Word From the Home Front
"First," Slipshard began, seemingly ignoring the entirety of Lagoon company as they sat down to listen in, "is your acquisition of Iridium. The satellite phone company was pretty heavily in debt, so making an offer was fairly simple. You now own all of it. Or will once you sign."
"I see. What are the difficulties with the company?"
"Mostly the satellite network. They had envisioned an independent communication network covering the globe. Unfortunately, only about a third of the satellites are up, even though all of them have been constructed. Their largest expense was getting them up there in the first place; only governments have the facilities for orbital launch. The other, lesser issue was the price of the materials for the receivers. In all honesty, that can be overcome by keeping up with materials advances, according to the technicians."
Harry considered that for a moment as his mind raced over his studies. "Wait, all of the satellites are built?"
"Correct."
"How would... What would the reaction from muggle governments be for stuff just appearing in orbit?"
"I'm not sure, but probably not positive. What are you thinking?"
Harry turned. "Benny, what do you know about portkey theory?"
"Quite a bit," the blonde man admitted, "but I never could get the skill to make one. I just don't have the knack for it. Why?"
"Portkeys can be set for coordinates, yeah?"
"Sure. That's pretty easy," Benny admitted.
"So..." Harry thought hard about what he was trying for. "I think... it's called an X-Y-Z axis? Like latitude and longitude, but with elevation. Something like that?"
"There's a magical version, but sure," Benny admitted.
"Wait, what the fuck is a portkey?" Revy asked, her hand up.
"A portkey," Rock began, "is a device enchanted for teleportation. The travel is supposed to be almost instantaneous, if unpleasant."
Revy blinked at that. "Wait, you want to teleport a satellite into orbit?"
"Yup," Harry answered.
"That's a hell of a way to save money," Revy stated, cracking open a beer for herself.
"That's an interesting idea, Mister Potter," Slipshard said, noting it down. "Any others along these lines?"
Harry frowned. "Would it be possible to rig a portkey for remote activation? Like, push a button and it goes off?"
"Maybe," Benny mused aloud. "I'd have to run it by someone I know that does a lot of enchanting, but it should be possible."
Harry dug into his own bag, pulling out a notebook and a pen. "If... If we can enchant a section of a satellite, we can ward it for detection, impacts, stuff like that, yeah? A two-way portkey for maintenance?"
"Those might be possible, yes," Slipshard admitted. "That would certainly solve the issue of placement, as well as future maintenance issues; several technicians were complaining about trying to figure out how to update the system using only something called software."
"This would definitely do that," Benny said mildly.
"I'll talk to some people, see what can be done. Benjamin, may we contract you for research?"
"Sure. We're in the off-season for shipping, so a little extra would be nice. What was that about an independent network?"
Slipshard frowned. "Mind you, I don't actually understand a lot of the jargon here, but you might. Something about setting up a 'server farm'?"
"Ah. A server farm is a large quantity of computers all set up and linked for the same task. Think of it like an entire department of adding machines working in cooperation."
"Thank you for explaining. What would be required for this?"
Benny scratched the side of his head at that. "Lots of computer arrays, especially if you're talking global communications. Some kind of communications array to allow the computers to talk with the satellite network. And a large-scale cooling setup; server farms get hot."
Harry instantly dug through his bag, finally hauling out a cardboard box. He pulled several photographs out, saying, "Can we recondition World War Two communications equipment?"
"Sure," Benny admitted. "Honestly, most of that expense is the facility itself."
Harry slid out several pictures that Lara had taken. The bunkers were damaged, the radar dish tattered, but the radio tower stood tall, and her pictures of the communication console were clear.
"On Yamatai," Harry began, "the Japanese built facilities during the war to try and figure out what the deal was with the storms. There are bunkers everywhere. In the Northwestern part is the radio facility. Weirdly, it still has some electricity. I think it's steam-powered, but I don't know."
"Interesting," Slipshard said, looking over the pictures as he took notes. "I'll go over with with some people. Benjamin?"
"Sure, I know someone who specializes in repurposing stuff like this."
"As for the server farm... It gets hot... Would... What about like... Maybe a car radiator?"
"Liquid cooling really is best for high end computers," Benny said.
"Maybe... a radiator in the ocean?"
Benny leaned over, looking at the photographs. And then he looked at the satellite survey photo that Harry had laid on the table. "So, if the radio tower is here," he muttered, "you could run the whole mess here, and just run coolant pipes down. Yeah, you can do that. Looks like you have an ideal location there, Harry."
