The Plains of Pluto - Chapter 5

Western Coast of Africa

Valdar stood on the beach surrounded by his men, some of whom were still unloading from the longboats pulled up in the sand. The midwinter ocean breeze was biting and cold, and he looked forward to the men getting the temporary shelters built to get in from the chill.

Around him were some of his captains, but also engineers and architects from home, legionnaires for security, and even a collection of men from Chief Ekoko’s tribe.

This was the spot his scouts had picked for their first new port since the war with the easterners began, and the excitement level was high.

“This is an excellent find,” he began, as the last of his men joined him. “I was assured I would be impressed, and so I am.”

The peninsula’s curve created a perfect natural breakwater, protecting ships from both the strong ocean currents while still giving them access to the gulf to the north.

“It’s an excellent location, Admiral,” Captain Egil said. “With us here and the Port of Vikhavn to the north, it gives us control of the entire bay. Any ships coming around the hump of Africa and transitioning down to its length will have to deal with us, one way or another.”

“The beach is too exposed,” the lead engineer said. “We’d need fortifications running the entire length and on the Atlantic side, and not just at the harbor mouth like Vikhavn. Any enemy force could land on the ocean side and march straight across.”

“How many forts would we need?”

“Five, at a minimum. Two on either side of the port, one at the tip of the peninsula, and two more on the Atlantic side. It would be an enormous undertaking.”

Okan, one of the sub-chieftains Ekoko had sent, pointed across the gulf to the distant shore of the mainland.

“Those waters are too rough for your ships,” he said in careful Latin, the trade language of the Empire, that his people had begun to pick up. “It is good for fishing. The land here is very rich, better than at home. Good for growing.”

The man wasn’t wrong. Several rivers flowed into the gulf from here creating a lush delta that, although brown from the winter air, would be green and fertile in the summers.

Others thought so too. Their survey told him there was a very small village in the area. A local tribe, probably fishermen.

“They’ll have to be relocated,” Captain Fabius said quietly, following Valdar’s gaze.

“It is as it will have to be. A lot of our manpower is coming from Ekoko’s tribe, and our security, and they want to expand and become something more than a handful of affiliated villages. Could we judge them, after we’ve done much the same? They will provide us with additional defenses, especially if we can convince them to spread south of the peninsula as well, controlling the entire mainland and giving us this protrusion for our port and maintenance. In return, they are far enough from home that they will rely on us to keep them supplied and in contact with their people. It will bring us back together.”

“The engineers are not wrong, though. This is not as defensible of a position as I’d like,” Egil said. “A good location strategically, but a poor one tactically.”

“The range of our forts and the new shells will keep most of the enemy at bay,” Valdar said. “If positioned correctly, they will have overlapping fire that will make it hard for anyone to land, although I think we will end up with three forts on the Atlantic side, and not two.”

“A lot of material,” Fabius said.

“And the supply lines will be stretched thin,” the engineer added, having been listening to them. “It will take time to build.”

“Then we shouldn’t delay. Begin what surveys you need and let’s work out a detailed plan for where each fort should go and the port facilities. I want this started by the end of the week, using what supplies we brought with us.”

“We’ll need to construct temporary docks first, although with the slope of this beach I’d like to make it something more durable and permanent once we’ve made some inroads.”

“The permanent facilities can come later,” Valdar said. “Once we’ve established a proper beachhead. How long for the temporary structures?”

“Three weeks, maybe four. We brought enough timber and iron for that much at least. The permanent structures...” The engineer shrugged. “That depends on how quickly we can establish local quarries and sawmills.”

“We’ll import most of what we need for now from the works Chief Ekoko is setting up near Port Vikhavn. Eventually his people will probably set up similar works here, but that will be well outside of our time frame and I don’t want to wait. I want these forts to begin going up as soon as possible.”

“I’ll get start on it,” The engineer said, nodding and heading to his men who were still near the longboats to begin giving out commands and see to bringing supplies ashore.

“Weather’s turning, Admiral. Looks like a big one brewing,” Captain Egil said.

Valdar studied the clouds, noting their speed and direction. The weather patterns here were different from home waters. He’d learned on his first voyage around Africa how the winds and currents turned a different direction here than they did north of the continent. He’d talked to the Consul about it once, who’d explained things, most of which he didn’t understand.

The gist of what he got was that this was just the way the world worked this far south. When he said if they went far enough, it would be cold in the summer and hot in the summer, that was where Valdar stopped listening. He could only take so much madness.

“Hurricane, most likely. Early for the season, but not unheard of.”

