A Long Time Until Now (60 page)

CHAPTER 36

The tub was a useful trade tool, especially in winter. The Romans wouldn’t share theirs with lesser barbarians. The next day, with Sean Elliott’s consent, the Urushu took a turn. They were familiar enough with pools of water, and Caswell reported they dammed sections of the river to create plunges for summer. To have that water inside and hot, however, raised relations to an entirely new level. They soaked and sang and shouted.

“I assume that’s positive,” Sean said.

Oglesby said, “Yes, they love it. They’re thanking us, and the future people, and the spirits.”

It certainly sounded joyous.

“While part of me wants to exploit it for all the labor we can get, another part wants to be charitable, and of course, we’re using Cryder’s vehicle.”

Doc said, “Yeah, but they’re using a lot of our resources, too. I offered it free to people with sore joints. I also warned that it would hurt pregnant women.”

That was decent. And pragmatically speaking, he said, “Well, if they choose to gift us, we’ll make sure our future friends get a share. Either way it helps us be a focal center, which means this will be a town, given time.”

“It pretty much is now,” Oglesby said. “There’s another group of pilgrims supposed to arrive today.”

That was interesting. He couldn’t keep track of everyone anymore. He made a note to talk to Spencer and Alexander about that. It was important not to have strays in the COB.

“Thank them for visiting. Show them the way out.”

“As before, hooah, sir.”

Having friends was becoming necessary. Spencer was project manager and first sergeant. Barker was senior craftsman. Alexander ran increasing amounts of admin, with all the visitors. Caswell supervised three kitchen help. Ortiz was in charge of animals and veterinary work. Doc worked full time on everyone’s ailments. Oglesby had to run around translating. Trinidad watched everyone and drew up threat warnings, cultural analyses, resource needs and interactions, which Alexander compiled for him, with an index. That left Dalton to be full-time security, hunter in chief, roving badass and general backup. They’d become management by default.

The Urushu were firm allies, appreciating all the knowledge and technology, and happy to share their own wisdom of plants, animals, minerals and utilities. They kept salted and smoked hides coming for tent covers, hut linings and bedding. The Gadorth provided semi-skilled labor in fence construction, weeding and hoeing, and could make clay artifacts that were of limited use without a nonporous glaze. Still it helped to have jars to hold dry goods. The Romans offered some useful skills that were tweaks of the basics, but much improved.

With hot water and additional recharging power from the Cogi, they were advancing quickly.

“Sergeant Spencer, what do you place our tech level at now?”

“That depends. We don’t have a powered forge hammer or powered lathe. We’re still working on textiles. Lodging and water supply is around thirteen hundred or so. The tools are about the same era, for a remote area, not a city.”

“That’s a long way from the Old Stone Age. That’s what I wanted. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sir. We’re doing it, but I wish it were further along.”

“We’ll get there.”

This winter they’d build that ice storage, and just maybe the Cogi could provide cooling power for the mass. That would improve food storage either way. Next year, it was probably time to build a satellite compound the other groups could use. That would provide secondary defense for them, but keep their increasing numbers separate from here.

When time and circumstances permitted, he needed to find out if the Cogi would support that effort with more energy. They were cagey about their supplies, and he didn’t blame them, since he was too with earlier groups. They might have resources if asked, though, that they wouldn’t blanket offer. It was also possible they had stuff the soldiers hadn’t thought about yet.

Eventually there would be another generation here, and then they’d need a political process. He wasn’ t sure that was something he liked. It did simplify things to have everyone under military discipline, but he couldn’t maintain that indefinitely, and some of them were already looking for local wives. Oglesby, especially, got to meet a lot of them, as did Doc. Both were obviously attracted to the younger Urushu women, and flirting heavily.

If he was correct, Caswell was keeping an eye on Arnet. He being an outsider, but with modern sanitation, might clinch that deal.

The captain was dealing with long-term thoughts, as he should. It was Martin Spencer’s job to run what was here. That included more resources for current needs.

He walked over to the Cogi vehicle. It was interesting how they hung around it, like teenagers with a TV. Although, given how it worked as tent, power supply, and resource center, it wasn’t really more remarkable than Gina hanging out at Number Nine. It was just that they both did, and didn’t seem to have a lot of involvement in much else. Now that they had better sources of food and a hot tub, they seemed content to chill and let others work. They were both reclined in chairs in the shade, visors on, but obviously awake. As he approached, they raised the darkened lenses and looked at him.

“Cryder, you said we could possibly use your vehicle for a salt run into the hills?”

“Wooz.”

“When can we do that?”

He shrugged. “Never.”

“‘Never’?”

“Sorry. When ever. Langage drft.”

Yes, there had been a slight emphasis before the N. Damn, their English had gotten sloppy by comparison. He supposed the Americans’ was overly formal and wordy.

“Gotcha.”

“Wanna do now? Weather nice, plenny time.”

“Let me confirm with the captain.”

Elliott was outside the fence. Rather than shout, he pulled out his phone.

“Sir, it’s Spencer. Cryder says we can make a salt run today. I’m free. I’d want a couple of the help. Urushu or Neolith.”

“Sure, if we can get that done, great. Do you need shovels?”

“Cryder, do we?” He looked over.

“Got tools. Should be good. Can sit four inclusive.”

“We’re good, sir.”

“Do it, then. I’ll have Gina arrange to cover your shift.”

“Roger.”

He turned to Cryder. “Let me grab two people to help and we can go.”

