Chapter 828: The Usefulness of the Dutch

Though it was only February, temperatures had already begun to climb. Skaed calculated that they would need to have the geothermal air conditioning installed before summer arrived. Of course, securing such amenities for the administrative departments required first solving the copper problem. No matter how simple the geothermal system's structure might be, the heat exchangers still demanded copper. While the quantities weren't large, it represented a non-productive, non-essential consumption. The previous motion to install geothermal air conditioning in the Senator apartments had likewise died stillborn in the face of opposition from the Planning Institute. In the end, only reserved installation positions remained.

Where to find copper? Currently, the sole source of large-scale supply was Japanese copper purchased through Guangdong. Skaed harbored a bellyful of grievances regarding this Japanese copper imported via Guangdong—the copper bars could have silver refined from them, which had kept prices stubbornly elevated. The Trade Department's bulk purchases only fueled this upward trend. Every time Skaed reviewed the trade lists for Japanese copper, he felt genuine pain.

Although trading prices for Japanese copper had declined this year—thanks to the temporary suspension of commerce during the previous year's "exterminating the barbarians" campaign—the drop remained modest. Copper was perpetually scarce in China, much like silver: whatever quantity appeared would be absorbed.

"Looks like we can't avoid directly controlling a few major copper mines ourselves," Skaed murmured, gazing down at the great sand table beneath him.

In the hall below, naturalized citizen interns were engaged in enlarging the sand table. The enlargement process involved using a parallelogram drafting frame to scale each contour line from a topographical map onto large sheets of paper. Then, naturalized citizen students studying surveying and mapping would moisten standardized dry clay chips—produced in Lingao—lay them atop the drawings, and build them layer upon layer into the shapes of mountains, rivers, and undersea continental shelves. The seabed was painted blue; forests were represented by large-headed pins with green paper strips attached, denoting different tree species and average diameter at breast height. Simple models marked additional details: cities, mines, and ships.

In the old time-space, such models had been constructed from corrugated cardboard. Since Lingao's paper mill produced no corrugated cardboard, the Colonial Department had initially used clay instead. Later, following Wen Zong's suggestion, they switched to mass-produced standardized clay mosaic tiles, which significantly reduced drying time—building new layers atop undried ones caused deformation.

Senators from the Colonial Department and related offices, clutching large-headed pins, pens, and paper card models representing various equipment, facilities, and structures, took turns climbing onto the sand table to position and reposition. Pinned buildings represented construction plans; removed pins indicated obtainable timber resources. Military personnel marked key defensive positions. The Transportation Department used ropes in black, gray, and white to trace future road and railway routes. Through constant rearrangement, the entire colony's layout plan was optimized. Clerks from the Colonial Department and other divisions stood by with stacks of reference materials, ready to answer Senators' questions on the spot, while others took notes.

In the adjacent small meeting rooms—former Senator dormitories—kvass and food were set out. Senators stepping down from the sand table would sit, drink, and deliberate. Within these cramped spaces, arguments over minute details often stretched through the night. The success or failure of the entire operation hinged on the coordination of countless particulars. Clerks occupied every meeting room, documenting discussion details.

All these records would ultimately be compiled after the model project's completion to form the colonial development plan. The Colonial Department would then circulate copies to relevant departments for co-signature, with each department providing supplementary document attachments to support their positions. The plan would subsequently be submitted to the Executive Committee via the General Affairs Office. Should the Executive Committee contemplate employing military force or committing substantial human and material resources to execute these plans, they would need to prepare a relatively concise proposal for Senate approval, or at minimum, a formal hearing.

The military was simultaneously constructing a larger and more precise Hongji sand table. The General Staff maintained a dedicated sand table room specifically for war-gaming. Skaed knew, however, that the military harbored deeply ambivalent feelings about the Hongji development plan.

On one hand, they hoped that a definitive solution to the coal problem would propel military equipment upgrades and force expansion to the next level. The Navy scarcely needed mentioning—coal reserves directly impacted the fleet that would soon transition to steam power. On the other hand, the military feared that armed conflicts arising from Hongji's development would impose heavy burdens upon them. This vacillating attitude vexed Skaed considerably. In his view, the military exemplified the typical case of wanting to feast on meat while fearing to soil their hands.

Skaed was aware that mere days ago, Xi Yazhou had been recalled to Lingao by the Military Affairs Directorate. He Ming, newly elected as Chief of Military Affairs at the third plenary session of Senators, wanted him to preside over a war-game in the General Staff's sand table room—a rough simulation of the strategic situation surrounding Hongji. The formal report on this exercise had yet to emerge. Skaed strongly suspected they were "polishing" it.

At that moment, the telephone on his desk rang. Skaed returned to his office and lifted the receiver:

"Yes, it's me. What? Henan—no, the Dutch are here? All right, yes, let's keep them on their ship to cool off for a bit first."