“Should we pull back to Vikhavn?” Fabius asked.

“No need,” Valdar replied. “See how the wind’s running? It’ll sweep up the gulf, away from us. The peninsula should give us enough protection, especially if we move the ships to the leeward side.”

“Good for proving the harbor’s worth too,” Egil noted. “If it can shelter ships through a hurricane, it can handle anything, although I’m not sure the temporary shelters will survive that kind of storm.”

“We should talk to the engineer then. Maybe it’s time to start the permanent structures now, and not worry about stages. Get with him and see what he thinks and, if necessary, send one of the larger ships back for a round of supply he will need and have the port commander there send word to acquire more, so we don’t have to wait entirely on Ekoko’s people.”

“I’ll take care of it,” the man said.

Yes. This was a hell of a start.

***

Factorium

“These are quite detailed,” Ebro said.

Sorantius nodded. His Hispania college, who’d joined him four years ago and quickly rose up the ranks. He was quick thinking and inventive, but sometimes had the habit of pointing out the obvious.

To say the stack of diagrams and instructions that had arrived earlier that morning via messenger from Germania was, as he said, very detailed. Each page was numbered at the top, to know the order they were to proceed in, and clearly laid out step by step instructions, along with a note that said ‘the next step with guncotton.’

Straightforward. To the point. It was one of the things Sorantius appreciated about the consul. Sorantisus had a chance to go through everything once, and now he had to make sure Ebro was in alignment with him and understood what they needed to do.

“Indeed,” Sorantius replied, flipping through the first few pages. “This is all preparation for getting the guncotton, once it’s created ready for the next step, where I believe it will be turned into true powder, although the Consul has not shared those plans with me yet. It’s laid out in stages. For stage one, the washing, we’re going to need at least six large vats for the initial washing stage, with each able to handle roughly five hundred pounds of guncotton at a time.”

“That’s a lot of fresh water to carry in every day,” Ebro pointed out.

“I know. We’re not going to have to build a whole feed system, since what Hortensius has already to feed the various boilers for the steam engines across the city, but it will have to be greatly expanded. That’s for sure.”

“Okay, so we get the water in and wash the guncotton through the vats and then redirect the water back out again. We’ll also need some kind of mesh to allow the particles, along with the residual acids, and water through and keep the guncotton in. Something we can open and close to soak and then rinse it, maybe.”

“The consul anticipated that, and has a mesh design on page three.”

Ebro flipped and said, “Okay, I spoke too soon. The vats will have to be durable and will still wear away from the acids, even diluted this way.”

“Yes. Wear will become a problem and will require regular maintenance and replacing of the vats. This, however, is the easy step. The next two are much more complicated,” Sorantius said, stacking aside another page, revealing large and detailed diagrams. “We’re going to need Hortensius to create several of these large, steam-driven agitators. These things are massive, especially with the accompanying steam turning system to constantly rotate the inner drum with a housing where we can add soda ash into the mixture to further purify it. And then there’s this one. Another large drum, this one with the added function of both cutting the washed guncotton into a fine pulp, which is then passed into this stamping press, to further reduce it to a fine consistency.”

“Then a last wash through cloth filters,” Ebro said, finishing the last document. “This is a lot of processing for one batch compared to the black powder we are currently producing. Scaling this up will be difficult. The manpower alone…”

“I’m aware, but apparently the effectiveness of this will greatly outpace the current black powder, allowing for new types of gun designs. Or so Hortensius keeps mentioning. This isn’t all, either. It seems pretty clear from where this leaves off that there are more stages for producing the gunpowder, since clearly this pulp itself, while very flammable when dried, is not going to be able to be used in weapons itself.”

“So, we need an increase of water intake, through washing vats, through an agitator, through the stamping press, more water for the final wash. That’s it then, aside from the later stages as you mentioned.”

“No, there’s one more thing. We cannot just take the finished water and dump it back into the river or use it in any other processes, since it will be very acidic and saturated with particles from the washing process. The river runs to Devnum and then out to the sea, and is the primary source of the city’s drinking water. The Consul points out that if the river is filled with these acids and other matter, it will make it deadly to those drinking it, which would certainly have the empress paying us a visit.”

“So do we just store the contaminated water forever?”

“No,” Sorantisu said, turning to the last pages. “This is the process for cleaning the water of these contaminants. We mix the water with lime, which should neutralize the acids and form into calcium salts. It will take time, but the salts will settle to the bottom of the holding tanks along with other suspended solids. Once the calcium salts have settled, the clear water can be drained from the top and put into the river, where it will be further diluted and safe to pass the city and into the sea. As an added benefit, the salts can be repurposed as a component in fertilizer, enhancing its effectiveness and extending our current fertilizer supplies.”

