A Shift in Priorities - Sequel

rast

The understanding of mathematics is necessary for a sound grasp of ethics.
(Socrates)

Julio was gone indeed. He had just walked out of the door – and vanished into the underwoods. One had tried to trace him with the hounds, but that hadn’t worked. Okay, his sperm was safe. Would he come back? And why had he left at all? Betty Plowman was still wondering. Life in the wilderness… Good grief! – But the bloke had been in excellent shape. She could tell…

Well, it had been a welcome episode. A short – and amusing – break in dreary work routine. Back to the lab! It was a cumbersome process to develop an artificial uterus, an incubator as it was called here. The latter term should sound less offending to the uninvolved, it was believed. One had tried it with natural ones, from animals – to no avail. Perhaps chimpanzees would work, but one had none.

Early on, one had had a motley group, bought together from various domestic circuses and zoos. They had all died in the first rash experiments. And now, one couldn’t get new ones. All wild packs were controlled by either Middle Africa or the WAU. They were only allowing single captures for zoos and known scientific institutes. One had to wait until new surplus specimen became available in the zoos at home. Chimpanzees were slow breeders; it would take time.

However, with machines, the situation was even worse. In principle, the functions were clear, yet effective control was impossible with the means at hand. Even the zusie one had purchased didn’t solve the problem. – Yes, there was little hope of success – at least not in the foreseeable future. But one would carry on nevertheless. It was a magnificent goal, even if the rulers in Washington would call it criminal – if they knew about it. But democracy was an end-of-range model anyway…
 

rast

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool.
(William Shakespeare)

Josef Dembitzer had become loath of the German political comedy. It didn’t matter what Strauß, Amelunxen, Kroll, Erler – or any other public comedian – were doing – or saying. The economy had never stopped booming – and was still sucking dry the European labour market. And the armed forces – although the army was seriously crippled – were preparing a hard-bitten response to any Russian encroachment. One could rightly pose the question who was governing Germany.

Actually, who was governing the COMECON? Obviously Krupp, Mannesmann, Siemens, AEG, Telefunken and BASF… Certainly, Strauß was not running the show. Or was he? It was utterly vexing to try to find out who was influencing whom between Moselle and Memel. – However, it seemed to work. The Russians were doing nothing, puzzled by the contradicting signals they were receiving. And the COMECON nations didn’t know who was to blame.

Yeah, was leadership necessary to run a nation? In the case of the Heymshtot, neither the Linksbundists nor Frum Leitelech were displaying any leadership worth mentioning. And the Heymshtot wasn’t doing badly. Because the citizens were doing what citizens were supposed to do: attemding to their affairs. One had always thought the Germans were fond of strong leadership. But perhaps they were just like everybody else.

Zissa, his secretary, had prepared a dossier for him. Yes, indeed, the Kaiserreich, after Bismarck‘s time, had appeared strong – to outsiders. To those inside, it had been a chaotic system, a rudderless juggernaut. That hadn’t kept the German economy from beating Britain and closing up to the US. Even in the Great War, there had been no strong leadership, but a decentralised killing system that had munched away at the enemies. Interesting…
 

rast

What thing I am I do not know. I wander secluded, burdened by my mind.
(Rig Veda)

Who had written this dossier? Zissa had added a paperclipped slip: Heinz Egon Friedländer. Dembitzer knew the man. He was considered the rising star of the Bialystok University’s history faculty. One of those Germany-born wisenheimers who were having issues with using Yiddish as scholarly language. But as a historian, he was acclaimed as groundbreaking researcher.

Zissa had added another name: Martin van Creveld. That was the student who had brought along the dossier. He was waiting in Zissa’s room for carrying back to his master. Unpublished material, lend for personal use only… Dembitzer was impressed. Zissa seemed to be quite acquainted with academic structures. Or was it just the reputation of the Seichl?

Dembitzer had the student come in. A young lad in his freshman year, not much expertise to be expected here. Okay, dossier back in trust. Many thanks and kind regards to the professor. – Dembitzer reclined in his chair. Yeah, Germany, the rudderless tanker… Was it really true? Well, Friedländer should know. His book on Wilhelm II had been a bestseller – not only in Germany.