“Wooz.”

He didn’t recognize the Neolith volunteer, but the Urushu was Ki!cla. He was short by their standards, barely six foot two. He was probably seventeen and and very eager to help the “Ahmerkin.”

“We will ride spirit beast,” he said, indicating the future vehicle. His Urushu was limited, but he could make himself understood.

Ki!cla jumped and clapped hands in glee.

He thumbed his phone for the Gadorth translation and said, “Atop hut-horse.” His pronunciation probably sucked, but Zikom, which was as close as he could get to the name, seemed rather sobered in comparison. He nodded, though, and followed.

Cryder pressed a button that folded up the shower stall and disconnected the tub hoses. The vehicle hummed steadily and softly, and they walked alongside as he maneuvered along the south track, between the bathhouse, smoker, Urushu lodge on one side and the kitchen, work area and Oglesby and Dalton’s lodge. Arnet remained in a chair in their area, wearing his coverall and goggles. He seemed aware, but didn’t react much.

Once outside the gate, Cryder did something that opened it up like a Jeep, with four seats. Given the puffy clouds and light breeze, that was just fine with him.

It took some coaxing to get them into the passenger side, and he climbed in behind Cryder, so they each could keep control if the Stone Agers freaked out.

The Stone Agers twitched and clutched at the sides as it started off, but settled down as they rolled. At least it felt like rolling. They were about as high off the ground as a HMMWV, but smoother over the terrain.

“Where?” Cryder asked without looking over.

“South and east, toward that ridge.” He pointed to where it was supposed to be, and hoped they could either use some kind of sensor or eyeball it as they got closer.

“Roj. What range on your phone?”

“A hundred meters or so, here.”

“Zatall?”

“We don’t have an actual cell tower, we’re using a network through one of the computers.”

“Shit. Ll fix that. Wooz.” He spoke into his own mic. “Arnet . . . warra setup tower recep commo call check band w Elyot.”

“Wooz, do.”

“Okay, we set you on ours, LOS range unless aerial fly.”

“You have a drone antenna?”

“Yeh.”

“Cool. Duration?”

“Balloon. Several weeks.”

“Damn. After that?”

“Bip antenna.”

“Bip?”

“Build in place.”

“From sections?”

“Carbon in, nanotube out.”

“Oh, printed.”

“Solid, but yes.”

The two primitives wouldn’t have understood the discussion even if they knew the language. They watched the conversation and watched the terrain, but took no part. They did smile when he made eye contact. They hung on tightly.

“Did you say LOS?”

“Yeh. Drone approx two fifty kilmtr. Base antenna approx fifty.”

“Goddamn, that’s great, if you can carry our bandwidth.” Just how much tactical footprint did these two guys have?

Cryder snorted. “Course.”

“Well, I assume you can, but I don’t know what frequency it is or how it’s transmitted. Not my field.”

“Nod.”

He’d actually said “Nod” rather than doing it. He still didn’t make eye contact. Very aloof.

They were moving at a good ten miles per hour, he figured. It would only take about an hour to get there this time, unlike walking. They rolled smoothly up and down the ridges and dips, displacing growth with a faint crunch under the track.

Martin asked, “How much can we load aboard?”

“Gorra empty tub, holds two unnerd liter.”

“That should last a while. Great.”

“Nod, we use some for wa’er and food.”

“Yes, I can understand water treatment. We use it for food, preservation of food and hides, might use some to develop ceramic glazes, but we don’t know quite how.”

“Can show.”

“You know how to do ceramics?”

“No, got files.”

“Information?”

“Yeh, for field critcalties.”

“Damn. We’re going off our own knowledge.”

“Wooz. Done well. No files?”

“Oh, we have lots of files and books on all these subjects, but not with us.”

“Ah.”

Yeah. What he wouldn’t give for thirty minutes on Wikipedia, copy/paste and Gina’s laptops.

He spotted one of the outcroppings, pale under an overhang.

“Over there,” he said. “See the salt lines?” They were white with tinges of pink and gray. Actual rock salt, and the ground below it was bereft of green from salt poisoning.

“Yeh, good stuff. We can process, too.”

“Refine it?”

“Yup.”

“That would be fantastic.” They could have sodium chloride, calcium salts, potassium . . . he could probably work up a reasonable chemical industry.

“Reglar trips then, have primtives mine fr us.”

“If they’re willing, yes. We’d have plenty to trade.”

“Them or you. We do tech end.”

Yes, that was a negotiating point he held. Spencer decided to drop that line for now.

“We’re here.”

“Yup. Shovel things here.” Cryder reached back, grabbed two tool things with protrusions, twisted and pulled until they turned into very efficient looking shovels.

Zikom and Ki!cla had enough practice with shovels to go straight at it, digging away at the dirt over the vein, scraping at it, piling it up.

Cryder twisted another tool into something like a coal shovel.

“Yours,” he said.

Spencer was rather irritated. The man intended to sit there while they did the work. On the other hand, he was trading transport and technology, and he had to protect his own vehicle.

He wondered if the Gadorth and Urushu felt this way about him and the other Americans.

Cryder sat back with his goggles and some kind of control glove and played whatever game he had cued up.

The Stone Agers dug, he shoveled, the bin was easy to reach and had an agitator built in so everything settled down as he loaded. He’d toss in a shovel load, the bin would shake for a few moments, and it seemed to detect gaps and continue until they compacted. It only took an hour to get a full load of coarse salt, white with hints of gray and pink.