331 (approximation)
Donovan's eyes snapped open at the beeping from his watch. It wasn't a scheduled alarm, simply an alert to wake him once his presence was needed, occupying a similar role to the shock collar. If he was to be completely honest, the faint beeping and occasional vibration wasn't enough of a guaranteed wakeup for him to be comfortable entrusting his life to. The only reason he didn't wear the collar was Diana's insistence that it didn't fit his status.
That, he supposed, was an acceptable reason. Image might not be on his radar but it wasn't an aspect he could ignore. Superiors set standards the subordinates were expected to follow, and appearance was one of those standards. If those collars weren't absolutely necessary for an individual's situation he would prefer they didn't wear them, and his situation certainly didn't require it. Private though his room might be, it was directly connected to the pilot room. If Arc couldn't wake him he could easily unlock the door and have one of the men present on deck shake him up - a luxury not enjoyed during his time on the Noah.
"Attention on deck!" Given the lack of a formal ranking system and the ability to understand English, Donovan resorted to shouting this out himself as he opened the door. Two Holifanians, a Sanctite, and six Nekh returned a salute, one doing so from the cockpit. "At ease."
Playing both ends of the rope was mighty uncomfortable for Donovan. He knew the crew understood his reasons for doing so and that his status as sovereign over both the people being transported and the vessels being used practically demanded such behavior, however it was incredibly weird for someone who was habituated for the 'proper' way of doing things.
"Status?"
"Approaching Nectar. Landing sequence in . . ." The Sanctite turned towards one of the screens, trying his hardest to speak English as instructed. He was clearly struggling to remember how to either read or pronounce something. ". . . thir-thirty minutes?"
"Very well. Were there any passenger issues during my rest?"
"Nothing beyond the usual. One individual defecated in the cargo bay next to the cattle, and another vomited in a hallway before they could reach the bathroom."
In all likelihood the cargo bay crapper was someone who either didn't understand how the bathroom functioned or did not see the purpose. The vomiting was almost certainly due to stress. Neither was of particular concern, the cattle were already making a mess and the vomit could be cleaned up quickly with the equipment on hand.
"Good. Have all of you passed the standard operations test?"
"Everyone but me, sir." The Nekh in the cockpit bowed his head, ears flattening. Donovan expected as much given his prior results, but it was still disappointing.
"Don't beat yourself up over it. It's a rough course for someone who can't communicate in English." He'd be an excess crew member on another of the Trawlers until he could pass the test properly. "You would have been assigned as surplus to a Trawler anyways. You'll have time with a more experienced crew to iron out the kinks."
"I understand, sir."
"Speaking of, have you all decided on your groups?" The third Trawler would be coming online within the week, a time period during which the two operational vessels would rendezvous on Nectar. Now that they had some level of experience with these operations it was time to convene with ground personnel and determine the best steps going forward. Redistributing the crews amongst the ships was little more than a step towards operational autonomy in Donovan's absence.
"We've elected to go with your proposal, sir. Two Nekh and a Sanctite or Holifanian per team."
"Good. I encourage you to spend your time planet side leisurely, preferably with loved ones if you have them." Five of the Nekh nodded intently whilst the one in the cockpit merely flattened his ears. The youngest among them, he was yet to find a partner. "And I won't tell you not to help with the construction efforts, but I don't want to see any needless injuries. You lot are too valuable to lose and it will be some time until we can cover shore leave with excess flight crews. Am I understood?"
""Yes sir!""
- - - - -
Donovan ignored the tears and cries of elation as he walked past the processing area, making a beeline towards the car on the periphery. The crew he'd been training could handle the direction of unloading and restocking the vessel for its next trip, they needed to get that experience anyways.
"Where's Seppard?"
"Sir Seppard is speaking with a delegation from the homeland, sir." Donovan hopped into the backseat, pleased to find a sandwich and some fruit waiting for him.
"Delegation?" He couldn't remember any news about a diplomatic party arriving on scene, though it wouldn't be surprising if this was a surprise audit to ensure funds were being used properly. "What are they here for?"
"I was under the impression you requested their presence, sir."
"I did?" Donovan wracked his brain for anything remotely related to an invitation of foreign officials, but came up short. "I don't remember requesting anything of the sort."
"Really? They seemed quite eager to meet with you." The Nekh sitting in the passenger seat was almost certainly in training to be a driver. Once they got a few more of these light utility vehicles in operation they'd need operators and mechanics to handle them, not all of which could be Holifanian.
