The Brave New World 62 The Trip of a Lifetime

Olaf Berg opened his mouth in dismay.

"But why?" he asked. "You don't think I'm capable enough?"

"You're more than capable. But I need you to take care of things at Svenborg while I'm gone. You know Vidar's party was attacked, and that they lost all the gold and silver ore. I'll be leading the team that will hunt down and kill those assholes. Don't think this is a demotion. It's actually a promotion for you, Olaf. You'll be in command in our capital. And you'll be in charge of the food exports. Nearly a quarter of all our food is already coming in from the New World, and we need to increase the supply as quickly as we can. If anyone can do it, you can. You're an organizational genius."

"Thank you. May I ask who will lead the expedition instead?"

"Jens. He has an eye for minerals, and good settlement sites. We'll need to establish a couple along the route to the river."

"Okay. Cigarette?"

"No, I'm fine. We need to go back inside. Everyone's waiting. Come on."

Sven took one last look at the farmyard before going inside his house. It looked so peaceful in the moonlight. Amazingly, the snow had already started to melt. Well, it had been getting warmer from year to year for a long while - at least twenty years. As he entered the house, Sven had the thought that the catastrophe that had taken place right after New Year's Day was actually the best thing that could have happened to stop climate change. Now, every time he went into town the air smelled as clean and fresh as it did up in the mountains.

The room was packed: there were nearly forty people inside, sitting on the floor. They were illuminated by a single light bulb in the ceiling lamp. Power supply had been restored, albeit for just a couple of hours each evening. The light would go out in about an hour, which was good. Sven Holm did not believe in drawn-out meetings.

Deciding to keep his snow and mud-encrusted boots on, he climbed onto his desk. It didn't do to make an address wearing socks. He looked at the expectant faces packed into the room. Henrik was there, as was Ulla. He'd noticed that she had changed. She hadn't gone anywhere as crazy as her second self in the New World, but the first signs were there. He'd have to do something about that in the not-so-distant future.

"We have three items on the agenda today," he said. "They are all of equal importance, so don't be misled by the order in which they'll be discussed today.

"The first thing I want to talk about is the attack on Vidar's team. We have to hunt down the people responsible. We also have to double our efforts to bring in enough gold and silver ore to begin minting our own coinage. There is just a single week left before the switch to the new global currency. As you know, I've already registered our mint with the authorities.

"Now for the second item on our agenda. On the first of March, I'll acquire a colonizer's license, making everything nice and legal. All of you here will be given colonist licenses. I'll pay for these from the club funds. According to what I heard when I was registering our mint, the old money will be good for purchasing colonial licenses until the end of the year. We won't be able to spend it on anything else. So I intend to spend as much as I can on acquiring licenses. I doubt I'll be able to spend it all, because the club coffers contain nearly thirty million crowns."

He smiled and waited until the cheers subsided. Then he continued:

"I'll be leading the heavily escorted team that returns to the area around the copper mine to look for silver and gold. Once the team has reached its destination, I will take the escort on a hunt for the bandits that attacked Vidar. We will make sure that they won't bother us again."

More cheers; it was beginning to get irritating. He really wished that they had less enthusiasm, but more discipline. Too much enthusiasm tended to burn itself out; discipline ensured things got done even when there was no enthusiasm.

"Third item," he said, making them fall silent. "It's pretty obvious there will be wild rush to colonize the New World. People won't be able to spend their old money on anything else, so everyone and their dog will have a pop. There's going to be some pretty intense competition. I've already been on the phone to all of our eighteen chapters, from Malmoe to Haparanda. They'll all acquire licenses, and move into the New World promptly on the first of March. We'll also be recruiting plenty of new people - not into the club, just into our colonization venture. We need a big population to conquer the New World."

Cheers again! Sven frowned, but they all were so carried away they didn't stop until he raised his hand.

"I need all of you to think hard if they know of suitable recruits," he said. "I also need all of you to tighten up your act. There already have been a couple of security breaches. I don't need cops sniffing around this place, looking for illegal implant kits. So keep your mouths firmly shut for at least another week. Next month, everyone will be babbling about their colonies in the New World, so any indiscretions you make won't be as dangerous as they are now. But either way, anyone gossiping about what we're up to is going to suffer consequences."

He stopped speaking and gave them a long, hard stare. He noticed with satisfaction that some of them - the ones that had babbled something - were badly scared. They all knew what the consequences he'd mentioned could entail. They all knew he'd already ended a couple of precious, Old World lives because their owners got a little too talkative about the club's drug operations.

"Okay," he said. "Now get the hell out of here and roast a couple of sheep for dinner. There's also cheese and fish newly arrived from the New World. Henrik, Olaf, Ulla - you stay. I need a word with you."

The four of them waited until everyone had left the house. They didn't have to wait long: everyone was pretty hungry, and eager to get on with preparing the food. The big communal kitchen had been established in the former stable, where food sent from the New World arrived. It was fortunate that the farm had a number of buildings: one of its barns had been turned into a dormitory. Sven had nearly forty people living on his farm, and they were all immensely grateful for letting them stay.

This was because the Holm farmstead had food. And food was precisely what Sven wanted to talk about with Olaf.

He said:

"Olaf. I need you to go see Persson, and get him to sell us more sheep. As many as you can squeeze out of him."

"It will be difficult. Half the town's been begging him to sell them some. There's no food in any of the stores."

"I know. Take a couple of guys with you, and use whatever means necessary. You can take as much money as you like. You can even take a couple of gold nuggets. And if that isn't enough, you know what to do."

"Yes," said Olaf, a little doubtfully.

"Good. Now, Henrik."

"Yes?"

"You've been through a lot recently," Sven said, and they both laughed. Ulla cracked a slightly twisted smile.

"You'll be staying here for a while. Your guy in New World will have to manage on his own. I need you to manage things here, and you'll also be my personal relay. Your guy will be on my team over there. I'm going to keep him by my side to stay in touch. Got it?"

"Sure," Henrik said, a bit unhappily. He took a deep breath, and added:

"You know, Sven, I was kind of looking forward to meeting those bandits again."

"I'm sure you were. But I need you here. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Fine. Ulla."

She is definitely going crazy, Sven thought, looking into her eyes. Oh well. He'd give her some more time. And if she didn't straighten out, if her condition got worse, she'd simply have to disappear. From both worlds.

"Your girl in the New World will be going with me as well," Sven told her. "But you'll stay here, and you'll mute your signal. You need a rest from the New World. You're an awesome cook, and I'm putting you in charge of the kitchen for the next week or two. You can select whoever you like to help you."

As he'd expected, she didn't like that. Which was why he had prepared some sugar to go along with the bitter pill. He said:

"I need you in top form because in a couple of weeks, when it's a little warmer, I'm going on a quick tour of all of our chapters. I want you as my companion on that tour."

It worked beautifully: she grinned from ear to ear, and it was a normal, happy grin. She said:

"But how are we going to travel? You think the bikes will be working by then?"

"I know one will, for sure. The Zundapp."

The motorbike he was referring to was a World War Two-vintage Wehrmacht machine equipped with a sidecar. Sven had bought it several years earlier from a guy that had restored it beautifully - it was almost like brand new. It did not have the vehicle data transmitter required by all vehicles, the transmitter whose failure had immobilized vehicles all over the world.

Sven hoped that the trip would heal Ulla's mental state. And if he saw it wasn't working, then, well...

He'd return from that trip alone.

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