towel to get some of the seawater off and then started the tap for the tub. Her hand twitched toward the brush but she stopped herself. Soon, Meche, soon...
Not every room had hot running water but it was a plentiful byproduct of the steam engines and Tanya was not shy about taking advantage of it. She sank into the tub with a long sigh and let her maid shampoo the saltwater, diesel fuel and unnamed unmentionables out of her hair.
She stopped the 'assistance' there, though!
"Just a bit longer, Miss!" She almost sang as she finally got the chance to dry and brush out Tanya's golden hair. "There we go, you deserve a long rest, ma'am." Practically tucking the younger woman into bed, she dimmed the lights and slipped out, not hearing the mumbled, "Thanks Visha" over the raging storm.
Chapter 63 - Read all about it!
"Extra! Extra! Read it here! Bomb plot foiled on high seas! Ambassador saves ship!"
* * *
Visha sipped a coffee blend so delicate that it was like rose petals on her lips. The colonel preferred stronger fare but when she was brewing just for herself, she liked something lighter. "I don't see why this is cause for alarm."
The reporter pressed for more details, "Madame Vice President, surely this is a sure reason for concern! An assassination plot of this magnitude is unprecedented!"
She put down her cup and said firmly. "There's no way such a scheme ever would have succeeded. They used such a roundabout method because they couldn't get any closer to her than that." Assassins are cowards. Getting within arm's reach of Tanya would result in them dying messily. Still, once she has a fixed location, that increases the risks. Then again, that location will likely be totally in her control.
"Isn't a bigger issue who was behind this? And their fate when she finds out?"
* * *
"Well, Wilson, it appears I won't get a sudden promotion today." Naturally, they had received word of the assassination attempt long before the press.
"Were you hoping for one, sir?" He was ironing Oskar's pants with an electric iron. The prevalence of stable and ubiquitous electricity was a feature of the consulate territory. They frequently spoke while Wilson went about his chores... a habit deeply ingrained in each after serving in the military.
He snorted, "Of course not. I want to see what she will do with this place. Say, what's that hissing sound?"
"New iron, sir. It has a small water reserve so it can steam clothes while you work." He tapped the side of it with a fingernail on the TvD logo. "Made by your superior, as it turns out."
"What is that woman not involved in?"
"Among the interesting things, sir, fewer and fewer it seems."
* * *
Rerugen's adjutant perused the various newspapers on his desk, ignoring his assigned tasks. All the headlines were of Degurechaff, of course. "Another blow to Argent, eh? She really can't buy a moment's peace."
The General continued working implacably, completely unperturbed. "This? This would hardly qualify as a morning exercise for her. Even if that laughable bomb had succeeded in sinking the ship, I'm sure she would have been fine." She'd probably land on an unspoiled island paradise and turn it into a world-spanning military/industrial monolith inside of a year. "Any word on who did this?"
"Oh, sorry General, I forgot to report that since it was negative. It seems like when they upgraded their ships amenities and did standard repairs in Ispagna, the assassins planted the bombs then. The people that did the work have vanished and the company that supposedly hired them said they had no record of any of this happening. Our investigators think a last minute change in which berth the Colonel was using caused them to change their plans from blowing up just a few cabins to sinking the entire ship."
"They were still lucky to even do that much." She brought several dozen specialized computation orbs along 'just in case'! All technically within legal limits, but all could be used for one sort of military activity or another. Is it paranoia or just proper planning considering who she is? "That reminds me, did you get the specificationss for the new orbs TvD is producing?"
"Actually, yes. Well, in a manner of speaking."
"What? Surely they didn't hide the capabilities."
"It's not that, but the MJ line is very flexible." Seeing the look on his superior's face, he hurried to explain. "Ah, that stands for Modular Jewels. You can order them to spec and they assemble them from pre-made components. The cases are ruggedized and sealed so they aren't really maintainable by your typical user." He held up an advertisement with the fixed cost of the orb highlighted in one corner.
Rerugen did a quick conversion from gold to old marks. "That's less than a tenth the cost of a military orb."
"Six-and-a-half percent. There's an optional maintenance contract that guarantees replacement as long as you don't open the case accidentally... or on purpose."
"How many orbs did Elenium break?" the General asked dryly.
"Three before the head told them to knock it off."
He looked over the advertisement. Magic for Everyone! the bold words proclaimed at the top. "At these prices, anyone with a trace of talent could get an orb suited for them at the cost of an automobile."