“So more infrastructure.”

“Yes. Sadly, it seems impossible for us to stop the constant expansion with every new process the Consul gives us.”

“Then I will get with Hortensius as soon as he returns from Devnum and begin laying out the new production facilities.”

“Good. Whatever building he erects to put this in, give us extra room, as I’m sure it will be needed for the next stage, and I would like to keep from having to transfer this stuff from building to building as much as possible, considering how flammable it is.”

“I’ll point that out to him.”

“Good man,” Sorantisu said, slapping the Iberian on the shoulder.

***

Eastern Germania

Ky silently thanked the engineers who genetically crafted him and the nanites that built his muscular system the way it did for the thousandth time since coming to this version of the past, as he finished yet another page.

He looked at the dozens of pages of detailed drawings and finely written instructions he’d finished in just the past three hours and could imagine the muscle cramps a non-enhanced person would have experienced writing all of that. Or even the fatigue it would have taken to concentrate on it.

Ky didn’t have to deal with any of that. Although not part of the original programming or interface for a tactical AI, Ky and Sophus had spent years working out ways to hack the motion assist to allow the AI to have direct control over his limbs so that it could create the documents and diagrams directly, without having to dictate to Ky and have Ky write them.

While that method had worked, even with how well Ky and Sophus interfaced and how quickly Ky could write, it did not compare to Ky being able to just hand over motor control to the computer and let it go at full speed.

It helped that the front remained quiet. Ky knew it would not last and it was only a matter of time until they were hit in Greece, but the enemy had not pulled a significant portion of their manpower from the lines facing the Western Allies in Germania, so they were either bringing people in from the east, or they had manpower elsewhere.

Either way, it was taking them time to get everything redirected into Greece for the obvious next stage of the fight.

“Consul,” one of his Lictores said from outside the tent, drawing Ky’s wandering mind and disconnecting Sophus from direct control of his hand.

The bad thing with tents was no doors to knock on, so interruptions were always more direct and abrupt.

“Yes?”

“Captain Yrsa is here to see you.”

“Good, send him in,” Ky said, standing from the seat he had been in for the past three hours.

He stretched, although it was more of an instinctual thing than an actual need to relax his muscles.

“I hope so. I can tell you I don’t like being this far from the sea.”

“I appreciate your sacrifice,” Ky said.

That was one thing he appreciated about Yrsa. He did not stand on deference. Empresses or dock hands were all the same to him.

“So, what was so important that you had people throw me on one of your blasted trains and rush me down here.”

“I have another voyage for you.”

“Really,” Yrsa said, settling onto a stool near the entrance to the tent. “Another trading run? It has been some time since the Empire fattened my purse. That last one to Sarmatia, during the last war, was quite profitable. Helped me build my fleet of ships. I could use another like it.”

“Yes, although this one is different than anything you’ve done before. The scope is much larger, but will be potentially even more profitable, if you’re willing to take the risk.”

Yrsa’s weathered face broke into a grin. “Risk and profit tend to go hand in hand in my experience.”

“I think you should hear what I’m proposing first, before you start planning on how to spend your coin. We need a new source of nitrates for powder production. Our current supplies won’t sustain the war effort much longer. I know of deposits, but reaching them will require a journey no one has attempted before.”

“Where exactly are we talking about?”

“Far to the west, across the ocean, lies an entire continent. It’s half again larger than all the Western Alliance territories and North Africa combined.”

“That’s impossible. Something that large, someone would have found it by now.”

“They haven’t. Until the new navigational tools were introduced eight years ago, there would have been no way to cross that amount of water without getting lost. And since then, everyone’s been a little too preoccupied for this kind of voyage, which is more costly and risky than any private merchant would be able to attempt. The place I am talking about is roughly a two-month journey, with half of that time spent out of sight of any land. That’s why it remains unknown here.”

“What about the easterners? Sailing that far, I imagine I’d be getting close to their homeland. Or is this where they live?”

“No,” Ky said, grabbing a piece of paper and making a rough sketch. “These continents, there are actually two of them, lie only partway to the East. One spans roughly parallel to Europe, the other to Africa, and they are connected by a narrow strip of land between them. They are called the Americas. If you were to somehow transport your ship to the far side of the Americas, you’d find yourself in the Pacific Ocean, which dwarfs the ocean that we know, which my people call the Atlantic.”

