Well guys, the election is over and now we are at the Fall Fest. Taking a break from making lunch plates to catch up with you guys. Man... I swear the barbeque gets better every year. Our resident EMT/ logistics and comms officer managed to get a trailer load of hickory wood for the grill. Slap on some of the Ballard family recipe seasons and spices and you have one of the most satisfying plate lunches in the state.
It's your choice of chicken or sausage, or both, add to that homemade potato salad, baked beans with bacon, coleslaw, a warm roll, and a cold soft drink or sweet tea and the plate is complete.
Well, I hope you guys enjoy the chapter, in the meanwhile I've got to get back to the group. I've gotta flip the chicken and sausage. People are filing into the station and that means that people are getting hungry.
Also, again I got long-winded so I'm splitting the chapter again. Sorry.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE IN THE SPYRO UNIVERSE. ONLY MY OCS.
Chapter 57: Resistance: Fight (for) Power
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It had been three weeks.
Three weeks since they had breached the aqueducts and gained entrance to the 'new' city.
Three weeks since Caldor and Zafra led a successful attack on yet another Rotarian V1/V2 installation.
Three weeks since Jahser, one of the brightest members of the Partisans, led a disasterous attempt against a Rotarian patrol near the old Koln Manufacturing Plant. Out of sixteen men and women, three escaped alive, four captured, the rest, including Jahser, killed.
Three weeks since Doctor Francois Mezzanie, the only original member of the original Syllian resistance during the Federation War, suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. His replacement, a hastily trained former combat medic who was more used to what was deemed 'meatball surgery', was a poor replacement for the good doctor. Still, he managed to keep the Partisans patched up and combat ready. Small mercies.
George walked around the lower level of the old church in the outer city that had become their new base of operations. The Mill remained a Resistance safehouse but most of the Partisans preferred to remain in or near the old aqueducts so that they could move around the city easier. Caldor and Zafra were currently denned up in the large cistern helping to organize crews to unblock old tunnels to access more of the city. He impatiently checked his watch and silently swore an oath which he immediately (and guiltily) glanced to the priest who had opened his church to the Resistance. The elderly priest simply nodded.
"I understand your impatience Nick. To be quite honest, I'm running out of it myself. I had hoped that the meeting with that Wolf's Den group wouldn't have lasted very long." George nodded and glanced at the tunnel entrance leading to the north part of the city.
Wolf's Den, one of six other Partisan groups in this art of the city. They were small, cautious, and not oftentimes impulsive. The most notable thing they had done was when they had infiltrated an OAC post and killed several members by putting a super-strength laxative in the food and then dynamiting the toilets.
Funny thing was that, while the Rotarians knew it was explosives, a captured report said that 'smoking whilst in the presense of large volumes of methane gas' was just as likely a culprit as explosives. Needless to say no one believed THAT but it nevertheless became a joke among the Resistance.
One popular varient was: 'How many Rotarians does it take to clear out a building?'
The answer: Twelve to turn on the gas and one to strike a match.
Though the Partisans seldomly took big risks, the opportunity to shake up te occupiers and rattle their nerves was a constant mission. Hazard had rigged up so many pipe bombs, thermite charges, grenade bouquets, landmines, 'sewer specials' and 'sober-ups' that to say the enemy was jumpy was an understatement.
According to one spy who had been in a military office, the commanding officer had told his clerks and subordinates to dunk any and all letters, packages, and parcels for him in water sixteen times before presenting them to him. Another officer was so rattled he refused to leave his office. He had a waste basket that was his toilet, his meals were brought to him by the same private every day, any paperwork requiring his signature or stamp of approval was to be slid under the door, and he had eight men armed with chopped machineguns guarding his officer 24/7.
It wasn't the most honorable type of combat, working on an enemies nerves, but after seeing the OAC order the roundup and subsequent execution of twenty-six people rumored to have been Partisans or sympathetic to them, George decided that honor was no longer a parameter for them. The Rotarians were fighting dirty, so would the Resistance. Like the old saying: Set a thief to catch a thief.
Or more aptly: No honor amongst thieves.
