Multiverse 1

by Chris Hechtl

  “Nothing we can do about it,” Klinger said shaking his head. “Though moving inland does have some appeal,” he said, eying the defensive wall. It was wavering in the gusting wind.

  “Poor sod,” he said, looking out at the drenched Hadji in the stocks outside. He shook his head.

  “Serves him right,” a guy said darkly.

  “No one deserves that!” Susan said, surprising them. Doc frowned but then sighed. “I'm with her. He's suffered enough,” she said, pointedly looking at Klinger. “Let him go. Or he'll catch pneumonia and then I'll be stuck with him. Like it or not we need him too,” she said.

  “Has he learned his lesson?” Simmons asked. “Have we?”

  “I think showing that the administration has teeth and isn't afraid to use them has gotten across to the most…spectacularly stupid among us,” Doc said with a dark look to Susan. The girl bit her lip and looked down. “Those who continue to cause trouble will regret it,” she said. Other people nodded along with her.

  Roy went out with Klinger and helped the young Muslim out of the stocks. They slipped in the mud on the way back, but made it back in one bedraggled piece. Klinger shook off the water like a dog, making a few fend off the droplets with laughs.

  Once he was cleaned up, he listened to the others talk but got bored. With the enforced inactivity, he pulled out his laptop, huddled under his shelter and got to work on it, drawing up plans, exploded diagrams, lists, and other things.

  ~~~~~O~~~~~

  The next day everyone was busy cleaning up the mess from the storms for most of the morning. It wasn't as bad as before, but they still had some issues to deal with.

  After a late lunch, the teams split up for their usual chores. Roy packed some of his gear, half his electronic gear, and a chair from the plane and brought it to the cave, wary of predators in his overloaded state. Fortunately, he was lucky, nothing popped up. He was also lucky that the guard on duty at the defile gate had left his post to deal with the storm damage and hadn't returned when he had left. On his way back, the professor again took the long route through the rookery and edge of the marsh to get the usual load of bird guano, cattails, sulfur, and clay.

  Midafternoon he arrived in camp a bit tired, but still eager to get to work. He nodded to the guard as he came up to the beach gate. “So that's where you went, people were wondering, Professor,” Greg said, shaking his head. “You shouldn't go off alone like that you know; anything happens to you and the corporal will have my balls,” he said.

  “Ouch,” Roy said, wincing theatrically. “And it's my neck on the line though, I'll try to be careful,” he said with a wave. The guy snorted but waved him in.

  In the camp he set his load down and then took a drink of water. He dug through the charred remains of the mess fire to pick out pieces of charcoal. These he placed in the sun to dry, then formed the clay into grenades by wrapping them around a rod he'd extracted from his supply of parts.

  “Well! You're a fine mess again, Professor,” Eliza said. “I suppose you need your laundry done again?” she demanded. She put her hand delicately to her nose. “You sure smell like you need it,” she said.

  “Actually, I need to wait on that. I'm just going to keep getting messy here,” Roy said.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, looking over his shoulder as he worked. “Can I help?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Roy said with a smile. “It stinks, but it's necessary. What we're doing is important though, but a little dangerous. At least the later stages are,” he said.

  “Oh,” she said, eyes wide.

  “But right now this is baby steps,” he said, using his hands to shape the clay into a rough hand grenade shape. He set it aside with the mandrel to dry a bit in the sun.

  “Can you make some wicks?”

  “Wicks?” she asked wrinkling her nose at him.

  “Those,” he said, indicating the cattails. “The peeled roots go to Cookie or Betty for dinner. The outer layers can go to the fire stocks or for making paper. For now, I suppose fire will do,” he said. “What we need to do is crack the pods open,” he said, picking one of the pods up. He snapped off the brown top pod and then snapped it in half. Whitish fluff came out. “This is what we want.”

  “Okay, yeah, I've done that,” she said nodding. “It's not rocket science, Professor,” she said.

  He snorted. He explained how to make the fibers into wicks and then dug into the guano.

