A Dubious Peace

by Olan Thorensen

  Yozef looked crestfallen. “I had hoped it wouldn’t be as bad with engineering. Introducing more basic chemistry is moving along, but it’s frustrating.”

  Mark shook his head. “When I said it was like with chemistry, I didn’t mean exactly the same. It may actually be easier in the long run, only slower at first. At least, we have a clear path. We need machine tools. That means starting off by making a functional lathe. It’s a bit of a myth that a lathe is the only tool that can make itself, but the truth isn’t that far off. The parts are made of cast iron, which dampens vibrations, but those parts aren’t precise and have to be finished up by hand scraping and truing.”

  Yozef’s blank face interrupted Mark’s train of thought.

  “Truing. Hand-finishing to level the sides, smooth the surfaces . . . you know . . . finish up. The finishing is tedious, but in the end, you have a lathe.

  “For the cutting edges, I’ll have to check with the local metalworkers and blacksmiths to find sufficiently hard carbon steel. Later on, we’ll work on better cutting edges. Then we can work up with better lathes and whatever other machine tools we need . . . you know . . . drill presses, shapers, planers, the variety of milling machines, and so forth.”

  Yozef listened to Mark rattle on for several minutes. It was the most animated he had seen his fellow American since they’d first met.

  Oh, boy, Yozef thought, he talks a good story, but if he can do what he thinks he can do, I have to rethink what’s feasible.

  Yozef envisioned leaving to Mark the steel industry, steam power, the telegraph, and all the other projects he struggled with so that he could concentrate on chemistry and pushing basic sciences. Yozef would still be left with the political duties he couldn’t avoid, but he would be in a far better situation than he’d ever thought possible.

  Yozef momentarily missed some of Mark’s planning until the words steam engine broke through his internal thinking.

  “Uh . . . what was that again about steam engines?”

  “Well . . . lathes will help with the parts of steam engines, at least the smaller ones. Lathe-made parts will be precise enough to be interchangeable. We’ve talked before about the importance of precision. That’s a major problem with your first attempts at steam engines. Piston cylinders weren’t precise enough, which is why we need better boring machines.”

  “So, you think lathes will help with steam engines?” asked Yozef.

  Mark raised his left hand and wiggled the wrist. “Probably. I’ll have to think about it. We might be able to make precision boring machines without the lathes, but they would help. I’ve been thinking hard the last sixdays about what’s possible after seeing your ongoing projects and visiting the craftsmen in Orosz City. It’s given me a fair idea of the state of Caedellium technology.”

  Mark turned his attention back to the Flagorn Egg. “Who knows? Even if we can’t find out more about this thing, we’ll be pushing technology ahead to eventually find out more—either us or those who follow us.”

  “Ah, yes, the egg,” said Yozef. “I have one more item to show you.”

  Yozef walked across the room to a wall cabinet and opened the door. From the second shelf, he withdrew something wrapped in cloth. He returned to Mark, put what he had retrieved on the workbench next to the Flagorn Egg, and unwrapped the cloth.

  Mark’s glance casually went from Yozef’s face over to what was revealed, back to Yozef, and then quickly again to the bench. Mark bent closer, and his eyes widened.

  Almost two minutes passed as Mark leaned back and forth, closer and farther as he got different views of the circuit board fragment. When he looked back at Yozef, a mouth corner hinted at a grin, and the opposite eyebrow raised.

  “Any more surprises? You don’t happen to have a spaceship around here, do you? Or maybe a mummified alien body, the Ark of the Covenant, or the Golden Fleece?”

  Yozef laughed. “Nope. Just these two. The Flagorn Egg and this broken circuit board. I know there are more eggs, but I haven’t found any evidence of anything else like the board.”

  “Okay if I pick at it?” asked Mark. “I don’t know how fragile it is.”