A map of the city was spread before him. It didn't fail to make him uneasy, seeing how many white marks there were as compared to black marks. White was the mark for the occupation or the OAC, black marks were for Resistance positions, safehouses, and points of interest. He felt a surge of anger at the lone red 'X's on the map. These marked the destroyed northwest tower of the castle and the inner city cathedral that had been partially demolished by the tower collapse and then purposefully collapsed by the OAC and Rotarian demolition crews as they searched for an entrance to the Workshop.
Not that it would do them any good. A few nights ago, George had 'come across' a key to the old underground tunnel that served as a bolt hole for the Workshop. He and a team of eight, including Zafra and Hazard, made it to the facility and, thanks to a 'bingo book' the OSS had transmitted to them, gathered whatever blueprints and prototypes listed as vital intelligence, then dismantled and burned what was left.
A few of the blueprints, such as the chemical 'recipe' for a special explosive called 'Dragonfire', designs for adaptors to allow for any weapon, even a rifle, to be suppressed, the original blueprints for the old canal system, as well as instructions for making a small, concealable, single-shot anti-tank launcher and the molds needed to cast such pieces.
Hazzard was already working with Miles to get the first batch of these 'Armored Fists' made and in circulation. The Dragonfire had already been employed successfully against a fuel depot in the southeast sector as well as destroying the remains of the transport that had crashed in the city come time ago.
The crew of the plane, sadly, had been executed one day after the drop and their bodies hung from lampposts near the wreck. These were removed and, due to the fact that there was no nearby graveyard, placed in the wrecked aircraft before the Dragonfire cannisters were lit. The information regarding their fates relayed back to Royalis via the comms network.
When, for the twenty-eighth time in three hours, the power to the lower levels started dimming, George swore and then gazed back at the map of the city.
These brownouts were the direct result of the emergency shutdown of one of the power plants inside the city. The occupation didn't know a damn thing about crystal generators and, as a result, one of the dynamos came dangerously close to overheating and self-destructing. Only a quick thinking engineer managed to shut down the plant, thus saving the facility and the people within.
Now that one of the two primary sources of electricity was compromised, the city was put on an electricity curfew to conserve power while the Rotarian eggheads tried to decypher what went where and how this or that worked. Apparently, just being 'the occupation' wasn't enough to get the more technical minded individuals to divulge what they knew about Launces' revolutionary power sources. Threats and extortion gathered about the same, more people clammed up than before.
In fact, given the hazardous nature of the crystal generators and their own individual querks, George had been more afraid that people would tell falsehoods or cross references. Thankfully, people had enough sense that, failing the truth, to not even think about giving misinformation. As had been demonstrated, the enemy's lack of knowledge made the power plants even more dangerous than normal. While the people of Launces volunteered nothing, they didn't lie about anything either.
The OAC continued their 'interrogations' of certain people of interest but, the standard Army was of the opinion to 'let sleeping dragons lie'.
Outside the city, near the lake, there were three hydroelectric power plants. Though never officially shut down and decommissioned, the plants had been all but abandoned when the newer, more efficient, crystal power generators were built and installed, replacing the older anthracite coal-powered plants. This was the reason for the visit to the Wolf's Den.
Rumor had it that one of the key leaders of the group was the former foreman of HydroPlant No.2 and that a few of his group members were workers from Plant No.3. George was of the opinion that if they could get the old power plants working, they could restore functionality to the city. It would have been a boon for them but it was also for a good cause. The OAC had been attempting to cut power to the Ramatalia Memorial Hospital in the north side of the city in an effort to 'coerce' cooperation from people by ensuring their loved ones currently admitted would continue to recieve the care they needed.
By reactivating the plants, the Resistance could ensure the power to the hospital and also reduce the load on the sole remaining crystal plant. Also, the power input comparison would be almost negligable on the gauges. Of course the OAC would raise a red flag but for the most part, a six percent increase in power produced wouldn't raise any eyebrows.
A joint venture between Wolf's Den and the Partisans to restore power to the hospital was just the sort of thing the Resistance needed to perhaps get the chance to start unifying the seperate cells into one larger Resistance. George had already worked out six different plans of attack in the event that the Wolf's Den decided to merge with the Partisans. There was a lot near the NE Industrial that the Rotarians were using as a holding area for tanks and other vehicles the OAC was repurposing for their use.
