Black Market Merchant

Nathan Dees was eagerly waiting at the base for everyone’s return. He had already gone to check on Mr. Yates' Mech that had stopped moving right at the start of the battle. When he managed to open the hatch doors, he found Mr. Yates curled up into a ball crying in his seat. Apparently, upon killing his wife's murmurer he couldn't control his emotions anymore and even now, hours later, he was still sobbing in another room.

There were dozens of wounded militia forces scattered around the warehouse floor, being tended on by any person that knew medical procedures. Nathan walked slowly among the rows of moaning, wounded men. Staff rushed about doing their best to ease the sufferings of the militia. However, they were far too few, under equipped, or under trained to handle such dire injuries. Doctors rarely visited this town and those that did know medical practices had already moved out of town.

"We are too ill prepared to care for the injured. Not to mention in the future if a sickness were to break out, we would suffer. Being this far from any civilized city is going to cost us dearly." Nathan thought walking by everyone in the room.

Then he stopped at the last man in the line of the injured. The man had a bullet hole that went right through his left arm. The wound had been wrapped with an old t-shirt and a makeshift tourniquet was tied above it, successfully stopping the heavy flow of blood. This man would likely survive if the wound didn't get infected.

Nathan tightened his fist. "To many were hurt. All because I wanted to fight against the gangs."

Just then, rounding the corner, came the East River Militia's Vice Leader, Mr. Flanagan. He had a smile on his natural looking 'in command' face. Nathan couldn't seem to find any comfort upon seeing it, at least not in a place as dismal as this.

"Ah, there his is." Mr. Flanagan said coming Nathan's way. "The rest of the leaders of in the committee are looking for you. We still have much to do."

"Mr. Flanagan?" Nathan replied speaking softly. "Do you think that all this was worth it? All this pain." He raised his hand and gestured at the room of injured men.

Mr. Flanagan took one glance and the calm smile faded from his face. "Conflict always has it casualties. We shouldn't overly act responsible and strive to be better in the future."

"But we should feel responsible!" Nathan snapped. "I gave the command to fight and they are suffering for it."

Mr. Flanagan paused for a moment before speaking. "Yes, you did give the command, but it was their choice in the end. You said to them to fight for 'their' freedom. They wanted that freedom, but they never had anyone to follow. You gave them that chance at freedom." Mr. Flanagan sighed. "Perhaps saying not to take responsibility was not the right thing to say. Maybe what I was trying to say is that you shouldn't show your displeasure in taking that responsibility. To me, a leader is someone that shows strength even if things didn't go the best way possible."

Nathan looked back over the lines of wounded soldiers. "Shows strength, huh. That hard to do." Nathan replied glumly. "How can I do that?"

"By moving forward. I don't know any other way." Mr. Flanagan said putting a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Now come on, the others are waiting."

Nathan let out a slightly shaky sigh. "Fine."

…

The entire committee had regathered into the back area of the warehouse that was now being considered the ERM headquarters. The last to arrive was Gillian and he looked slightly tired from coming straight from the disorganized battlefield and putting the Mech back in its place. He plopped heavily into his seat and puffed out a breath of air.

"Ahem, now that we all are here, let's get on with deciding what to do next." Nathan said starting off the meeting. He was standing at the head of the table arms crossed. All eyes had turned on him and he felt slightly nervous. "I propose that we need to immediately improve are medical facilities. We are completely inadequately prepared to handle the overwhelming injury's that our men are currently facing. We need doctors, medications and sterile facilities, not just for now, but for whatever the future brings us."

"I agree." Mr. Flanagan, Gillian and Mr. Zimmerman all said in unison. The trio gave an awkward glance at each other. Trying to figure out who was supposed to speak first.

Mr. Flanagan raised his hand, motioning that he would go first. "I agree. We do need all of those things, but how are we going to accomplish this? We have no resources or money to hire the doctors or gather the needed food supplies and even build any kind of facilities."

Mr. Zimmerman spoke up at this point. "About that, we should at least look at what we do have and use that. There are medically trained people volunteering to help those men. We should hire someone that’s deemed worth to be called 'Doctor'. It would be better than simply waiting for a volunteer to come out here to help us and come too late or not know what to do."

"That's sounds reasonable." Nathan said giving a satisfactory node. "You told me one time your bother was a medical professional at one time, Mr. Zimmerman. Is that right?"

"Yes, I think I did." Mr. Zimmerman replied.

"So, you might have at least read something of his that was medically related or from all the medical things mentioned in court?" Nathan said resting his hands on the tables edge.

"Yes, I did both of those things. But that by no means makes me an expert in that field. If you are asking me to take on the role of a doctor, I have to decline." Mr. Zimmerman said straightening up in his seat.

"Oh no, I wasn't going to do that. I just wanted to know if you could oversee the hiring of our future doctors. For example, if you were to ask them certain medically related terms, examples or procedures and they gave their replies, that you would be capable of knowing if they were right for the job or not."