"Did they say who they were?"
"Um, contractors, I believe."
"Contractors?" He took a bite out of one of the fruits and closed his eyes. It was nice to hear an actual engine every once in a while, even if it was a dinky three cylinder. "Oh, they finally got some engineering and construction firms out here. Perfect timing."
- - - - -
Donovan waved away his chauffers at the gates of the complex, half tempted to take a short walk towards the nearest lot of grain before he resumed his day. The implied urgency of private contractors changed his mind on this matter though, time was money to people like that. Returning a salute to the gate guards as he passed through, he took note of the small fleet of vehicles parked in the lot adjacent the primary administrative building.
The majority were the same sort of utility vehicle one might find zipping around the dirt roads they had, ferrying instructions and key personnel from one work site to another, however a few of them were the larger passenger oriented designs intended to move crews relatively quickly across rough terrain. The total lack of trucks or haulers was to be expected, this wasn't a storage depot after all, but there was still a much greater portion of their logistic capacity sitting idle than Donovan would have liked.
"Hello?" Donovan walked through the door, curious as to why nobody was waiting for him. "Anyone there?"
Naught but an empty reception room responded. Strange as that was, Donovan didn't find it suspicious - administrative staff were in short supply as of late. Anyone who could read and write was desperately needed elsewhere, if that meant nobody to greet him then nobody would greet him. He did hear laughter from the meeting room though. Knocking to no response, Donovan prepared himself to issue a scolding before opening the door.
"Excuse me." The jovial air of the room persisted for a few seconds after Donovan made his presence known, various conversations slowly grinding to a halt as all present turned to face him. "Is there an issue?"
"No sir." Seppard stood up, inviting Donovan to take his seat at the head of the table. "I was entertaining these gentlemen here while awaiting for your arrival."
"Well . . . I'm here now." Thoughts of correcting behavior evacuated his head upon gauging the gathered crowd. The majority appeared to be older men, veterans of their respective fields, with dashes of young blood among their number. Even if he engaged in some form of disciplinary scolding it wasn't likely to stick. "I'd normally say that introductions are in order, but I doubt we'll be interacting much given the situation."
"In that case, allow me to speak for the group as to our capabilities." One of the more presentable gentlemen near the other end of the table stood up, buttoning his waistcoat to disguise his gut. "We are, as you may have surmised, representatives from various construction and engineering firms from across the Theocracy. Most of us are contracted for large private and government projects, though there are a few with specialties in more technical fields."
"And what fields might those be?"
"Oh, um, electronics and signals engineering, factory maintenance and design, process automation, prospecting, surveying, deep bore excavation, ship-building, rail-laying, foundation repair, and welding. I'm sure there are more, I only named what I could remember."
"You consider welding to be a technical field?"
"Of course, sir."
"Not a trade?"
"I think you'll agree the equipment is a tad expensive to be a trade."
". . . that's gonna be a problem." Donovan wanted to cradle his head in his hands and scream. A limited wealth of expertise was still a source of expertise, but it was also limited. He had been banking on a little bit more enthusiasm for the occupation in their economy. "You'll teach my guys how to weld."
"I think that would be a bit difficult for someone without formal training to understand how to weld, sir."
"That wasn't a suggestion. You will teach my people to weld. I'll provide the equipment if need be, just get it done." He paused, considering what he knew of the process and what he should be asking here. "And this is a form of electric arc welding, correct?"
"Oh heaven's no, sir. Outside of purpose built industrial facilities the preferred method is torch welding, it prevents the intrusion of various reactive gasses into the metal lattice in an open environment." The person who responded hid smug expression, proud of his expertise.
"Right . . . that's gonna change. Even if I have to drop everything and do a crash course myself, it'll be faster in the long run if we switch to ARC and MIG welding, and maybe have a few people doing TIG later." Laser welding would be Arc's domain for the foreseeable future, if only because they didn't have the materials to make a sufficient number of handheld devices. "Bring over anyone and everyone you can spare with welding experience and the drive to do the work. Seppard will negotiate salaries."
"Are you planning on doing that much welding, sir?"
"I would argue its a fundamental component of industrial expansion, yes." They could make due with bolt and rivet based machinery for a time, but that wouldn't fly with Arc. Even if it was a bit more 'expensive' in the short term, the performance and tolerance increases of a weld over tensile fasteners could save them many a headache down the line.
"Well, so long as they get paid I don't think anyone will complain."
"No shit . . . what about the limits of amperage and voltage?"