  That earned an "Oh gross!" from the girl, who waved her hands in front of her face in distress.

  “Well, you see this is essential unfortunately, he said as she coughed. “And if you think it's bad here, try where I got it from,” he said.

  “I'll take your word for it,” she said in a strangled voice. “Why you are…”

  “The guano is a concentrated form of potassium nitrate and sulfur.” He explained they were making grenades for the hunters to protect themselves. She wrinkled her nose and moved off upwind before she went back to work.

  He chuckled and picked through the coal for a few dry flakes. The best thing was to take a dry hardwood and light it on fire then bury it with a smoke hole. Willow was the best, but they'd just tossed anything into the charcoal fire earlier. Most of that was already earmarked for the smithing he knew. “I'm going to mix these three ingredients,” he said, indicating the bowl and the three piles of ingredients. “In a three-two-one ratio. I'm still experimenting with the best combination to get the best bang for our buck,” he explained. She nodded as she picked at a fiber in her teeth.

  “I took high school chem, Professor. I know it's a lot like a recipe,” she said.

  He nodded. “Kitchen sink chemistry. A lot of chemistry was learned in the kitchen,” he said. She smiled.

  He got a pot of resin, and the mortar and pestle. Slowly he ground the mix to make batches of granules about two millimeters thick. He put the finished product in an empty one-gallon plastic container, eventually filling it. They used a piece of plastic from a binder bent into a cone as a funnel. It took a bit of trial and error, but when they were out of gunpowder, they had made twenty grenades, which were lined up and drying nicely in the sun. Finished he washed up, and the girl left the spare wicks to return to her duties.

  “More grenades?” Walter asked when he entered the main camp. Roy nodded. He felt divided; he wanted to keep an eye on things, here, but also in the cave and now his stash of gunpowder. He wasn't sure what to do about it. He did know he didn't like the idea of sticking them all under one roof though. All his eggs in one explosive basket wasn't an idea he liked at all. Besides, his shelter was near the storage shacks.

  He noted the guard and nodded, feeling a sense of relief that Klinger wasn't taking any more chances. “Yeah,” he said.

  “Pipe bomb?” Walter asked slyly. “You know from the plane?” he asked. “I saw you fiddling about with a couple lengths of pipe earlier,” he said.

  “No,” Roy said, nixing the idea. “I used them as mandrills to form clay grenades,” he explained.

  “Ah,” Walt said nodding. “It won't work well though, not good for shrapnel,” he cautioned.

  “Clay can cut pretty darn well,” Roy said. “Though I admit, this stuff is only going to be sundried. I can't spare the metal; we need it for other things. I was tempted to use the piping for a gun barrel,” he shook his head.

  Walter cocked his head. “It might work. Remember, the pipes were designed to handle the high pressure of an aircraft's equipment,” he reminded the engineer. “Light weight but incredibly strong,” he said.

  “But I'm not at all keen about testing the idea. I don't want to be responsible to the guy on the other end of it if it blows up in his face,” he said.

  Walter nodded. “Okay, well, next time you get the ingredients for a batch, let me know. And if you see any magnesium, grab some. We can use that too,” he said.

  “Um...”

  “You can flake some off from the aircraft,” Walter said. “Magnesium mixed with
gunpowder ups the energy and lowers the smoke,” the old chemist explained.

  “Ah,” Roy replied with a nod. He realized he wasn't the expert here, and he should bow to the man who was. He really needed to learn he wasn't a one-man show here, he thought with a pang.

  “Go check on the smiths then get cleaned up for dinner,” Walter urged. “I've got some stuff to do. If I can I'll look you up, and we'll go over your techniques,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Roy said with as much humility as he could muster. The older man smiled and then went on his way.

  ~~~~~O~~~~~

  The following day dawned bright and clear. A day or two after a storm was like that, the air felt like wine, the dust was gone and it all felt new.

  After a quick breakfast and before the hunters could depart, Roy drew the leaders aside to show them what he had worked on the day before. Klinger looked on in amusement as he showed them the new grenades. “Where is the beer?” he teased. That earned a chuckle from Simmons and Harris as well.