"Where do I sign?" Harry asked, turning back to Slipshard.
"Right here," came the sharply grinning reply.
Harry did, and Slipshard pulled out another sheaf. "This one is a little different. A small firm out of California in the United States. The one seer assigned to your account says that they will rise greatly, only to fall just as greatly if we do not involve ourselves."
"And what do they do?" Harry asked.
"Something to do with something called 'The Internet'," Slipshard replied.
"More on me," Benny interjected. "The internet is a system designed for instant information sharing. Currently it uses the telephone lines to allow computers to talk to each other. From my rig, I can chat with a programmer in Sweden. If an internet provider can get common enough, everyone will use it. Huh," Benny paused, looking out the window. "If... If you have your own sat phone system, you could easily rig it to support an internet node with a server farm. Your own, independent, global internet. Work out a deal with a telecom, and you could access the greater internet from any sat phone."
"Huh. Interesting," Harry said.
"Am I really seeing this, Dutch?" Revy asked off to the side. "Is this kid really building an empire right here in our fucking office?"
"Looks that way," Dutch admitted.
"So," Harry asked, "what is this one? Buyout or investment?"
"Ground floor investment, much like your grandfather did. Apparently they recently redesigned it, naming it Yahoo!."
"How much, and what's our percentage?"
Another slip of paper slid across the table. Harry looked it over, then said, "This seems like a really low cost."
"In all honesty, at this point it's little more than a guidebook."
"Actually," Benny interrupted again, setting his laptop on the table, "it's a heirarchical web directory. You type in what you're searching for, and it cross-references the internet sites known to it. See?" Harry and Slipshard both looked at the screen in confusion. "Basically, using something like this makes it easier to find something. Think of it like an automatic card catalog in a library."
"I see," Slipshard said, clearly not doing so. "At any rate, that investment number includes a permanent percentage of the company in perpetuity, I believe thirty percent, no matter how well or poorly the company does. Currently, they have a handful of people, but they expect to expand early next year."
"Do you think it's worth it?"
Slipshard shrugged at the question. "I honestly don't know enough about the technology to make a judgement either way. Benjamin?"
Benny looked at the web page, saying, "If I had the cash, I'd do it."
"It's not a crippling amount of money, so sure. Let's do that."
More signing, and then Slipshard pulled out another pack of papers. "Next is a bit of old business. As it happens, most of the magical firms that your family invested in are behind on their share payments. This mostly isn't their fault," he continued, holding up a hand, "as the account was locked down upon your father's demise. I need to know how you want to go forward with this."
"If... If they pay within a certain time frame, or produce some kind of reasonable payment system, then run it straight, no interest penalty. If they refuse, talk to Laura Langley about getting the money with penalties."
"Understood. Next, I have gone through the non-magical investments, and they are voluminous. In all honesty, there isn't too much tricky there. On the Potter side, we had to file an injunction against Games Workshop to keep the management from an internal leveraged buyout until you could make a decision. Had to do a little negotiating with the Score Group, but their proposed expansion shouldn't be an issue. The theatres and shops are doing passably well, and I personally went to Ford to discuss the issues with the Jaguar marque. Basically, once their purchase is complete, you will be cut out of the profits, but you will still receive three of every model. As it so happens, Ford has a magical division that manufactures flying brooms, so that was simple.
"As for the rest, all pretty normal. I did send some people to the various failed businesses to see what remained. As it happens, you have quite a bit of manufacturing capability on both sides of the fence. Here are the pertinent details," Slipshard said, sliding a folder over.
"Now, for the Evans side. This was far more clear cut, if more complicated. The only real tricky issue there was the percentage of profits going to the Evans Foundation. But I have people looking into the back-and-forth of the profits; I should have something definitive for you in a few weeks.
"As for what you mentioned in my office a month ago..." Slipshard sighed, shaking his head. "I do believe that you may have to start your own management firm. The sheer volume of management is starting to get out of hand, and I don't think that the personnel that the Board has allowed me can handle it."
"I see," Harry mused, his chin in his palm. "I'll have to consider that."
"It's nothing immediate," Slipshard reassured Harry, "but a decision will be required within a year."
"Something for later then, got it."
"So, about Yamatai, Mister Potter. How did that investment sound out?"
Harry groaned, slumping forward. "Fucking awful. But not without merit. We found it; that's what the pictures are of. Cannibal sun cultists, undead samurai. Here," Harry said, pulling out more pictures, "are the upper palace, some of the shrines, and a lot of the buildings. According to Lara, it's mostly Kamakura period with some bunkers thrown in. Oh, and a beached battleship. Some of the bunkers have anti-ship cannons built into them.