"She's leasing them to industry along with instructions on how to replace difficult or dangerous tasks with mages. And did you look at the second advert?"
Rerugen flipped to the other one. "What's this? She's offering free mage testing at any TvD Schnäppchenmarkt?" Ah, I see! All those mages that can be combat proficient could still have a valuable ability. With free testing, cheap orbs that can be leased or on a payment plan. And she... and she would have access to them first. He had a sudden vision of an army of mages... all dressed in TvD uniforms! That's her plan!
* * *
A very Brittanian man sent a telegraph. Despite the massive demand for the use of the device, he had sufficient pull, and sufficient money, to get a spot in the queue. A carefully coded message was received in the Unified States and eagerly translated. For those who knew the sender, they could insert his usual bloviating with almost perfect accuracy.
"My dear colleagues, she is everything we expected and more! I strongly recommend her admission to the Gentlemen's Explorer League posthaste!"
* * *
Ten figures sat grimly around a large table. "Another failure."
"I never agreed with this action," said one at one end. "No matter the goals, to sink an entire ship to get one person. It's unconscionable."
"To slay a devil takes sacrifice."
"Self sacrifice! Killing innocents makes us no better than she is!"
Another figure grumbled, "At least we didn't use one of our last geasa from the witches. There aren't many left."
"Oh? They have been so eager to assist other killers. Did they contact us about this attempt?"
"Yes. They said we could all rot in Hell."
* * *
"...so I told them, they could rot in Hell."
Astrid massaged her temples. "Really? That's going to make the last few favors all the harder. We may have to try for real... a task I don't relish."
"What?! She'll be in the Unified States and inside of her influence. Even if possible before, that woman is..."
"She knows the lay of the land but is focused on her home, so we'll have to move quickly. We set the lovebirds up next and they'll be in New York at just about the right time... if they ever can keep their hands off each other."
Nova grinned. "Aw, don't be like that. I think it's sweet that a couple shares similar interests."
"I don't think killing people for money counts as an interest!"
* * *
Helen was overseeing the finishing touches of the event of the season when she received the news. She paused and asked her assistant, "We have received Degurechaff's RSVP, have we not?"
"Yes, Mrs. Schwab. She has accepted."
"Then don't bother me with trivialities. She said she will be here, then she will be here."
* * *
A figure huddled in a culvert, covered in newspapers. Even warm months can be cold out on your own. Scattered dreams displayed better times... warm meals waiting on the table after a long day... skiing with friends... a mother's smile as she darned a favorite sweater and handed it back good as new... new books after a trip to the store... apple pie... a father's strong arms, hard and yet comforting in a way that nothing could replace.
A moan leaked out from the unconscious form. One dirty hand clutched a newspaper... only a single phrase could be read from the headline "...Degurechaff Survives..."
* * *
Agent Zed lay back in bed smoking an expensive cigarette. His bare chest was superbly toned and glistened with a light patina of sweat. Some other agents mocked him for the bad habit but they were in a business where death came for them long before any manner of unhealthy lifestyle could do them in.
From the covers near him a delicate and pale hand emerged and he put his cigarette between two of the fingers. The hand was followed by an arm and a smiling face. She had the ethereal beauty that made you think that snow fairies actually existed. The Ice Princess wasn't terribly muscular or skilled with weapons. But she was a master of subterfuge, poisons and 'accidents'. Those she killed never saw the cause of their death and she was usually miles away when the Grim Reaper claimed another life in her name. She inhaled through the cigarette, causing the cherry to glow in the darkened cabin.
"We have to stop meeting like this." He removed the cigarette and planted a long, deep kiss in its place.
"Oh, I didn't see you fighting very hard." She ran a hand down his chest, enjoying the firmness there and not avoiding the numerous scars she found.
"Who am I to fight fate?" Years ago, they had made a pact never to seek each other out, lest they jeopardize their missions and identities. But, if their paths did cross, they would take some accrued 'vacation' time to reacquaint themselves. To this day, they only knew each other by the code names they had shared the first time they met.
"It has come up more and more often, has it not?" She deliberately didn't make any mention of why this might have happened. She lay her head on his chest, her red hair splayed artistically across it like sprays of roses even if there was no one to see.
He put the cigarette between her lips so she didn't have to move, enjoying the odd intimacy of the act. Afterwards, he took a last drag and stubbed it out.
She smiled more with her voice than her lips. "Ready for more, so soon?"
"In a moment, you scamp." He looked out the porthole. "You think the ship is sinking?"
