Novels2Search

β V.2 (Chapter 39)

It’s said that in America eight billion bricks are used per year to shelter the ever-growing population. A statistic like that is only possible due to the mechanization of the process that started in the eighteen fifties. The first plants built in England, were capable of little more than 25,000 per day. But today, a multi-million-dollar brickyard like the one in Millsap Texas could process ten times that number.

They’d been in the business for over a hundred years in the same location, the only difference was the clay-pit had moved and the small cattle town had developed an avid boating community as previous centuries mine slowly flooded into a wide lake.

Ninety million bricks in a year were only feasible due to the close proximity the plant had to its ideal ingredient. So, it was understandable that the number fell dramatically once the massive pit of clay right outside their backdoor had vanished abruptly, as well as the small cattle town that had surrounded it.

Like the repeat of an origin story, the employees of Acme Brick had trouble getting used to the sudden change. But beyond a few fist fights in the first month, the trouble had mostly blown over.

They had jobs to do after all, and even if market forces change; they had to adapt.

It would be cruel to the word to say; that it was fortunate a small trading post resided a short distance from the newly transported brickyard. And it was coincidental that the outskirts contained a sizable clay deposit.

Like a hammer finding a nail, it didn’t take long for a new pit to form as the trading post began flourishing around its new exporter.

They were limited by the solar panels powering them, but even with less than eight hours of direct sun in a day, they could still produce nearly ten thousand each workday, while still saving enough to keep the lights running all night.

The issue came when the discussion of electrification of the small homes the workmen built was brought up. Of course, Ed Crouse, manager of the plant, was against the idea; his priority was keeping things running so that they could build up enough funds to defend themselves if ever needed.

So far, the brick business was booming in the sweltering dessert, but Ed was afraid to be complacent. He’d already watched the family business nearly collapse once, if not for an angel investor coming in at the last second, the housing crash of ‘08 would have smothered them.

He was looking out for his employee’s best interest, but they still grumbled in their darkened brick abodes each night.

On the eve of their fourth month, as the millionth brick was stacked for transport on the back of a large glossy insect carapace –apparently it was the best method of moving heavy loads across the arid savannah­ –the crew were celebrating.

Ed, while taking the brunt of complaints about the power issue, was still their steadfast leader so he didn’t miss the opportunity to use the event to boost the spirits of the crew. He’d worked a deal with one of the traveling merchants to carry in a large amount of booze and food for the group, so they were packing the sales floor happily chowing and partying into the night.

“Right, I’d really like to thank everyone for making this possible.” Ed proudly exclaimed, holding up the karaoke microphone and scratching at his balding head. “Wouldn’t be possible to hit this milestone again without you guys. I know some of you were here for this facility’s first millionth and now we're at it again. I know things are different but we're handling it because we have each other. We can’t lose sight of that now as we become increasingly dependent on the outside world. We can’t forget who we are, we’re a family.”

“We might be in a different world, but this place is still New Texas!” A voice whooped from the crowd, causing the rest to howl out in agreement.

Indeed, the group had taken to calling the region ‘New Texas’ with little regard to the places actual name. A few even went so far as to call the small Trading port ‘New Dallas’, but arguments quickly spread about instead calling it New Austin— to honor the author— so to compromise they decided to just call it by its true name.

Ed finished his speech once the rabble settled, going on about the need for them to work together with the local merchants to expand their market. It was the typical, executive-at-a-corporate-party-type speech, but it was peppered with the fantastical as he mentioned the construction of large lizard basking pads for the resting transport, and the far-flung kingdoms to the north.

Once finished, he stepped off the small desk and allowed the music to return. It was a loop of the same dozen or so songs. Too few downloaded music anymore, so after being transported, the choices were now limited. They’d kill for a Spotify alternative but that’d take some more time.

As the party wound down, and the fully loaded sled of bricks were on their way across the cooled dessert sands, a small dot sped overhead unseen and unheard by the groups.

The small dot quickly transmitted its data through an array of transmission towers that dotted the distant landscape and within thirty minutes, a group was combing over the photos and identifying the site from a massive database of investments and subsidiaries. They weren’t the first to have been found, once the pilots knew what to look for and had the fuel to search it out it took little time.

Stolen novel; please report.

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The on-call helicopter pilots woke to the call and begrudgingly rose to prep for the early morning flight. It would take a few fuel stops to reach the distant brickyard, so they were particularly careful about their inspections in the chilly morning air.

The first stopover would be around eight hundred miles away to south, a trade partner of Irias, via the vast Cor’ Dulis river, called Yopir-Fan. Apparently, a minister from Yopir-Fan was present at the Irias Gala a few weeks prior, so Mr. Podavani had been able to work a deal to lease a large stretch of land for construction of a remote airfield.

After the incident a month prior with the disappearance of Cpt. Harrigon in the X1, there’d been pressure mounting on social media to expand the ground support for the pilots in the air, so this new airfield was one of the answers.