Of course tanks were few and far between. The majority of captured vehicles were Leopold ATCs, Elicord Armored Cars, Lawson Steam Runners, and Deucer Tranport trucks. Still, he had been in contact with General Samuel Montague who, by reputation, was a former instructor at the Academy being held on suspicion of having contact within the Resistance. Though the General was under house arrest, his students, being young and wily, were not and were in constant contact and acting as go-betweens.
The General had said that if the Resistance could get them vehicles, he could guarantee armored support from his students and the remaining academy staff when they moved to retake Launces. The General had been a hero in both the Federation War as an artilleryman and then in the Dalon Conflict as a tank commander, recording somewhere close to sixty hostile tanks destroyed or disabled and made headlines for single-handedly holding a portion of the line in Avalar that had collapsed while James and others led the more famous 'island hopping' campaign.
Furthermore, there was Colonel Edward Falcyion, a former horse cavalryman who had pledged his entire unit (the decommissioned 8th Launces Cavalry) to the Resistance when the time was right. He was an old man, nearing his eighties, who could still ride a horse like a young man of twenty, still be accurate enough to perfectly shoot a hole, dead-center, through six silver pieces in mid-air, and inspire confidence in even the most pessimistic of soldiers. Back in the Federation War, he had been remembered for telling his frightened men that: 'The only thing to fear was fear itself'.
To emphasize this, he had risen from the trench they were in, riding crop in hand (the symbol of a high-ranking officer) and walked back an forth on the line preaching to his men while bullets struck the ground around him as Federation riflemen tried to pick him off at a distance. When he had returned to the trench, one of the men had pointed to him and he removed his hat to see that a bullet had gone cleanly through and not harmed a hair on his head. This, of course, circulated through the ranks like wildfire and emboldened the men to perform a feat worthy of legend.
In two hours, six hundred men of the United 5th, 6th, and 9th Cavalries charged the ranks of five-thousand Federation infantry in the battle to retake Three Points Pass and Headbashedin which had fallen in the first days of the war. The Federation, disheartened by the news of Launces being recaptured and their forces on Callen's Hill being cut off, broke ranks and ran, giving up the pass and the outpost without a shot fired.
Another contact the Partisans had befriended through the Wolf's Den was a mechanic named Barnabus Sonone. The man was a former Universal Racing Champion, having won the Bronze, Silver, Gold, and Platinum trophies in both Steam Runner competitions and automobile races in 1923, 1924, 1926, and 1928. His garage housed not only his prized Runner, the Silver Bullet (No. 26); but also his custom-built Aulto V12 Supercharger, the Black Stallion (No. 14).
He had been forced to quit racing after an accident in 1929. When testing out a new vehicle, he lost control and went into the wall at 100+, suffering severe injuries and crushing his legs. Like George's deceased uncle Jacopo, the legend was now confined to a wheelchair but refused to let it dampen his spirits. He changed from a racer to a mechanic and was known pre-war as making some of the best damn custom racers in the nation.
The most common one-liner was: 'If it hasn't been touched by Barnabus Sonone, it don't belong on the track.'
He had also actually been responsible for putting together a fund for racers similarly injured while competing in the sport they loved. He had also been one of the first to actually start racing other racers in wheelchairs and created a small, but popular, sport to raise people's spirits and, admittedly, was the only man crazy enough to fit a small crystal-powered engine to his wheelchair.
The day he had tested it out, people across Launces thought he had gone nuts, seeing him zoom down Central Avenue in a motorized wheelchair going over 50 mph, steering only by shifting his body weight back and forth. He had been lucky that traffic hadn't been thick.
Lastly, there was Gordon Calawai. Not much was known about him except that he had no love for the Rotarians and was known to most Resistance cells as a one-man wrecking crew. He favored high explosives, heavy weapons, and sharp-edged weaponry. He was what most termed a freelancer and would often undertake missions by himself. No one knew why but they assumed that he didn't like the idea of having to worry about others or that he feared having someone die under his command.
The man was secretive, no one knew his past, whether he had served in the military or not, yet he carried himself with distinct authority and discipline. Though his loyalty was unquestionable, many disdained and despised him.