"Ah, I see." Mr. Zimmerman said leaning back in his seat and then started to tap the side of his head in thought. "I do have some of his books still in my attic. I'll get them and read over them tonight."

"That's good to hear." Nathan replied. "I hope you come to the right decisions."

Mr. Zimmerman nodded reassuringly, and Nathan continued the meeting.

"Now for the next bit of information. Gillian, or should I say, Commander Gillian, please give us the report of the battle’s outcome. Namely the conditions of our foes, are they going to cause any more attacks, and could we handle another fight like before?" Nathan asked looking down towards the far end of the table.

Gillian cleared his throat and sat up in the seat slightly. "Well, the battle went as planned, for the most part. Mr. Yates' Mech wasn't in operation to pursue to Black Rats. As such, after Dilly and I finished our areas we were not able to take down a few members of the gang. However, those that did escape couldn't have numbered more than thirty or so. Also, I can personally attest to the defeat of the Black Rats leader, Garret. I was the one who finally took him out. The gang is beaten, broken and leaderless. They won't be an issue to us."

"That's good to know. How about our forces? What is our standing?" Nathan asked.

"The Mechs were definitely the deciding factor in this fight. Without them our forces wouldn't have fared so well. Out of the two hundred and seventy men and women that fought, fifty and counting are dead or in critical condition. Forty more are wounded and reports are still rising, but I suspect that they will recover and some maybe even capable of fighting still. That leaves us with one hundred eighty volunteer militia remaining."

"So nearly half were casualties." Nathan said making a disappointed look. Then recalling Mr. Flanagan's words, he relaxed his expression. "Thank you for your hard work and the militia's hard work. I expect you will continue to do just a well."

"I will try my best." Gillian replied.

"Now, Mrs. Smithy, have you come up with a solution to our financial issues?" Nathan asked the older lady that was in charge of the group’s Treasury.

Mrs. Smithy picked up a few sheets of notes on the table in front of her and glanced over them quickly. "From the records I have collected so far, along with what the scouting personnel gathered; we have lots of metal to trade. Namely steel and copper. We can strip the unclaimed buildings of their copper wires and metal from unneeded buildings and businesses. Cars as well, can be confiscated for resale. There are also antiquity items that we could attempt to resell, but it is only a temporary option. If we had electricity it would make things easier, as we could manufacture products. That, however, is not a current option. So, all we currently have is the metal trade."

Then looking up from her papers she glanced at Nathan. Her thin rimmed glasses were sitting precariously on the tip of her nose as she spoke. "However, the sales of the metal will be massively inefficient in the long run. That market is already flooded with materials and merchants haven’t been buying at the normal rates lately. We need to bring in food, clothing, other necessities, and now a medical budget to factor in. Something needs to be found that we can gather or produce for sale. Otherwise, the ERM won't last even six months at this rate."

"Hmm, I see. That is something to definitely investigate into. If anyone knows of anything to solve this issue, please speak with Mrs. Smithy." Nathan said looking around the room. Then looking back at Mrs. Smithy, Nathan continued. "Do we at least have a buyer for the metal that we do have?"

"Not yet. Now that the Black Rats are taken care off, I will go across the river and find merchants that deal with metals. As far as I know, the merchants on our side purchase goods on that side and bring it back to us." Mrs. Smithy replied. “This side has always been the poorer side and tend to get the bottom of the barrel, so to speak.”

"Alright that will have to suffice for now. I am sure Commander Gillian can send men to guard you and help with anything else you need." Nathan said hearing her reply.

Gillian nodded at Mrs. Smithy. "That will not be an issue. I would have suggested it even if Mr. Dees hadn't."

"Alright then, on to the next set of issues." Nathan said seeing that the current conversation had reach an end. He had a feeling that this meeting was going to be far from over and the hours rolled on. By the time the meeting had concluded, nighttime had already arrived, and the sunlight was fading fast.

Leaving everyone at the meeting, Nathan walked towards where he was living at, of which was in the middle of the largest neighborhood on this side of the river. He was tired and the thoughts of the wounded soldiers couldn't clear from his mind. Even after that terribly long meeting it hadn’t been enough to distract himself. He walked in silence for a while and found that he was coming towards the place where the injured were.

Just then a soldier, according to the green band around his arm, came out of the building and appeared to be going in the opposite direction he was. Squinting through the night Nathan saw that his other arm was bandaged tightly. The man noticed Nathan and realizing who he was quickly threw up an odd salute.

"Thank you, Nathan, Sir." The man said in a serious tone.

Unsure how to respond, Nathan gave his own salute to the man. "No, thank you. You fought well. Now go rest up, it's getting late."

"Yes Sir." The man replied giving a smile and turned to go.

Seeing the man go Nathan couldn't help but shake his head. "Thank me? I did nothing worth thanking this time." Though he quietly said this, the odd feeling he felt in his heart softened slightly. Perhaps having a leader was all this town truly needed.