War World X Takeover

DeCastro’s coded message had received its reply within twenty minutes. Dickering over his fee, in exchange for those precious coordinates, had taken another hour. By the time the arrangements were finished, DeCastro was tired and hungry. A quick visit to his old establishment showed that it had been converted into a repair shop and he knew better than to try for Harp’s Sergeant. That meant strolling around Docktown for awhile, looking for a safe hostelry.

The town had changed remarkably in the past quarter-year and he had no idea where to search. The old waterfront had been cleaned up, was patrolled by a dismaying number of Harmony beadles, and there were no brawls or drunks on the streets. There were productive shops everywhere he looked. There were new warehouses, busy and well-filled, with an astonishing number of Harmony brethren delivering, buying and dickering, in peaceful equality with the settlers. There was a new building called the Starman’s Inn that was clearly a hotel, with restaurant, currently hosting what appeared to be nothing but local merchants and planet-sided marines.

DeCastro rented a room for the night and got a meal in the restaurant, but found the place too well-lit, quiet and clean to attract the sort of clientele who would be useful to him. For a lawless town, Castell City had become shockingly respectable. He couldn’t understand it.

What the hell has happened here? he wondered, while putting away a good-sized dinner of well-cooked lake fish, tasty vegetables and excellent beer. Perhaps I should go explore in the morning….

One thing he knew for certain; there would be no clash between Docktown and the Church, not the sort that CoDo wanted. Castell and his minions had somehow made a—feh! Harmonious—working in peace with the settlers.

Disgusting!





Brodski put an end to the discussion by getting up and announcing that he had a bar to run. Himself and his bodyguard remembered that they had a ship to unload and departed with Makhno in tow. Van Damm likewise got up and strolled into the main room, ordered a beer at the bar and then—as soon as Himself had gone—slipped into a table in a back corner. After serving the next round of customers, Brodski came over and joined him.

“No fool, that Irishman,” Brodski said quietly. “I do wonder, though, where he gets all his information. The cargoes we’ve been getting from Hell’s-A-Comin’ are, well, surprising.”

“…As if he had access to all the original survey records, constantly updated,” Van Damm agreed. “He must have his own radio and possibly a computer. I have heard things from the other colonies about well-equipped labor organizers there and someone did organize the miners here ten years ago, so Haven is not unknown to them.”

“If so, it’s a guard-with-life secret.” Brodski shrugged. “Let him keep it, then. We’re getting along well enough with what we’ve got here.”

“My friend Heinrick has been recruiting among the landed Fleet-men, and the settlers, who can actually build radios.” Van Damm lifted his glass in appreciation. “It’s amazing what a glass-blower can do, given the right knowledge.”

“I could make a comment about the advantages of ‘Harmony’,” Brodski grinned.

“And I could comment about your silver-tongued ability to make Castell and his cronies see reason,” Van Damm acknowledged. “I would never have thought to see such unity between the miners, settlers and Harmonies. Jane’s plans bear fruit with astounding speed.”

“Uh-huh.” Brodski gave him a keen look. “So, what’s gonna happen to you, Vanny, when your bosses learn that you haven’t been able to deliver?”


“I’ll be exiled here. Oh, woe.” Van Damm smiled, and took a long pull of his beer. “Of course CoDo will send a replacement for Cole, probably on the next ship. We must be ready for him. He must see only what we wish him to see.”

Brodski thoughtfully scratched his chin. “You know, Kenny-Co won’t stop short of a shooting war to keep Reynolds and friends at bay. Will that give CoDo the excuse it wants?”

Van Damm gave a rare laugh. “That is the last thing CoDominium wants! When civilians fight civilians, the civilian rule is at fault and CoDo can move in. Ah, but when company fights company, with company-bought senators as well as local troops, CoDo has no one to blame but its rich friends and itself. Such a war could tear the Grand Senate apart while leaving the tranquil Church in charge here on Haven. Oh, no. CoDo will try to end the fight as speedily as possible—and for just that reason, we must use all our resources to keep it going.”

“The miners and settlers they’ll be fighting across won’t care for that, and won’t add to it.”

“With the help of Himself, I think we can keep the civilians safe from the battle. And so long as anyone can be bribed for money—gold, trade-coin or CoDo credits—I can keep the pot boiling.”

“Hmm, I get the feeling you’ll be taking a trip down river again soon.”

“I expect to return with DeCastro.” Van Damm set his glass down decisively. “I shall need a certain amount of equipment….”

“Aren’t you going up to Janesfort with Himself and Makhno first?”

“No, I prefer to keep my eye on DeCastro. I can talk to Jane by CB radio—one of the old portable ones. These new hand-mades are a little too bulky for me.”





Jane greeted her guests warmly and sat them down to dinner with the rest of the co-op, after which they retired to Benny’s lab for more serious discussion.

“All roight, then,” said Himself, looking over the extensive report. “So yer next step is a real factory, not too near yer island yet not too far either, and someplace where neyther the companies nor CoDo will think ta look for it, eh?”

