The Price of Demand (Reintegration Edit 6)

Altman knelt on one knee amid the scattered stones at the scene of the accident, casting a critical eye at where each had ended up through the same pair of goggles he’d used before the accident. He’d adjusted the complex system of levers that switched out lenses to magnify what he saw. He sighed. “I wish we had a proper inspector here to investigate this.”

Waldon Sias snorted from behind him. “There’s lots of things it’d be nice t’have, but for now we just ‘ave to make do.”

“I suppose you’re right. There’s only so much I can do though. I studied the geosciences, not criminal investi— … Interesting.” He leaned in closer for a better look, flicking levers to bring the rock that had caught his attention into better focus.

“What’s interesting?” Sias sounded anything but interested; his voice carried the forced patience of a man who had a thousand other things that needed doing, but who needed answers more.

“These stone bricks. They bear the characteristic marks of stone cutting, just as one would expect, as well as the signs of the fall off the tower, but … Some of these are scratched up on one side, and look here at the pitting on this one.”

Waldon scratched his stubbled cheek. “Sounds t’me like you’re ‘xactly the sort ‘o investigator we need ‘ere. No police Inspector ever caught detail like that that I ever ‘eard of.”

Altman smiled under the goggles, but his face remained serious. “These bricks were pushed; their fall was no accident.”

“Could Claver ‘ave brought ‘em down with him when ‘e fell?”

Altman shook his head. “No, I was here at the time and saw him fall. He didn’t bring them down upon himself. Of that I’m certain.”

“Well ‘hoever did this is obviously keepin’ it quiet, or they’d have confronted us in public. What we need to do is find out what they’re up to, what they want from us. They must want SOMETHING.”

<>

The Price of Demand (Reintegration Edit 5)

<>

Altman and Kaylene entered the medical wing of their house. It was in fact a set of bedrooms, but it was the only place suited for the care of the injured and sick in the small place, so they’d lent the space to the medics they’d brought in.

“Medic Cranford. How’s Claver doing?” Kaylene’s voice was concerned, but betrayed no anxiousness.

The stern, matronly figure looked up from her notes, grey eyes assuringly alert. “He’s in rough shape, but he’ll live. That arm, though … I’ve got the bones set, but that was a right nasty piece of work. Muscles are all torn up. If I can keep infection at bay, he’ll keep the arm. Whether it’ll work right again after, well it’s just too early to say.”

“Can we see him?” Altman’s voice was a bit gruff; he couldn’t help feeling a guilty pang. It’d been many hours since the accident and his only thoughts of it so far had been of how it impacted him and his plans. When had he become so cold?

“Only for a few moments. I ‘ave him on the poppiate. He’ll be out till afternoon tomorrow, if not later. I’ll let ‘im know you came by though; I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

They stopped by Claver’s bedside. He was pale, but his chest rose and fell evenly and deeply. They sat a few minutes. As they left the wing, Altman cast his wife a significant glance. “I hope our luck turns soon.”

She smiled in return and put a hand on his arm. “Apparently, husband, anything can happen.”

<>

The Price of Demand (Reintegration Edit 4)

“Why d’you think Mitchell has it in for us? We pay dear enough for ‘is union’s services. You’d think the man’d be the least bit grateful.”

Altman continued writing while his wife’s question sunk in. He paused, finger held still above the paper he’d been reading, holding his place. He stared off into the distance for a moment before speaking. “Unless he has some personal stake in hindering us.”

Kaylene’s eyes narrowed. “The Conclave?”

He nodded slowly. “Perhaps. They certainly haven’t been happy with me since I settled here instead of working for them.” He’d done his studies at the Conclave’s Academy with the expectation that he, a top student of his year, would move on to work at the organization’s laboratories. That had been his original plan until life offered him another path.

Kaylene’s heart-shaped face hardened into a frown. “And if the Conclave finds out about the electrite we’re hidin’ here, they’ll waste no time tryin’ to take it out right from under us.”

“Chances are that they’ll learn of it eventually, but we can delay that for a very long time, if we play this right.” He set the papers back down on the desk and met her gaze. “For now, we’ve done all we can on our own to protect it; the deposits we know of are all well-disguised with run down, ‘abandoned’ buildings. The work crews don’t get too close to them. Nobody should so much as spare the area a glance.”

Her mouth quirked in a sardonic smile. “With the luck we’ve had here lately, it’s just a matter of time before someone finds it.”

Altman slumped his shoulders and rolled his eyes. “Not you too!” The tired smile playing at his lips kept the words from seeming harsh.

The smile vanished from Kaylene’s face. “You may not believe in luck, husband,” she said with a serious tone, “but you can bet the men do, an’ I wish you’d learn to understand that. If luck is playin’ a part in our lives, it’s bound to run out at some point. An’ even if it’s not involved, they’ll go an’ get spooked about the place if accidents like this keep happenin’.”

Altman held her gaze but said nothing; she was right, and he knew it. 

The Price of Demand (Reintegration Edit 3)

She paused, indignation clouding her features. “There’s people there need work, Altman, he can’t be denyin’ ‘em that.”

Altman sighed, gaze fixed upon the desk top in front of him. “He can, if he can declare the area unsafe, and he doesn’t seem to need much provocation to do it. I expected problems with Mr. Mitchell. It’s the electrite that truly bothers me, though. I sold too much of it. I’ll have to cut down for some months, lest someone begin to wonder where I get it from in such quantities.”