  “Go ahead. I’ve handled it quite a bit. A farmer dug the board up from one of his fields and gave it to a scholastic in Abersford. The farmer said it was the only such thing ever found. Then I had people dig around in the same field enough that the farmer started wondering what the hell was the big deal with this object? No luck, though. We dug down to six to eight feet and within a couple hundred feet from where the farmer found this and got nothing but dirt and rocks.”

  Mark picked up the board and used a fingernail to separate thin layers of printed circuits.

  “Christ! Look at the depth of the board and the complexity. This is quite a few generations more advanced than anything humans have.”

  Suddenly, he raised his torso upright and frowned. “Wait a minute. This board may be advanced, but I think we can at least appreciate what it implies. But what about this object? The Flagorn Egg? We don’t even know for sure it’s a machine of some sort. If it is, I’ve a hunch it’s WAY in advance of anything humans have or can yet imagine the basics of. That would imply two levels of advanced technology.”

  Mark set the board back on the bench. “I’ve been assuming there was a single alien race. At least, I haven’t noticed anything that suggested otherwise. How about you?”

  “Same here . . . until I examined the board. I then had the same thoughts, but I wanted your impression. If there were these Flagorn Eggs, Markot’s Tears, in both Caedellium and Frangel, there’s no reason not to assume they’re found everywhere on Anyar. You’re right. We don’t know for certain whether they do anything, but my gut says they do, and we just haven’t detected the action. Things like the circuit board are different. It was extremely fortuitous for me to get hold of this board fragment. The farmer recognized it was something unusual and took it to a scholastic. The scholastic then had to keep it and show me. For all we know, there could be innumerable other examples scattered around the rest of the planet.”

  “Maybe we could somehow put out word about anything unusual,” said Mark.

  “And how would we explain it? I’ve been as careful as I can be on how I make innovations. That raises enough questions. If I put out word that I’m interested in odd artifacts, it’s liable to trigger unintended consequences.”

  “I guess I grudgingly agree,” said Mark. “Of course, whether we do anything or not about the eggs and the circuit board has nothing to do with our other problems. However, the day may come when we could cast a wider net for artifacts.”

  “Maybe,” said Yozef, “but for right now, I have paperwork and meetings waiting for me. And I’m sure something else will come up that will supposedly need the Paramount. If you want to stay and study the egg and the board some more, I’ll give you a key. Just lock up when you leave, and don’t take anything out of this workshop.”

  Mark ran his hand over the egg again. “Maybe not right now. Maybe later when I think about this a little more.”

  They were halfway to the building’s only door when Mark had a thought. “Hey. How about Heather? Are you going to show these to her?”

  “I don’t think so. I only told you because of your engineering background. I thought you could confirm my own thinking or come up with new ideas. One of those need to know things. The less any of us have to worry about revealing things, the better for all of us.”

  CHAPTER 17

  FIRST STEPS

  When Yozef first opened one eye, he could see the sun’s light shining through a bedroom window. That meant the sun had cleared the cliff tops surrounding Kolsko Manor. The site had been chosen inside the mountain cleft above Orosz City because the sun rose from a low spot and tracked above the manor for most of the day. The relatively small axial tilt of Anyar was responsible for less seasonal variation than on Earth and kept the manor from being in as much shadow as its position in the cleft might have suggested.

>   The previous evening had been a long and boisterous affair. The Kolsko and Puvey families, joined by the Kaldwels and Heather, had started with a typical evening meal, only to spill into the late hours with family reminiscing, accompanied by good cheer and occasional tears.

  Yozef was alone in the bed but faced rumpled coverings that indicated there had been another person. It took him a moment to remember he had shared the bed with Maera last night. It had been late, and they were both tired from the hour, the food, the drinks, and getting the unexpected overnight visitors settled in.

  He rolled out of bed, dressed, and followed the sound of voices . . . women’s voices. Initially missing were the children’s voices. Then he heard them outside, playing. He found the source of the indoor voices in the manor’s large kitchen. Maghen, Heather, and Anarynd sat at a worktable. Maera was attending several pans over a wood-burning stove. Yozef couldn’t see Gwyned, but he heard her voice coming from a walk-in pantry.