Zissa inserted her head into the door crack. “You should hire the lad, Josef. He’s bright. Erelong, he will be better than Friedländer. Believe me.”
 

rast

Ice-cream is exquisite – what a pity it isn’t illegal.
(Voltaire)

The estate of Tom Keller, the wheat baron, looked unobtrusive – compared to many rural mansions in the South of the US, but technically it was abreast with everything one could find up north nowadays. If the great man had wanted, there might have been a swimming pool, a private airfield, and whatever else one could dream up. Yet, Tom Keller didn’t want. And his word was the law.

Well, at least he had kept his promise: Matthew, the second eldest son, had been given a farm of his own. It was located near Camargo, in the state of Chihuahua, far enough away to be out of sight. Matthew had married a local girl, daughter of another major farmer. As far as the Kellers were concerned, it was a matter of out of sight, out of mind, which was perhaps a good thing, because Matthew had grown a heavy drinker.

The crown prince, Tom Junior, however, was still living here at Los Alamitos. That was his fate; the heir presumptive had to stay at home. On the surface, everything was fine. He was married, had four kids – Tom III, Clara, Pete and Julia. But at heart, he was dissatisfied. He wanted utter luxury and unrestrained sex – not with Jimena, his fat wife, but with lush and lecherous girls.

However, apart from occasional visits to the whore houses in Torreón, his wet dreams went unrealised. But now, Tom Senior had announced he would send Tom Junior to the US, to Illinois, to buy machinery. The John Deere factory was located at Moline, about one hundred miles west of Chicago. One could see it working inside Tom Junior. It was the opportunity. Chicago, the hotbed of sin…

Moses, Abe and Wally were observing it with mischievousness. The old men, technically retired, but de facto still working the fields for the Kellers, were intensely familiar with their employers. Would Tom Junior come back? Or would he go to pot? Money was not a problem. The Kellers were fabulously rich. Buying a whole troop of eager sluts would be possible for the lad. And there were other perils in Chicago for a naïve country lad…
 

rast

Energy cannot be created or destroyed, it can only be changed from one form to another.
(Albert von Einstein)

Assembly of the Phönix had begun. Media interest was mediocre. The widget was unmanned – and whatever might happen to it, the peril – or rather the chance – of an outright catastrophe killing human beings was nil. The science editors were, of course, very keen; that fascination, however, did only show almost at the end of some upscale newspapers and specialist magazines. The headlines were taken by other events.

Helga von Tschirschwitz could live with it, but Professor Fuchs seemed to be somewhat disappointed. It was his brainchild after all. He had had some interviews with said science editors – which had gone unpublished so far, although he was the world’s leading expert in that matter. Well, it appeared he was the world’s only expert, which was perhaps part of his problem…

Work in space was progressing on schedule. Von Reventlow wasn’t reporting any difficulties. One just had to wait.
 

rast

The journey is essential to the dream.
(Francis of Assisi)

The nyemetski vessel was in space again. They were about to stage an experiment with a fusion drive craft. Russia had nothing of that kind – although one had been the first to field fusion bombs. But it had been the Nyemtsi who had built the Weizsäcker Suns. That had provided them ample experience – while Russia had hoisted useless mirrors into orbit. And now, one was lagging hopelessly behind. Mikhail Tikhonravov had interviewed Andrei Sakharov; on paper, such a little sun was no big affair. The challenge was to construct the real thing.

It had to happen in space. The Chinese doomsday bomb had taught not to do it on Earth. The Nyemtsi had done it with frail chemical rockets; an enormous accomplishment. Today, with NPP ships becoming available, it should be much easier. – Would Sakharov be willing to shoulder such an approach? – Yes, why not; it was, after all, a peaceful application of nuclear power. One was, beyond all doubt, years behind the Nyemtsi, but it was nevertheless worth the while.

Convincing the men in the Kremlin hadn’t been difficult. They were desperately looking for ways to shine. Imitating the Nyemtsi didn’t necessarily promise instant glamour, but apparently the leading Rodinyadniki were ready to clutch at every straw. – He had already detached a task force of young scientists to assist Sakharov. Gathering additional knowledge never was a mistake. And who knew? Perhaps the goose would lay golden eggs…
 

rast

If the future and the past really exist, where are they?
(Saint Augustine)

A visit to the reactor was quite a journey. Mondstadt’s habitation modules were located at the northern edge of Meton E; the reactor at the south-eastern rim of Meton D. That meant a trip of 126 kilometres. In days to come, there was going to be a monorail link; right now, one had to ride in the Mondwagen, a six-wheel-drive all-terrain vehicle. The widget was reliable, but slow. It took fourteen hours to travel from the station to the power plant.