  Roy chuckled with them. “Well, we need barley and hops for that; the best I could probably do is some tuber hooch with a still I'd make from the parts we've got,” he said.

  “Oh, I like that. I knew we saved that stuff for a reason,” Simmons said.

  Harris whistled. “Potato vodka!” he said, eyes gleaming.

  “I'd rather eat it than drink it right now,” Klinger said as he chuckled. He turned and hollered at his hunters to get going; he'd catch up. He nodded to the others. “Usual split?”

  “Why do I get the low road?” Harris demanded, sounding annoyed. Roy realized it was a mock protest.

  “Want to switch and take the stream?” Simmons asked.

  Harris shook his head vehemently no. “Oh, hell no!” he said. Simmons snorted. The three left at a trot.

  Roy watched them go and then had the potter make and fire the grenade design. Lita nodded. “Get me the clay and gravel, and I'll do it,” she said.

  “Gravel?” Roy asked.

  “For the shrapnel,” Lita said. “We can imbed it in the clay. When it blows up it'll spray everywhere,” she said.

  He nodded thoughtfully as he realized again, he'd been shown up. He wasn't the only one with good ideas. Lita smiled at him. “Go on now; get going before they realize what you are planning to do and saddle you with people who'll only slow you down,” she said. He nodded and left her to her work.

  He gathered his next load and then took off to the cave, this time with a lance. He returned the usual route ladened as before. He quickly set into the routine, getting a drink and a quick lunch then handing the clay off to Lita with the forms.

  Eliza popped up by his elbow as if by magic to help with the wicks. “Can't we use this to make candles?” she asked.

  “If we had wax,” he said absently.

  “Oh.”

  “We can make some wax from animal fat, but it will stink. We could mix in herbs to get the smell down I suppose,” Roy said. She wrinkled her nose. “Or find another source of wax, like bees,” he commented.

  “Can we?” She asked eagerly. The professor shrugged. “I mean, the torches are cool but…” she waved a hand. He nodded. He wasn't keen about walking around with a flaming brand in his hand. He for one didn't want his hair or clothes to get burned, and he knew a couple of the women had been burned when the winds went the wrong way.

  “I'll add it to my list. But I'd rather make a flashlight,” he said.

  She grimaced but nodded. “As if that can happen,” she said.

  “Get me some batteries, an LED, and a couple bits of wire and I'll show you,” he said. She blinked at him and then nodded.

  “Wow. Okay, I'll hold you to that sometime. What list though?” she asked. She watched as he got up and brought back his laptop and solar blanket. He put the blanket in the sun and fired up the laptop.

  He showed her the list, a document and series of charts for ingredients and steps to various products or equipment. He even had exploded diagrams of various things to make. He explained to her bemusement about each section. She became excited when he showed her some of the more advanced projects.

  “So, why not do them now?” she demanded.

  “We have to use what we've got. Learn. Build. Walk before we can run,” he explained. “Each of the other projects helps us along the way. We'll learn skills from each, and they will come in handy.”

  “Like the flashlights. Not just around camp but also with the hunters and guards at night,” the girl said.

  He nodded. “Exactly,” he said, bumping the idea up his priority list. “I know we still have a few but not many. And the batteries are getting low. Some of these batteries aren't rechargeable either so that is a problem. But we'll save them for the raw material,” he said. She nodded.

  “So what else?” she asked.

  After a half hour, Susan called her away, but she took his shirt to wash first. He made sure to move so his bare skin was in the shade. The last thing he wanted was another sunburn. Experience told him sleeping with one was a bear.

  Lita cooled the first batch of grenade shells and offered to make more once they had more material. Roy inspected her work, noting that she had been slower, but she'd come out with a much better product, one that actually looked like a hand grenade. The clay was cleaner too. He nodded and agreed to her terms. He handed over the rest of his clay and then went to other projects.

  He checked on Quinn, but since the guys were making firewood, the forge wasn't in use. With that handled he went back to the electronic shed with his computer and pulled out the aircraft radio, antenna and his cell phone.