As the clock came to about 7:25 p.m., the hatch to the sewers opened and out came nine men, one of whom was Wallace, the man George had sent to the Wolf's Den, and following him was Colburn, the foreman and his eight workers. George came forward and shook their hands.
"Gentlemen, I thank you for meeting me on such short notice. I suppose that Wallace gave you the gist of the plan but allow me to inform you in full of what we are intending." He motioned to the map on the table.
"Now then, as you know, the OAC has been using the patients in the hospital, particularly those in critical care who rely on machines powered by electricity to survive, to try and coerce people into giving us up. Not to mention the other systems inside that rely on power to keep the building sterile and clean and free of airborne pathogens and illnesses."
"I have been informed through a nurse at the hospital that a newly arrived patient recently exhibited signs of an infectious disease known as Red Fever. I need not tell you the risks if the sterile room failed and we had an outbreak to deal with. The fallout from this would be catastrophic." The men respectfully remained silent and nodded although it was clear by the way they had blanched that this was news to them.
"Now, before I continue, know that publicly, the Occupation force is not condoning what the OAC is doing and would not intervene if their plans fell through. This is why I asked you here. You men have the knowledge neccessary to restart one of the hydroelectric power plants on the Blue River. We cannot risk restarting all three otherwise we could potentially raise a red flag with the Occupation." He gestured to the three plants in question.
"One power plant restarting and operating at ten percent power would be enough to satisfy the Occupation in believing that it's a small group of people simply trying to restore power to vital areas. It would also be enough to thwart the OAC's attempts and also ensure the sustainablilty of the sterile room in the hospital and allowing the building to remain fully functional."
"Now then, I have assembled a team to escort you men to HydroPlant No.2. Please inform the Quartermaster here if you need any special tools before we deploy for this. We will also have a group going with us that will take over control of the plant and allow you to get back to your group. They will need some training to do so. If there are no questions, you are dismissed. We depart at midnight."
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(Castle Launces)
TO GENERAL COMMANDER TERANCE LICHTER, ROTARIAN 32 ARMORED INFANTRY, LAUNCES OCCUPATION FORCE.
NEW FRONT IN FEDERATION TERRITORY HAS BEEN OPENED BY SYLLIAN AND ALLIED FORCES. HOWEVER, THE ENEMY IS WEAK IN THIS AREA AND WILL SOON BE DRIVEN INTO RETREAT. SENDING THE 22 SPECIAL CORPS TO ASSIST YOU IN SECURING THE CITY FROM PARTISAN THREATS.
REPORTS HAVE REACHED HQ ABOUT YOUR RELUCTANCE IN GREEN-LIGHTING THE OAC'S PREVENTATIVE MEASURES. YOU ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO CEASE BLOCKING THEM AND LET THEM DO THEIR JOB.
FURTHERMORE, SEVERAL SYLLIAN PLANES HAVE BEEN DROPPING FLYERS ACROSS THE FRONT LINES AND THE ENEMY HAS ALSO BEEN BROADCASTING RUMORS, LIES, AND OTHER FALSEHOODS THROUGH OUR RADIO CHANNELS. EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, ALL MILITARY RADIO TRAFFIC IS TO BE COORDINATED THROUGH SECURE CHANNEL E9R4.
IF YOU HAPPEN TO HEAR THE ENEMY'S LIES, YOU ARE TO DISREGARD THEM. THEY ARE UTTER LIES TO TRY AND SOW DISENT AMONG LOYAL ROTARIAN SOLDIERS. ANY RANK AND FILE SOLDIER LISTENING TO THIS IS TO BE ARRESTED AND QUARTMARTIALED.
UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH, DO NOT DISOBEY YOUR ORDERS. YOU HAVE PROVEN YOURSELF A CAPABLE, IF COLORFUL, COMMANDER TIME AND AGAIN BUT FOR THE DURATION OF THE ACTIONS TO WHICH YOU ARE PRESENTLY ASSIGNED, YOU ARE TO OBEY ANY AND ALL ORDERS TO THE LETTER.
