May 10, 1911
"Alan, me Light, forgive me. I drew so long on the bond to keep you quiet, safe, inside the Realm. Yer stubbornness just made ye work the harder. I did not see what it did to ye. 'Twas Nurse Collins showed me what I have done. Now we must make all right; ye will eat and sleep and every so often we will play. And we will learn not to abuse the bond, either of us. Emergencies only."
"I am fine, Eric, don't worry—"
"Ye are not fine, and Nurse-plus-three-quarters-a-doctor Collins has threatened to make that official should ye not improve toot sweet."
"I'd better get on with it, then. I think I can justify co-opting an intern from the Midsummer draft."
"Not enough. I've added a couple of admin assistants to yer office. One of 'em's specifically ordered to keep you from working through the day without eating. Will says that you are the final word on the readiness of any new War Room, probably because yer comfortable with all the gadgetry and good at hidden problems between the various services. But now he will take your recommendations for people at existing War Room sites who can do the preliminary site workup in neighboring Branches. He'll issue formal requests for their time. It'll keep their Directors happy, or at least compliant. Brock's doing a layout of the fancy new Brussels site to add to the information packet. Brussels is eager to show off its action center to everybody. They have all the bells and whistles. Let them take some of the load."
"They are welcome to it. Strasbourg, Belgium, is next. Once set up, they can also help, and as the upgrades progress more and more sites can help, speeding things up enormously. I may take on another teaching assistant, too, the classes are almost too large for my current team to keep up with the grading. I can't give up student counselling...but there are so many of them...if I don't have to make as many trips, and if I have more help in Ops, maybe I can stay later at the Academy. But the food is so bad there...Eric, is there trouble here, in London, outside of Operations? There's a tension in the Reaper offices, on the day shifts. Just a bit. When I visit out there I feel it."
"Could be me. This year every eligible Senior team with ten years' experience gets an apprentice if they don't already have one. No exceptions. Madame has given me orders to replace any qualified team unwilling or unable to teach. I've explained this to everybody. It's an uncomfortable truth. Teams who now have third to fifth year Juniors are going to take greenies into war. But I will talk to Jacobs, who knows these things."
"Maybe it's just the extra work teaching the remedial classes next month."
"Aye, could be. Now, you. Breakfast."
Slowly the planes and hollows would soften and fill. The shadows under the eyes would fade. Energy would return, and with it would come the sly dry humor that was so much Alan. Eric had not realized how much he had missed it.
Jacobs was unforthcoming. Eric was now Management. Jacobs did not gossip to Management. Eric went to Grell.
"Well, of course there's an undercurrent. Bad things are coming. So what else is new?"
"This is something different, something hostile. Give, Red."
"Knoxie, do you believe this? Asking favors without offering something in return? What lady would not demand recompense?"
"Grell, this is not a good period of history for internal strife. It can get the wrong people killed."
Grell dropped the drama in favor of a good gossip. "Fine. Yes, there is a constant low-level tension here. Most of it's the office managers on first and second shifts. Partners, Anders and Brandon? Breakup in progress. Brandon wants to transfer to Supplies. He's sick of desk work and has been talking to Frannie Ferris on Thursday nights. It's physical activity, lots of travel, and does not require Reaping. Even better, they have delivery trucks from a new Division, Automotive, which he finds fascinating. He's requesting interviews. They may hesitate to take him, with his unfortunate record, and they do prefer to recruit directly out of the Academy.
"Anders defines himself as a Reaper and considers everything else beneath him. He hates that he can't Reap anymore. He really hates being stuck in a job which on third shift is handled by an Admin. He really, really hates that the Admin does it better than he does. Remember how upset Alan was when he was benched? Anders is double that with a cherry on top. He hates all of us who are still Reaping.
"He wants the clock turned back. He wants to return to Liverpool with Brandon, working as a Reaper and Mentor. He knows it's never going to happen. He's become sour, resentful, and mean as a snake. He must be hell to live with, because Brandon's actually planning to move out and move on.
"So first shift has a poisonous office manager exuding malice, second shift has a manager who is fed to the teeth with his partner and his job, and there you have it." Grell threw up her hands. "You're Personnel. You fix it."
"Carefully," said Ronnie. "Anders blames you for cancelling his mentorship of Samuel Terry. He resents Terry, thinks maybe he complained to you. Doesn't help a bit that Terry has flourished under the mentorship of Forbes and Brewster. He probably isn't terribly happy with Spears, who broke up his triad. He was finally benched because Cartwright got sick of covering up his incompetence. He especially dislikes Cartwright and Sykes and their Junior. Actually he doesn't like anybody much."
"It's a nuisance," added Grell. "The worst part of the day can be trying to get office supplies from him. He likes to delay our paperwork to make us stay late. One thousand petty annoyances. I'd challenge him and chop him into chutney if thwarting him wasn't so much fun. Yesterday he told me he was out of collection forms, oh too bad, try again in two days. As if the third shift Admin would ever let the stocks sink below a full week's supply! He'd moved them up to his highest shelf. I pointed to them and told him to hand them over or I'd snatch him bald-headed. Someday he'll have a final blowup and desert into the human realm. Can't happen too soon."
"They were a good team once," said Eric. "Alan tried hard to give them time to recover. I could maybe recommend Anders to... Well, no. I won't dump a known problem into someone else's lap. Damn. My only option is to warn him to keep his personal problems out of the office and then fire him if he doesn't. I'll ask Alan if he's seen any site where Anders might fit in."
