A Shift in Priorities - Sequel

[rast]

We must not always talk in the market-place of what happens to us in the forest.
(Nathaniel Hawthorne)

The tail end problem was making waves. Peter Vogel had been involved in NPP construction from the onset. He remembered well all the discussions one had had. The Hammer had been a throwaway model; after the Jupiter mission one would have been forced to discard the bird anyway. Hence, one had developed the replaceable tail end for the Feuerdrache.

The initial idea had been to dump it into the shaft in the centre of the landing spot, cover it with sand and cement – and attach the new tail end in place. The drawback would have been that for the first takeoff after exchange the initial explosions would have been ground bursts – leading to enhanced contamination. However, with the old tail end buried below, the spot had to be cordoned off anyway.

The ship would then have moved to a new landing spot. – Okay, that approach had been abandoned implicitly, when the decision to build a whole fleet of NPPs had been taken. It might have worked for the Feuerdrache – and perhaps one or two other vessels, but with twelve NPPs in operation, Hammerhorst quickly would become a radioactive hotspot.

Dropping the old tail end was not a problem, the Feuerdrache – and all other new builds – could lower it. One would have to install a catch stillage to prevent it sagging into the shaft. – And from here on the problems piled up: the beast was too heavy to be moved. The same applied for the new tail end. One had the means to move a pusher plate, but a complete tail end was beyond capacity.

Assembling the new tail end in place was doable. But first, one had to get rid of the old one. Disassembling it was possible – in theory. But it was radioactive. Should one unscrew it – with remote controlled machinery? Or just torch it into smaller pieces and shove them away? – The Koreans had used remote controlled machines to repair their reactors some years ago. RRA had ordered one for evaluation. But it would only become available next year, at about the time when the Four Sisters were ready.

Vogel thought torching would be the best way to quickly clear the site. Cut the gizmo into eight segments and drag them away. One could use tanks – specially adapted engineer tank – for the purpose. Yeah, the tail end could be unscrewed, it was true. But he foresaw an endless series of frictions. You needed a remote controlled tool – and another remote controlled camera to see this tool in action. And most probably, you would also need a remote controlled flood light.

In this way, it would take ages to obtain a useful result. And in the end, by all probability, you would have to torch the clobber anyway – because remote controlled unscrewing didn’t work. But it looked as if his approach was too simplistic. His colleagues seemed to be eager to test the Korean machine. If the Koreans had repaired their reactors with them, they ought to be immune against radiation. This was very interesting. So, one was going to wait for the marvel to arrive…

 

[rast]

We should not confuse information with knowledge.
(T. S. Elliot)

Customer service was expanding. Her staff was rapidly increasing in size. Doris Zülch was relishing the expansion. Being boss was cool. The number of your subordinates defined your position within the company – at least to a certain degree. She wouldn’t rise to be a member of the innermost circle, but her salary was growing in a very agreeable manner. And living in Berlin was truly tolerable – if you happened to be affluent enough.

She was now earning more than Hanne, her sister. But that was okay. Political power wielders were paid according to different criteria. None of the Telefunken bosses would care to toil for the modest remuneration the chancellor was receiving. Yet, the chancellor’s power was indefinitely greater than that of any industrial tycoon. Well, in the case of Strauß one could be sure that the bloke wasn’t toiling either.

But things were changing, said Hanne. The tranquil days were over in the Wilhelmstraße No. 77. Elections were due next year, although Strauß had wholeheartedly tried to prevent it. But with the Prussian crisis passed, there was no reason to adjourn the ballot. And there was competition: the Freiheitsbanner were delivering an impressive show. Their chairwoman, the founder of Rechenknecht, was all over the media – all the time.

Yeah, Hanne thought it was going to be a tight squeeze. The Freiheitsbanner was new; they were still lacking a nationwide grassroots organisation – although they were growing fast. And not everybody inside the DVP was supporting Strauß. Although the internal movement to dethrone him had come to nothing, the dissidents were still there – and obstructing his attempts to outdo the Freiheitsbanner.