The reactor was, of course, remote controlled. And it was, by and large, maintenance-free – except for the new fuel rods that had to be added periodically. It was a graphite-moderated gas-cooled AEG 35LG. Its elder brothers had been used to breed steropium for the armed forces. Siemens-Schuckert thermionic converters were producing the power required for Mondstadt.

Oberleutnant Werner Ostholt and Leutnant zur See Bernd Lütgenmeyer were riding along in the Mondwagen. The batteries were sufficient for one way. Arrived at the reactor, one would have to charge them – which was going to take another twenty-four hours. Adding the fuel rods would only take one hour. Okay, being military men, the two were thoroughly used to such procedures. Hurry up and wait; what else?

Traversing Meton was dull. You just drove ahead, parallel to the power line. Neither Sun nor Earth were up at the moment, but the blue-and-white marble should rise within the next hour. The line had been laid avoiding all craters en route. Hence, not falling asleep was the most serious challenge. Lütgenmeyer was at the helm; Ostholt was resting beside him. The coach didn’t have a toilet – nor was there one at the reactor; one was on nappies, super...

Had it really been necessary to place the reactor that far away? There had been notions of a possible attack on Mondstadt… By the Russians, of course. Who else? Well, one had the catapult and would be able to fight back. But if the reactor was taken out, one would have two to three more days, until the batteries were down. So what? Nothing gained… But tell that to the bureaucrats at home. Safety margin! Although there would be no fallout. And not much of a fire, for lack of oxygen…

“There she is!” said Lütgenmeyer, pointing ahead. Ostholt craned his neck in the spacesuit. Yeah, Earthrise had begun.
 

rast

To succeed in the world it is not enough to be stupid, you also must be well-mannered.
(Voltaire)

Prerow wasn’t that bad. The facilities were all new. There were voices deploring that the old stuff had been razed, but that was, of course, the usual lamentation of the technophobes. There still were more than enough old – and decayed – houses all along the littoral. And this site surely would become a monument in its own right; the place where future pupils would be shown how Germany had conquered space.

Well, and one could meet interesting people here. There was that old general, hero of three wars, who had become the intellectual pioneer of armed conflict beyond Earth. And that poor naval captain, who had been tasked to plan the Jupiter colony. Both were showing great interest in the little sun concept – albeit for different reasons. Klaus Fuchs had promised them to develop separate conceptions for their individual purposes.

Construction of the Phönix didn’t seem to pose any major problems. Working with and from the Feuerdrache obviously made the difference. There hadn’t been any requests for his help yet. It was almost disconcerting. Should it be that easy? Or was the worst yet to come?
 

rast

You are only entitled to the action, never to its fruits.
(Bhagavad Gita)

The inauguration of the Tata steel plant had been an egregious binge. Holenarasipur Govindrao Srinivasa Murthy was still suffering from the aftereffects. What a bender! TISCO had dished up without limits. Remarkable scenes had unfolded. That the workers should get as drunk as anyway possible could not count as a surprise, but the command personnel and the scientists weren’t any better.

And the Muslims! Okay, some were really shunting alcohol, but most wouldn’t. Piss-drunk followers of Mohammed were a true scourge – and a threat for public morals. Fair enough, it was over – except perhaps for certain events in nine months time… The steel plant was now gearing up for producing Sheshanaga’s pusher plate. One thought it was going to take a fortnight until everything was ready.