"As it turns out, Yamatai is here," Harry continued, laying out a map of the Western Pacific, pointing at a spot. "It was marked by pretty much everyone as 'Do Not Enter; You Will Die'. The storms are now under my control; I have them set to repel ships rather than pull them in and wreck them."
"Interesting. And how did this occur, Mister Potter?"
Harry scrubbed at his face, a troubled, haunted expression showing through. "Himiko was only half dead. A botched soul-transfer ritual trapped her in her own corpse, but didn't let her leave. The samurai, trapped in their magically binding vows of service, couldn't die normally either. Due to... certain circumstances, I was able to take command of the island's ward net, kick out Himiko, and reset the storms."
"Hey, Harry?" Revy asked nervously, pointing at his brow. "You got... lightning around your head?"
"Gah," Harry eloquently stated, getting himself back under control. "Damnit, I didn't think that would happen so far away from Yamatai. Short answer, I fucked up. You're looking at the new Sun King of Yamatai.
"Which reminds me. Where do I need to go to get the paperwork for registering a magical kingdom with the ICW?"
Slipshard blinked at that, before saying, "Try the British Magical Embassy. They would be the best for that manner of thing."
"Great. And for now, I have no idea what to do with Yamatai. The whole place is under some kind of preservation charms, so the corpses aren't rotting away. And there's a thousand years of corpses piled into the corners! I mean, it would be absolutely gorgeous if I could find a way to clean and fix it all up, but I don't even know where to begin."
"Hrm. Is it dangerous, Mister Potter?"
"Apart from the surviving cultists and a lethifold colony, not really. The remaining samurai are now dedicated to me, and so long as a person is wearing a certain symbol, they'll be safe from the Stormguard. Only really dangerous animals are wolves. I don't honestly think that there are any actual traps there, just the crippling storms and violent residents. I just don't know where to go from here, you know?"
"I understand, Mister Potter. And I'm sure we can figure something out. I'll ask around a bit, get some pricing. Any idea of the resources there?"
"You mean apart from crashed ships and aircraft? Let me think. There's some kind of heavy lift system that spans the southeast quarter of the island; it's part of a ship breaking set up. There's all the gold statues, the historical artifacts. There are a ton of military bunkers, most of them worn and cracked with time, but relatively intact. Oh, and let's not forget the active lava under the island; Lara saw it first-hand under the shanty town."
Slipshard stared at all of that. "So, quite a lot for a dedicated crew. Hm. Would you object to a preliminary examination force to check matters on your behalf?"
"Probably not," Harry admitted. "I just want to make sure nothing gets off the island. If it gets out to the wrong people that Yamatai has been found, the place will be swarmed with historians. And I don't want that. I worked too damn hard to get control of that rock to just give up my claim."
"I understand, Mister Potter," Slipshard said. "And I will proceed slowly with this. I do urge you to take some time and figure out what direction your end goal should be for the island."
"Right, got it. I know that the rest of the survivors from the Endurance are on their way to Britain. They can give you more reports. I'll write up what all happened and get it to you within a couple of weeks."
"That sounds fantastic. Nothing else for now on that front. On the new genealogy system, we have been making strides. It's still rather experimental, but we are making headway."
"That sounds great," Harry replied with a trace of exhaustion in his voice. "So long as there isn't anything pressing, I can finally relax again."
"Yes, and in such a wonderful city!" Slipshard enthused. "Had I known that Roanapur was so entertaining, I'd have come here years ago! But for now, get yourself together. You've earned a holiday. And the embassy is still allowed to ship letters and packages. You'll want to speak with the secretary about how to contact you."
"Of course. Thank you, Slipshard. I really couldn't do this without you."
"I know," Slipshard replied cheekily as he put his paperwork away. "But it's good to be appreciated. Good day."
Slipshard left, and as soon as the door closed, Revy turned to Harry, hissing out, "What the holy horsefuck was that?!"
"That was Slipshard. He's an auditor for Gringotts Bank. He's also a goblin," Harry replied blandly. "Dutch, you mind if I grab a glass of water?"
"Go ahead," Dutch replied in his deep voice. "Although I have to admit, I never would have taken you for a rich person, Harry."
"I'm not," Harry replied, filling his glass from the tap. "Except that I am. I grew up purely middle class, and only recently found out that my family was loaded. Orphan, you see."
