"Going to sell real good."

"Good job."

Say something nice when everything is going okay. Don't be pushy. You get more effort with a couple of nice words than by being pushy. Besides, if anything went wrong, Helene could take care of it. The employees listened to her better, she was older and got more respect.

It was time to head home. Philip would ensure everything was finished properly.

She had earned her pocket money. She had learned more about business than she thought she'd ever want to know and now knew it wasn't enough. She had also learned the hard way that getting what you want didn't always turn out to be a good thing.

Moonraker

by Karen Bergstralh

The black hull towered above Monsieur De Roche. It was the pinnacle of his dreams and the final blow to his shipyard. Copper cladding gleamed in the late afternoon sun. The loans to buy that alone would sink him. The ship hung above his head, supported for a quarter of its length on the slip. The rest of the great ship completely bridged the estuary stream and the ship's stern was firmly stuck in the muddy bank opposite. TheMoonraker's stern actually touched the rival ship that was being built on the other bank.

None of the many ships Monsieur De Roche had built nor any that his father and grandfather had built had ever been so large. It had not occurred to him or to any of his shipwrights that theMoonraker was too long to launch.

"A beautiful and deceitful woman you truly are," he whispered to the great ship.

"Monsieur?"

De Roche turned and found Henri, his chief shipwright, at his side.

"How badly is she damaged?"

Henri scratched his beard and smiled. "Dry, the bilge is dry. Not a single leak." The man beamed with pride. "Even where she struck theGiantess there is little damage. A matter of a splintered rail."

"The rudder? What of it?"

"In place and still sound. I could not see all of it, of course. Once we get her free of the mud and up on the slipway again . . ."

"Yes, and then what do we do? She'll still be too long to launch."

"I've been thinking, Monsieur. Once we have her back we can turn her sideways. It won't be quick, but we can do it. There are pictures in your book of ships being launched sideways."

"Do you think it can be done?"

"Yes, Monsieur. It can be done. Monsieur Leblanc will have to do the same with theGiantess . His people are distracted, so I paced her off. She's twenty feet longer than ourMoonraker. If they try to launch her straight back, her stern windows will end up in your office. Her proportions are wrong, too.

He's tried to make her too much like a galleon.Moonraker will dance through the waves while the Giantess waddles."

"If we can get our ship out of the mud and launched."

"Charles and Louis have finished rigging the block and tackle. We've four teams of horses and one of oxen here and another three are coming. " Henri gestured across the stream. "Monsieur LeBlanc's crew has made good progress digging the mud away from her rudder and keel. High tide is in an hour, we'll beready."

"How long to turn her and re-launch her?"

"Two weeks. The minor repairs can be done while we turn her. I'll start some of the finishers aboard, too. She'll be ready to sail no more than a week later than you promised. Then the world will see. Ah, Monsieur, she'll be the fastest sailing ship the world has seen. Three months to China. Imagine. Only three months!"

"A week. I can hold off her owners for a week. It will ruin me financially, but I can do it."

"No, Monsieur, it will not ruin you." Henri was long used to Monsieur De Roche's complaints of financial ruin. He grinned. "I do not think that Monsieur Leblanc's customers are happy withGiantess . While I was over in his yard two of his investors asked when you would be able to build another likeMoonraker . I told them we could start as soon as she's afloat."

Monsieur De Roche looked across at his rival's shipyard with narrowed eyes. "We can start as soon the contract is signed. Perhaps I might make a small profit after all. Say enough to buy additional yard s.p.a.ce?"

The two men laughed.

The Minstrel Boy

by John Zeek

Sat.u.r.day morning, February 1634 "Well, that's that." Bill Frank lowered the hood of the new rail engine. "Though I have no idea how we're going to deliver it."

Hagen Filss, who had been handing him tools, responded, "Maybe when Sergeant Hatfield and Private Schultz get back they will know, Herr Frank."

Warrant Officer Frank looked over at the young soldier. "Hagen, first off you should remember thatMister Hatfield is no longer a sergeant, but a warrant officer. And second, there's nothing that says he's going to stop here in Grantville. He might go straight to Wismar to join the rest of the company." Then, seeing the lost look in Hagen's eyes, he added, "I know, son. You think you can talk him and Corporal Rau into taking you with them. Face it, Hagen. You're only seventeen years old. This war is going to last a while, so there's no sense in you rushing into it. You should have let the major send you to school."

"Herr Frank." Hagen drew himself to his full height. "I can read and write. I speak two languages and I know my numbers. What more does a soldier need to know? And I am a soldier."

Bill realized Hagen was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else. It was hard to be the only regular from the train crew to be left behind. Hagen might be seventeen, but he was smaller than the average rail trooper. To top it off, Hagen had the type of face that was going to look boyish into his forties.