On some level, they had recalled an explosion through the storm. "I think we're okay for now. Should we do something about it?"
"The hell with that, I'm on vacation!" He rolled over and pressed her against the bunk, arousal reignited. Even with dull ears, it would have been easy to pick up their cries of passion over the continuing storm.
"Natasha, my dear Natasha!"
"Oh, Boris, don't stop! Don't you dare stop!"
Chapter 64 - What's on the menu?
Chapter Text
The foreman looked over his new orders with surprise and some frustration. "Was ist? I know we are ahead of schedule but these changes will cascade to all our projects."
"There's nothing to be done. The increased security is too important right now." She pointed at the blueprints. "This wall is barely defensible and the President herself said to look out for something she called a 'car bomb'."
"Car bomb?"
"Apparently, you hide a load of explosives in an innocuous-looking vehicle and then detonate them after they are here."
"What's there to blow up, though? We'd never allow a random vehicle to get close to the consul headquarters."
She frowned and a flash of disgust crossed her face. "I was told that the bomber might target civilians."
The man almost staggered with shock. "That's monstrous! What kind of animal would do something like that?!"
"The kind that would sink a ship to target one person."
* * *
Yvette was on another shopping trip... again searching for bargains but this time in the greater Unified States and not just the Chicago area. Her experience back in Germania and recently served her well. This time, however, she was purchasing farmland that produced basic staples used in alcohol production. But there were numerous other purchases as well... mostly related to food in one way or another. She couldn't make out a pattern, no matter how much time she spent on it and she wasn't a slouch when it came to such things.
"She definitely has a plan but I can't figure it out. It's like she's planning for a food shortage AND a surplus at the same time. These long options, the farms, the plants... the rules of the world would have to change dramatically for any of this to make sense."
Yvette felt stupid, not an emotion she was used to by any means. Like a child too short to see over the heads of the adults, she knew that if she could just see a little bit further, all would be revealed. Ironically, the one who saw the the furthest was a girl still too young to vote or reach the top shelf without assistance.
* * *
The Captain had to ride a fine line between stressing his damaged ship and getting into port promptly for more thorough repairs. After a careful inspection, he decided that continuing at standard speeds and round the clock watches on the patches would be sufficient. The welds, though ugly, seemed solid and were reinforced the first chance they could muster.
His first mate rubbed his head, tired from days of recovery from the incident. "It'll be a stretch, but we should arrive inside our normal window. I don't think we'll lose much money."
"Lose money? We're sitting on a gold mine here!"
"Captain?"
"We sold out this run at increased prices, right? From now on, we're going to rent out her cabin and five times the regular price. I want pictures of her on that entire hallway. We'll give tours of those patches. No, wait, we'll need to cut those patches out due to repairs. I want the cut out sections displayed on the high port lounging deck. I want a plaque describing the incident installed down in the holds. Put all of this in our advertisements. We'll broadcast her songs in the dining room she practiced in."
"Some passengers won't like it. There'll be cancellations and less business."
"We'll gain more in the end. How big do you think this boat is? We can only carry up to our limit so even if half of the people don't want on board, they will be replaced. At a premium." He leaned closer. "Look, every ship needs something that makes them stand out, otherwise it's just another place to hang your hat when you are crossing the Atlantic. All we need to do is attract enough people to sell all our berths. From here on out, we don't have to scramble to fill, we just have to serve our passengers and count the money!"
* * *
The woman in question was relaxing in a chair on her private deck while Mercedes brushed out her hair. Tanya had given up protesting the treatment as it took far too much energy and just seemed to make the maid upset. Instead of fighting a losing battle, she just chose to surrender and concentrate on other things.
This level of attack is ridiculous. Not to be egotistical, but I have to assume the bombing was aimed at me. Since they were willing to take down the entire ship, then it sounds more personal than practical. That's what I need... more obsessed whack-jobs with axes to grind. Germania lost the war... why isn't that good enough for them?! Any rational analysis of costs and benefits would show them that cooperation is the best for everyone right now. I hate dealing with people who let emotions replace logic. You might as well have a roomful of monkeys making your policies. Honestly, they may do a better job because they would be accidentally right now and then.
"You seem upset, ma'am. Did I pull your hair?" she asked quite worried.
"No, not at all Meche. I was just thinking about something." She spoke in a slow, but passable Ispagnan, though with a decidedly Brasilian accent. Tanya had heard, in her past life, that the more languages one knew, the easier it was to learn new ones and she found this so currently. Starting with English and Japanese, she had added Germanian over her second childhood years and Francois during the War.