That was exceptionally good. TISCO – the Tata Iron and Steel Company – had done a marvellous job. One was definitely ahead of schedule. Yeah, it seemed one had got the hang of the quality problems and work ethics at long last. Staar Udaan Sangh was on the point of beating the Ottomans and the Americans. – True, one had staged such stunts already with the single Bhaee aircraft and the Mā'usa glider. Well, the gods seemed to favour Bhaarat – and SUS in particular…
 

rast

Indeed I have always been of the opinion that hard work is simply the refuge of people who have nothing to do.
(Oscar Wilde)

The Phönix had neither been designed for atmospheric flight nor for carrying a crew. Rumour had I that the RRA engineers had used a Matador wooden toy set when developing the plans. The reactor unit was up front; unshielded and spread out. It was a pressurised water type as used in last-generation hunter-killer submarines, optimised for high power output. Next in line came the field generators, the hauling generator first, followed by the impact shield generator. The fusion trigger pack came last.

Johann von Reventlow had studied the plans in detail – and had had Haber and Heltzel brief him on all aspects of construction. Remote control was going to be the critical issue. Presumably, it would work near Earth and Luna. But what would happen once the Phönix left the vicinity? Well, the principle would be proven nevertheless. The boffins had calculated that the reactor should be good for a journey of approximately two light years, before the power went out.

In a manned craft, steering wouldn’t be impaired – and the reactor could be serviced. But that would come later, maybe… Von Reventlow understood that RRA had no official commission for the Phönix. It was a by-product of the NPP programme, undertaken on Director Kammler’s initiative. A manned craft would have to be much larger – and was going to be godawful expensive. No way that Kammler should ever be able to pay that from petty cash.

Anyway, construction was proceeding well – as was training with the dinghies. The central beams had already been put together – and the reactor was being readied for transfer. Haber thought it would take another six weeks to complete the job. That was in keeping with the sequence plan. Prerow reported that the Russian ship was currently made ready for launch. Presenting the Feuerdrache as sitting target didn’t please von Reventlow, but it couldn’t be helped. At least, he could keep the dinghies apart from the Feuerdrache. You never knew…
 

Ciryatur

So is the plan for Phönix to just fire it off and let fly out of the solar system in whatever direction it ends up going until it runs out of power?
 

rast

Who waits until circumstances completely favour his undertaking, will never accomplish anything.
(Martin Luther)

Hindustan Aircraft Ltd. of Kolhapur was – by Middle African standards – an enterprise of enormous dimensions. Rudolf Luwele was struggling desperately not to gape in a blatant way. Well, compared to the Indian Federation, Middle Africa was a petty state. 350 million Indians, according to the latest census, that of 1960, were quite a ballpark figure, to which – in sooth – one had to add 180 Mysorees. With 530 million inhabitants, the Indian subcontinent was beating everything – China, the COMECON – and a fortiori Middle Africa with its puny 52 millions.

And Hindustan was producing virtually everything that could take to the air: jet fighters, strategic bombers, passenger aircraft, helicopters, normal hydroplanes – and the Bhaees, the local adaptation of the Dornier Projekt SR jumbos, of which Sikuku Enterprises had bought two. That was the reason why Luwele had come to Kolhapur. The nabob wanted an update – and photographs taken by a trustworthy agent. There had been rumours about production problems.

Okay, there were six Bhaees under construction in this colossal factory hall. Three for SUS, two for Sikuku – and one as reserve. They were far from ready, but the Hindustan staff kept insisting that there were no problems. Yes, there had been initial difficulties, but these had long been overcome. Everything was proceeding as planned. He could see it himself: the Bhaees down on the floor were matching the sequence plan, which had also been transmitted to Sikuku Enterprises.

Yeah, that seemed to be the case. The aircraft engineers Luwele had brought along were nodding grudgingly. They couldn’t find any serious flaws. That was encouraging, although – of course – doubts remained. The Bhaees came incredibly cheap. Could solid quality really be produced for this price? Or would it all turn out a big hoax?
 

rast

By gnawing through a dike, even a rat may drown a nation.
(Edmund Burke)

Hermann Kizwete was poring over his dossiers. The boss had indeed used some of them for his purposes, coaxing the respective officials to do what he wanted. That was not at all what Hermann had had in mind for these villains, but it nonetheless had sent ripples through this criminal community. There was someone who knew! A mighty man whom one couldn’t simply have eliminated. Why did he know? – Well, they weren’t aware of him and his dossiers. Obviously, they were believing that the nabob must have bought the information. It immediately had changed their behaviour. They had turned even more secretive and leery.