After studying Hagen for a while longer, Bill simply nodded his head. "Okay, Private Filss. As a soldier you should know enough to obey orders. And your orders were to work here at the company shop. Is that understood?"

"Ja, Herr Frank."

"Okay. I have a couple of errands for you to run. First I want you to run over to the communications office and have them send this message to the major."

"Ja, Herr Frank. Does that message contain my request to rejoin the train crew?"

Bill suppressed a sigh. "Yes, Private Filss, it includes your transfer request, but the main purpose is to tell her that this engine is ready to go. Second, I want you to go out to Henry Johnson's place and check with Dora Schultz about the coveralls."

"Is there anything else, Herr Frank?"

"Not today. When you finish with those errands you can have the rest of the day off. Relax, take a walk, talk to a pretty girl, or better yet take a pretty girl for a walk. I don't want to see you until quitting time this evening or, better yet, tomorrow morning."

Bill watched Hagen walk to the rack next to the door of the shop, take down his pistol belt and buckle it around his waist. He shook his head. It had taken a direct order to make Hagen hang his pistol on the rack when he was working in the shop. The boy still wore the circle of red cloth on his left sleeve that was the mark of the train crew and not the green square that the shop crew had decided on. d.a.m.n, Bill thought, it's going to break that boy's heart if he doesn't find a way to get back on a train crew.

Hagen followed the original test track from the engine shop on his way to the communications office. It was here that he had first seen a TacRail train. It was just the engine and one flat car, but he had stood and stared, amazed that it was moving without horses pulling it. His first friend, Jim Cooper, had explained it to him. Jim, who hadn't cared that Hagen was short and scrawny and too young. The first person to treat him as an equal, Jim had even convinced Sergeant Hatfield to allow him to enlist.

Thinking about Jim made him think about the other men of the crew. Sergeant Hatfield who had taught him how to shoot and Corporal Toeffel who had sold him his first pistol; Private Schultz, who had trained him to be a brakeman. He missed them, even Corporal Rau, who had always teased him about his age,calling him "Der Bub," but had also showed him how to use a dagger in a fight and how to walk quietly.

Now they were all gone. Gone to war, even Anton Busch, who was the closest to Hagen's age. No one had even thought of leaving Anton or Jim behind. But Corporal Toeffel had ordered Hagen to stay and help in the engine shop. It wasn't fair. He was as good a rail trooper as the rest. Sergeant Hatfield had to take him.

With a jerk, Hagen realized he been so lost in thought that he had almost pa.s.sed the building he needed and had to back track half a block to the front entrance.

Katharina Stuetzing was seated at the desk, acting as a receptionist. For some reason Hagen remembered Herr Frank's last comment about taking a pretty girl for a walk. Katharina definitely was a pretty girl, but just looking at her made Hagen blush and stammer. Besides, he still had the second errand to run.

"G-g-good morning Private Stuetzing. I have a message from Herr Frank at the engine shop. Can it go out in this morning's radio traffic?"

"Ja, Private Filss. Give it to me and I will see that it goes to the radio room." Katharina smiled. Her smile just made Hagen blush all the more. And what was worse he knew he was blushing.

"Danke. Uh-uh . . ."

"Was there something else, Hagen?"

Hagen was stunned. She knew his name. He hadn't thought she even knew he existed. "Uh, has there been any news about Sergeant Hatfield's party and when they will be returning from Suhl?"

Katharina leaned across the desk and lowered her voice. "One of the radio operators told me that a message came in from Lieutenant Ivarsson. He and Herr Hatfield left Suhl two days ago. Where they are going and if they are coming here, she didn't know. I asked. I knew you wanted to know. After all, you've asked every day for the past week."

"Danke, Private Stuetzing."

"Hagen, you can call me Katharina."

Hearing her tell him to use her first name, made Hagen blush even harder. He was barely able to say "Danke, Katharina," before he turned and walked into the closed door, giving his nose a rather nasty b.u.mp.

"Are you all right?" Katharina started to get up from behind the desk.

"I am fine." Hagen finally found the door k.n.o.b. "I have to run more errands for Herr Frank." Hagen blushed even harder when he heard her laughter through the closed office door.Why? I am a trained soldier. I am ready to face men in battle. Why do I blush and lose my wits when I talk to a girl?

Hagen straightened his shoulders and stood erect.A soldier should always walk proud.

Walking to the tram stop he thought about the changes he had seen in the short time he had been in Grantville. Even the tramway was new. The city had taken over the right of way cleared by the railcompany and replaced the light portable track with permanent track. Now horse-drawn and motorized tramcars provided transportation into town from the outlying areas. When the car stopped, he pointed to the train crew patch on his shoulder to indicate he was on military business and should be allowed to ride free.

