Second Chances (90 page)

“Not your fault if they don't want to clue us in to what they want to do, and what they want us to do to support them,” Mitch said gruffly. “They got caught with their pants down. What bothers me is they affected our own people too by stripping that trading post. I'm not thrilled at all about that. If they had to do an evac of the area, they'd be screwed.”

“Or they'd have to head north to John's Alaskan village,” Jolie suggested. Mitch frowned and then nodded. “So, what do we do boss?”

“Tell Jamal to shelter in place. There is no point heading south early anyway, I understand John's sending a load out to him and they were scheduled to bring it back?” Jolie consulted her tablet for her notes then looked up and nodded. “Fine then. That works. They'll have to wait at the savannah trading post until we can get someone out to them.”

“Understood. I'll let him know. I know Axel's fit to be tied.”

“Yeah well, shit happens. You can't plan to cover every contingency, and when people deliberately fuck up, you just have to hunker down and then pick up the pieces,” Mitch said. “Bob told me that.”

“Bob?”

“Not Bob here, Bob the guy who helped me put this all together,” Mitch said, waving a hand. Jolie nodded. “Anyway, let Jamal know. If Paul gets back early, I'll take the trucks out myself and give him a break. I know his wife's been on his ass about that,” he said.

Jolie nodded. Frances and the kids were in the radio room twice a day to talk to Paul. She'd tried to be polite but with the increasing radio chatter between communities she couldn't just walk away and give them the room for privacy every time.

“We'll figure it out,” Mitch sighed. “One way or another.”

------*------

Based on Mitch's psychic predictions they had found all the human communities due west of Capital Base. The scouts’ attention was redirected to the areas yet to be explored.

From Mitch's predication and their own notes on communities on the continent they knew that there were seven uncontacted communities remaining. Three were in the southwest; from Mitch's predictions they were across the bay somewhere. The other four were arrayed to the east and north east of the base.

A week after Paul returned to base Mitch arrived in Copper Town with the monthly convoy and resupply of fuel. The crews unloaded the materials that were destined for Copper or Mountain Village. “I should charge you rent for the stuff you’re picking up,” Jack teased. Mitch's eyes flickered. “I'm not,” he said hastily, hand up in his defense. “Geese Mitch, relax,” he said.

“Sorry, I'm getting enough crap from Dunn and his people,” Mitch said. “He's charging us by the day to store stuff.”

“Yeah, heard that,” Jack said. “Look, go drop the crap off to the Hun's and then go rescue Axel. Let Tsakhia get his own people back,” he said. “Even if they have to damn well walk. Stupid,” he said shaking his head.

“They wanted to explore,” Helen said, coming over to them. “There is no harm in that.”

Jack eyed his wife. “Hell there isn't if they do stupid shit and put our own people in jeopardy! That fuel was meant for our people, not for them to go gallivanting off the edge of the map!” He said. Helen looked at him for a long moment then shook her head slowly and walked off, head high.

“She knows I'm right,” Jack muttered.

“But she's not going to let you live it down that you are,” Mitch teased, his own mental balance slightly restored after seeing Jack supporting his world view. “Thanks Jack,” he said, squeezing the other man's arm.

“I just said what needed to be said. And yeah, I'll pay for it,” he said with a crocked grin. Mitch snorted. “Henpecked till the day I die,” he said. Both men chuckled.

------*------

Mitch dropped off the supplies destined for the Mongol Village and then assured Tsakhia that he'd pick up the trade goods on the way back. “Look, there is no point taking them now and then headed out to the savannah, then all the way back here. Its weight and fuel. Fuel our people need,” he said.

“I do not understand. It is here now. You don't want it?” the broad man said, indicating the pile of trade goods. Most of it was wheat and dried meat. His people didn't have a lot but weren't interested in a lot of tech goods either. Hand tools, simple equipment, water filters, medical supplies. They were a proud hard people. Mitch had to admire that.

“I do want it; just give me a couple days and I'll be back for it. I'm going to go pick up Jamal and the others,” he said.