AS PER YOUR REQUEST, LIEUTENANT MASON CARMINE HAS BEEN REASSIGNED TO YOU AS AN AIDE FOLLOWING HIS RECOVERING FROM PNEUMONIA. I TRUST THAT HE WILL LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE A REAL SOLDIER FROM HIS PEERS IN THIS THEATRE AND THAT SICKNESS IS NOT A LEGITIMATE EXCUSE FOR DISOBEDIANCE.
ALSO, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY, AS YOU HAVE WORRIED ABOUT THE CITY UNDER BLACKOUT CONDITIONS, I HAVE SENT ORDERS FOR THE OAC TO BEGIN ASSISTING YOUR TROOPS IN THEIR PATROLS. FOLLOWING SOP, BEGIN CITY-WIDE BLACKOUTS BEGINNING AT 9:00 PM UNTIL 7:30 AM.
THIS INCLUDES MEDICAL FACILITIES.
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The castle library was quiet. Then again, it always was. With the servants all evacuated the entire castle seemed hollow and devoid of life with the exception of the Rotarian guards and the OAC officers trying to coordinate their efforts to fight the Resistance. The latest incident regarding the group known as 'Wolf's Den' had been particularly embarrassing. Not only were the Syllians laughing about it, but a number of the Rotarian soldiers who looked down on the OAC as cowardly and dishonorable also joked (though in secret).
General Commander Lichter was not a hard man by most accounts. He was lenient with the people as he understood that they were simply tryin gto make the best with the situation dealt to them. In truth, he sympathized with them and wished he could help them but his orders forbid it.
Plus there was the annoying lap dog Mechanos had forced him to cooperate with. If Lichter even mentioned in passing helping the people of Launces come to terms with their ordeal, Captain Terref would have had him before Mechanos before he could even blink an eye. And then likely he would have been promoted and placed directly in charge of the occupation. He shuddered with a thought.
(Plus, I just got my nephew transferred to me to him being used as leverage against me. Were she still living my sister would have had a cow if her son was used to influence my decisions.)
At that moment, a young officer came up and handed him a piece of paper. After glancing at it, he handed the paper back to him and leaned close.
"Now then, what I want you to do is to take this letter back to the intel office and have them decypher the real meaning behind this." The young soldier looked to him curiously but, rather than questioning, turned and did as he was told. Lichter smiled as he took a drag from the cigar he had.
"Shame with how slow our communications are. I really could have used that intel before the Partisans decided to do it. Still, I suppose watching Terref sweat a little will be worth it. I can always get serious tomorrow. Besides, what the Partisans do outside the city wall is none of my concern. My concerns all lay within the city walls."
The intel had stated that the Partisans were believed to be planning an raid on one of the three old abandoned hydroelectric plants outside the city. Since the intel didn't specify which plant was under threat (plus the fact that, despite being an 'occupation force' Lichter only had roughly nine-hundred troops under his command and they were all occupied in vital roles already), It wasn't so much a case of letting the Partisans gain a victory as it was simply letting them have a win under the belt.
Plus the fact that the area outside the city was technically under OAC supervision meant it would have been Terref's ass in a sling instead of Lichter's. Politicians have their own little game, ranking soldiers have quite a different one. In the end it was the same goal though, cover your own bases and leave your opposite high and dry.
Silently Lichter wondered just how much of a fireworks display the Partisans were going to give this time. Personally, he hoped for quite a show. Then he remembered the letter and sighed as he turned to radio the teams at the power plant to begin blackout conditions.
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Caldor had silently left the lair and was now flying high through the night sky. Despite the warm air, he felt cold inside. Before the war, he would have felt pleasure at flying over the city, admiring the glow of the lights below. Now gazing at the city he felt nothing but anger at the enemy. It was as if the occupation forces were sucking the life out of the city. In the eastern side of the city he saw the castle, barely. The great spotlight that had once shined upon the clock tower at the front of the castle was dark, the great clock within stopped at precisely 11:59 the day the occupation had taken control of the castle.
His own experience told him that it was almost midnight. George, rather, Nick, would be taking the group through the tunnels, outside the wall, and sert them up at one of the power plants. One thing that amazed Caldor was how little importance the Rotarians placed on the three old hydro-electric plants. Still, there was a greater element of danger. The plants lay outside the walls, meaning they were at the full mercy of the OAC in the area. If something went wrong, it fell to him to pull the Partisans out of the fire.