The driver waved Hagen to a seat as the car started to move. Looking up Hagen could see the notice painted on the front of the car over the driver's head. "Tramcar #4, Built by the 141stRail Company"

below the neatly printed notice was piece of paper with the names of the crew who had built it. Hagen was proud to see his own name at the bottom of the list. This was one of the last tramcars the old crew had built before the orders came sending them to Magdeburg.

Just as the tram was leaving town, Hagen's attention was caught by a sign beside the tracks: Elizabeth's Railway, Built by the 141st Railway Company, NUS Army.

We Build Them Anywhere-Wir bauen sie uberall

The day they had put up that sign, General Jackson had just activated the company. The up-time sergeants, Hatfield, Plotz and Torbert, had insisted they needed to commemorate the occasion. First Sergeant Plotz had picked Hagen to break a bottle of beer on the tracks to mark the launching of the then new company. Hagen wanted to rejoin the company more than anything else in his life.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the tram coming to a stop near the training camp for the Committee of Correspondece-raised regiment. The regiment was gone now, off to war along with the rail company, but apparently the camp was still being used. Hagen saw three people waiting for the tram. At first he thought they were soldiers, from their tie-dyed camouflage coats and rifles, but then he recognized Wendel and Gerd, Private Schultz's sons and their cousin, Susanna Eckhardt. All three were in the Junior ROTC.

"Allo Wendel, allo Gerd, allo Suse," Hagen called. Then he had to return their salutes as they all saluted him. "Why are you saluting me? I am a private, no one salutes privates."

"We salute privates," Gerd answered. "We salute everyone in uniform."

"Ja," his older brother added. "Onkel Henry just finished a lesson in military courtesy, when we are in our ROTC uniforms we are to salute everyone in the military. Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines, it doesn't matter."

"Oh, I see." In the back of his mind, Hagen was pleased. This was the first time he had been saluted.

"Why the rifles? Is the ROTC doing guard duty now?"

"Nein, though we could. We had target practice on the rifle range in the training camp. " Suse sat down next to Hagen. "Want to see our targets?"

"She just wants to show off." Wendel seated himself on Hagen's other side. "Suse, Hagen knows you are the best shot in the family. Onkel Henry tells everyone."

Gerd sat down on the facing seat. "Not just in the family, but the best shot in the whole ROTC, though if we traded rifles I can come close to matching her." Gerd's comment caused Hagen to look at Suse's rifle. Where both of the boys were carrying large bore muzzle loaders. Suse's rifle had a bore smaller than his little finger. It made sense. Wendel and Gerd both took after their father and were stocky with wide shoulders. Suse, while she was not a small girl, wasn't close to their size.

"Hagen," Suse asked, "when are you going to start going to school? I know Onkel Henry could have you made an a.s.sistant instructor for the Junior ROTC and you would still be in the Army."

"Where did you hear I was going to go to school? I have been trying to get back to the train crew. Why would I want to go to school?"

"I heard Onkel Henry talking to Onkel Anse and Onkel Wili before they left for Suhl. They said Major Beth was going to offer you the chance to go to school here in Grantville."

It all became clear to Hagen. Onkel Henry was Henry Johnson, the instructor for the Junior ROTC program. Onkel Anse was Warrant Officer Hatfield and Onkel Wili was Private Schultz, Wendel and Gerd's father. Major Beth had to be Major Elizabeth Pitre, the commander of the 141stRail Company.

Major Pitre had offered to send him to school but he had turned her down, thinking he would be allowed to go with the company.

"I don't need to go to school. I know all a soldier needs to know already," Hagen answered.

"Oh, come on. There is always something new to learn," Wendel commented. "Besides, if you went to school you could finish up in two years with me and we could both go to OCS. Wouldn't it be better to be officers instead of privates?"

"Not me," Gerd interjected. "I am going to study mechanics and become a warrant officer like Onkel Anse."

"Hush, Gerd." Suse frowned at him. "We're talking about Hagen's future, not yours. Besides warrant officers are all people who know how to do something. You'll have to study a lot harder than you are now to become one." She turned to look at Hagen. "And you do need to finish school. There is a lot more than being a soldier. The war will not last forever. What will you do when it is over?"

"I am going to become an engine driver," Hagen a.s.serted. "After the war is over I will work for the railroads they are building, and drive an engine hauling people and cargo. Besides your Onkel Henry says it is going to be a long war. I want to rejoin the train crew to help make it shorter."

"Well, we can talk about it later. Here is our stop." Suse signaled the driver to stop the tram.

"Where are you going?" Wendel asked when Hagen rose to join them.

"I am on my way to see your mother. I am supposed to pick up the coveralls she made."

The two Schultz boys walked on ahead toward the house, but Suse walked beside Hagen. "I hope you are not mad because I think you should go to school. But you should think about it."