David Weber - How firm a foundation

“We didn’t,” Nahrmahn said, and Cayleb looked at him sharply as he heard the iron in the Emeraldian prince’s voice.

“What do you mean?” the emperor asked sharply.

“I mean this didn’t just ‘happen,’ Your Majesty. And it wasn’t an accident, either.” Nahrmahn met his gaze, his normally mild brown eyes hard. “It was deliberate. An act of sabotage.”

“You’re not serious!”

“Indeed I am, Your Majesty.” Nahrmahn’s voice was grim. “We may never be able to prove it, but I’m positive in my own mind.”

Cayleb pushed back in his armchair and regarded his imperial councilor for intelligence narrowly. No one else in Tellesberg, aside from the other members of the ‘inner circle,’ knew anything about the disaster at Hairatha, and no one would until sometime the next day. That rather restricted the number of people with whom they could discuss it, but Maikel Staynair, his younger brother, Ehdwyrd Howsmyn, and Bynzhamyn Raice were all listening in over their coms.

“Bynzhamyn?” the emperor said now.

“I’m not certain, Your Majesty,” Baron Wave Thunder replied. “I think I see what Prince Nahrmahn is getting at, though.”

“Which is?” Cayleb prompted.

“It’s the delay in the magazine explosions, isn’t it, Your Highness?” Wave Thunder said by way of reply.

“That’s exactly what I’m thinking about,” Nahrmahn agreed grimly. He looked at Cayleb. “Nobody, not even Owl, was watching when this happened. Perhaps that’s an oversight we’d like to rectify in the future, although I realize we’re already taxing even his capabilities with the number of SNARCs we’ve got deployed. Because we weren’t watching, we’ll never be able to reconstruct the events leading up to it-not accurately, and not anything like completely. But there was a significant delay between the main explosion in the powder mill itself and the explosions in the magazines. I’m no expert on the way powder’s handled and stored in the mills or what their standard safety measures may be, but I’d be surprised if it was easy for an explosion in one magazine to touch off an explosion in another one. And if that’s true, it should certainly have been difficult for an explosion in the mill to cause any of the magazines to explode, far less three of them. Yet that’s exactly what happened, and it didn’t happen simultaneously, which is what I would have expected if it had been a sympathetic detonation. And all of that suggests to me that the explosions were deliberately arranged with some sort of timer.”

“Owl?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?” the distant AI said politely.

“I know you weren’t watching Big Tirian or Hairatha, but did any of your SNARCs pick up the explosions, and if so, how close together did they come?”

“In answer to your first question, Your Majesty, yes, the com relay above The Cauldron did detect the explosions. In answer to your second question, the powder production facility itself was destroyed by seven distinct explosions occurring over a period of approximately eleven seconds. Each magazine was destroyed by a single primary explosion followed by a chain of secondary detonations. The first magazine was destroyed approximately eleven minutes and seventeen seconds after the first detonation in the powder production facility. The second magazine was destroyed thirty-seven seconds after that. The third was destroyed three minutes and nine seconds after the second one.”

Cayleb and Nahrmahn looked at one another and Domynyk Staynair swore softly over the com.

“I think Nahrmahn’s right, Your Majesty,” Howsmyn said quietly. “It had to be some kind of timing mechanism, at least in the magazines. I don’t know what kind of timer-it could have been something as simple as a lit candle shoved into a powder cask and allowed to burn down-but I think that’s the only explanation for how they could have come that long after the main explosion but still have been sequenced that closely.”

“Damn.” Cayleb shoved up out of his chair and crossed to the window, folding his arms across his chest while he stared out towards the invisible island and the pall of smoke still hanging above it. “How did they get in?”

“We’ll probably never know, Your Majesty,” Nahrmahn told him heavily. “Obviously, our security measures weren’t stringent enough after all, though.”

“I don’t see how we could make them much tighter, Your Highness,” Wave Thunder objected. “We’ve always recognized the powder mills would be a priority target for any Temple Loyalist intent on seriously damaging us. We’ve got round-the-clock Marine sentries on the gates and every building, and the magazines themselves are kept locked except when powder’s actually being transferred. Keys to the locks are held only by the mill’s commanding officer and the current officer of the watch. When powder transfers are ordered, they’re always overseen by a commissioned officer with a Marine security and safety detachment, and additional keys have to be signed out individually by that officer, who’s also responsible for their return. And when any of the magazines are opened for transfers, we have sentries on all the other magazines, as well. Beyond that, nobody’s allowed into the facility unless he actually works there or has clear, verified authorization for his visit. Any visitor’s accompanied at all times by someone assigned to the mill, and regular and random patrols sweep the perimeter fence.”

“My comment wasn’t a criticism, Bynzhamyn,” Nahrmahn said, “simply an observation. Whether we can make them tighter or not, they obviously weren’t sufficiently tight to prevent what just happened. I do think it would be a good idea to assign at least a couple of remotes to each of our remaining powder mills, though. We might not’ve been able to do anything quickly enough to prevent what happened at Hairatha even if Owl had been watching and realized something was amiss before the explosions, but at least we’d be in a much better position after the fact to figure out what actually did happen and who was responsible for it. And that might put us in a better position to keep it from happening again.”

“You think it’s part of an organized operation?” Cayleb asked. “That they may attempt to blow up our other powder mills, as well?”

“I don’t know.” Nahrmahn shook his head, eyes intent as he considered the question. “All it would really take would be one truly convinced Temple Loyalist in the wrong place. For all we know, that’s what happened here-the fact that some sort of timer was used may indicate we’re looking at the work of a single individual or a small number of individuals. Or it may not indicate anything of the sort; perhaps it was a larger group that used timers for all four of the primary explosions so its members could get out again. If it was a larger group, that would seem to up the chances of additional, similar attempts. We just don’t know. But I don’t see where keeping a closer eye on the remaining mills could hurt anything, and it might just help quite a lot.”

“Agreed.” Cayleb nodded. “Owl, please implement Prince Nahrmahn’s suggestion and assign sufficient remotes to keep all of our remaining powder mills under observation.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you,” Cayleb said, and Howsmyn sighed heavily over the link.

“What is it, Ehdwyrd?”

“I was just thinking that, terrible as this is from every perspective, it gets even worse when I think about Urvyn’s having walked into the middle of it, Your Majesty,” the ironmaster said heavily. “It’s going to devastate Ahlfryd when he finds out. For that matter, it’s hitting me damned hard. But that’s from a purely personal, selfish viewpoint. We needed him, needed him pushing the envelope and constantly coming up with new ideas, like that breech-loading rifle of his.”