The economy, however, was propping Strauß. He had brought them open spaces – and fabulous profits. For them, the Rechenknecht lady was just a pesky rival who had rushed in and scored with an unprecedented new-fangled idea. – Indeed, one seemed to be looking forward to very interesting times. Hanne had also told her about the shooting and bombing incidents which had drawn the battle lines. Quite some story…

 

[rast]

If a politician found he had cannibals among his constituents, he would promise them missionaries for dinner.
(H. L. Mencken)

Hustings in Windhuk; Max Sikuku hated these jaunts to Südwest. But what could you do? Ignoring voters – and potential voters – was not a good idea at all. The German cattle barons were conservative to the core; yet, they wouldn’t embosom the MANaP – because the notions of nation didn’t match. After their Volksbund-Südwest had proven ineffectual in national ballots, they eventually had come round to MALU. And the other Germans, the miners, as Max used to call them, had supported liberal ideas from the start.

This huge – for MALU standards – electorate had to be cultivated. Though, speaking in front of an almost uniformly white audience was vexing for Max, but it had to be borne. In fact, these people were an ideal group to be addressed by him – successful entrepreneurs, the very likes of him. Well, not all of them were Germans, about half of the whites hereabouts were of other origin – Greeks, Poles, Danes, Swedes, you name it…

The indigenes – Owambo, Herero, Nama and the whole rest – were generally leaning towards the pinkos or even the commies. They never had embraced liberalism, regarding it a white – colonialist - ideology. And after the failed secession, they had discarded their tribal parties and gone socialist to the last degree – sure votes for Seppel Mobutu and his comrades. However, if MALU could score with the whites, one might even fare better than on national level. So, take a deep breath and get to it…

 

[rast]

Better to illuminate than merely to shine.
(Thomas Aquinas)

In the end, nothing had happened. Life had just kept going. There had been no all-clear signal, no certainty – but nevertheless, nothing had happened. Well, Nieuw Hoogeveen still was lacking working hands. One could have done much more – if one had had them, but – somehow – one had managed without them. Anne Robbins really had come to appreciate Dutch enterprising spirit, but in this case volition and reality had proven incompatible.

One was still delivering foodstuffs to the Moffen – and was making a halfway decent living with it. True, with additional labourers, one might produce more, sell more – and make a more decent living. But one was getting along, wasn’t one? Anne’s experience told her that the failure of the deal concerning the African hands must have been a sign of fate. Yet, her councillors, Ton Snels and Bertje Jagtenberg, had resumed pressing for finding and hiring migrant workers.

There was no pest. The international situation was calm. So why one shouldn’t go expanding? Okay, said African deal had gone bust. But why not repeat the manoeuvre? Now, that the general panic had abated. After all, one wasn’t looking for hordes of aliens, just for twenty or twenty-five folks. North Africa offered many young men. The French were employing a lot of them to rebuild their country. Why not use the French channels – and hire some extra hands?

Indeed, general mood seemed to have swung round again. Anne wasn’t convinced; her Makambo experience told her to keep hands off. However, when the good people of Nieuw Hoogeveen, her constituency, wanted it, one would start another attempt. North Africans… really…

 

[rast]

There would be far fewer accidents if we could only teach telephone poles to be more careful.
(Ambrose Bierce)

The reactor was in place and working. Completion of Sheshanaga’s hull was under way. Yesterday, the ship’s future captain had reported to Holenarasipur Govindrao Srinivasa Murthy: Manjit Singh Sandhu, a navy man turned kosmonaut. The crew was going to turn up during the next month, starting with the chief engineering officer and his men. It was due to create a host of additional problems, but no insurmountable ones, Murthy hoped. Singh Sandhu was a seasoned naval captain, had commanded a missile cruiser before volunteering for SUS. He seemed approachable by reason.

Yeah, it was inevitable that the crew had to familiarise with the ship – even before completion. The PUV engineers were keen to hand over management of the power plant to the chief engineering officer’s lot – and to return home as soon as possible. One would have to demarcate the ship. Those areas still under construction had to be made off limits for the crew. It would be quite inconvenient – for both sides, but there was no use in pursuing old customs like the strict separation between construction and ship crew.

Nevertheless, one should be able to complete Sheshanaga on schedule. The remaining works were uncritical. There were no plans to arm the vessel; one wouldn’t copy the bad habits of the Germans and Russians. Mars had been confirmed as first objective. Singh Sandhu had arrived with three suitcases filled with German magazines and books – mainly dealing with the Hammer’s voyage to the Red Planet. Interesting that a man had been chosen who was fluent in German… But yes, one had used German equipment to advance into orbit. There was no reason to pretend one was acting all by oneself.

Indeed, one would enter well-worn trails. And one never would be able to compete with the NPP fleets of RRA or NASA. But one would prove that India was on equal terms with them.