"Right, Benny filled us in on the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing after you left yesterday," Dutch admitted. "So am I right in guessing that he actually bit someone on his way here?"
Harry shrugged, sipping his water while leaning against the counter. "Beats me, but probably. Slipshard doesn't strike me as the type to make stuff up."
"Goblin. A real life, no shit goblin," Revy muttered. "What the fuck have we gotten into, Dutch?"
"Welcome the the part of the world that they keep from you, Revy," Rock gently said. "There is a huge set of laws about keeping the magical and non-magical worlds separate. But every year it gets closer and closer to spilling over."
"Rock's right," Benny admitted. "Look at all the security cameras going up in various cities. All it takes is one thing not making sense, and a cop starts asking questions. That cop suddenly forgets all about the incident, and his buddies are going through the footage. They find more incidents, and all of a sudden, an awful lot of people are trying to figure out why nobody on that video can remember any of it. Then they start looking at more footage, and discover that these incidents are happening all over the place. Eventually, they spot one of the people doing stuff, taze that guy, and interrogate him. Boom, the magical world is revealed."
Harry nodded at all of that. "I'm still in school, and they keep pounding into us the the Statute of Secrecy is an absolute, that it cannot be broken under any circumstance. But all it's going to take is the wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now that I'm out in the world, I can really see it for the crock that it is. Especially since there are a lot of British magicals that believe that non-magicals are at best still stuck in the 1950s, and at worst consider them a quaint sort of talking animal.
"Slipshard is a goblin who works for the bank of Gringotts in London. And yeah, he probably took some bites out of people who tried to mug him. Goblins count as Magical Beings. Unlike, say, unicorns or dragons. Those are Magical Creatures."
"Harry and I learned about this stuff at our schools," Benny said, tapping at his laptop, "while Rock probably was brought up in it." Rock nodded at that. "I told Dutch a couple of years ago, handed him some books so that he knew what to look out for. You? You're just finding out."
"Wait, hold up," Revy interrupted, throwing up both of her hands. "Just how many of these magic fuckers are in Roanapur?"
Harry shrugged, while Benny said, "Not more than a hundred. It's roughly estimated that magicals only make up a quarter of a percent of the population world-wide."
"And... What the hell do I do about this shit?" Revy demanded, slowly rising.
Dutch laid his hand heavily on her shoulder, forcing her back into the chair. "Nothing. You do nothing, Revy," Dutch calmly replied. "The world isn't any different. There's just a new twist you never knew about. The world still sucks, the world still doesn't care, the only difference here is like finding a new brand of bullet. That's it."
Revy caught her breath, slowing her heartbeat. "So, was I wrong about you building an empire here in our office, Harry?"
Harry shrugged, saying, "Beats me. I'm just trying to invest my money in something that won't suck. Or fail. Or suck and fail. The phone and computer things? I told Slipshard to invest in communications and computers. This was what he came up with. All the other stuff came from my grandparents. Yeah they were rich, but why not add my own to the pile, y'know?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I get it, Harry."
Thirty minutes later, Harry stood on the small balcony outside of the Lagoon office, watching the traffic pass by. He heard the door slide open, and then closed, before Dutch's voice came up from beside him. "You alright there, Harry?"
"Maybe," Harry answered honestly. "Even bringing up Yamatai was exhausting. And now I have to write up a report to my investment manager because I'm the only surviving investor."
"Reliving shit isn't easy," Dutch admitted, leaning on the railing as he lit a cigarette. "There's a lot of people out there who relive shit every minute of their lives. It eats at 'em, destroys 'em. A man once told me, 'Every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.' That really resonated with me."
Dutch's hand swept across Roanaur's skyline. "Hell, the whole city's like that. Every person has their story, and every person has some kind of fight on their hands that nobody knows anything about."
"I like that," Harry murmured. "I like knowing that other people have problems too. That it's not just me, y'know?"
"Now, I don't know what happened to you, and I'm not going to ask. That's your business. Whole city's like that too. You get personal with someone you don't know well enough, and bad shit happens. So nobody asks personal questions; we just leave it to the other person if they want to go there."
"That's... comforting too," Harry admitted. "Too many people wanting to know what's going on with me, with the Boy-Who-Lived. Too few people asking how Harry is. That I can be here and be Just Harry might end up a nice thing."
"So, Just Harry," Dutch said with a grin in his voice, "what now?"
Harry breathed for a few moments before asking, "How well do you know Roanapur?"
"Been here since '76."
"Any idea where I can find a good, magically aware therapist?"