The boss, however, still wanted him to find dark spots in Seppel Mobutu’s career. For whatever reasons, he seemed to be very wary of Mobutu. But Hermann couldn’t detect anything – beyond the normal foibles that were widely accepted in society. Having a mistress – or two – didn’t count as a breach; it rather was seen as an affirmation of virility. Not even his wife, Mariechen, seemed to mind. As long as she was free to spend his money for tack of all sorts, she would let him hump any bimbo with a heartbeat, it appeared. Yeah, she knew what was going on. Hermann had the recording of a drunken prattle between Mariechen and Emil Muramba’s wife Lieselotte.

Oh, Mobutu was doing a lot. Yet, nothing of it was criminal. He was acting like politicians of all parties and in all countries were acting when they were aiming for political leadership. And the SDPMA folks seemed to support him in this. They were glad to have an energetic successor for the ailing Muramba. – Hermann had eavesdropped on numerous private conversations of Mobutu, even on sloshed bragging after the act. Nothing suggested that the man intended a coup d’état. He was an ordinary party politician of the highly aspiring kind, a true careerist. But that was neither illegal nor illegitimate…
 

rast

There are so many worlds and I have not yet conquered even one.
(Alexander the Great)

Indrik Zver had landed alongside Lunoseló. It didn’t dominate Crater Klaproth, which had a diameter of forty kilometres and high walls, but it was towering over the colony. Enhancement would start the day after tomorrow. Right now, the resident kosmonauts and the construction team were fine-tuning procedures. For the flying section of the ship crew it meant gridlock. The engineering section was going to support construction; they were sitting in the briefings. The flyers would have to wait until the hangars had been cleared of supplies.

Polkovnik Ivan Drubchev was uneasy. The dinghies had been altered to carry two missiles each, but as long as they were clogged up that didn’t matter at all. Yes, certainly, emergency launch was possible – if one was ready to untimely terminate enhancement of the colony. The nyemetski vessel was engaged in high Earth orbit, where they were assembling their fusion craft. That meant as long as the men in the Kremlin didn’t commit a serious blunder, everything might go well.

Once the hangars had been stripped bare, one could start dinghy training. Drubchev thought that firing missiles on the far side should go unnoticed by the Nyemtsi of Mondstadt. If one targeted the centre of Crater Zeeman, nobody ought to detect the small impacts caused by the missiles. And if… Well, knowing that Indrik Zver had teeth might cause the Nyemtsi to refrain from attacking it. It was the old game: secret weapons didn’t deter anybody. Surprising the enemy was good and dandy, but a warned enemy might forgo aggression.

On the other hand, once the Nyemtsi knew Indrik Zver was armed, they might devise effective methods to deal with it. His opposite number, Reventlow, was a former submarine captain, had commanded one of those dreadful hunter-killer subs. He should be versatile in stealthily attacking other craft. Drubchev was an air force man; he had experience in aerial combat. That qualified him – hopefully – for fielding and leading the armed dinghies, while Reventlow should be quite apt in employing the armed Feuerdrache.
 
Last edited:

rast

It’s not enough that you believe what you see. You must also understand what you see.
(Leonardo da Vinci)

If Nippon was capable of fielding intercontinental ballistic missiles, it must also be able shoot men into space. Tanaka Kakuei had been propagating this idea since many months – to no avail. The men currently ruling in Tokyo feared Chinese interference. It was known that Prime Minister Deng had been toying with the conception of manned spaceflight. Because the Great Qing’s military was relying on Japanese rockets – and had not yet succeeded in copying them, it was obvious what would happen – once Nippon launched a space programme.

Tanaka had discussed the situation with his Korean business partners. Yes, it was a delicate situation indeed. Unfortunately, the chaebōl were not in a position to offer help. One had no members specialising in spaceflight. And now, with NPP predominant, investing in old-style rocketry didn’t appear to be a good idea. But why didn’t the revered Tanaka San start an initiative for a Japanese NPP ship? One had the knowledge and the technology to assist in this matter. In fact, one might pull such a venture through on one’s own – if Tanaka San was ready to provide the political backing.