 

[rast]

If there were no bad people, there would be no good lawyers.
(Charles Dickens)

Egon Hamzi of Luwele, Kabinga & Hamzi Solicitors had travelled to Germany to negotiate the contract pertaining to the RRA evaluation of SIKOS. Having been at Puri, the Indian Federation’s space centre, he really did appreciate the infrastructure at Prerow. It matched with his ideas – read up, of course – how such a site should look like. True, the active times of Prerow were over – almost… They still did launch chemical rockets to hoist up low-earth-orbit satellites, now and again.

However, the era of men encapsulated in small bins riding towards the stars on top of huge fire breathing chemical monsters was over. Nevertheless, Prerow was a true control centre – with all the paraphernalia Egon had read about. They were now directing the orbital station, the lunar colony and the NPP ship – and the DELAG spaceplanes, which were taking off somewhere else though. The latter fact was a pity, because DELAG were performing exactly what SIKOS was intending to offer.

Yeah, he should have visited Friedrichshafen on Lake Constance first. Well, shoulda, coulda, woulda… It didn’t help; he had to deal with the RRA blokes right now. They were behaving like Snowpushers used to behave – in Middle African pulp magazine stories. You could sense that they weren’t particularly interested in obtaining the services of SIKOS. Okay, that had been anticipated. Why should they be keen to have aliens meddle in their operations? But the nabob wanted it. Hence, he had to strike a deal with them.

They were trying to pull him over the barrel, sure. But he was well versed in this kind of negotiations. SIKOS could offer very economical prices, yes, that was the nabob’s bargain. Yet, one wouldn’t work for peanuts. – He was prepared for tough haggling – and he had a lot of time…

 

[rast]

Everyone is the other and no one is himself.
(Martin Heidegger)

The Feuerdrache sat in its berth – and was due to remain there for the next month. The captain had granted permission to go on leave for a fortnight. However, Lutenant Yankel Kerschbaumer had decided to stay at Hammerhorst. Travelling to Porozeve, his home town, was not an attractive notion. His father, the rabbi, had never agreed to his career decision. Going home would only provoke boundless squabble. It had happened every time he had visited Porozeve during kosmonaut training. Dad would growl and rage – and mom and the siblings would bawl. It wasn’t nice.

Indeed, for Yankel’s purposes, Hammerhorst should be the better place. He had become interested in the fusion ship, the Phönix. Okay, they never would allow him – the Yid – to pilot that super bus. But there were going to be three NPP dinghies – widgets like the Feuerdrache. He was good – better than any other kosmonaut of the RRA’s foreign legion – and even better than most Germans of his age group. It should be possible for him to become chief pilot of one of these NPP dinghies – and travel to the stars.

He was trying to soak in all available information on the Phönix. Fortunately, all folks at Hammerhorst were authorised for information up to classification secret. And he personally had been given access to top secret material. That opened up quite a lot of files. Okay, the stuff classified ‘for German eyes only’ – most probably the most comprehensive part – wasn’t available for him. Nevertheless, he was able to achieve a good picture of the Phönix – at this stage of planning.

Yeah, this was not going to be a suicide mission. The ship would be well protected against cosmic rays. He was young. He might live to see Alpha Centauri…

 

[rast]

Everything is interwoven, and the web is holy.
(Marcus Aurelius)

New trouble was brewing. Well, it should have been foreseeable. Alaska was going to become the 53rd state of the union. It did make a lot of sense, of course, but the federal enhancement programme was now threatening to become prodigious. Harvey Allen had immediately started phoning around to prevent the worst. However, it didn’t look good. All colonisation efforts in the Caribbean had already been cancelled; the armed forces had been venesected. What remained was preying on Fedrock and Project Hercules.

The national effort could not be questioned; the legislators seemed to be of one mind – across all political parties, a truly rare occurrence. Project Hercules was well advanced, all funds were committed, all contracts signed. Cancelling it now would not result in any sensible savings – it would rather cause additional costs; that was Allen’s message. – But USS Hydra could be thrown to the sharks; construction wasn’t far advanced, only three companies were involved at the moment. Yes, here additional money for the Alaska Highway might be found...

In the end, it came to be a close call. But he prevailed. – USS Hercules could be completed. USS Hydra, though, was dead.