His mind idly drifted back to Zafra, currently in human form with George and the others. He found himself thinking more of her now. Not just the way she talked but the way she laughed, moved, everything. He had opened up more to her than to anyone and she treated him with more respect than he had ever gotten from anyone. Still, it was impossible to ignore the dark looks he got from the Dragoons acting as ground crew. He knew that, had this happened before the war he would have laughed at it.
The Dracocorps Dragoons George liberated had been pleased to find out that there were still two dragons in Launces. Yet the difference between them was night and day. Zafra they all but completely fawned over, rushing to see to her every important or urgent need as a proper ground crew should. In fact, George had been afraid all the attention would have spoiled her but she kept her head and never asked for anything that she couldn't get for herself.
Caldor's crew on the other hand, once they saw and recognized him, looked as if they'd been assigned to a deathwatch. Most had pleaded, even begged, George to reassign them elsewhere in the organization. A few had even requested to be placed on Hazzard detail which meant going with Hazzard as he raided Rotarian munition stockpiles for explosives and tried out one (or more) of his pyromaniacal inventions.
When Zafra and George had pressed him, he answered and told them that, as a traitor's son, he was never assigned a proper crew. He was only given those who either broke regs or were Dragoons that were soon to be discharged (dishonorably). In fact, assignment to him was just as much a punishment as it was a position. It had been said to work with Caldor is to work with death. Assignment to him was practically career suicide.
No one in the Dragoons got promotions working with him.
No one in the Dragoons got awards working with him.
No one in the Dragoons got praises, commendations, or rewards working with him.
Because of this, no one in the Dragoons would willingly work with him. Period.
In the end, a few members of the Partisans who overheard the truth hastily brushed up on their military training and took a few lessons from Zafra's ground crew and set themselves willingly to the task, effectively tossing the recalcitrant Dragoons out on their ears (much to their evident relief).
Along with George's assurances that, once Launces was liberated, he would either see those men reassigned to another group, most likely the Headbashedin Ice Brigade or stricken from the list entirely (both choices made the Dragoons hem and haw and hastily rethink their positions).
This was war, and though they may not be a standing military force, they were still fighting against a foreign enemy on home soil. There was no room for disobedience or reluctance because of previous opinions. For the most part, his new crew was a little clumsy but they did their jobs well enough. Knowing this, he spared them any reproach but gently corrected them when they made a mistake.
This in turn got Zafra's attention and a few of the Dragoons and they saw the real Caldor, not the hard-hearted cavalier who always got into trouble, but an approachable light dragon, his pride tempered by experience, and always holding himself to a higher standard than others. He had always had to work twice as hard as any other in the Dracocorps. The greatest moment was when a young Dragoon, a newly recruited cadet remarked that he acted no different than Shimmer, except that he preened himself a lot less.
(Yeah, what is preening to me? Been in the Dracocorps since I turned eight and haven't made it past Sergeant. Not like others who are already flight leads or formation leads. No, if I have any chance for advancement...) He mentally chided himself for thinking things could get better. He remembered who he was, who his parents were. Good things don't happen to dragons like him. Expect the worst and hope for something just a little better than what's coming.
He happened to be looking down when the lights in the city started going off one by one as power was shut off. Even the hospital in the distance suddenly went dark. He knew the hospital had some backups to keep vital equipment running but they'd need a power supply soon. He angled his way over the outer wall and started flying a holding pattern over the three hydro-electric plants.
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The first clue the team had that something was off was when the lights they had strung through the tunnels started flickered and changed from bright to dim and then brightened again before fading and then going out. George swore and looked around to the Partisans with him who started turning on their flashlights. He stopped a soldier from lighting a match by placing his hand over the unlit match.
"No flames. These tunnels may have lights but they still have pockets of methane gas in some areas, one spark or open flame and we'll have a new skylight." The man blanched and nodded, putting the matches away before taking a spare flashlight from another and aiming at the last place he had seen the sign.
"We're almost out of the city Nick. Just half a mile more and we'll be in the old storm drain for HE2." George nodded and then motioned forward.