"To my knowledge, we've never exceeded (approximation) 900 Amps and (approximation) 45 Kilovolts." Donovan recoiled at the intrusion of fabricated language into his head. It was very similar to his first experience with the Skwiven, who's mannerisms, squeaks, and charades translated into concepts in his mind. The biggest difference here was that Donovan didn't know why the 'approximation' was attached instead of translating during normal conversation, but he had an idea.
"Question, about the units you used for those. Are they precise or do they factor in a margin of error?" Donovan had yet to receive or review a list of units or universal constants from them, as far as he knew this information hadn't even been exchanged. Given the context clues he could only imagine they did something differently with their measurements, and therefore did not possess the same unit baseline. If this was the case there would be no 'true equivalent' for the translator to work off of, and therefore a need to insert some degree of correction.
"Only that which is inherent in the wire."
"The wire. Do you only use one material for those?"
"Copper, naturally. It would technically be possible to use gold or other metals, but we have little use for copper elsewhere."
"So you measure based upon the resistance of copper?"
"We measure based on the thickness of a copper conduit, yes."
Donovan felt as though his brain had been smashed by a hammer. If he was willing to be generous this could be an acceptable method of measurement for limited applications of electricity, replacing the need for calculations with a series of empirically calculated charts. In a world without digital or electro-mechanical calculators and a limited selection of standardized wire gauges this could drastically increase the speed at which arduous calculations could be done. The problem is that these gauges provided an inverse-square relationship in a system that operated on linear interactions. A kilometer-long copper wire with a 20 millimeter diameter would provide a resistance of around 0.05 Ohms, around 0.2 Ohms for a 10 millimeter diameter, and around 0.85 Ohms for a 5 millimeter diameter. That meant you couldn't just substitute the diameter or radius as the 'R' into the standard I=V/R equation without first modifying it with another equation.
"That's retarded."
"Apologies?" Donovan had reflexively spoken his admonishment in English, and he had no reason to repeat it.
"I said that's a retarded method of measurement." He didn't have a reason not to either. "Surely you know the resistivity of various materials, right?"
"I'm not sure if I-"
"Then don't speak." Donovan decided he wouldn't be accepting retorts on this matter. Their system was stupid, any attempts to convince him otherwise would only waste his time. "It's not like you'll be designing anything. So long as your men don't fry themselves on the lines, we'll be fine."
The extent of their experience being relatively low amperage and voltage systems weren't the most encouraging either, however Donovan imagined that at those lethal levels the protocols were going to be roughly similar. The difference in effect between one kilo-Ampere and ten kilo-Amperes on the human body was purely academic - exposure to either would leave you a corpse in short order.
"How familiar are any of you with electric arc furnaces?"
"We are aware of the concept, but its a bit too much upkeep for most of our foundries."
"Not so here. Get your specialists over and we'll give the designs a look. How about strip mining?"
"We prefer shaft mining, sir. Less of an eyesore."
"That's great. Not what I asked for though. Get me some managers for whatever strip mines are in operation, preferably those who work in the business of hematite. For the steel mill."
"I'll find some people for coal as well."
"That won't be necessary for the time being. The chances of there being coal within a workable radius are pitifully low. I will need anybody you have that is familiar overseeing chemical processes, preferably having experience with Oxy-hydrogen fuel synthesizers or large scale electrolysis systems."
"Are those for the welders?"
"No, the cement clinker kiln. We need a hot burning fuel to reach the calcination point. Speaking of, I'd like some people used to working in cement plants."
"How are you going to produce the needed electricity without a source of fuel?"
"I've got it handled."
"Are we using a series of gasoline or diesel generators?"
"I said I have it handled. No further questions on the matter."
"I can't prepare equipment without knowing what I'm dealing with."
Donovan glared at the individual pushing to know what power source he would be using, one of those who seemed interested in the welding conversation. He only lifted his hands in response, a gesture suggesting an exasperated defeat over a topic he felt qualified in. For that matter, he did at least look like he worked in the field before, if not as a welder himself then certainly someone who inspected them or watched how they were done. He lacked the potbelly some of the better dressed people sported, and he had a few items in various pockets that looked more like survey and measurement equipment. A professional, one simply asking for details.
"It's the same power plant that can get a few tens of thousands of tons of steel off the ground and into space with enough juice left over to power a decent portion of a city while taking up less space than the room we stand in. I won't explain to you the details not because I don't want you to have them, but because I am not sure what could possibly be helpful. Still, I assure you, I have the power problem handled."