"I bet it was those terrible villains who planted those bombs! Ooooh, I'd give them a thrashing!" She waved her brush around menacingly, reminding Tanya of the nuns when they wanted to instill discipline in unruly orphans. "Hmph!" She went back to hair care with a bit more vigor than before.
"You have good instincts. Yes, I was wondering as to their motives."
"Hmph! That is easy. It's not about the war, or dead soldiers or anything like that. They see that you are doing so well and have such lovely hai... prospects. You are young and rich and accomplished and have your whole life and they are bitter oldsters who can't stand it."
"So, this is about... jealousy?"
She nodded sagely. "The older people get, the richer they get, the more petty they become. I've served thousands and thousands of passengers. They are like petulant children who want a toy someone else has. It's even worse, they see you have a treat and they'd rather ruin it even if they can't take it for themselves."
She's right! But it's not any of the allied powers, it's Being X! He's certainly old enough, powerful enough and emotional enough. What amazing insight. I see that it pays to consult with good human resources to get better insight. So I need to expect there will be more 'childish' outbursts in the future and they may be very destructive." "Meche, you are a great judge of character. It's too bad you are already gainfully employed."
"Ma'am? What do you mean?" The maid tilted her head as she tried to interpret Tanya's less-than-perfect grasp of the language.
"I'm not in the habit of poaching employees of other companies." Some of her words were in Germanian as she struggled to get her point across. At least not if they are happily employed... those bankers don't count! In any free market, everyone should have the choice where they choose to trade their talents for compensation.
"I am going to retire after this trip. My son lives in the Unified States and I plan to live with him." She realized what the youngster was getting at. "Oh! You want me to work for you... I'd love to!"
"Are you sure? Weren't you going to retire?"
"Oh, yes, retire from the shipboard life. My joints don't take the salt air or cold days at all well anymore so I was planning to do some work. But this would be so much better!" She finished Tanya's hair and, somewhat daringly, tied a thin, blue ribbon into it. "There, that will help keep your hair tidy when you are practicing."
"Hmm? Good idea. Speaking of which, it's about that time." She finished her coffee and headed to the ballroom. Fortunately, it hadn't been damaged in all the ruckus of the past days. Between her suites and there, however, was a small stretch of covered walkway that was open to passengers... at least the upper-deck passengers. This section had become popular with those who wanted to catch a glimpse of Tanya or, for the bold, try to speak to her.
Such as today.
The Brittanian gentleman was standing there, a pipe clenched between his teeth. Her removed it and said, "Ah, the heroine herself!"
He seemed someone who might be important so gave him a brief professional smile. "And you just happen to be smoking here?" I hope I can get past him before I have to smell that smoke too much.
"Perish the thought! I was waiting for you, naturally." He pointed the stem of his pipe at her before giving a florid bow. "Reginald Higgsbotham at your service."
"You introduced yourself the other day and you already apparently know who I am."
"Hardly the equivalent of the formal introduction, but it will have to do. Your time is short I perceive so I'll be equally brief." He cleared his throat and intoned, "I represent the Gentlemen's Explorer League and I would like to tender a most heartfelt invitation to join our ranks."
Intrigued despite herself, Tanya decided to spend some more time. "I am hardly a 'gentleman' and I have numerous duties... why invite me?"
He waved off the argument, making Tanya fear that he would fling hot ash everywhere until she realized that his pipe had neither tobacco nor fire in it. "Pish and tosh! What gentleman doesn't have numerous calls on his time? And we refuse to let the boundaries of mere physical form constrain our definition of gentleman! If you hear the call to adventure and run – nay! – leap into it, then you are certainly one of our number if even you have not realized it yet. We are an exclusive and yet paradoxically inclusive order. That is to say, we have the highest standards but our doors are always open to those who can meet them and there's a place at our table for likeminded souls!"
Ah, I get it. Rich fellows with nothing better to do, go off and have 'adventures' and then get together to drink and tell tall tales with each other. Like the so-called secret societies such the Skull and Bones at Yale or the FHC. Still, many of them have very influential and powerful members despite their odd ways and they rarely have onerous requirements. Because they ARE rather secretive, it can't hurt my reputation and might give me access to allies or information unavailable elsewhere. "Your invitation is intriguing. I assume I'll have some time to think about this?"
