He paused, as if to take the temperature of the room, and then added, “The share NNR has in mind is a mere forty per cent stake in the enterprise. NNR will also be purchasing land near Halo to build a settlement. From there they can supplement labor as needed. In addition, they wish to purchase land in the volcano rich region to develop their own mining operations.”
He looked at the faces around the table. He concluded, “I think NNR is being most generous.”
Gallant suspected that NNR expected to eventually dominate all the mining and manufacturing operations on New Kauai. He said, “I suggest, that, if in the future, any of our investors are interested in selling their stakes, that they offer us first right of refusal at their price.”
“Good idea.”
With that Gallant asked, “What do you say gentlemen? Do we have a deal?”
As a show of good faith, Gallant bought into the company with every penny he possessed from his meager savings account—never having had much of an opportunity to spend his slight salary over his six years of service—enough to take a one tenth of one percent share in the venture. The other businessmen distributed the rest between them—with NNR taking the largest single share of forty percent.
“At last we are all agreed. Let’s raise our glasses in a toast of fellowship to our great endeavor,” said Treadwell in his jocular voice.
“Despite past adversities, we may yet reap prosperity,” said Reverend Thibodaux. “Gentlemen, shall we vote to accept the proposal? Those in favor signify by saying, ‘aye.’”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
“Aye.”
Gallant and Howard added the final “ayes,” and the vote to go forward was carried.
Treadwell said, “The work will begin just as soon as the men are gathered and the orders given.”
Gallant was satisfied that he was able to work well with the civilian authorities and gain their cooperation.
He said, “We’ve sat as equals in this discussion, and I appreciate that we will bare equal responsibility in the success or failure of the endeavor.”
Treadwell said, “I propose a toast.”
Gallant filled each glass with a bit of wine and they raised their glasses.
“To the Brobdingnag mine!”
“To Elysium!”
“To the Warrior!”
They drained their glasses.
***
Less than twenty four hours later, Gregory Rothschild made offers, on behalf of the NNR Corporation, to acquire a greater percentage of the mining operation by pressuring several of the participants.
CHAPTER 6
Celebration
As with most of the important events in Halo, the town’s people gathered in the forty acre common area of Freedom Park, landscaped with small trees and rustic boulders, located at the junction of the town’s three main roads. One road ran the length of the island from east to west whereas a second ran north toward the mountainous volcanoes. The remaining road forked to the southeast toward the ocean shore with its high cliffs and numerous caves. At the edge of the park there was a picturesque lighthouse facing the ocean at an acute angle. The focal point for the colonists’ historic proceedings, the park was just a short walk from the town hall. The crowd arrived in vehicles that lined the roads and were parked haphazardly, though many inhabitants preferred to walk the short distance from their houses along the radial walkways which stuck out like spokes in a wheel. Banners decorated the arbors inside the park, proclaiming a dually joyous celebration—victory over the Titans and the near doubling of the planet’s population with the arrival of twenty thousand new settlers who were all part of the NNR Corporation contingent intent upon developing the colony for the Untied Planets. The Elysium Council had already issued permits for the NNR Corporation to build homes for the new arrivals on the western half of the island.
On their way to the park, Gallant and Alaina gazed around the town with its quaint little houses and tree-lined lanes. The original colonists occupied the eastern half of the island and lived mainly within Halo—a comforting, warm, and welcoming home. On the surface, the native population welcomed the arrival of protective warships, the influx of new settlers, and the vast increase in the industrial capacity that they conveyed. But there was also an undercurrent of concern about the disorienting changes these events forecast.
The narrow winding streets were crowded, and when Alaina saw people she knew, she stopped to greet them. They passed by several out-of-the-way cottages and noticed an old woman standing in the doorway of one.
She waved pleasantly.
They waved back.
A little farther along, they met a family consisting of an elderly man with a pinched face and thin waist, his wife, and their teenage daughter. The elderly man and his wife whispered between themselves. Their clothing had a well-worn grayish shade that reminded Gallant of the farmers he had seen in the fields. The woman wore a hat with bird feathers. Typical for Elysium natives who had scratched a living from the earth, neither of them wore, or carried, any electronic devices. Their teenage daughter was pretty, but also drearily dressed and even though she glanced furtively at two young men walking nearby, she kept her place beside her parents.
“Hello, commander,” said the elderly man. “I expect you’re glad to return to Elysium.” He winked at Alaina. “How were your travels?”
“Filled with excitement.”
“Ha! Yes. So I guess.” He stamped his foot for emphasis. “Good job you made of that alien ship.”
Gallant smiled politely.
“Mind you, the task force is also welcome. I have no doubt they’ll make themselves at home.”
“No doubt.”
“We need all the help we can get. Have you any farther news?”
Gallant was unsure exactly what the man was inquiring about, but said, “Not yet.”
He turned to Alaina and spoke privately, “It’s easy to distinguish the simple rural natives of Halo from the new arrivals. They follow the slow pace of this tropical land after struggling for years to build a society from the primitive basics they started with, to the self-sustaining colony of today.”