“The Greek philosophers always claimed the world was vast. I had no reason to doubt them, as they tended to know what they were talking about, but the numbers were too large to truly comprehend. Seeing it laid out like this ... makes a man feel rather small.”

“What we consider the ‘known world’ is merely a fraction of what exists. But that’s precisely why this venture could be so valuable. These lands are rich in resources we desperately need, resources few here even know exist.”

Ky pulled out a set of rolled maps he had drawn up and spread them across the table. The detailed cartography was unlike anything native-born cartographers could make, showing not just the eastern coastlines of North and South America, but the trade lanes and patterns of trade winds.

“I will provide you with seven ships, fully crewed and laden with supplies, and will fill any of your own ships you wish to take in addition with more supplies. Engineers, craftsmen, farmers, and a contingent of legionaries will accompany you. Your destination lies here, in an area called the Chesapeake Bay. It is a natural harbor system larger than any you have seen, with multiple freshwater rivers feeding into it.”

“Seven ships and all the supplies I can load is a considerable investment. You must be desperate for whatever is in those mountains.”

“We are. Without these resources, our powder production will grind to a halt within eighteen months. The journey there will take roughly two months, following specific routes I will provide. I expect six months at least to get to the mountains needed, and at least two and more likely three more months to begin mining operations, and another two for the first ships laden with nitrate to make the return voyage. That leaves a margin of error of only six months, give or take. Doable, but I would not want to cut the margin any more short, so I plan on giving you every advantage I can.”

“And we will be completely on our own out there?”

“Yes. No reinforcements, no supply lines. You will need to be entirely self-sufficient. The natives are scattered, living in small settlements across the area you are going, both the shoreline and in the mountains which are your ultimate destination, and the land in between. Some farm, others hunt. They are not unified, which presents both opportunities and challenges.”

“So easily conquered.”

“You are not going to have the men for that. In fact, you are going to need more manpower than you can stick on a boat, which means trading with them would be simpler than fighting them. They have never seen steel tools, glass, or even horses. Simple trade goods will seem miraculous to them. Build alliances where you can. The natives know the land, the local plants, the weather patterns, and can provide the manpower you do not have. Their help will be invaluable.”

“So we land, make friends, and march to these mountains then.”

“I would suggest something more systematic. You will need to establish way stations between the port and the mining sites. Small settlements, trading posts, places for defense, since not everyone you encounter will be friendly. Some might grow into proper towns eventually.”

“Which means settlers will follow behind me?”

“I imagine that is true, eventually. Right now, with the war consuming so much manpower, we cannot spare many and there is too much opportunity for those not directly engaged in the war. But once word spreads of opportunities in the new lands...” Ky shrugged. “People will come. For now, focus on building relationships with the native tribes. Many will be willing to settle near your posts for trade access.”

“So, establish a port, make nice with the locals, set up a chain of settlements leading to these mountains, and start mining whatever it is you need so badly.”

“That is the essence of it.”

“I assume these settlements and ports will belong to the Empire? Not some private venture I’ll be setting up?”

“The ports, settlements, and mines will all be Imperial territory,” Ky confirmed. “But there’s considerable profit to be made establishing trade routes between there and Britannia. The land holds vast resources beyond just nitrates, copper, iron, timber, and more in addition to what the natives will trade for. A shrewd merchant could build quite an enterprise.”

“What should I expect from these natives? You said they were simple, without much technology.”

“Stone tools, wooden clubs, spears with stone points. Some use bows. Their warfare is mainly small-scale raiding between villages. Nothing organized enough to threaten a proper fortified position. But again, fighting would be your last result. You will be outnumbered and alone. Even better armed, fighting could end badly for you.”

“And my authority to negotiate?”

“You’ll have full power to make treaties and trade agreements with native tribes, within reason. Take the deals Valdar has been making or the agreements we have made here on the continent as a baseline for how to make decisions. Focus on establishing trade relationships. You won’t be able to secure land rights through fair purchase, as most there are still nomadic and do not think in that way. If they let you set up a town or village, I believe they will honor that as long as you keep your part. The Empire will honor any reasonable agreements you make.”

Yrsa stood, rolling the maps carefully. “I’ll begin assembling the expedition immediately. Should have everything ready to sail within the months, weather permitting.”

“Good. This mission is critical, Yrsa. Without those nitrates, our powder production fails and our ability to wage this war becomes severely compromised.” Ky clasped the merchant’s shoulder. “You’ve done this for us before, and I need you to do it again. If anyone can make this work, it is you.”

“I have never lost a cargo yet.”

“Good man. Send word once your preparations are complete. I’ll have additional maps and instructions prepared by then.”