“Oh,” Tsakhia said, and then nodded. “Understood.”

“I'll leave enough fuel and some food for your people to get home from the trading post. But I can't go all the way to fetch them. They'll have to figure something else out,” he said.

That cooled the Mongol considerably. He stared at Mitch for a long moment. Mitch shrugged. “I'm sorry, but that is how it is.” He turned and climbed into the truck, then rumbled off. He glanced back to see the Mongol still standing there staring.

“Damn guilt trips,” Mitch muttered.

------*------

Axel was grim when they met up. He didn't say two words as they unloaded the gear to resupply the trading post, then refueled his trucks. They towed the drone back to the Mongol Village, picked up the supplies there, then moved across the river and back to Copper Town with little incident.

“It's getting routine,” Jamal said, staring out at a nearby herd. Many of the animals avoided the strange metal contraptions that lumbered along the trails. They hadn't sighted many predators, those they did had been resting in the shade out of the heat of the long day under a handy tree or outcrop of rock.

“I hope not,” Mitch said. “We've still got a lot of continent to see. And this is just one continent. There are others you know,” he said.

“How many more? Do we know?” Jamal asked.

“Twelve,” Mitch said without thinking. He blinked in confusion as Jamal gasped. “And no, I don't know how I knew that,” he said.

“Oookay,” Jamal drawled.

“Time to go home. We've had enough adventure,” Mitch said. “Sandra's going to have my ass if we get into any more trouble,” he said.

------*------

Once Dunn got around to unpacking the glass crucible and forge, he got Joe to set the equipment up on the edge of the community. It took two days to run power lines from the solar panels to the equipment, then a bit of swearing and changes to their electrical grid to balance the sudden demand.

Once the equipment was up, Joe washed his hands of the project. “There, done. Your problem now,” he said, washing his hands of the project. The colonel watched the smith walk off and then turned to Juanita. “Your show now,” he growled.

She nodded, unsure what to do. She tried to read the manuals but was completely lost within minutes. “Does he understand I sorted at a recycling center? I didn't actually melt stuff down,” she told Ciara in Spanish.

Ciara shrugged uncomfortably. “You are the best we've got. You are also the only one we can spare. You said you wanted out of the planting,” she said.

“Why does he want this? Why? Can you tell me that?” Juanita asked plaintively.

Ciara sighed. “I'm not sure. Glass for one. Windows and stuff. Something we can export,” she said evasively. “If it works we'll get a bottling factory set up. Consider this the first step,” she said, pushing the other woman towards the hot forge. She had no intention of sticking around; the fortress was hot enough in the summer without the heat from the forge. She shook her head and then wiped beads of sweat from her brow. She frowned and made a note to check on the woman's progress later in the evening, if she didn't pass out from heat exhaustion. She bit her lip but kept moving on.

Juanita was bewildered by the forge. There was a cylindrical crucible, as well as a hot box and an assortment of tools, all with long handles. She had seen some glass forging once as a child. Her class had toured an art studio that worked in glass, she vaguely remembered the long hollow pole was a blow pipe. The rest...well, the tongs and breathing mask she could figure out on her own. She wasn't sure about the various paddles and molds.

“Get it done yet?” Diego asked gruffly. She shook her head. “Better get on it, el jefe's in a mood,” he warned her in Spanish. She nodded dutifully and went back to the manual. After a while she threw it down in disgust. It would have been much easier, much simpler if the thing had been printed in Spanish she thought. She bit her lip and then went over to the radio. There was no sense turning the thing on until she knew what she was doing.

Jolie tried to help the woman, but she was as clueless as Juanita was. They experimented, getting used to the machine. It did use a great deal of power, so much Joe complained about the power load.

Their experiments were a mess though, each one a failure. Jolie looked the steps up, and they figured out that the beach sand wasn't enough. Apparently they needed fine silica sand, so fine it was dangerous to breathe in. That explained the breathing mask. They even found a way to get a crude form of sodium carbonate by burning kelp and treating the ashes.