Kaylene smiled at him. “That’ll work out fine. If you sold a bit extra, I’d think we must ‘ave enough to build the road out to the Holdswaine highway?”

Altman nodded with more enthusiasm in his face. “Yes, the road and the market both. If there’s one silver lining to the spreading of the news about this place, it’s that people know there are men working the area, and merchants of all sorts will know that means there’s profit to be had here.”

Her face grew thoughtful. “If we get a crew in to build the road now, the travel and trade it brings in’ll certainly help to lift the men’s spirits, but what if someone spots the electrite deposits? Sellin’ too openly isn’t the only way someone could learn ‘o them, ‘specially with all the people ‘ere now.”

“I know, my love. But that’s where electrite’s scarcity aids us. To the uneducated eye, the signs of its presence are all but invisible, especially with our precautions. It’s a difficult position, but we must work with what we have; if we bring men in to build the village, we risk discovery, but we need the protection of numbers to let us hide in plain sight. We have no choice; we must bring men in to work.”

Kaylene nodded. “And we’ll ‘ave to hope that buildin’ the village is truly what they’re here to do.”

Altman’s expression was grave. “Yes. Yes indeed.”

The Price of Demand (Reintegration Edit 2)

<>

Altman sat at his desk, head in his hands, poring over village development details. He had only just returned from a discouraging trip to Holdswaine when the accident occurred, and the double-blow had him on edge.

“Ridiculous! The whole concept of luck is superstitious nonsense.”

“Now dearest, who said anythin’ about luck?” His wife Kaylene, unnoticed in her entry, sat on the beautiful overstuffed armchair that he kept in the writing room for guests.

He smiled wanly. “The men are afraid something sinister is afoot. Even Waldon is starting to lose his nerve. After the trip to Holdswaine, I could almost start wondering, myself. I got the funds we need, but it cost me more of the electrite samples than I’d have preferred, I’m afraid. And what’s worse, the story of that first accident was the talk of the city.”

“Surely you can’t mean—Mr. Mitchell wouldn’t—”

“Deny us workers because one of the men was kicked by a horse? No, but if you’d seen his face when I talked to him … He’s never liked me, or this village we’re trying to create.”

“Well of course he doesn’t like you. You studied with the Conclave, and then turned your back on ‘em to come out here. You can bet a good part of Mr. Mitchell’s pay comes out of their coffers. Controllin’ information and learning is what the Conclave does; it’s as sure as the sun’ll rise tomorrow that they won’t have forgotten, or forgiven, you.”

The Price of Demand (Reintegration Edit 1)

“Oi, Sias, here we are!”

The tower rose to an imposing fifteen meters. Workmen climbed up and down a solid interior staircase or being raised on crude lifts hoisted by the power of their fellows at the top.

The grizzled foreman stood at the base of the tower, huge hands wrenching a gear that wound a rope, raising several of the men in his team higher to the unfinished portion of the tower’s top level. Youngish eyes, prematurely hardened, kept a hawkish watch over the site.

Waldon Sias turned to the younger workman who’d called out. “I want that southern wall built up by mid-day. You’ll double-time it today, and if I catch you sluggards lazing around you’ll wish you were in the army, I’ll come down on you so hard!”

“Good morning, Sias. Your men are making good progress.” The young man was no woodsman or tracker moving about silently, but was lightly built and tread softly. Maybe twenty one years of age at most, he had come into some money in the recent past and had been eager to put it to use.

“Altman Dolet, a good morning t’yeh as well, sir. Aye. They’ll ‘ave the rest of ‘er up by sunset, you can be sure of that.”

Altman nodded to the older man, and pulled a pair of large leather and brass goggles down over his eyes. He stood still and silent, head canted up to inspect the work.

“I’m glad to hear of it. I’ll need you to begin working on the foundry in three days’ time, and we still have the market—”

Waldon’s eyes snapped from him to the tower’s top, where a too-tall stack of stone blocks were teetering. As the two men below watched, stunned, a workman taking several of the blocks stumbled and fell into the stack. Down, down they all came, landing in a mangled heap not three meters from where they stood. Altman stood stock still, a stricken look on his pale face.

Waldon’s bellow rang out, “Oh— Medic! Man down, north-east tower! MEDIC!”

Uneasy murmuring broke out as workmen rushed to the scene. The fallen man lay in a broken pile, but his chest rose and fell. His arm pumped blood from not one, but three compound fractures.

The foreman stepped back to clear the way for the arriving medics, men and women in long, soft leather robes. The lead medic took one look at him and gestured her assistants forward with a stretcher, then stepped in to help them clear stone blocks from the man. Waldon’s face grew ashen as they worked to free him, and a hand dipped into his pocket.

Waldon pulled a four-leafed clover from his pocket and slowly walked to the blood-spattered pile of bricks. He glanced at Altman; he knew the young scientist didn’t care for silly superstitions, but they’d served Sias well. He carefully placed the clover on the spot and backed away. “Of all the rotten, stinkin’ luck …”

Altman visibly shook himself back into action. “The medics will be here in moments, Sias. I’ll look into the accident if you could assist them when they arrive?”

“As sure as rain I will, Mr. Dolet. A’right men, back to it! And don’t let me catch any ‘o you bein’ as careless as Claver there! If he thinks a rest in the medics’ tent’s gonna save his sorry hide for long, he’s got a long, hard lesson ahead! You, get tha’ …”