"But of course! We couldn't induct someone without a proper introduction and conversation. There actually is an opportunity soon as a quorum can pulled together very soon. You will, of course, be spending a lot of time in Chicago soon. As you might imagine, our members are quite mobile but since you will be relatively still, we can arrange for a get together."
"I look forward to it, Mr. Higgsbotham. Send a message to the consulate and I'll keep my calendar clear that day."
"Please, just Reginald! Let's do this again, soon. Minus the explosives! Ha! Ha ha ha!"
Bemused but hopeful that this would lead to further opportunities, Tanya made her way to the ballroom where her teacher was already waiting. "Ah, my apologies. I was delayed on the way here."
The normally taciturn instructor smiled briefly and said, "No, I was doing some research before we started. I thought you might like to read this." She handed her a largish but thin book.
Tanya scanned the title curiously. The mystery of the Unfinished Symphony "So this is?"
"Yes, I had packed nearly my entire library of music for this extended trip and this was included. I think you'll find it enlightening."
"Mmm, thank you. Shall we start?"
Practice went particularly well and Tanya wasted no time going back to her suite to examine the book.
Tanya had three great advantages when learning the piano. The experience of her past life, her practical skills (such as sight reading) and, this was not be underestimated, she seemed to have a 'feel' for the music she didn't have in her past life. Whether it was due to her reincarnation and second childhood, or due to some magic resonance, she just found it easier than she could ever recall. Frankly, though, I've learned everything faster, not just music. They say the young learn easier but I don't know if that even applies to me. My memory is far better, though. I wonder if that might be a side effect of 'moving' me here. Let's see if I can put that to a real test.
The story of Beethoven's final days was somewhat tragic according to the book. He had been attacked on his way home one evening. Theories ranged from a random attack to a jealous rival but no culprit was ever brought to justice. The composer had survived a few hours but his deafness kept him from hearing the attack come from behind and he never saw them. In his papers was his final symphony, which would have been his ninth full one. The final page of the notebook just had the word 'Joy' on it with a few initial bars of music. There was a note on the side that just said 'Choral' (in Germanian of course).
She sat back and pondered this for a few minutes. She didn't feel any (or little) guilt about passing off the music of hundreds of musicians as her own. All those works of art didn't exist in this world and likely would never exist. Whatever butterfly effects already made this world so different had made popular culture vary as well. Small changes and large made it almost guaranteed that anything she 'wrote' would never have come to light in this world.
Almost guaranteed.
But this! This world has never heard what is quite possibly the finest symphony ever written. Maybe I've derailed a future Elvis, but compared to this, I think it's a fair trade. They'll probably think I'm some presumptuous upstart like the others who've tried to complete it so this will take a lot of care. I'll have to make it so that they HAVE to accept what I'm giving them even if I have to cram it down their throats!
Chapter 65 - Sensuous curves
Again and again, Oskar was amazed at the speed of construction of the consulate grounds. He literally felt that if he took an afternoon nap, the world would have changed in those few hours. What's that story? Rip Van Winkle? I rather know how he felt, I think. He rubbed his chin, perhaps unconsciously checking to see if a beard had spontaneously formed overnight. Feeling just a trace of stubble, he decided some grooming was in order.
As if by magic, Wilson arrived with a basin of warm water, fresh towels, a cup with brush, and a sharp razor. "Perhaps a bit of a shave sir? Wouldn't want the locals to think that Germania was populated by uncouth savages."
"I am a prince you know. A prince without a throne to inherit, but still."
"Sorry, sir. We wouldn't want them to think that Germania was led by uncouth savages."
Oskar sighed and said, "Just make me presentable. I'm off to spend the day organizing supply deliveries. Or painting benches. Maybe, if I'm very, very lucky, actually doing the job I was sent here to do." He sat in a tallish chair and allowed Wilson to place a towel around his shoulders.
The older man got a good batch of lather going with experienced stirring of the brush and applied to the ex-prince's whiskers. He was just about to start shaving when a servant rushed in with a folded paper. Wilson recognized him as one of the brewery workers that was second generation Germanian and was passably bilingual. The man was better at organizing than brewing so had been conscripted to a new role.
"Sorry to interrupt, but a telegram arrived for you."
Oskar was tempted to nod but remembered the very sharp piece of steel barely an inch from his flesh. "Go ahead and read it."
"Certainly." He read the terse telegram. Then again at Oskar's insistence.
Oskar sighed and got up, grabbing the towel and wiping the unused shaving cream from his face. "Or, in a manner I should have come to expect, I'll be heading to New York."