He replaced the receiver. The caller had been Meng De. The Dutch's sudden arrival in Lingao far exceeded his expectations. The Executive Committee and Senate had always regarded the Dutch as a major threat—partly from nationalist sentiment, though Dutch ambitions genuinely made them the most menacing opponent on the East Asian seas. Moreover, they still occupied Tayouan Port in Taiwan—territory the Transmigrator Group intended to control in the future. A fundamental conflict of interest existed.

Yet until now, no one had anticipated the Dutch arriving of their own volition to request trade, rather than descending murderously with a fleet to challenge Lingao. The military had previously conducted countless simulations exploring whether Old Liu Xiang might join forces with the Dutch to attack Lingao, Sanya, or even Hongji—but never had they imagined their adversary's purpose was peaceful commerce.

Among the various memoranda and plans piled in Skaed's filing cabinets and safes, the Dutch received scant attention. The Department of Colonization and Trade had not planned extensive dealings with them. Most of what the Dutch could provide was not irreplaceable—the English could supply much of the same, and the Portuguese could also transport Lingao's goods. Most of the silver the Dutch might offer originated from Japan and Persia anyway.

Of course, should trade terms prove sufficiently favorable, conducting business with the Dutch was conceivable. After all, Lingao currently operated as an export-oriented economy. Raw materials flowed in on a massive scale; products flowed out in equal measure. When their own transport capacity fell short, having additional middlemen capable of delivering goods to their doorstep was hardly unwelcome.

However, relations with the Dutch constituted a matter of "diplomacy" and, as custom dictated, required Senate authorization—or more precisely, decision by the Standing Committee of the Senate.

During the Dutch merchant group's quarantine period aboard their vessel, the Senate Standing Committee in Lingao conducted a heated debate on how to handle the Dutch. The newly elected Senate Chairman was Qian Shuiting. After the Feiyun Club had converted the Cape Lingao Park into a club, it had sat vacant for a time. Eventually, the principal members convened to reflect deeply on the shortcomings of managing the "Overseas Club." Through tireless newspaper advertising and a diverse array of popular activities—clay pigeon shooting, bonfire parties, pistol shooting training—they gradually cultivated broad popularity. Qian Shuiting had become a man "everyone knew." Thus, in this by-election, he was elected on the strength of his excellent "mass relations." This surprised even him; he had not planned to assume the role of Senate Chairman so soon—he had originally nominated Hai Lin from the Timber Industry Department.

At the Standing Committee, most Senators maintained that two tigers could not share one mountain, and a clash with the Dutch was inevitable. The prevailing assessment—"the Dutch are the primary European opponent in East Asia"—remained unchanged. However, the Dutch had unexpectedly sailed across the ocean expressing willingness to trade, sign a commercial agreement, and perhaps even establish a certain degree of alliance. Given Lingao's present circumstances, there seemed no reason to rebuff a potential adversary offering friendship—particularly when no immediate conflict of interest existed with them.

Even if the Dutch wished to fight, they likely lacked the forces to deploy. Lingao similarly had no present capacity to organize an expeditionary force against Batavia or Taiwan. However, Lingao would probably launch operations against Taiwan within two years, so the Senate was also disinclined to bind itself with any pacts or treaties. The ultimate resolution, therefore, was to agree to sign a trade agreement with the Dutch.

Skaed received the trade license. He studied the Dutch cargo manifest—these goods still lay piled in the dockside warehouse. Save for spices, everything the Dutch had brought proved useful. The linen particularly caught his eye; linen garments were far more breathable and comfortable than cotton. The Agricultural Department had not promoted largescale cultivation of flax and hemp in Lingao, leaving them with only modest quantities of linen fabric, most obtained through trade with the Li people.

A thought suddenly struck him: the Dutch were currently the principal trading partners with Japan. Dutch commerce with Japan had continued uninterrupted until Zheng Zhilong completely monopolized China's coastal trade. Right now, the Dutch were reaping handsome profits on the Japan route. If they could purchase Japanese copper bars through the Dutch, the cost would be substantially lower than buying through two or three intermediaries in Guangzhou.

If they could expand copper imports threefold or fourfold, installing geothermal air conditioning in offices and apartments would no longer seem so extravagant. Compared to industrial department consumption, it would scarcely amount to a drop in the bucket.

As for goods to export to the Dutch, Skaed considered carefully. Among Lingao's bulk industrial products, glass prices had fallen to the point where reselling even to Europe had become profitable, driving steadily increasing export volumes. Beyond that, there were sugar products. Paper was something the Dutch did not require—they were purely middlemen, and neither Southeast Asia, Japan, nor Persia generated substantial demand for it.

(End of Chapter)