The Apprentice Graduates: The Alchemist Book 3

Chapter 3-1

3

After I learned about my move, I tried to come up with a way to keep my job at the company. That was my only chance to do anything remotely interesting. It's not like I could afford to fund the construction of my own lab.

Grandpa's money, after all, was Grandpa's money.

I was technically on leave from Ashford Pharmaceuticals Ltd., but I thought the decent thing would be to tell them I was leaving, now that there was no chance I would be coming back. Especially after Mr. Collins, the lawyer I consulted, assured me there was no way to avoid being sent to the middle of nowhere.

"You can, however, combine your government work with private work, as long as you fulfill your obligations to the government," Mr. Collins said, when I mentioned the company.

Which was what I explained to Mr. Bamber, my boss and one of the company's founders.

"The pilot plant is working well," I said. "It's time to build a factory. But land in Ashford is expensive. There's lots of taxes. Salaries are high. Land is much cheaper there, and workers are cheaper. Besides, there's the tax holiday plan, where they offer five years without taxes for locating industry in deprived areas."

"But deprived areas lack infrastructure," Mr. Bamber said. "We need trains. Gas. Running water."

"I checked," I said, taking out a detailed map of Kesteven county's utility lines. I had to use Grandpa's contacts, and even some of the Major's, to obtain it. You'd think it was some kind of state secret instead of being publicly available information.

"Look, here's the train line. And there's a gas line here, which we can extend by ourselves. Water is available from the dam here, and we can also extend the water pipes. With the low cost of land, it will still be cheaper than buying land here. Besides, the governor of Kesteven is very eager to develop his area. That may also clear the regulatory hurdles."

Ashford was a developed, nice city, full of well-intentioned light mages. And light mages were slightly… hysterical when it came to progress. They had an unreasonable attachment to species of insects nobody knew or cared about and would block the construction of anything that didn't go through extensive review for possible damages to a large list of animals. And also noise, light, and heat pollution checks, air quality impact assessment studies, and who knows what.

It's unlikely farmers know or care about the yellow leopard gecko, which is apparently different from the common mustard gecko (yes, there was a factory that couldn't be built for years because it was close to the habitat to this apparently rare species). Or any other species light mages seem to invent at the drop of a hat whenever somebody wants to do anything remotely useful.

Mr. Bamber was skeptical.

"I get that you want to stay working at this stage, Mrs. Bedwen," he said. "And we would love to retain you. But it doesn't make sense for us to make such an important decision based on where you end up going. If we do decide to take advantage of the government's tax credits, we will examine all alternatives."

"Just let me send you a report," I said. "From Kesteven. See if I can get local support, that kind of thing. Estimate the cost."

"We're already working with an APC for this project," Mr. Bamber said. "And the board has approved the preliminary project."

An APC is an alchemy, procurement, and construction company. As for the preliminary project…

"That's even better," I said. "Now that I have the cost estimate, I will see if I can halve it."

All those cost estimates are bullshit anyway. If you got within a 50% range (50% more or less, but it's always more), it was amazingly accurate. I was sure I could halve whatever the APC was estimating.

"Even if you convince the board to change the project's location," Mr. Bamber said, "how would you manage the project, while working another job full-time? Building a factory is quite an intensive project."

"That won't be a problem," I said.

"Why not?" Mr. Bamber asked.

"Because there won't be enough work for me to be full time," I said, quite sure of myself.

"But the government pay guarantee…" Mr. Bamber said.

"Sure," I said, waving my hand horizontally, cutting him. "I will be getting full time work. Per year. You know what that means? It means I'll have to work double shifts at double pay two months a year, the ones during harvest. That's how farmers work, too."

Despite living in a mining town, I was familiar enough with farming and their demands on alchemists. Father, who mostly worked on the mines, would still get called to the neighboring towns during harvest season, when something broke and the local alchemist was busy (something always breaks during harvest season, and each day, even each hour, is critical; they pay nice rates to fix a tractor fast).

"Still," Mr. Bamber said, "having a Head of Alchemy Department that works part-time is not a good view."

"I was working part-time before," I pointed out. "And still developed a product. Got my shares, too. I don't see why I can't build a factory, too."

"You see, Mrs. Bedwen," Mr. Bamber said. "I don't deny you are an excellent inventor. The best we have. But building a factory requires a different set of skills. You'd need to manage a team, coordinate multiple projects, and deal with the paperwork. You'd hate it."

I didn't like being told what I would like or dislike. Even when it was true.

"I can do it," I told him, firmly. "Just present my project to the Board of Directors. If they approve it, we build the factory in Kesteven, and I'll manage it. If they don't, they can fire me."

"Fire you?" Mr. Bamber said.

"Sure," I said. "Since I will be leaving to Kesteven for six years on a government work contract. I don't think they'll keep me on staff until I return."

"But won't you resign when you are sent there?" Mr. Bamber asked.

"No," I replied. "There's a penalty clause if I quit. I lose my shares. I'm not quitting. And the law says I'm entitled to leave for the period of the forced work contract. It works like the draft, you see. If you want the details, you can talk to my lawyer."

Since Mr. Collins couldn't tell me how to break the government contract, I made him go over my employment contract with Ashford Pharmaceuticals, and the protections I was entitled to.

I knew my rights.

"Alright, Mrs. Bedwen," Mr. Bamber said. "I'll present your project to the board."

I smiled and nodded, waxing lyrical about the benefits of building a factory where I was being sent.

But I didn't trust Mr. Bamber to keep his word.