"Be sure not to scare the locals, there sir. Those of Chicago may be made of sterner stuff." He nodded toward the corner as his hands were full. "Your travel bag is already packed and we can leave immediately."
"Let's be off, then." Old Van Winkle had it good! Maybe I can give that a try after we get back.
* * *
The various workers of the consulate watched the official ambassadorial vehicle pull away from the manor with mild surprise. Von Degurechaff was not in residence yet and the associate Consul rarely left the grounds. On the streets there was no motorized traffic other than the electric trolleys and occasional delivery vehicle ferrying building supplies around.
Riding on the #6 Trolley was one Dr. Saul Trapp. He looked around what could only be termed a small town unlike any other on Earth and smiled at the mixture of hometown touches and exuberant commercialism. He re-read a portion of the letter he received, With your grades and recommendations, you would be a worthy candidate for staff physician but Von Degurechaff was particularly interested in a monograph you wrote on increasing survivability during collisions and insisted that you be hired even without an interview. She has high standards – very high! – so please strive to meet them.
As a nearly-fresh medical doctor, he treated people one at a time but he ardently wished people had no need of his services. He smiled wryly thinking that those of his profession would like to hang him if he said that he would love to live in a world that needed no physicians at all. Ha! Would that make the past patient? I guess that would be a small price...
The trolley driver, having few fares at this time of day, pointed out various features of the consulate property and had told Saul – several times – that he would answer any questions he might have. After merely enjoying the ride, he finally found one to ask. "Say, where are all the vehicles? There are a lot of bicycles and construction supplies but little else."
The old man laughed and pushed back his cap. "Quite the sight, eh? In fact, all private vehicles are banned here. Also horses. Keeps the streets safer and cleaner, you betcha. Supplies from outside go through a depot and that's where they drop off the mail, too. Then our people move everything around once inside. You can't see it from out here, but almost all deliveries are done in back streets... trash goes out the same way, too. No stinky trucks getting in the way, don'tchaknow."
"That's a lot of effort to keep the streets clear. Whyever for?"
"Wellllll, they don't tell me that kind of stuff, but I have a good guess." He nodded conspiratorially. "You know this is the only source of booze in the country if you aren't rich, right? Can you imagine the damfools that might come around and get into trouble after having a few too many? The boss wants this town to be a nice place to visit; a place where kids can be safe, right? So if you need to get around, you use your own muscles or take a taxi or even a trolley." He winked at the last comment!
The doctor noted that the number of people around was far short from what the location could handle. He struggled for a comparison. It's the university before the students arrive. No, that's not quite right. He struggled for a proper comparison. I know! It's like one of those big stores as they open for the day. There's people already there who are getting things ready for the crowds that haven't arrived yet.
"Ah! I get what you mean. Inside the consulate grounds, once you get past the walls, it's like a single structure. No roof overhead but really a cohesive entity. What an interesting person the President must be!"
"Ha! You don't know the half of it. By the way, your clinic is right here. Good luck, doc, you can look at my lumbago later. Ha ha ha!"
"Make an appointment and I'll get right on it. Take care, Thomas."
* * *
Mr. John was used to seeing exotic things on his many travels: acrobats from the Orient, massive predators of the snowy north and likewise massive herbivores to the blazing south, dancers in the sandy wastes and ancient treasure worn as casually as sequins. But he rarely saw anything new to pique his interest.
And yet in the somewhat shabby converted warehouse in the struggling capital of the former Empire, he found so many interesting things!
He had heard that the latest products form TvD always showcased in these markets and not in high-end stores. Even brand-new prototypes might be found here and, even more shockingly, at reasonable prices. A top-of-the-line pen they sold was already one of his favorite possessions. He worked in a wide variety of environments and it had never failed him.
The various devices for sale rather intrigued him... not that he had any particular need for better toast or an electric phonograph. It was just seeing so many novel items all together gave him a feeling of dissonance. Like he was staring at a vision of the future according an artist's painting and if he could just see a touch farther, even grander sights would be revealed.
Reluctantly, he stopped window shopping and went to the purpose of his visit. In flawless Germanian, he said, "Is this where you can get tested for mage abilities?"
The middle-aged woman nodded politely. "Yes, yes! You're a bit older than most of our testees." She spoke bluntly, but not unkindly.
"It never seemed like the right time and since you are here, I decided to have a go at it." In truth, he had long been tested (as had all agents of the Crown) but hadn't a trace of ability. He was quite good at what he did, regardless, and so had never felt the lack.
