06-23-2023, 10:39 PM
Northwestern Auria
Matthias Borneholm was beginning to doubt the word of the man who had assured him the trip he was taking was a "short and mostly smooth ride." Either the man was deliberately lying, or he had some radically different conception of the phrase "short and smooth." As far as he could tell, instead of gently rolling hills as he'd expected, the military vehicle had ascended and descended great craggy peaks and had taken too many hairpin turns to count. If this was the only way to the destination, then he'd have to bring on a team of engineers and hire a lot of native labor to either create a new road or something better, like a rail or water route. Although he admittedly was beginning to feel a bit queasy (Grundhavn is not a place with a lot of high peaks), he had carefully kept count of the route and was reasonably sure he could bring others back to this place in case General Michelin was trying to keep it concealed from friends and foes alike.
Finally and mercifully, the road came to an end and the man stopped the vehicle. "Here we are, sir," he said. Then, with what Bornholm could swear was a touch of malicious glee, he said, "I hope this trip wasn't too hard on you."
"Not at all," said Borneholm. "Thank you very much for your expert driving." He made a mental note of the man, both his appearance and his apparent antipathy towards Borneholm. General Michelin and his officers might be desperate for Grundhavish aid, but it appeared that there were yet "patriots" who might object to Michelin "selling out" the country to the Grundhavs. Still, everything in life was a transaction. One could not expect aid for nothing in return. Allowing Grundhavn access to this site was simply the cost of doing business.
The man pointed him down the hill towards the open pit with several buildings scattered about. He strode down the hill and came up to a man in a dirt-covered work uniform who directed him to one of the buildings. Inside were five men; two were obviously engineers, one a miner, one a businessman or functionary of some sort, and another who seemed to be somewhat out of place, dressed in casual clothes not unlike Borneholm's.
"Welcome, sir," said one of the engineers. "We're pleased you're here."
"Thank you," said Borneholm. "May I see the recompense?"
The miner brought out a small container that had a small chunk of brown-yellow mineral in it. He cleared his throat. "This here is a sample of the uranium ore which is found in this mine. As you can see, it's mostly sandstone-based, but our ore is actually fairly rich as far as uranium goes, with a grade of about 1.5%. That means there isn't as much enrichment needed to turn it into fuel for a typical nuclear reactor."
"Excellent," said Borneholm. He turned to the engineer. "What's the production level? And how much would we need to power, say, 100,000 homes?"
"A traditional nuclear reactor is about 700-1000 megawatts, which requires about 200 tons of uranium, not uranium ore, mind you, but uranium itself. That would probably suffice to power the number you're looking at and then some. We're still exploring the site, but we're confident we could supply that much to you without too much difficulty."
The businessman then spoke. "I'll be the representative for the company that will own the mine and export the material, though of course the capital and thus the material and the profit will come from your nation. We've buried it under several layers of ownership so that anyone will have to look rather hard in order to discover any hint of your involvement."
Borneholm nodded. "Good." He turned to the other man. "And you, who are you? What are you going to do?"
The man lazily arose and spoke. "Why, I'm a transportation specialist. I know plenty of captains with vessels that fly flags from neutral or out of the way countries who would be more than happy to transport your product to Grundhavn or some suitable third location. I'm also quite good at keeping secrets from customs inspectors. I'll work with you to ensure that this product makes it to its proper destination without anyone who doesn't already know what's going on finding out."
Borneholm's lip curled ever so slightly. He supposed it was only natural that the Aurians would have their own smugglers or that, in a country in the midst of civil war, criminals would find ways to profit. Still, it was good to have someone else who could take the fall if things went south. And perhaps he'd have better ideas about how to keep things concealed. "When can the first shipment be sent out? And how, in God's name, can we make transportation out of here easier? Those mountain roads will unacceptably delay shipments."
The other engineer spoke up now. "Depends on the capital investment on your end. If we get the proper equipment and funding, we can extract ore and send it on its way in a couple of months. If not, it'll be closer to six months. But we'll work with what we have to work with. And as far as transportation, this region of the nation isn't friendly to any kind of transportation. I suppose we could airlift material to ports, but that would be fairly expensive. We could probably blast another road out of here, but that would take months. It's all a long-term project and depends on what your nation wants."
"I see," said Borneholm. "I'll contact my superiors and find out the best way to proceed." After some more small talk, he left the building. He needed to make a call. Several calls. This was going to be more expensive than they thought. He needed machinery and cash, as well as more men on the ground. He didn't like having to rely on Aurians for things. If this went well, Grundhavn could be assured of its energy needs for decades in the future and permanently open new markets, but if it didn't, then it could well bring down the government and the economy.