 

[rast]

Trying is the first step toward failure.
(Homer)

Loading of Indrik Zver for the shift change mission to Lunoseló and NSÓ was under way. Kapitan II ranga Viktor Fedorovich Malapartov had taken over command from Polkovnik Drubchev, who had gone on leave. He wasn’t anticipating any major problems. It was a routine mission – change of shift and resupply, nothing he needed to worry about. A third of the crew had been sent on leave as well, but that didn’t pose a problem either; redundancy was more than sufficient to fill all slots.

In fact, it was pleasant to have room again on board. The trainees for Stribog, Khors and Svarog had left after landfall. They even had been put into another quarantine camp. – Awa, quarantine had been enjoyable. NASA was a model here. Wives and kids – even lovers – were allowed to join. Hence, it was like a holiday, although one wasn’t free to leave the compound – and was constantly bothered by the medics. Anyway, one was well rested and relaxed now. Dashing into orbit and to the Moon would be a cinch.

The substitutes wouldn’t arrive before loading had been completed. The bulk of the stuff was mining equipment and construction elements for Lunoseló, plus two vehicles for lunar exploration – and a dinghy for NSÓ. In fact, unloading the clobber in orbit and at Crater Klaproth was going take most of the time. In terms of navigation, one wouldn’t have to do much. The Nemetsky NPP was reported to be sitting in Ireland. Hence, one could operate with the lowest state of operational readiness. Awa, this mission looked like a weekend escape…

 

[rast]

Very few things happen at the right time, and the rest do not happen at all. The conscientious historian will correct these defects.
(Herodotus)

These islands had a surprisingly rich history – mainly dealing with slavery and slave trade. Dinho Pequeno was taken aback. He was well acquainted with the historical situation found in the US. But the Portuguese had started a slave economy and buying slaves even before Columbus had discovered America! And the Cape Verde Islands had been a major hub in this trade – and had been populated almost entirely by slaves. In 1513, fifty years after the discovery of the islands by the Portuguese, a census had counted 162 citizens – and about 13,000 slaves.

It was altogether incredible. Yet truth be told: the Portuguese – and the other Europeans – had only bought the slaves offered to them at the coastal trading posts. Those unlucky folks had been caught and enslaved by fellow Africans – and also by Arabs, but not by Europeans. Ancient African kingdoms – like that of the Ashanti or Dahomey – had done the dirty work. True, the perpetrators had been allured by European commodities offered to them in exchange, but the whites hadn’t created this trade – they had only hooked up to it.

What a disenchantment to learn these sober facts. Africans had enslaved fellow Africans – and had made money out of them. Yes, the Negroes shipped to the Americas had been deplorable victims. But at the roots of their misery, fellow blacks had stood. – Might the number of victims, estimated to have been approximately 12 millions in the trans-Atlantic slave trade, been less if the whites hadn’t bought so many slaves? That assumption should be comprehensible. Unfortunately, one had no numbers for the inner-African and East African slave trade.

Yeah, the Arabs had used black slaves many centuries earlier than the Europeans. But no hard figures were available. And a lot of blacks enslaved by the Arabs had been gelded; hence they hadn’t produced progeny. It was a sad story. – Well, if the whites had only piggybacked on the already existing inner-African slave trade, the latter must have even been more extensive. It was hard to believe. – And what was more, it had been the whites who in the end had abolished slavery – not the Africans, and not the Arabs. It was unfair…

 

[rast]

Vultures are the most righteous of birds: they do not attack even the smallest living creature.
(Plutarch)

The Koreans had turned up in force. Most of them were land surveyors, the rest were construction folks, busy to set up a base camp at what once had been La Unión on the Golfo de Fonseca. They had vowed to present a line proposal in six months. Fritz Ma’alongwe had studied old maps: yes, there had been a railway from La Unión to San Salvador in the olden days. Sure, it made sense. Using the already existing rail lines would facilitate construction. They were still there, even if completely overgrown.

Well, it would take a lot of time nevertheless. For shaping the immediate future of the Opaque Woodlands, the railway wouldn’t matter at all. The foot paths of the Peruvians, on the other hand, had attained prime importance already. Of course, hardly anybody was sending out runners. But the paths were connecting all important places – and installing telephone lines along them was easy. Musuq Picchu wasn’t connected yet, but one hoped to achieve it before Christmas. The Peruvians were, of course, using existing roads were they could find them. Clearing a narrow path was much easier than trying to restore the old road.