  Sitting down on a log, he plugged the radio into the blanket and tried it out. He pulled up the laptop files and looked for ways to alter the radio to broadcast on the phone frequencies.

  ~~~~~O~~~~~

  Several hours later the girl returned with his shirt and gave him a poke. He had managed to get a signal…more of a burp through to the cell phone and was sure he was on the right track. She shook her head in disgust over his preoccupation over her own efforts and left with a sour, "You're welcome!"

  He looked up, but she was already moving off. He frowned thoughtfully, then took the shirt and put it on; eyes glued again to the oscilloscope on the laptop screen. Part of his problem was the encryption. He'd thought he'd found a way around it, but he wasn't sure.

  He continued on; as the sun set, the long shadows interrupted him. Swearing he rigged a light when the sun dropped below the horizon.

  Doc came over with Klinger and Eliza. “Has he been like that all day?” doc asked.

  “He's like a rock. The thinker,” Klinger said.

  Doc snorted and teasingly said maybe they should poke him with a stick. The girl tittered, making the professor look up absently.

  “Oh, hi, um sorry, distracted.” He frowned, tapping at his laptop. Klinger cleared his throat. “Oh um, do you have your cell phone?” Roy asked.

  “It's around somewhere, probably back in my shelter or in my luggage,” Klinger said.

  “Why do you have it? I'm surprised you do,” doc said.

  Klinger shrugged. He looked at Elisa. “Probably the same reason she and others still kept theirs, it's a link to my past. And besides, I've got movies, pictures and other stuff stored on it,” he said.

  “Probably the last time I'll see my family,” Eliza said sadly. Doc patted her arm in sympathy. She poked Roy.

  Roy shook himself. “Oh, okay, um, here,” Roy said. He handed the corporal his phone and told him to try it. Klinger shrugged at the doc and did so, and the radio gave off a scratchy response.

  “It needs work, maybe if I boost the yagi antenna…” Roy mused. “Right now I can get Morse code, but not much range.”

  “That's great, Professor!” Klinger said, looking at the phone. “Awesome really!”

  “Yeah, but I can do voice, I know I can,” Roy mused.

  Doc tapped her foot impatiently as his mental train went off on a tangent. Whe
n he didn't come back up for air, she poked him firmly. “Earth to Professor, come in Professor. It's time to put it down and take a break! When was the last time you ate something?” she demanded, crossing her arms.

  He blinked at her tiredly and confused. She ran an exasperated hand through her hair. “MEN!” She sighed, sounding a bit put out. The girl tried to stifle her guffaws. Klinger shook his head but even he had to fight a smile. Doc firmly took the radio from Roy's hands and “You can play with his toys after dinner, but only if he washed his hands first then cleaned his plate like a good boy,” she said in a mock motherly voices. Klinger chuckled as the girl laughed, hand over her mouth.

  Hearing their good natured teasing on his behalf, Roy blushed and then looked up and thanked the girl for the shirt.

  “You're welcome,” she snorted.

  “Come on, Professor, time to eat,” doc urged. He got up reluctantly, popping and cracking joints. Klinger took the gear back to the electronics shack, and the girls escorted him back to camp fire.

  Catrina saw them coming and acidly whispered to Susan about the three having sex. Susan snorted softly but didn't reply. She was becoming increasingly…uncomfortable with being associated with Catrina and Shawn. They still treated her like a servant, and it wasn't like they were paying her. Lately she'd thought about breaking away from them, making a clean break. She just wasn't sure how.

  Catrina leaned over to pass on the gossip to others when Susan didn't do it for her.

  Roy stretched, ignoring the chatter around him. His mind was still off in electronics and so he didn’t hear any of it. The ladies on either side bristled though. Cookie handed him a plate, and Doc pushed him over to sit on a log.

  “Eat. Or I'll have someone rig a bib and spoon-feed you,” she said, shaking her head. She looked over to Cookie. “Make sure he eats. The idiot will probably just let it dribble out of his mouth. He's in la la land.”

  “Can't waste good food,” the cook said with a sniff. She shook a spoon at Roy. “You get to eating or I'll use this on your backside, sonny,” she growled.