"Alright, I guess they've gotten serious about these blackouts. If we're in the dark down here you can bet your ass the hospital's dark as well. Backups power the vital emergency rooms for about eight hours, we have six before sun-up. We have to get the plant running before daybreak. Remember, nothing fancy, anything above ten percent will draw attention. Anything below ten percent won't be enough to do anything." The foreman, Bickel, nodded, confirming the numbers.
"My memory serves, ten percent power should be achieved by opening the flow valves by about half, starting turbines one and two and running them at twenty-five percent each, and then having the dynamo at a twenty-percent rotation with a resistance rate of twelve. That should produce enough power to keep the facility going and produce enough power that, compensating for the bleed-off, should be about ten point two percent. All in all, a skeleton crew of about nineteen should be able to hold the place together barring any... considerable incidents." George looked to him.
"What sort of 'incidents'?" The foreman shrugged.
"Incidents like fire, floodgate failure, turbine shaft shearing, dynamo shorts, electrical overload, but not to worry, things like that only happen when... when the machines... are... not... properly maintained..." George gave him a flat look.
"Such as not being turned on in ten plus years? No grease? No oil? No inspections or periodic start-ups? It'd be a miracle if all the equipment wasn't half rusted and decayed with age and neglect. What was the machinery made of?"
"A mix. The gear exposed to water was made of special treated high-carbon steel to resist corrosion while the electrical equipment, to cut costs and reduce the load on the foundation, was made of rivveted plate iron. The only exception was the turbine and blades which were made of titanium and aluminum composites to endure the stress the torque and velocity they would be subjected to." Zafra, in human form, copied George's flat look.
"And what are the chances that something does malfunction or go wrong in some other spectacular fashion?" Bickel shrugged.
"That depends. I have no doubts that the system is still intact but, if something does go wrong, the other hydro-electric facilities can accomodate us. Each facility was built to exacting mirror specifications. This means that if something breaks in one, we can cannabalize parts from the others to repair the damage." Zafra sighed.
"Thus wasting valuable time and also putting our operations in jeopardy by having us stay in the field longer than expected." Bickel turned to her, his face reddening.
"Look, as long as we start up slowly and don't gun it right out of the gate, everything should work just fine." George turned to look at him.
"Mr. Bickel, while I respect you as a member of the Wolf's Den and as a former operator of the plant in question, I kindly ask that you control your emotions. You are speaking to King's eldest grandchild." Bickel sighed.
"I apologize. I have the utmost respect for the royal family, truly I do, but the fact remains that while you may know a lot about metallurgy and machinery, you don't know much about the people who work these machines. For you, simply building and testing them is all you do. Once they earn your passing mark, that's it, you're done. It then becomes whoever buys them problem to maintain them." Bickel sighed and then gazed to her and George.
"For ten years I and the men with me worked to keep Launces powered. With His Majesty's help, we converted the old water mills into state-of-the-art hydro-electric power plants. These plants powered the city for nearly a decade before His Majesty decided to try and produce crystal energy for a power plant. Once these newer, larger plants were operational, the news came down that the hydro-electric plants were to be shut down. Something about them being able to generate three times the electricity than the older plants." George looked to him with astonishment. Bickel continued.
"The kicker however, is that the guys in charge of the hydro-electric plants were so ingrained in the higher ranks of the Council that they were able to fire us with no fuss, no final paycheck, nothing to help us look for another job. Those who objected to this were blacklisted, those who simply accepted it were degraded and humiliated by being forced to take jobs at other places getting payed half of what they were being payed." George looked to him.
"What about you and your men? Did you resist? Or accept it?" Bickel chuckled.
"We resisted." He looked to his men and then back to Zafra.
"Do you think, Lady Zafra, that once the war is over your Grandfather will address the problems in the Councils?" Zafra looked to George and then nodded.
"I have no doubts that Grandfather will rectify this situation. Like you said though, it will be when the war is over." Bickel looked to George then back to Zafra and nodded.
"I suppose that'll have to do. Nick, I know that you seek to unite the Resistance under one banner, and this is good. Once this is done, I'll alert my contacts within the other cells and see about getting them to meet with you." George nodded.