"No worries, youngster. Some people have shown surprising ability. All the employees of TvD are routinely tested when hired and it's quite something to see a grandmother find out that she could fly with a bit of training, ah ha ha!" The testing area was surrounded by privacy screens and he took of his shirt efficient per the directions on the signs around him and the woman affixed sensors to parts of his body and head.
"Do I have to do anything?" He noticed that the gear seemed different from what he remembered only ten years ago. Sleeker and unfamiliar, with far more indicators than he had seen before.
"Not much, not with the new testing equipment. We'll just inject minute traces of mana into you to stimulate your natural reserves. Your energy will instinctively try to push it out and we measure the resistance."
Mr. John smiled and joked, "It's not going to hurt, is it? That sounds rather invasive."
"Oh, not at all! You'll feel a tickle, maybe. And reaction stronger than that automatically shuts down the test for safety reasons."
"Fine, fine. I trust you. Please continue." She did so and, indeed, he felt a bit a tingle here and there which he assumed was coming from the instruments strapped to his body.
"There we go, all done!"
He put on his shirt and said, "Nothing, eh? I'm not surprised."
"Oh no! You don't have a lot of mage ability, but enough to do some small things. We have a new category for those with just a trace of mana. We call them the untermages. Certainly not enough for combat or even industrial uses but we are developing a wide variety of devices that don't require large mana reserves to operate."
"Oh?" Oh?!
"Not many yet. Mostly for entertainment and casual use." She waved him to a table of gadgets that were all affixed to the surface. At first he thought it was to prevent theft but then he realized it was only to keep them from getting lost. "You can try out some of these. They'll be for sale soon."
"How do I..."
"Just focus on the tickling sensation you remember and try to feel that in the objects. Some people take a bit of practice."
Mr. John touched the first device, a simple ball on a post. He did what she said and, after a few minutes, was able to recreate the sensation. Under his hand the ball started to glow dimly and then brighter as he got used to it. "Fascinating..."
"Oh, you're pretty good! That's actually going to become a product of ours. A battery-less flashlight is quite convenient. An untermage can usually keep it going for hours without undue effort. Now that you have the trick, why not try a few more?"
The second device started playing 'Rainbow Connection' in a voice so realistic that he was surprised and jerked his hand back. The music continued for just a trace of a second before stopping.
"That one is fun! We have ten songs in there that play randomly. They tell me without a way to achieve mana fixation, we can't just 'power it up' and let it play but it's still fun."
"Are they all of von Degurechaff?"
"Of course! They were her idea to give people a way to use even small amounts of mana and to practice as well. If you like those two, you'll like the one on the end. It takes more effort than the first two, so it might not last long, but it's worth it! Just put your face against the cushion there."
It look like dark goggles to Mr. John, but with no glass to see through. Maybe something visual? He leaned over and did as he was instructed, seeing nothing.
As he pushed mana into the device, the glass surface inside gradually started to glow until it revealed a girl standing on the end of a train. It was Degurechaff of course. Not the uniformed monster that still haunted the nightmares of many, but just a young near-woman that had become the face of TvD (and Germania). The image had real depth like a stereoscope but it was in color... and it moved! With sound! "Hello! I'm Tanya von Degurechaff and congratulations on successfully tapping into your potential as a mage. Unlike what you may have heard, magic is force that can be used by many in their everyday lives and not just for war." She smiled and the expression was even a brighter than her golden locks. In the shade they were like amber honey, and in the sun, like spun gold. "We at TvD are trying to Make Magic Personal so that everyone can enjoy the benefits, just like you are right now. If you..." The video and accompanying sound suddenly cut off and Mr. John felt an odd wave of exhaustion go through him. An indicator on one side of the screen glowed with the number '42' before fading away.
He straightened up. "That was... very interesting. Why was there a number at the end?"
"Oh, that's a timer. The longer you can maintain the image, the higher the number. Anyone who is able to go for a hundred seconds will see a recruitment message for TvD but up until that point, it's a training tool. The neighborhood kids come around and try to top their scores and see how far they can get."
Mr. John felt an odd pang of loss. He was an intensely patriotic and loyal man but, on some level, he really wanted to push to 100 so he would be eligible for a job. Frightening. "That's quite interesting. So, none of these are for sale now?"
"Not these items. We do have industrial orbs you can order but they wouldn't be of much use to an untermage. Without sufficient mana, they are just expensive trinkets. Still, they say we should have commercial grade tools and entertainment products in a few months?"