“Thank you for appreciating our journey,” she replied.
Two young men walked nearby, the taller one wore a flashy dress shirt, and a jacket with a waistcoat that sported shiny buttons. The other was equally fashionable outfitted. No need to guess—they were definitely new arrivals—fully decked out with numerous electronic gadgets attached to their clothing and person, including communications, computing, and medical monitoring devices. The only surprise was that they choose to walk rather than take a vehicle.
The only high-tech gear Gallant carried was his comm pin which he wore over his left breast pocket and used to communicate directly with the Warrior. The Earth-educated and genetically engineered NNR settlers were in striking contrast to the native population, who were nearly all the result of natural births. The new arrivals didn’t consider themselves immigrants, but rather the rightful heirs to take the planet to the next level of development. He suspected that there would be a clash of cultures this evening.
Despite the temperate weather, it was windy and the leaves scattered across the ground like wisps of clouds in the sky. The approaching twilight found buffet tables and benches arrayed on the lawn filled with every variety of Elysium delicacies. Many were already enjoying the aromas of savory foods and wines.
Gallant and Alaina joined the festivities and sat at a centrally located table engaged in a quiet conversation while sampling the various dishes. The waiters came and began replenishing the buffet.
The harmony of the music and the lovely melody of a singer provided a pleasant backdrop.
In the middle of the merriments, Councilmen Reverend Thibodaux and Rothschild acted as a welcoming committee; glad-handing the new arrivals.
Cyrus Wolfe came and sat beside Gallant. He nodded at Alaina and began talking in seemingly endless deta
il about how they had developed their agriculture and fishing industries. He obviously liked to talk about how self-sufficient the colony was. Then he shifted topic to the new construction of the NNR homes and what they could expect in taxes. He challenged Alaina to debate about sovereignty versus property rights, but her smile had lost its warmth and her mouth turned down with distaste. She said, “I’ve nothing to discuss with you at this time.”
Finally, having outstayed his welcome, he moved to another table to peddle his gossip there.
Gallant said, “I’m surprised that you granted a large block of land to the NNR people.”
Alaina said, “Well, it was more of a fait accompli. The only result once a task force of warship and transports starts landing thousands of people on your planet.”
Their attention was drawn to a group of young women sitting on the lawn wearing calf-high skirts, loose-fitting blouses, and slip-on shoes—more NNR colonists. Their hair was sculpted in the pattern of the times, long and pulled back. Like the young men nearby, they talked about their new homes and the pleasure of coming to such a bountiful world. They showed interest in the nearby young men.
One young man, called Mannie, had a gangly build and light-colored hair with heavy eyebrows. He laughed so loud that he attracted attention. He was talking to another young man about business. He was impeccably dressed with a light tropical jacket, with an emblem over the pocket, and a crisp white shirt with an open collar. He was the most talkative of the group.
Gallant overheard some of their conversation.
Mannie said, “Aren’t you nervous about starting over?”
The other man replied, “I’m panicked, but we have everything we need to make a big splash here.”
Nearby, someone in a separate group of native inhabitants said, “I’m glad to see the new arrivals. It’s good for my business.”
“Your business is already successful. Why do you need more customers?”
“I can see you’re no businessman. No one ever has enough customers.”
There were sounds of good-natured chatter as other people came close.
The area for dining and eating was sectioned off from the entertainment area with a large dance area. An orchestra was already playing and several couples were dancing. They swayed with the music, like the tree branches swaying behind them from the gentle ocean breeze. There was something copasetic about the blending of the two motions.
As the evening grew late the sea breeze picked up, delightfully cooling the area. They were enjoying the evening. The scene was beautiful and pleasant.
He got Alaina a drink of locally fermented whiskey and took a sip of his own. After a minute Alaina’s glass was once more empty and a refill was in order. He went to the bar to request another drink.
When he returned she asked, “Do you like my dress?”
“Yes. Indeed.”
“I spent two hours shopping for it today, especially for this celebration. You don’t think it’s too short?”
“Never.”
“Men are so predictable. They judge fashion by its scantiness.”
“You may be right about that.”
He realized she might be getting a little tipsy.
“What are your plans after the Warrior is repaired?”
He said nothing.
“You’re not going to tell me?”
“I’ve a job to do, Alaina. I know what I have to do.”
She shrugged, visibly unhappy.
“It’s getting cooler,” he said.
“Yes.”
“A dance could warm us up,” he said standing up.
“The ocean breeze is pleasant this time of the year,” she said joining him.
“You are a better dancer than I remember.”
“I enjoy dancing—with you.”
“I’ve had occasion for some practice while you were away, but tonight is a special pleasure.”
When the music stopped for a moment, they sat down once more and she sipped her cocktail.
“Are you happy?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“What?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s a lot of maybes.”
She smiled.
They sat quietly for several minutes. The moon shimmered on the distant ocean water. A strong smell of sea salt was carried on the wind.