“There is a lot more involved in this than anyone guessed,” Jolie said again as she looked over the records. Apparently there was another way to get the sodium carbonate needed using the Solvay chemical process, but they lacked ammonia. “This is a pain in the ass,” Jolie sighed, frustrated. She rubbed her temples, feeling the onset of a migraine coming on.

“I'm sorry,” Juanita said, sounding almost in tears.

“It's...it's fine,” Jolie said, blowing out a breath. “Those are the two most crucial ingredients; the rest are either for color or to strengthen the glass or treat it for different things. Like lead for crystal and additives for color.”

“Do we really need the sodi ...”

“Sodium carbonate? You can do without it but it's a flux. According to my research, it lowers the temperature of the melting point of the glass.”

“Um...”

“It makes the whole process smoother and cheaper. More efficient. I don't think the crucible we sold you with the induction forge can handle the 2500 Celsius needed to melt the silica without it,” she said, “or that your power grid can handle it.”

“I...see.”

“There is another way, a crude way to make glass in a backyard barbeque. I guess they should have tried that first,” Jolie said.

“Definitely. This would be so much easier if someone were here to show me. Once I have seen it a few times, I can understand it,” Juanita said.

“Well, I'm not sure if we can help you there,” Jolie said, frowning. “Making glass is apparently a team effort. Can you get some people to help? Maybe experiment?”

“I...no. Everyone is needed to farm or run the ranchero,” the Latin woman replied.

“I see,” Jolie said.

“You see, I didn't want to be in the fields, it was a strain on my back and knees, bending over so much. So I...got in over my head,” Juanita admitted in a small voice.

“Yeah,” Jolie said.

“I can see if the professor can help,” a new voice said.

“Who's this?” Jolie asked, sitting up.

“Warrant Officer Sid Brown, ma'am,” the male voice replied. “Crash Town,” he said before Jolie could ask. “Professor Roy Hinkley is around here somewhere; he's been making glass for the past year. Small bits. It's a pain in the ass. I can ask him if he could help consult,” he offered.

“Oh would you?!” Juanita asked, excited. “I've been trying for some time now. I keep getting a burned mess,” she said.

“He's not there, he's here,” Jolie said. “He got here a week ago. I'll see if I can find him. He's been busy with Brian, if he's even here. I thought he said something about going to Copper Town or something,” she said.

“Okay,” Juanita said. “Why didn't you mention him in the first place?” she asked plaintively.

“Because I didn't know he knew!” Jolie said, now exasperated.

Mitch overheard part of the conversation and came into the room. He cocked his head to Jolie and mouthed a question. She looked up at him and then frowned. After a moment when she realized he wasn't going anywhere, she typed on her tablet that she'd talk later and held it up for him to read. He nodded.

He went to his office and checked the computer, annoyed at the division of time and effort. Jolie shot him an e-mail outlining her efforts. Apparently the colonel had dumped the glass project on a neophyte. He shook his head. Jolie had been trying to help the poor women over the radio. Just figuring out the materials involved had been a chore. He smiled grimly. Apparently Dunn had thought you just threw any sand into the crucible and got good glass. He sat back, unsure if he should be amused or appalled. Jolie appended her message; Professor Hinkley had been called in for a hasty conference. He'd coached the woman over the radio, but it was clear an onsite evaluation and tutorial was needed. He promised to stop by for a day on his way home to lend the woman a helping hand. The woman was relieved until he warned her he wasn't due back until Paul's next trip south, which wasn't for another week.

Mitch sat back, tapping his jaw as he thought about Hinkley. Roy was a character, quiet, unassuming, brilliant. The man reminded Mitch of himself in some ways, he was generous and dug right into a problem. He nodded. He had no problem helping the professor. Roy had been a big helping hand to Brian and Bob over the past two weeks since he'd come by. Unfortunately Mitch hadn't been around to see him in action, but their reports were quite glowing about the man. He made a note to send a 3D printer with the man when he went home. Along with a few other gifts to help his community grow, he thought.