That was an interesting proposal – but one packed with domestic dynamite. If one could make it look like a Japanese venture, it might fly nevertheless. He would have to talk to some associated zaibatsu heads. Cooperation with the chaebōl was okay – as long as a Japanese tag was sticking on the finished product. The chaebōl were operating successfully all around the world – except in Nippon proper. And the Japanese public was successfully blocking out this fact. Denial of reality had, however, never kept the nation from making progress; it only complicated reception…
 

rast

Destiny may ride with us today, but there is no reason for it to interfere with lunch.
(Peter the Great)

Travelling between Dortmund and Berlin wasn’t that bad. You had a 1st class cabin – or a room in a sleeping coach – and full service. And in Berlin, you were lodged in the Kaiserhof at the Wilhelmplatz, just opposite the Imperial Chancellery. That was quite a luxury. Egon Schagalla had come to like it. The industry – Krupp, Mannesmann, Haniel, Klönne, Thyssen, Stinnes – were paying for it. For them, it was just petty money.

Yeah, they had an interest to have the matter resolved. Hence, they were sponsoring the Ruhr Council’s journeys to the capital. Well, negotiations were progressing – albeit slowly. It was a complicated process to reform Prussia – without breaking it apart. And the Ruhr Council wasn’t the only council to advance their suggestions. One thing was evident: Prussia was going to become much more democratic – and decentralised.

The famous – okay, notorious for some – Prussian civil service would have to become much less powerful. And regional self-administration would become the rule. After all, the communities had been granted self-administration already in 1808. It was about time to generalise it. – And the matter of the police was still open as well. Egon’s Dortmund Militia wouldn’t survive. A pity… But the new Prussian police would look much different from the old force.

Now, there was no need to hurry. The economy was booming. People were earning money. – Egon thought this was the most bizarre crisis imaginable. But several more trips to Berlin were okay...
 

rast

Because they are stupid, that’s why. That’s why everybody does everything.
(Homer)

Okay, the first attempt at the pusher plate had only produced junk. Currently, the US Steel folks were busy cutting the rubbish up – and preparing the second run. It wasn’t really a problem. The scrap could be put to good use again. And the time schedule was only a tentative affair. The US was not participating in the – or any – space race. The Senate just had made that point clear.

Hercules was a genuine effort, it had nothing to do with keeping up with the Joneses, Senator John S. Wold of Wyoming, the first cabinet senator of the department of transportation, had stressed. That was complete bullshit, thought Harvey Allen, but when the legislators wanted it to be seen that way, one wouldn’t contradict. Let them proclaim fairy tales; it didn’t matter – as long as the money kept arriving.

Yeah, there was a battle raging in Washington. Those contra Hercules were blowing the bugles and gathering for attack. Going into space was horseplay – resources had to be used at home. As long as Canada and Caribbean lay desolate, spending money for space things was wilful waste. – But nobody wanted to colonise space, Senator Wold had countered. One was simply exploring a new technology. The general development of science and technology was running that way.

The US couldn’t stay off – it was mandatory to gain knowledge. Hercules was a minimum expenditure programme. Neither Moon nor Mars would be colonised. – Allen didn’t think it was a wise strategy to scale down. It would only encourage the enemies. But actually, Wold seemed to have stopped the assault. – Because the media were supporting him – for the moment. The US must not allow to be outstripped by aliens. Sending colonists to Cuba didn’t bring any progress. Hence, the quality journos were siding with Hercules.
 

rast

Steam seems to have killed all gratitude in the hearts of sailors.
(Jules Verne)

The naval forces had simply left – and thus the blockade of the British Isles had ended. It had only taken a few days, until scavenger bands had shown up again. What did this lot think they could find? Yeah, it was true; Britain once had been a country where fabulously rich people had lived. There still must lie fortunes – jewellery, gold, silver, art treasures – around, somewhere beneath all the debris.

Professor Sigbert Ramsauer didn’t mind the looters. They could only add new varieties to the pool. Well, and carry the pest to their countries of origin… That was, first of all, a matter for the respective governments to deal with. One still had found no antidote for RV. But cordoning off might do. – Or preventing the marauders from putting to sea…

The near future might become interesting indeed. The Isle of Sheppey was still guarded by the military. So, there was no immediate reason to worry. And climes like Iceland or the Faeroe Islands were no ideal environment for the spread of the disease. But once Norway or Denmark was afflicted, the situation quickly might require his expertise. Hence, he should prepare for quick response…
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top
Top