It had been decided to stay in the mountains. One wouldn’t return to the coastal plains, at least not with the bulk of the population. The debate had been hot. However, folks were feeling more comfortable in the mountains; the Peruvians first of all, but also the Amerinds. It was cooler and less damp. One had no intention to revive the old plantation economy. The Peruvians were accustomed to farming in the mountains. And the Amerinds were still undecided what to do. Hunting alone wouldn’t suffice, but they had no clue of farming. The ancient Amerind farming nations had been destroyed early on; folks today were the descendants of surviving hunter-gatherers.

Ellen, his wife, was corrobating this observation. At Musuq Picchu, the Peruvians had happily started to create terraced fields. It seemed to be quite natural for them. – Ellen thought it would work. Chaska, the forewoman of the Peruvians, was taking orders from her – and was efficiently leading her group. The other Amerinds, only a handful anyway, were kept busy with other tasks – transport, liaison, storage, hunting… Yeah, but it was bad for the army. He had been forced to disperse his division. Keeping them supplied under these circumstances had proven impossible. However, training and cohesion were due to suffer. He had to find a remedy…

 

[rast]

Inhumanity, n. One of the signal and characteristic qualities of humanity.
(Ambrose Bierce)

Construction of Ateş Kuşu had begun, in a way. Anadolu Çelik had brought their steel plant on steam. They weren’t ready yet for producing the pusher plate, but they had started to manufacture test objects. The Turks were quite excited. They were entering the NPP era, they were saying. Wernher von Braun was choking his laughter. Once the pusher plate had been forged and put in place, one might call it a beginning. Right now, it was nothing but capers…

But it was characteristic for the Turks. Only the best was good enough. One had only just completed Ucan Halı, the first orbital station with artificial gravity – and immediately they had turned towards the next fanciful gadget. Did they make the good use of the space station? Not at all. Six uzaylılar were up there, instead of the forty-odd crew for which the gizmo had been designed. Fundamental scientific work in orbit? Nothing doing…

Well, it didn’t matter anymore. He was counting his days. Zürich was waiting for him. Let them monkey about. He would go on leave – and not come back. Everything was arranged. There would be no farewell ceremony or the like. He was ultimately fed up with the way of the Turks. – They had learnt a lot from him, but they were no longer interested in this knowledge. Going nuclear was all that counted.

Hell, Ucan Halı was working like it should. There was earth gravity along the ring. People could sojourn for a long time – without that their body degenerated. It was sensational. But no, NPP was the buzz word. Damn newfangled clobber…

 

[rast]

Talk to a man about himself and he will listen for hours.
(Benjamin Disraeli)

The Great Qing’s NPP project had been given the designation Qilin. And Admiral Ji Xinhwen had been appointed its head. That was the state of affairs, when Tang Dingyuan was asked whether he was ready to become the scientific director of the undertaking. He was au courant with published knowledge on NPP – and had been involved in various military nuclear projects. Well, it might be a great opportunity. Ji was a vetust mariner, a big ship enthusiast, but was known to have excellent connections at his command. With him in charge, procurement should be a pushover.

He should also be able to get all available military intelligence on the German, Russian and whatever NPP ships. That ought to help speeding up design work. The principle was simple, but the details might well decide about success or failure. The fate of the German Hammer could serve as a lesson in this respect. – So, yes, he would feel honoured to join Admiral Ji’s planning staff. The latter was still residing in Nánjing. However, Tang imagined that construction would take place on Hainan or Taiwan.

But one was still far away from any actual construction. Nevertheless, the definition phase had obviously started already. He should hand over to his deputy and leave Chóngqing for Nánjing as soon as possible…

 

[rast]

To play billiards well is the sign of a misspent youth.
(Herbert Spencer)

The Russian jumbo had rammed their orbital station! Nothing serious, NASA had promptly announced, only superficial damage to NSÓ and no damage at all on Indrik Zver. Okay, one could believe it – or not… Mondstadt said they had identified free-floating debris close to NSÓ, but couldn’t spot any damage at the station. Be it as it may, the Ivans seemed determined to handle the affair all by themselves. So, no mission for the Feuerdrache; not even the readiness state had been raised.

Subsequently, Lutenant Yankel Kerschbaumer had relaxed again. An emergency effort in space would have made a nice break, but you couldn’t have it all. – Mind you, he had found an ally in his quest for admission to the Phönix crew. General Zeislitz was aiming at the position of chief pilot. And he would support Yankel’s application, no matter the outcome of his own bid. That was magnificent. Well, good pilots were essential in space. Nobody could tell what challenges the Phönix was going to meet...