Months! With just what I've seen, the Germanians are years ahead of us, ahead of everyone else, on this kind of technology! "Will you be exporting them?"
"Of course! The president says anyone's money is just as good as anyone else's. Probably to Britannia, Francois and the Unified States first but who knows after that?"
"Who knows indeed."
* * *
Professur Wagner was talking to his colleague, another retired academic, over tea and biscuits. Although he would have preferred stronger fare, it was still before noon and he bowed to the dunning words of his housemaid about 'drunken old fools!'. "So, Robert, how are things? Anything interesting lately?"
"You could say, you could say. I decided to take a page from your book, almost literally."
"Oh, which one?"
"The one with your favorite girl in it, Tanya of course. I'm writing a little paper of my own."
"Although I'm somewhat proud of my work there, why would it interest a economist such as yourself?"
"Frederick, Frederick. You were always good at seeing the forest, but sometimes you have to look at the trees. Let me ask you something: after the war, the country is in a terrible state, is it not? Businesses failing, people going hungry... why is that?"
"Well, there are the reparations, the terrible loss of life, stunning expenditure of material and money... need I go on?"
"Ah, yes, all that you say is true and yet not as well. Are there not still the same number of acres of farmland? Are the buildings that made bread or paper or steel not still standing? There may be fewer people to till the fields and work the mills but isn't unemployment one of the greatest problems we face?"
"I've never heard stated quite that way. I assume you have an answer."
"Of course! People complain about the loss of gold, and that IS crippling but not because that metal has any value. Gold is just a placeholder for wealth that we all pretend is as important as bread or steel or even human lives. As an exchange medium, it's quite valuable because it allows trade to function more smoothly. Efficiencies abound and this trade allows efficient allocation of resources and exchange. The true victim of the war is that the invisible structures of a modern, democratic society were damaged or destroyed. What we call an economy is not a singular thing but a melange of separate pieces that react, to a degree, as if it were one thing. And it's broken right now."
"Surely not that bad!"
Robert sighed and sipped his tea, topping it off with some more from the pot to keep it warm. "We are getting by on momentum; a broken car that will eventually collapse from damage. Unless something is done, the future is bleak at best and horrific at worst."
Frederick ponders his friend's words, knowing that he wasn't some wild-eyed lunatic. "So, what does this have to do with von Degurechaff?"
Robert brightened. "That's the thing! She saw what I see, what some of my colleagues see, and what you now see and decided to step outside the car and make her own!"
"I must be getting old. She's still a citizen of Germania... indeed she's one of our most prestigious ambassadors! Her businesses are doing well, employing people... what am I missing?"
"It's because none of her business are actually Germanian. Do you know she has, de facto, made her own currency? In some areas, they are calling them Silbermarks and are used exclusively instead of the inflation-ridden Papiemarks? It's effectively its own economy because people trust these letters of credit more than the government money and nearly as much as they trust metal gold. Perhaps more as the value of gold fluctuates with world demand while the Silbermarks are quite stable. Hmmmmm...." He took out a notebook and made a quick entry. "She may be keeping them artificially stable to help encourage trust in the currency. Must investigate this further."
"So she looks Germanian, her companies are seemingly Germanian, her workers are all Germanian but they are not?" He rubbed his head and looked for an analogy that would suit the situation. "So, it's as if a storm knocked over a house, someone picked up the pieces and built wagons and and furniture with the wood?"
"Exactly! To the untrained eye, nothing is different but now the structures I talked about are completely changed. Because of this, she can take 'dead' farms and business and the unemployed, put them together and, voila!"
"It sounds like magic. Of the fantastic variety, of course."
"Oh, it does involve effort and some currency that is accepted by the original society." He shrugged. "In past eras, you can imagine a conquering nation taking the resources and using them in their own system. If a more advanced society takes over a more primitive one, you can see amazing productivity even if the initial resources haven't changed. It's just a matter of how you use them."
He grimaced. "Your 'past eras' sound much like the current era."
"Ah, yes, as a historian you would see that. Certainly that kind of greed drove the War."
"At first... just at first."
"At any rate, TvD's growth curve is quite impressive. Actually unprecedented. Every week, more of her new economy overtakes the old. I have numbers at my office, but you can take my word for it."
Frederick chuckled briefly. "So how soon until she 'conquers' Germania?"
"You laugh but you're asking the wrong question."
"Oh?"
Robert sipped his tea and found it slightly bitter. "The better question is 'How soon until she conquers the world'."