time it hits, it has some velocity to multiply the big-ass weight.”
“And how do you lift the big weight?”
“It doesn’t matter. Look, a couple of peasants turning a crank will get the job done. Sure, a steam cylinder would do it faster and more efficiently, but you want to wait for those prigs at the Dacha to get around to providing you a steam ram?”
That was a point. Andrei was increasingly upset by the way the Dacha was being corrupted by western notions. So he nodded and they worked on the design of the drop forge. A very hot piece of iron would be placed in the bottom form. Then the weighted top form would be dropped. After which four slaves would crank the weighted top form back up and the part would be removed.
It would take four big, strong, men almost ten minutes to crank the “hammer” up to the top of its arch. During which time, another dollop of iron would be heated white hot. Wham! Another part.
Not a completed part. The chambers had to be finished using a boring machine, also human-powered, this time two men on a stationary bicycle. The chamber locks, which on the AK3 were a lever-action made of several parts, would have the parts stamped out by drop forges, then be finished and assembled. The chambers were all of a standardized size. But Russian gunsmithing, up to this time, hadn’t focused at all on heavily standardized calibers. There just weren’t that many rifles in Russia that had precisely the same caliber of barrel. So the new guns almost had to come out of the Gun Shop, which, when it came down to it, suited both Andrei and Cass just fine.
All this took time and it wasn’t the only thing they were working on. The czar, the patriarch, and Sheremetev wanted cannon. Good cannon. Breech-loading cannon. Cass told them they couldn’t do it, that they didn’t have the quality of steel needed for up-time cannon.
Andrei, a fairly bright guy in his own right, wanted to know why.
“Strength and flexibility,” Cass told him. “Modern metals are produced using precise mixes of elements: just enough carbon, just enough tungsten, just enough chromium, for a weight of steel heated to just the right heat for just the right amount of time.”
After some consideration, Andrei asked, “What has to be strong and what has to be flexible?”
The question brought Cass Lowry up short. The whole damn thing had to be strong and had to have some flexibility which was why you didn’t make cast iron cannons. But he got the point. They had muzzle-loading cannons down-time. They apparently made them strong enough and flexible enough so that they didn’t blow up all that often. What aspect of an up-time cannon had to have fancy modern steel? “I’d say it’s probably the breech mechanism,” he said after a pause. “Modern cannon use an interrupted-screw breech lock.”
“And how does that work?”
Cass described the way the screw had parts of the threading cut out of it so that it could be slid into the breech, which also had parts of its threading cut out and ended with, “You see, the threads of the breech and of the breechblock have to be really strong and take a tremendous amount of force.”
“Yes, I see,” Andrei said. “But you wouldn’t need an interruption if you didn’t have lots of threads. That is right, yes?”
“Well, sure.”
“So why can’t you add more threads to the interrupted screw to compensate for the weaker metals that we have now?”
Cass didn’t know and hated admitting it.
“We will experiment. We will make interrupted-screw breech locks and see how well they withstand the force of firing.”
“Fine, as long as you know I won’t be standing anywhere near them when we do the test firing.”
Andrei shrugged. “That’s what slaves are for.”
Chapter 46
February 1634
Filip and Gregorii looked over the new steam barge design before they sealed the packet.
The more standardized design the Dacha had developed after looking over Vladimir’s notes was two ten- inch-wide cylinders side-by-side, with the stroke of the first setting the second and vice versa, to produce a reciprocating engine. They didn’t bother with a condenser on the ones for the steamboats and steam barges, as there was generally water available in a river. So they released the steam to the same chimney that carried the smoke fire. They used a pot boiler and ceramic tiles for the fire bed. The engines built that way-and especially the boilers-were so inefficient that they were an insult to steam power. However, they would fit on a thirty-foot-long, ten-foot-wide river barge and they would push the thing through the water.
“I think it’s ready,” Filip said. “We’ll send it on to Murom in the next pouch.”
In the Dacha, Sofia’s eyes sparkled like cold black diamonds. “Nevertheless, it cannot be you that goes. You are needed here. Bernie needs you. Boris and Mariya need you. You may not abandon that trust.”
Natasha stopped her pacing. She’d been trying too hard to justify being the person who went to Grantville to determine whether or not Brandy Bates was acceptable to the czar as her brother’s wife. She knew it. “But I so want to see it, Aunt Sofia,” she whined. “So very much.” She threw herself onto a bench. “Vladimir is there. I miss him. And I want to see it.”
“Even so.” Sofia’s eyes softened. “I know, dear.” She patted Natasha’s hand. “I know.” She grinned. “So do I want to go.” Then she straightened her shoulders. “But we must carry on here. Czar Mikhail has said that he will consider this marriage, but there must be a senior female of the family to examine Brandy. And I know just who to send.” She cackled in laughter. “Oh, my. It will do them so much good.”
As it turned out, Aunt Sofia was not entirely in control of who was sent to Grantville. The other great houses wanted their say as well. A friend of Sofia, true enough, would be one of the three dragons sent; the next would come from the Sheremetev clan and an aunt of the czarina would be the other.
All of which would come as a surprise to Vladimir back in Grantville.
“I didn’t really believe it. Not until I saw that.” Vladimir watched the Las Vegas Belle until it was out of sight. Even after the months since the first flight, he still wasn’t entirely sure he believed it. And slowly he began to smile. “I believe that turnabout is fair play, Brandy. Perhaps I should write Bernie that I insist that he build me an airplane. And a factory for cars. And an oil refinery.”
“Soda pop.” Brandy looked in the direction where the plane had disappeared. “Real, old-fashioned Coca-Cola. I miss those. New movies, instead of rewatching all the old ones. Xerox machines for quick copies. Um, we can probably think up a bunch of other stuff to demand. They won’t be very realistic, I imagine, but it might be kind of fun to make a demand instead of trying to satisfy them. Besides, they might just do it.”
They walked slowly to Brandy’s house thinking up ever more outrageous things to demand of Bernie and the “brain cases” in Russia and laughing at their demands. No one could be sad on a day like today.
They turned up the walk to Brandy’s house and she hesitated a bit. Vladimir knew that it was because her mother had died there.
He’d been surprised, three days after Donna died, by the attendance at her funeral. It seemed like a large number of people showed up. Most unusual was the cluster of young girls around Brandy. One of them was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Her hair was a deep auburn and her skin was clear with just a few freckles.
Brandy had, in compliance with Donna’s wishes, arranged a simple graveside service. It was very brief. Afterward, people visited with one another and everyone spoke to Brandy and her father Vernon for a moment or two. Brandy introduced Vladimir to the cluster of young girls. They were… quite exceptional, he thought.
Much to Vladimir’s surprise, Vernon was one of the first to leave. “He’s just not good at emotions.” Brandy had noticed Vladimir watching Vernon. “He never has been. He’s closed up, like in a shell or something. It drove Mom crazy. That, I think, is why they got divorced. Mom was too emotional for him, I guess.”
Vladimir looked down at her. “I promise you. I promise you that I will never be so, so…”
“Calm and dispassionate?” Her tears started flowing again. “Good. I don’t think I’d like it any better than