The general, though, was old, definitely beyond thirty. He might not even live to see Alpha Centauri – or whatever the destination of the Phönix might be. Why then was he striving to become chief pilot? Dying in deep space didn’t appear terribly attractive. But a space burial wasn’t possible at 0.1 c. The body would have to be kept frozen until arrival. Yeah, being buried – or however you’d call it – at Alpha Centauri would be something indeed. It was a motif Yankel could understand.

He had asked Ludvig and Halvar, his co-pilots, whether they might join him. But they didn’t want. Their nations had sent them to become kosmonauts so that they could share their knowledge and knowhow with their fellow citizens. Travelling to far-away stars was not part of the deal. – Well, that was also true for the Heymshtot. But they didn’t know yet what he intended to do. And if RRA really should appoint him pilot of one of the Phönix dinghies, Bialystok certainly wouldn’t say no…

 

[TheHandsomeBrute]

I have a question, did Rommel ever finish his book about Warfare in Space?

 

[rast]

The study of history lies at the foundation of all sound military conclusions and practise.
(Alfred Thayer Mahan)

Erwin was rummaging through his notations. There were two large shelves and a writing desk full of them. And Erwin’s recording system was… well, problematic. He thought he knew where to find everything. But that wasn’t the case. The usual consequence was a wild quest which could go on for hours and cover the whole study with paperwork. Best one left him be. Marianne, Erwin’s faithful wife, decided to walk over to the officers’ club. They might have some fresh cake on offer…

One had left the Swabian province and had moved to Hammerhorst – because Erwin had this job as consultant for RRA. That was okay for Marianne. Hammerhorst was a nice place to be – although one was considerably older than the average of the personnel. They didn’t have special facilities for old folks, but one could live with this default. Erwin was scorning such things anyway, considering them crutches for weaklings. And she felt fit enough to keep up with the other women.

At the moment, Erwin was rewriting his book “Der Weltraumkrieg” (war in space) for a second, revised, edition. The first edition, published after the Hammer’s journey to Mars, hadn’t been received well by reviewers. He had been accused to overcolour the situation in space. There were other perils to fear out there than human strife – and the Hammer’s final fate seemed to have corroborated this opinion. Erwin had only grumbled and called the reviewers bloody idiots. But accordingly, the book hadn’t sold well.

However, because whole fleets of NPPs were now under construction around the globe, published opinion had turned one hundred and eighty degrees recently. Erwin was now hailed as a visionary. And the publisher had proposed a second, completely revised, edition that took into account the current situation. This was the work that kept Erwin busy right now. If only he wasn’t such a maniac… You couldn’t converse with him about any normal things of life; it was war in space or nothing. Horrible…

 

[rast]

In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity.
(Sun Tzu)

One of Indrik Zver’s landing legs had been damaged in the collision with NSÓ. The discussion was still in full spate: abort the mission and return to Shishmarevo – or carry on as planned? The ship would have to land in both cases, but lunar gravity wasn’t as forceful as Earth’s. And Shishmarevo was due to be the terminus anyway. – The ship had six landing legs. This abundancy had been implemented with purpose. At bottom, three legs would do – and four would be failsafe. There was no reason to cut; one should continue on schedule.

However, Kapitan II ranga Malapartov obviously had lost his nerve. He was responsible. He had damaged Indrik Zver and NSÓ. – Well, in fact the pilot, air force Kapitan Rybakov, had botched it, but Malapartov was the vessel’s acting captain. – Damage on NSÓ was considerable, yet not endangering operation. The powerlines and control cables to the production unit had been cut, together with the truss routing them. As no production was taking place, this wasn’t calamitous. It couldn’t be fixed with materials on board. But because Dragotsénnost was not due to arrive before March 1967, there still should be ample time for repair.

In the end, resumption of the mission was ordered by Achinsk control. As unloading at NSÓ had already been finished before the accident, Indrik Zver was to progress to Lunoseló. Ládno, but one was going to proceed with utter care…

 

[rast]

The secret of life is honesty and fair dealing. If you can fake that, you’ve got it made.
(Groucho Marx)

A strange letter had been received. A certain Fritz Ma’alongwe was proposing a deal. The chap was a Middle African expatriate who had risen to secretary of defence – or something like that – in the Opaque Woodlands. He also seemed to be a veritable land baron in that country. Kizwete had checked his background: an Askari of the toughest variety, a Jäger, who had left the armed forces when the pinkos had reduced them after the Somalian adventure. Obviously, he had migrated to the OW via the outfit on Curaçao.