Matthias Borneholm was beginning to doubt the word of the man who had assured him the trip he was taking was a "short and mostly smooth ride." Either the man was deliberately lying, or he had some radically different conception of the phrase "short and smooth." As far as he could tell, instead of gently rolling hills as he'd expected, the military vehicle had ascended and descended great craggy peaks and had taken too many hairpin turns to count. If this was the only way to the destination, then he'd have to bring on a team of engineers and hire a lot of native labor to either create a new road or something better, like a rail or water route. Although he admittedly was beginning to feel a bit queasy (Grundhavn is not a place with a lot of high peaks), he had carefully kept count of the route and was reasonably sure he could bring others back to this place in case General Michelin was trying to keep it concealed from friends and foes alike.
Finally and mercifully, the road came to an end and the man stopped the vehicle. "Here we are, sir," he said. Then, with what Bornholm could swear was a touch of malicious glee, he said, "I hope this trip wasn't too hard on you."
"Not at all," said Borneholm. "Thank you very much for your expert driving." He made a mental note of the man, both his appearance and his apparent antipathy towards Borneholm. General Michelin and his officers might be desperate for Grundhavish aid, but it appeared that there were yet "patriots" who might object to Michelin "selling out" the country to the Grundhavs. Still, everything in life was a transaction. One could not expect aid for nothing in return. Allowing Grundhavn access to this site was simply the cost of doing business.
The man pointed him down the hill towards the open pit with several buildings scattered about. He strode down the hill and came up to a man in a dirt-covered work uniform who directed him to one of the buildings. Inside were five men; two were obviously engineers, one a miner, one a businessman or functionary of some sort, and another who seemed to be somewhat out of place, dressed in casual clothes not unlike Borneholm's.
"Welcome, sir," said one of the engineers. "We're pleased you're here."
"Thank you," said Borneholm. "May I see the recompense?"
The miner brought out a small container that had a small chunk of brown-yellow mineral in it. He cleared his throat. "This here is a sample of the uranium ore which is found in this mine. As you can see, it's mostly sandstone-based, but our ore is actually fairly rich as far as uranium goes, with a grade of about 1.5%. That means there isn't as much enrichment needed to turn it into fuel for a typical nuclear reactor."
"Excellent," said Borneholm. He turned to the engineer. "What's the production level? And how much would we need to power, say, 100,000 homes?"
"A traditional nuclear reactor is about 700-1000 megawatts, which requires about 200 tons of uranium, not uranium ore, mind you, but uranium itself. That would probably suffice to power the number you're looking at and then some. We're still exploring the site, but we're confident we could supply that much to you without too much difficulty."
The businessman then spoke. "I'll be the representative for the company that will own the mine and export the material, though of course the capital and thus the material and the profit will come from your nation. We've buried it under several layers of ownership so that anyone will have to look rather hard in order to discover any hint of your involvement."
Borneholm nodded. "Good." He turned to the other man. "And you, who are you? What are you going to do?"
The man lazily arose and spoke. "Why, I'm a transportation specialist. I know plenty of captains with vessels that fly flags from neutral or out of the way countries who would be more than happy to transport your product to Grundhavn or some suitable third location. I'm also quite good at keeping secrets from customs inspectors. I'll work with you to ensure that this product makes it to its proper destination without anyone who doesn't already know what's going on finding out."
Borneholm's lip curled ever so slightly. He supposed it was only natural that the Aurians would have their own smugglers or that, in a country in the midst of civil war, criminals would find ways to profit. Still, it was good to have someone else who could take the fall if things went south. And perhaps he'd have better ideas about how to keep things concealed. "When can the first shipment be sent out? And how, in God's name, can we make transportation out of here easier? Those mountain roads will unacceptably delay shipments."
The other engineer spoke up now. "Depends on the capital investment on your end. If we get the proper equipment and funding, we can extract ore and send it on its way in a couple of months. If not, it'll be closer to six months. But we'll work with what we have to work with. And as far as transportation, this region of the nation isn't friendly to any kind of transportation. I suppose we could airlift material to ports, but that would be fairly expensive. We could probably blast another road out of here, but that would take months. It's all a long-term project and depends on what your nation wants."
"I see," said Borneholm. "I'll contact my superiors and find out the best way to proceed." After some more small talk, he left the building. He needed to make a call. Several calls. This was going to be more expensive than they thought. He needed machinery and cash, as well as more men on the ground. He didn't like having to rely on Aurians for things. If this went well, Grundhavn could be assured of its energy needs for decades in the future and permanently open new markets, but if it didn't, then it could well bring down the government and the economy.