Yopir-Fan sat on the edge of a vast dessert. According to the scouting flights it stretched about four and a half thousand miles to the south, dwarfing even the Sahara back on earth. It was no understatement that finding the small brickyard, a short throw from an oasis village, had been like finding a needle in a haystack. Only with the help of the handful of high-altitude reconnaissance aircraft could it have ever been possible.

A few hours after it departed, the helicopter landed gracefully beside the steep walled city and a crew quickly scatter about to refuel and inspect a few various components. The presence of fuel in Yopir-Fan was dual-purposed, but primarily it was for the ships that frequented Cor’ Dulis.

Increasingly, their loads were brought-up the long river via diesel power instead of the traditional horse and lead-rope. So, the transport of fuel was imperative to the merchants, and they’d been more than willing to foot the infrastructure costs.

Suddenly plans were being drawn up for narrow fuel tankers capable of navigating the snaking rivers and locks, but that’s a story for another chapter.

Once topped off, the helicopter again spun up its blades— to the amusement of many onlookers— and took off back into the air.

It would be a few hours more before the pilot finally spotted his destination in the distance. He sent a call through the intercom to alert the passengers and slowly began lowering his altitude as he drew nearer.

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Acme Brick was crawling with activity when the helicopter finally began lowering down into the side parking-lot. Many hadn’t ever seen a helicopter land so close, and only a few had ever seen one use the side lot as a landing pad.

Ed Crouse recognized the make and was first to guess its contents.

Stepping down from the short ladder, a handful of unrecognizable faces first appeared from out the helicopter, followed by an older man in a thick camouflage jacket.

Ed stepped forward quickly to meet the man as he glanced around the grounds, “Mr. Guntly, was it?”

Jeff turned to the voice and glanced up and down the man before reaching out his own hand to shake. “That’s right, Edward Crouse?”

“You got me.” Ed laughed awkwardly, shaking the hand and pointing over to a nearby building where they could get out of the morning heat. “Let’s talk inside.”

Nodding, the CSO followed the Brickyard manager into the air-conditioned block of offices on the far side of the mid-sized industrial complex. Tan carpeting met Jeff’s feet as he stepped into the building, after a few dozen steps Ed pulled open a door on the right side of the hallway and motioned the group inside.

“Well, where should we begin?” Ed asked after settling across from Jeff Guntly at the wide meeting-room table.

“We’ve prepared updated terms you can have your legal department look over. They primarily follow the old deal with certain options added for supporting you guys. For instance, we can work deals for your imports and exports, get you hooked into the network, maybe even get some more of these lights going.”

“And what would you want from us?” Ed asked, understanding that the terms were now completely at the whim of whatever Reynolds Holdings wanted at this point. The power structure had shifted, and while it would mean the return of comforts, it would also mean the loss of autonomy.

“Half a percent.” Jeff explained with a nod, confirming Ed’s fear.

With those three words, Ed knew he’d lost control of the company that’d been in his family’s name for over a hundred years. He could only hope this would be the final surprise of his lifetime.

“We’ll have some of our guys install the antennas to get you guys connected, it’ll take some time to run high voltage wiring so for now we can set you up with generators and a supply of diesel.” Jeff explained after retrieving the confirmation from Ed’s lawyer who glazed over the contract he’d presented. “I suppose it can’t hurt, so while I’m here how about another order of two hundred pallets?”

For the first time, Ed cracked a smile as the familiar words came from a different source.

Years ago, when Reynolds Holdings had first stepped forward and shown interest in purchasing the company, LRJ and Mr. Guntly traveled down to Texas to tour the site. At the very end of the tour after a long discussion with Ed, Third’s father agreed to a limited share purchase and to cap off the deal, placed one of the largest brick orders the company had ever received on his way out the door.

Now all these years later, as Jeff made the trip once again in a completely new world, it felt fitting to repeat the peculiar tradition.

And now to cap it off he just needed to get a sudden urgent call that Third was somehow in danger. The last time, when it’d be Jeff and Luis Reynolds Jr. making the trip, it’d be a kidnapping attempt that interrupted the meeting.

The attempt was fortunately thwarted quickly with the help of staff placed at his boarding school, but it had still forced the two to abandon thoughts of barbeque in favor of rushing back to Virginia.

“Don’t suppose you’re doing any barbecuing on site are you?” Jeff cautiously asked after retrieving the stack of paperwork dotted with Ed’s signature.

Again, Ed withheld a laugh as his memories returned. “Well, we can’t well call ourselves Texans if…”

“Sir, you’ve got an urgent transmission from HQ.” A muffled voice spoke through the radio hung at Jeff’s shoulder causing him to jolt in surprise. “Would you mind coming back to the cockpit?”

“On my way.” Jeff spoke as he rose to his feet with a concerned expression. “I’m sorry about that, if you’ll excuse me just a—”

“Of course. Go.” Ed encouraged with a nod, feeling the Deja-vu as it grew to a near sickening level.