"How many other cells are there?"
"Two. Besides yours and mine, there are the Tunnel Rats in the inner city. Their leader is uh... name's Anthony Yalta, military like you... he was a Sergeant with the 2nd Sharpshooters. By all accounts, one helluva shot. Next is the Shadow Corps. They're the ones in the most danger as they are set up in the Castle District. They're also the smallest, I think they have less than twenty members. They mainly fool around with things like destroying communications, disrupting motorpools, heh, one notable instance last week they managed to blow up the old steam pipes under a building used by the OAC. Hospitalized thirty of the bastards in scalding steam." George chuckled.
"An unfortunate accident." Bickel nodded.
"That's what the OAC chalked it up as. Actually said that His Majesty had used faulty pipes. They refuse to believe, despite evidence to the contrary, that there is a Resistance cell operating in their backyard. All these instances are being written up as isolated vandals." George nodded.
"Likely they believe it is Partisan activity but, if they publicly started detaining anyone in that area on the suspicion of being a Partisan, it would be more trouble than it's worth. The Castle District is home to several high-ranking families and military heroes who couldn't evacuate in time. To detain, arrest, question, or harm any of them would incite open rebellion against the OAC. The Rotarians believe they have secured the city and this area of the nation but their grasp is flimsy at best."
"How do you mean?"
"The soldiers in the occupation force, not including the OAC, are all conscripts from reserve units. They have second-rate equipment, they're using captured antique tanks for armor, and have very few automatic weapons. The OAC is only perhaps a nineth of the Occupation force's strength and they're not even equipped with proper weapons. Granted they have more automatic weapons and armor but they are spread so thin it's impossible for them to be effective." Zafra looked to them.
"So basically they're in poor positions to act as an occupation force. In that case, any idea why the Royal Army hasn't steamrolled over the Rotarian Army and liberated the city by now?" This time one of the other men answered.
"According to the radio we managed to scavenge, our forces are bogged down near the Siegfried-Marginot Line and are, apparently fighting house to house and street to street in Northumbria. Rotarian forces led by dread griffons shattered the northern part of the line near Talon's Peak managed to push all the way into Navora's western district. As of one o'clock yesterday morning, Navora is no longer neutral and is mobilizing it's entire volunteer and standing army to push the Rotarian forces out and then bolster the Syllian lines." Another nodded.
"The commanders are also waiting for reinforcements from both Espan and Anozira. Praetoria is diverting most of its troops to helping stabilize the Tellanian front but it is committing several fighter squadrons and bomber wings to us, as well as a carrier fleet. By week's end, we'll have over one million foreign volunteers joining our forces to push the enemy back. That's the scuttlebutt over the radio anyway." George nodded.
"Well, I'll be putting more faith in actual reports than civilian scuttlebutt. Chances are, if we heard it, the enemy heard it as well and they are either preparing accordingly or they are wondering if the occupation was such a good idea to begin with."
As the group debated, they closed in on the exit to the aqueducts system and soon caught sight of the three old hydro-electric plants. Noticing a complete lack of patrols, they hurried to the middle plant. Much to George's evident relief, it looked as if his fears of poor maintenance were unfounded. Almost every piece of machinery was rust-free. They had to drain the oil reserves to grease the machines after a few minutes, the plant was starting up.
As power came on, the crew rushed to send the power where it wasn needed and kept an eye on the guages, making sure that they didn't cause too much of a jump in the overall grid. As George went about secureing the plant, a loud thump brought his attention outside to where Caldor had just landed, out of breath and wide-eyed. Zafra noticed he was blleding from a wound to his side and rushed to him.
"Caldor! What happened?!"
"Got sighted by one of those damn airships. They obviously have some high powered weapons mounted to them to wound me like this. But that's not why I'm here." He turned to George and, spotting unfamiliars near him, used his middle name.
"Nick, someone tipped off the OAC that our wounded is being treated at the Hospital in town. They're sending a force to round up the wounded and execute any who resist. They're going to make an example of the doctors and nurses who have been helping us." George paled and looked back to his group.
"Alright, plant crew remain here, the rest of you, back into the tunnels and make a beeline for the hospital!"