  “Where did you say the salt container is? I don’t see it.”

  “In the square-shaped green pottery,” said Maera, looking over her left shoulder.

  Yozef stood in the doorway, taking in the domestic scene. The three women at the table were occupied, with Anida being held by Heather, whose face seemed more relaxed than Yozef remembered seeing.

  It was Anarynd who saw him first.

  “Well, the last of the men finally woke up.” She jumped to her feet and walked over to Yozef for a quick kiss and hug. “Everyone else has already eaten. Maera and I were going to give you a few more minutes before waking you up. Maera says you have a meeting with Hetman Orosz at mid-day meal.”

  Yozef groaned. “In that case, Ana, I need some kava to clear my head. I think I drank too many spirits last night.”

  “I thought you didn’t have hangovers,” said Gwyned. “Just one of those weird things about Yozef Kolsko.”

  Heather raised one eyebrow, either waiting to hear Yozef’s explanation or learning something new.

  “I don’t think it’s the alcohol. It’s the different types of spirit. Each type has different combinations of other components besides alcohol. Last night was ale, wine, and half a dozen different hard spirits spaced over four or five hours.”

  “Here you go,” said Maera, handing him a large, steaming mug she had filled from a kava pot on the edge of the stove. “I assume you don’t want to eat yet.”

  “No. Give me a few minutes.” He looked around. “Where are Carnigan and Mark?”

  “My husband left already,” said Gwyned. “Said he had a new group of miscreant male youths to intimidate.”

  The image made Yozef smile. Carnigan was a regular feature at a “correctional facility” west of the city. Caedellium had relatively few formal jails for its population size. The island’s societies were tight enough that most disturbing behaviors were handled within families and local communities, with only more serious offenses dealt with by magistrates and judges. Keeping offenders locked up was reserved for serious crimes of violence.

  One of Yozef’s innovations was an attempt to intervene with youths who had yet to commit serious crimes but who seemed to be on that path. Those individuals were sent to the Orosz City outreach facility, where they experienced assigned work, counseling, and, where necessary, a dose of Carnigan. The big man’s appearance and reputation did wonders for getting the attention of rebellious young males. A troubled and apparently intractable male of any age often needed only minimal corrective counseling if delivered by the near-legendary companion of the Paramount. Carnigan was especially effective with those who had temper control issues. No matter what Carnigan said to them or forced them to do, there was never a danger of him being assaulted. Not when the youth’s potential target was six and a half feet tall, well over 300 pounds of bone and muscle, and more agile than a man his size had a right to be.

  Yozef suspected another reason for Cardigan’s effectiveness was that he’d had trouble controlling his temper when he was younger. He had revealed no explicit information, but some of the casual things Abbot Sistian of Abersford had said related to the fact that Carnigan had been a probationer when Yozef first met him. Yozef had gently probed a few times, but Carnigan simply ignored such inquiries by remaining silent. If ever there was a person who had mastered his temper and was too imposing for a miscreant to ignore, the person’s name was Carnigan Puvey.

  The few young women deemed in need of help went to a separate facility near Preddi City, where Ceinwyn Preddi filled Carnigan’s role. Although not of the big red-haired man’s imposing physical appearance, the prominent scar on the side of her face, suffered during the attempted assassination of Hetman Keelan and Yozef Kolsko, along with her leading a company of women during the battle of Orosz City, served to cow most female miscreants.

  “Did he practice growling before he left?” asked Yozef.

  Peals of laughter came from three of the women, with Maghen and Heather showing puzzlement.

  Anarynd patted Maghen’s arm. “He plays a game with the children. Carnigan growls at them and pretends to be the monster chasing them. Morwena, Dwyna, and Aeneas first pretend to be afraid and run away as he chases them, then one of them, usually Morwena, yells out to ‘attack the monster,’ and they run and latch onto his legs. That’s supposed to make the monster freeze and they’re safe.”