Yes, there had to be an explicit connection to the Petroven–Mabenzag deal, in which Max Sikuku was involved up to his knees. Indeed, Max remembered to have hired a whole battalion of these grunts. They had been on offer at cute-rate, when Emil Muramba had red-pencilled the military establishment. But Curaçao had required mainly sailors and aviators; slots for ordinary foot soldiers had been rare. So, this fighting man had made it to the OW – and had risen to top brass. Quite remarkable…

What did the man offer? Well, nothing useful… Sikuku Enterprises was not a state; one had no interest in land acquisition abroad, at least not in the Americas. Otti, still acting boss, had already framed a negative response. But Max, when she told him about the occurrence, had developed second thoughts. The bloke wanted supplies for his army. That should be fair game for UMS Shipping: combat rations, clothing, and the whole plethora of quartermaster stuff. It could be done without any major problems; one was shipping similar parcels to the Philippines.

A piece, well, a chunk, of the OW for Sikuku Enterprises… The Curaçao deal wouldn’t hold forever. When the Venezuelans had schooled enough refinery personnel of their own, they might decide to pocket the profits all alone. In this case, possessing a deep water port in the OW might be very useful for UMS Shipping. One would be quite independent from any Venezuelan whims. After all, they were pinkos of the worst ilk, almost true commies…

 

[rast]

Things are solved by walking around.
(Saint Augustine)

This man was a US citizen – well, a former US citizen. He had been born on a farm near Abilene. He had served in the Army after the Great War, in a segregated unit, of course, and thereafter had turned into a notorious communist and troublemaker. After a foray to fight in the Spanish Civil War – on the winning side – he had joined the WAU, at that time still known as the Protectorate.

Was he a friend or an enemy? US Ambassador Hugh Doggett Scott Jr. was still trying to find out. Fathoming Oliver Law wasn’t easy. Okay, that also had been the case with the other WAU leaders. General Bauer had been friendly to President Patton on the occasion of the latter’s state visit, but his record in the TAW told something else entirely. And Field Marshal G’Norebbe had been a sworn enemy of the US during his early days, not least during his time as president of Venezuela.

Yeah, they had been accepting the US as a counterweight to mighty Middle Africa, undertaking to juggle between the powers. That was okay; sort of normal behaviour for states. And there should be no reason why this notion should change. – But the US Oliver Law remembered wasn’t the US of today. Much had changed. Segregation was a thing of the past. Perhaps an invitation might be helpful? Washington had already given green light. But Law wasn’t here in Deygbo. He was travelling the country.

Scott had attempted to sound out Law’s proximity, but that had proven a fruitless exercise. These folks had no clue what their boss might decide. The question had never been discussed. The US? Washington? Goodness, perhaps after Daressalam and Berlin…

 

[rast]

The danger is not that a particular class is unfit to govern; every class is unfit to govern.
(Lord Acton)

There was no clearly defined age limit for civil servants of the Reich, but they were free to retire once they had reached the age of sixty-five. Director Kammler was sixty-four. Might he retire anytime soon? And if so, who was going to take his place? These were important questions, worrying not only Helga von Tschirschwitz. Kammler was showing no signs of weariness; and he had never indicated any willingness to retire. But one obviously was going to have a new government next year – and such occasions often caused major changes of personnel.

Indeed, who might replace him? Doktor Rüchel came to mind. He was managing the NPP programme quite competently. Or would the military impose one of their ilk? Well, competency was not necessarily what mattered when political decisions were made. – Might she herself be eligible? She was the Woman in the Moon, after all. But then, Gustav Stelzner, Franz Hülsmeyer and Bruno Bredigkeit of the Raumkobold-26 crew of 1956, who all had risen to important ranks in the hierarchy, should be eligible as well. Okay, when it came to political decisions, merit mattered perhaps as much as competency…

Of course, it would be best when Kammler remained in office. Strauß seemed to respect him – and was giving him plenty of scope. But that was the chancellor’s style of leadership: let them run with their ideas – as long as they kept going in the right direction. – Well, and if the challenger should win, that Miss Hitler, the whole pack would be reshuffled anyway…