“That’s about the size of it,” said Jane. “For convenience and concealment, some place along the river between the fort and Castell City would be ideal—some place beyond the forest, since we don’t want to cut down any more of that than we have to. I’m already pushing my settlers to go out on the plains, on the grounds that they’ll have to do less ground-clearing but can always use the river-transport.

“However, for skilled labor, the best source is Hell’s-A-Comin’. Transport would be easy on the river, though time-consuming. What do you think?”

Irish Himself pondered the report, and the map, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Nah, the back end o’ Hell’s-A-Comin’ be yer best bet,” he pronounced. “We’ve got the hills thoroughly tunneled out there, enough ta hide an army—surely enough ta hide a factory, or two, be they small. Aye, an’ no worries about the ventilation; we took care o’ that from the start.”

“And…” Jane leaned forward on the table. “How well could you hide it and all your people, should the squabble between Kennicott and Reynolds-and-allies become a shooting war?”

An unlovely smile spread across Irish’s face. “Better than ye’d believe from here. We planned that from the start, too. The population o’ the whole town could vanish underground in minutes, an’ not even dogs could sniff ’em out.”

“Stinkbush sap,” Makhno guessed, “Or bluetree.”

“So whoever wins will be obliged to import more laborers for their mines,” Jane went on. “Of course, they’re making plans with the Bureau of Relocation to do just that, anyway. We’ll need to have a sturdy enough economy in place to absorb them.”

“I daresay we’re all workin’ on that.” Himself gave Jane a keen look. “The key will be river transport. With most o’ the old boats all rotted away or sunk, that leaves us all dependin’ on just a few ships, includin’ the good captain’s here. Beggin’ yer pardon, me lad, but that’s a slender thread ta hang all this on.”

Makhno started laughing. Jane smiled.

“That, Mr. Irish,” she chuckled, “Is the first thing we want your factory to make. Come along with us; Benny has something to show you.”

Benny Donato had, indeed, been practically squirming with eagerness. He now led them proudly to the rear door of his shop, the one that opened on a path down to the river. There, hidden under a low roof covered with living greenthorn bushes, was a large boat-shed. Inside that, as Benny raised his lantern to display, was his completed creation.

Himself dropped his jaw and fervently crossed himself as he saw it.

It was another three-hulled ship, bigger than the River Dragon by a good third, made of steelwood planks, caulked and varnished with something that smelled somewhat like bluetree sap.

“I love my old Bitch,” Makhno murmured, “But oh, you kid!”

“We’ll need to make still bigger versions,” Jane added, “Which can’t be done here. They’ll also need more brass and iron for the engines. Benny can give you the schematics and instructions, and I think our friend from the city has come up with saws that will cut steelwood. Can you make a factory close enough to the river to tow the ships out when they’re finished?”

“Oh yes,” Himself breathed, not taking his eyes off the lovely ship. “In fact… uh, do ye have a crew for this beauty yet?”





A week spent investigating Castell City had not improved DeCastro’s mood any. Everywhere he looked were signs of progress, prosperity and cooperation. There was even a new small hospital, and rumors of a school of all things, outside the walls of the Harmony enclave. It was almost as if Docktown, Cambiston and the enclave had merged, making Castell City a single town. In the bar of the Starman’s Inn he’d overheard talk of building another dock, out of proper stone and wet-setting concrete this time and he’d wondered where the money for all this was coming from. He couldn’t imagine a shimmer stone miner giving a rat’s-ass for the town, and the Harmonies didn’t seem the types to spend cash on such worldly things. Was there some ingenious banker setting up business somewhere in the city? If so, he was keeping too low a profile for DeCastro to find.

Even the landed Marines weren’t causing any trouble! For one thing, he’d noticed, there were signs pointing them toward Harp’s Sergeant for food and drink, and for another, he’d also noticed that the remaining whores in the city had all taken to wearing bright red scarves as a badge of their profession, so the Marines had no trouble identifying them and no explosive mistakes were made. The women, however, were all independent operators and each kept her own crib. DeCastro had asked a few of the newer ones—since the older ones were likely to remember him, and not kindly—if they’d care to come work for him, and they’d all laughed in his face.

As for drugs, there was euph-leaf galore—sold mainly at Harp’s, but also by street peddlers—and it was cheap. For other amusements, someone had built a “Docktown Theater” that staged live shows and, on an imported big screen, played vids from everywhere along the route from Terrra to Haven. There was a small “Sports Palace” featuring boxers and wrestlers, none of whom—in DeCastro’s opinion—were much good, but the Marines liked them.


There was even a dance pavilion off to one side of the Harmonies’ walled enclave, where a not-too-bad local band played and sometimes choirs of, if you please, Harmonies got up and sang, and they were surprisingly good. At one point DeCastro saw a trio of drunken Marines parading down the street, singing some off-world song, and damned if the local Harmonies didn’t join in, scat-singing in harmony with them.

In short, Docktown had become downright tame. Its vices had become harmless, its factions happily reconciled, its poor settled into ready employment and its business booming. There was no conflict for CoDominium, or unsatisfied desires for DeCastro, to exploit. He was reduced to playing endless card games with the residents at the Starman’s Inn while waiting for a boat to take him back down river.

The only high points of his visit were the kegs of good brandy waiting in the warehouse for him to come pick up.