"Don't. He'll be trouble wherever he goes," warned Grell. "He's become the sort of malignant little sod who plays mean-spirited, cruel pranks and then complains that his target can't take a joke. Here, he already knows I'll kick his arse if he makes the interns cry. It restrains him. Is there a dive around here that needs a bad-tempered bouncer? A warehouse that needs a night watchman? A lighthouse in need of a keeper?"
Knox flipped a knife at a target pinned to the wall. "Talk to Spears. We've had toxic employees before, lots of 'em, back when the Branch was expanding. He dealt with them. See what he says. He'll probably tell you to recommend Brandon to Supplies as soon as they ask, and to tell Anders to behave or leave. Get rid of both if you can, we won't need any problems at home when things get bad. And, of course, you can replace 'em with pleasant Admins from Operations' pool of part-timers. Choose cute ones, okay? And hire in another team of training Reapers from your waiting list."
January 5-June 15, 1911
On January 5, 1911, Smitty returned to his bench and tools with a detailed design for his Supplies heavy-duty hand scythe. Engineer Crawford simply held out his hand; Smitty handed the papers over and waited. There were several Hmms and Hahs. The mustache bristled and twitched. Crawford motioned Smitty to sit down. Together they went over every line and detail, with Smitty explaining each deviation from the current Supplies norm. Crawford called in the Artificer in charge of the production of the current model. Smitty explained again. There were more Hmms and Hahs. The Artificer thought carefully. He decreed that this scythe could indeed be produced on the current line with current materials, with a few necessary adjustments for this more robust version. By then three other Engineers were leaning over the wall. Smitty explained again. Hmm. Hah. Possible. Definitely possible.
Finally, Crawford handed back the design. "Approved, Smithfield. Now for the most important part; the hardest part. Build it."
Heart overflowing with joy, Smitty built. He forged the blade eight times before he was satisfied with his work. He experimented with oak and ash, finally settling on American hickory for the handle. He cut the blanks with a bandsaw, smoothed and sanded them, carved the channel for the tang and its additional bar of scythe metal at the end. That would give extra porting distance and balance the whole. He oiled and polished the wood till it glowed. He lightly scored and crosshatched the middle of the haft for improved non-slip handling when wet. He added a leather overstrike protector, tooled with a scrollwork design to improve grip when prying with the blade—we know we shouldn't do that, Smitty, but some crates need special tools to open, and those tools sometimes arrive packed inside the crate because stupid is universal. (Supplies Senior Frances Ferris, 1911, Fez, Morocco.)
He honed and polished the heavy blade mirror-bright. On the nineteenth of May, he presented the finished scythe to Engineer Crawford. He quivered in his shoes while Crawford conducted a detailed inspection of every inch and facet. Smitty followed as Crawford took his scythe to the testing area, ran several astoundingly advanced combat exercises with it, ported in and out several times, then used it to move a nine-foot metal-lathe station to a distant destination and back.
"Smithfield, call in your Supplies Manager. Let's see what he says about this."
The Supplies Manager arrived with Frances Ferris. "She had a lot to do with this and deserves to see the result. This it? Ah. Pretty. But pretty is as pretty does. May I test this a little? Oh, this is good. This will port twice the weight that the present version does, easily. You've ported that machine with it? How far? May I? Frannie, want a turn?"
With some difficulty Frannie was persuaded to give up the scythe. Her Manager handed it over to Crawford with equal reluctance. "This meets and exceeds our requirements. Prototype approved by Supplies. I hope it passes inspection on your side." He turned to Smitty. "Good work, Junior. I look forward to congratulating you on its acceptance. I also want the first one that comes off the assembly line."
On May 22, 1911, Engineering Apprentice Edward Smithfield presented and defended his scythe and design to an extended Approvals Board. The examination was meticulous in its investigation of procedure, as the presenter had previously been disciplined for unapproved activity. All was found to be in perfect order.
On May 23, the scythe was disassembled. The blade's design, alloy, forging and finishing was approved by Metallurgy. The blade stood up to extensive testing and passed all trials with ease. A randomly chosen Senior from another Division was asked to reassemble it with only the specs as a guide. After a quick review of the design, she put it together correctly in three minutes with the minimal tools provided. The scythe was noted as repairable in the field if parts and a maintenance kit were available.
On May 24, Production once again stated that manufacture would be easily arranged. Design declared that the scythe was legal in all aspects and components. Materials reported that all necessary wood and metals were easily available in bulk. Supplies testified that this heavier design met and exceeded their requirements, functioning well beyond the capabilities of the current standard model. All participants were instructed to return the next day for the final demonstration, discussion and field trials.
On May 25, at the end of a very long day, the Board approved the new scythe. All stood to formally declare their agreement of promotion. Engineer Crawford's mustache bristled with pride as he attached the small gold star of rank to the lapel of his apprentice's lab coat.
Smitty staggered wearily into the Scythe and Skull that night with the treasured pin on his collar. Dutch received him with a whoop of triumph and led the entire bar in a toast to their newly promoted Artificer.
During the following week, Edward Smithfield (Scythes, Junior-Fifth) sat the exams for the last set of classes of his initial five years of training. His scores were impressive. He was automatically registered for the second half of his decade's training to become an Engineer.
Two weeks later, Artificer and Senior Engineering Candidate Edward Smithfield, inventor of the Smithfield Demon Restraints, developer of the Smithfield Supply Scythe (Heavy Duty), co-designer of the Reaper-Issue Scythe-Knife haft, applied to the London Garrison to have Angelfire bound to one of his Heavy Duty Supply Scythe Blades.