  “Alys also joins in,” said Maera, “though it took a while for her to see it was a game, with Maghen’s encouragement. They’re all outside somewhere playing. Alys seems to have gotten over needing her mother or father always within sight. The last few days, she’s joined in with the other children as if she’s always known them. Walda is watching the rest of the horde in the common nursery,”

  She referenced a teenage girl, one of the several staff members working at the manor.

  “How about Mark?” asked Yozef.

  “He’s outside,” answered Maghen, smiling. “I think he had his fill of woman talk while he was eating. If I’m right, he went outside trying to find something to do. Then when he didn’t find it, he’s been sitting and waiting for someone to find him something to do.”

  “I think I can solve that,” said Yozef.

  “Please do, Yozef,” said Maghen. “As much as I appreciate everything you’ve done for us, I think he’s spent too much time sitting and thinking when not visiting project sites here or at Adris City. The man needs something to work on that he feels is his.”

  “Go on,” said Maera. “Go find him, do your men talk, then tell us when you’re ready to eat.”

  The search was short. When Yozef exited the manor’s main door onto the expansive veranda, the telltale squeaking of chains holding the swing provided Mark’s location.

  Got to remember to tell the groundskeeper to oil the damn thing, thought Yozef. Either that or do it myself.

  “Beautiful spot you’ve got here,” said Mark as Yozef walked over and sat in the adjacent wicker rocker. “I can see why you picked it, though I think we’ll eventually look for something near water—a lake or a stream. Maghen’s fallen in love with the ocean, but she says if we’re inland, any water will do.”

  “How are Maghen and Alys doing?”

  “I think Alys is okay. Maghen is still trying to find her place. She’s naturally friendly and hardworking, but the setting is still new and very different from her life in Frangel. Maera seems to be experimenting with taking Maghen around Orosz City, but she needs a . . . maybe you’ve heard people talking about a ‘nest’?”

  They sat swinging and rocking for several minutes before Yozef leaped in.

  “So . . . Mark . . . future plans? I know you’re still getting your footing here, but do you have some thoughts after our previous talks? You’ve said you were still gathering thoughts and ideas before plunging in. You’ve visited the ongoing projects.”

  “Enough thoughts for probably ten people. Telegraph and steam engines were your first priorities. Telegraph is the easiest. I’ve already said I think that can be wo
rked out in a few months. However, after giving it more thought, I think my earlier speculation about wireless is plausible.”

  “Wireless!? You really think we have the infrastructure for that?”

  “If we are just talking about sending Morse code and not worrying about anyone intercepting the messages except us, then I think we could do it. As I said, it might take a couple of years, but with some resources, I predict we could have working wireless at least for shorter distances. I’m not confident enough to predict when we could send between landmasses like Caedellium and Landolin or Iraquinik. However, if we can do it across Caedellium, then the others should be just a matter of bigger antennas and power supplies.”

  “Hmmm. Have you mentioned this to anyone else?”

  “Like who? Who is going to understand except you and Heather?”

  “Yeah, but if you really think a wireless telegraph is possible, then I’d like to keep it quiet for now. The Fuomi know about the wired telegraph, and any improvement you can make will have to transfer directly to them, but, as I told you before, I’d like to keep a few goodies to ourselves, both for upcoming negotiations and a ‘just in case’ box for future contingencies.”

  “Up to you. You know the lay of the land here far better than I do. Then there’re the steam engines. I’ve had a chance to look at your development site near Adris City. I assume you’re still set on a separate site if I can solve the problems you’re having.”

  “I think so,” said Yozef. “You probably wonder whether I’m too paranoid or something. The Fuomi helped us in fighting the Narthani. We might have won without them, but I made a deal with them, and I have to make a reasonable effort to fulfill the agreement. We want to keep them on our side as much as we can. That doesn’t mean I totally trust them.