Consequently, he was infinitely relieved to hear that the River Dragon had been sighted out on the lake, and would shortly arrive at the dock. With a brief feeling of déjà vu, DeCastro hastened to pay his hotel bill, pack up his gear, send for his barrels and go wait by the dock.

As a couple of dockhands were rolling his kegs into place, he felt something less pleasing than déjà vu at seeing Van Damm come strolling down the dock behind them.

“Ah, Senor Van Damm,” DeCastro tried to sound enthusiastic. “You are traveling to Kenny-Camp, then. Does your business prosper?”

“It does that,” Van Damm said with a smile. He waved to a stevedore behind him who was pushing a hand-cart full of long crates. “And I see yours does, too. I recognize the mark on those barrels; that’s an excellent brandy. Congratulations.”

“Ah, si,” DeCastro smiled, trying to guess what was in those crates. “Good beer, even passable wine, I can get locally, but for proper strong drink one must come up here to Castell City. I’m astounded at how the city prospers, this long after the ship has gone.”

“Yes.” Van Damm heaved a vast sigh. “Peace and prosperity everywhere. No excitement whatever. If all one wishes is to get rich, this is surely the place.”

“Ah,” DeCastro sympathized, thinking he understood. “Yes, everything thrives in prosperous…Harmony. Have you heard there are plans to build a new dock?”

“So I’ve heard. At this rate, the city will have a labor shortage before the next ship comes.”

“Ah. I can only wonder: Whence comes the money for this new building project?”

“Didn’t you know?” Van Damm smiled briefly. “The Harmonies put it up. Old Man Castell has taken it into his head to become an investment banker. He’s behind most of the new construction hereabouts.”

DeCastro felt his jaw sagging, and hastily pulled it back up. “What in the world made him change his mind so radically?”

“Who knows?” Van Damm shrugged. “Simple greed and common sense, I guess. In any case, it paid off. The Church of Harmony now has the clean, prosperous, peaceful town they wanted—not to mention the increased goodies coming into the church.”

DeCastro turned to give the city a bleak look. No, Castell City would not be the source of any conflict sufficient to bring in CoDo rule. “Ah. So, for…excitement one must go down the river, eh?”

“Pretty much.” Van Damm gave him a sour smile that hinted much, but promised nothing.

DeCastro nodded absently, thinking of where this would lead. The explosive conflict CoDo wanted must take place in or near Kenny-Camp. He could imagine possibilities: Prospectors robbing the settlers and the settlers fighting back, a revolt of the indentured slaves, vandalism and then outright shooting between Kennicott and Reynolds… Yes, there was much that a CoDo agent like Van Damm could do. As for himself, he could profit from both sides of whatever trouble Van Damm started.

Just then the Dragon pulled up at the dock and cut its engines. She was loaded with sacks and crates, and towing a wooden raft loaded with crates and barrels, but there was room for DeCastro’s cargo too. The sight reminded him of his companions on the trip down here; he hadn’t seen them anywhere in Castell City. It was unlikely, though always possible, that some greedy thugs in Docktown had killed them for their shimmer stones. More likely, though, they’d holed up in the local lodgings and were keeping their heads down until the next ship arrived. He wondered if they’d ever managed to radio Reynolds and found that their news was no longer new.

Makhno and his bargeman, who looked more like a farmer than a sailor, made the River Dragon and its raft fast to the dock and climbed out. “Okay,” he called to the assembled men on the dock. “Load up and pay up. We’ve got to be on the water by dim.”

In the resulting scramble, DeCastro noted that Van Damm’s crates went onto the Dragon rather than the barge-raft. Of course there was no room left on the barge, but knowing Van Damm, there was most likely another reason. The loading was efficient, anyway, and the trimaran and its trailing raft were well out on the water by the time the light changed. Whatever engine powered the paddle wheel, it could make excellent speed.

Everyone had brought their own provisions and as Van Damm settled down to eat a sparse dinner from his basket, DeCastro took care to sit beside him. “Might I inquire,” he asked carefully, “What became of the poppy-garden, and its produce?”

“Sold most of it to the Harmonies, for their hospital.” Van Damm took a swig from a clay jug. “They got a local glass-blower to make a lens and some mirrors, and set them on the roof of a growing house. It concentrates light well enough that the plants are happy with it.”

“Ingenious,” DeCastro admitted. “And has their number increased?”

“Quite well. Another few turns, and they’ll need another grow-house. The lights in the basement room are holding up well enough for us, but we may need to build a grow-house of our own, soon.”

Well, that’s something, DeCastro thought, with a slight twinge of jealousy. In time, there might be a flourishing opium trade in the valley. He’d watch and see if he could insinuate himself into it.

It was during truenight that he noticed what looked like a meteor streaking over the sky to the north. Meteor? No, the Reynolds shuttle! he guessed. Reynolds had acted fast on his information. Now if the claim only proved to be as good as those fool prospectors had said, another Turn would see a good 20,000 CoDo creds deposited in his account with the Biederbilt Interstellar Bank. DeCastro wrapped himself up in his plastic blanket and lay down to sleep with an untroubled conscience.