“You shouldn’t take yourself so seriously,” she said.
“I try not to, but its force of habit, I guess.”
“You don’t make this easy.”
He watched her thinking and said, “Possibly.”
She laughed and crossed her legs.
The music and gaiety of the party overflowed into their area, surrounding them with laughing couples.
Suddenly, they felt out of place.
It was time to leave.
CHAPTER 7
A Prudent Man
The sun had just set; a salty breeze was coming in from the not too distant ocean as four mineworkers drove tractors along a steep mountain road toward the Brobdingnag mine. Along the way, they passed the hastily erected temporary shelters that housed the workmen. The factory smoke stacks and manufacturing chimneys were spewing out dirty yellow and black soot into the atmosphere despite chemical filters designed to stop pollution. Other workers were scattered about the campsite. Most of them wore the bright green and black coveralls of NNR men, but a few local townspeople remained. It seemed that the tractors were going to pass right by a storage area filled with accumulated minerals, but at the last minute they came to a stop in front of a man perched atop a wooden crate. He was of average height, but strongly built. He was also rather advanced in years compared to the tractor drivers. He wore gray coveralls over his dirty shirt and heavy industrial boots. His jacket pockets bulged with odds and ends, and a few errant tools. He was whittling while whistling merrily to himself.
The leader of the tractor drivers, a tall thin man with beady eyes said, “Good day. Are you the yard foreman?”
The older man scratched his nose and said, “Maybe.”
Raising his hands as a gesture of impatience, the leader asked, “Come on. Are you, or aren’t you?”
“Well, I’m not so sure because you, NNR types, have taken to doing things your own way, despite my saying otherwise.”
“Look, we’re not looking for trouble, only some directions to the new excavation site. We’ve been assigned to work there.”
The older man glanced suspiciously at them, but after a minute he pointed up the hill toward the peak of the mighty volcano. “There. Take that path to the new dig site.”
The men started their tractors and headed in the direction indicated.
The old man grumbled, spat into the dirt, and remained sitting on his wooden crate under a gnarled eucalyptus tree. Several birds pecked at a branch over his head. The noise of workers rumbled in the distance. He returned to whittling and whistling to himself.
Gallant approached the old man and said, “Hello, Treadwell. It’s good to see you again.”
The mining engineer nodded pleasantly, but kept whittling and said nothing.
“Is there an engineering problem? Cave-ins? Equipment malfunctions?”
“No, we’re able to handle those glitches just fine, whenever they pop-up.”
“Problem with mineral exploration?”
“No. The new vein of ore is providing an excellent yield.”
“Are there fabrication, or manufacturing, problems?”
“Well, those are outside my area of responsibility, but as far as I can tell, they’re going well enough.”
Exasperated, Gallant asked with a hint of authority, “Then why did you send word for me to come?”
“You’re the captain. Everyone wants you.”
Beginning to lose patience, he fixed a piercing look on the engineer and said, “Treadwell?”
The older man sighed and finally stopped whittling. His face contorted—displaying his fierce pride behind his crooked pug nose. He
gave a one word answer, “People.”
Aware of the man’s stoic nature, Gallant asked, “I know that you always say, exactly whatever comes to mind, so tell me, are the NNR personnel cooperating with the local workmen?”
“It’s not served me so well . . . saying what comes to mind. Sometimes people aren’t happy to hear it.”
“I hope you know me well enough to speak frankly.”
“Nevertheless, a prudent man marks his words.”
Gallant waited.
Treadwell sighed, “You’re young—still full of ‘piss and vinegar.’ Trouble is, very few remain tough by the time they reach old age. They’ve been knocked down by life’s troubles and tragedies. Old age tends to soften you up.”
“Don’t kid me, William; you’re as tough an old bird, if ever there was one.”
The man’s wrinkled face screwed up and looked Gallant over once more before adding, “None.”
“Pardon?”
“There’s no cooperation—like I said—none.”
Hoping to get some insight into what was disturbing the senior mining engineer, Gallant asked, “Do you have time to give me a tour?”
“That’d be fine.”
Treadwell took him around the organized camp. Everything appeared to be well run, the ore was being extracted and hauled to the appropriate stockpiles, the melting plant was producing metal at a record pace, and the fabrication plant was turning out product in an orderly and timely manner. The entire operation appeared to be running at peak efficiency.
Then Gallant began to notice some inconsistencies. All the automated mining equipment was being operated by NNR personnel from an isolated control center, far away from Treadwell’s supervisor shack. The drivers of the specialized vehicles were also all NNR men, smiling pleasantly. The native colonists seemed to be working drudgery jobs. Mostly, they did the hard labor. There weren’t as many happy faces there.
Gallant asked, “I thought there was a plan to train the native colonists to work in the high tech jobs?”
Treadwell chewed on his lip, but said nothing.
After a while, a well-groomed young man wearing clean bright green and black coveralls approached them.
Commander Henry Gallant (The Henry Gallant Saga Book 4) Page 6