Building a Conglomerate in Another World-Chapter 87: Let’s Get to It

The factory floor at Hesh Industries roared with renewed purpose. The clang of hammers, the hum of engines, and the hiss of steam filled the air like an industrial symphony. Workers moved in coordinated chaos, tightening bolts, inspecting barrels, and preparing assembly lines to meet the sudden and immense demand for weapons.

Matthew Hesh stood on the elevated platform overlooking the floor. His hands rested on the railing as his sharp gaze scanned the production lines below. Gone were the celebratory cheers from a week ago—what had once been a toast to success had turned into a fight for survival, for the Republic itself.

Robert climbed the stairs two steps at a time, a clipboard in his hand and a furrow of concern etched across his face.

"Sir, we’ve got the first figures from procurement. The Army’s initial order came through this morning."

Matthew turned to him, his expression serious. "How much do they need?"

Robert adjusted his glasses, flipping to the top page of his notes. "Fifty thousand Model 85 rifles, five hundred automatic guns, and twenty thousand pistols. They’re prioritizing equipping the southern divisions and fort garrisons. They want the first shipments rolling out in two weeks."

Matthew’s brow furrowed slightly. "Two weeks?"

Robert nodded grimly. "They’re mobilizing fast. President Clay isn’t wasting any time, and neither is the Army. The generals know they’re marching into a fight, and they want our weapons in their hands when they get there."

Matthew exhaled sharply, his mind already calculating. "Double the shifts. Pay everyone overtime. Make sure the foremen know there can’t be a single flaw in these weapons. The last thing we need is for soldiers to find malfunctions in the field."

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"Understood," Robert said, jotting notes on his clipboard. "We’ve got the workforce, but raw materials are another problem. Steel shipments are already delayed from the northern mills. If this keeps up—"

"—It won’t," Matthew interrupted, his voice firm. "Send telegrams to the mills. Tell them I’ll personally pay the premium for expedited shipments. If they can’t keep up, we’ll source the steel locally."

Robert blinked, slightly surprised. "That’ll cost a fortune, Matt."

"I know Robert, but the government is willing to pay us even more than what we are paying to our suppliers, so get to it."

Robert gave a slow nod. "I’ll get the telegrams out immediately."

The sharp, unexpected clatter of boots against the metal staircase made Matthew look up. At the far end of the platform, a soldier in Amerathian blue approached briskly, his uniform freshly pressed but dusted with dirt from the road. His presence brought the floor below to a brief hush as workers noticed the visitor.

"Mr. Hesh?" the soldier called, snapping a salute as he came to a stop.

Matthew straightened. "That’s me."

"Sir, I’m Corporal Harris from the War Ministry. General Nathaniel Warner has requested an immediate meeting with you in Columbia. He says it’s urgent."

Matthew’s gaze narrowed slightly, though his expression remained calm. "Did the General say what this was about?"

"No, sir. Only that the situation on the southern border is escalating, and your presence is required to discuss matters of logistics and production."

Matthew exchanged a glance with Robert, who was already scribbling notes. "How soon do they need me there?"

The corporal straightened. "Immediately, sir. I have a car waiting outside to take you to the train station."

Matthew nodded. "Tell the General I’ll be there."

The rhythmic clatter of the train’s wheels against the tracks provided a steady backdrop as Matthew sat in a private car, the world outside whipping past in a blur. Fields of wheat and scattered farmsteads gave way to small towns, where stations were crowded with volunteers, soldiers, and citizens waving goodbye to loved ones already called to the front.

Matthew watched through the window, the reality of war hitting him in ways the newspaper headlines never could. Boys—some not much older than teenagers—stood proudly in new uniforms, rifles slung awkwardly over their shoulders. Mothers wept quietly in the shadows of the platforms, clinging to their sons’ hands until they had no choice but to let go.

Robert’s words echoed in his mind.

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"This war is going to cost us—in men, in resources, in everything."

The thought gnawed at him, but Matthew pushed it aside. There was no time for doubt now. His weapons had been chosen, and that meant countless soldiers would rely on him to ensure they had the tools to fight and return home alive.

The War Ministry in Columbia was a fortress of authority and urgency. Soldiers and clerks bustled through its wide halls, carrying stacks of reports and orders. Matthew was led into a spacious office where General Nathaniel Warner waited, standing before a large map pinned to the wall. Several other military officers were already gathered, their conversations halting as Matthew entered.

"Mr. Hesh," Warner greeted, striding forward to shake his hand firmly. "I’m glad you came so quickly."

"I came as soon as I could, General," Matthew replied. "I understand the situation is escalating."

Warner gestured toward the map. "We’re receiving reports of Mexican forces amassing south of Tejas, larger than we initially estimated. Skirmishes like the one last week are only the beginning."

Matthew studied the map closely. Red markers showed known Mexican positions, and clusters of blue markers represented Amerathian forces along the border. The scale of the challenge was clear.

"How can Hesh Industries help?" Matthew asked without hesitation.

Warner’s piercing blue gaze met his. "We need those weapons faster than you promised. The Army will begin a full-scale advance within the month, and we can’t afford delays."

Matthew frowned slightly. "I’ve already doubled production and guaranteed overtime. But if you’re asking for more…"

"I am," Warner interrupted. "If you need more men, more steel, more coal—name it, and we’ll get it. The President has approved emergency powers to requisition whatever’s necessary for the war effort."

Matthew nodded slowly. "I’ll need more workers, additional forges, and a priority rail line for transporting finished weapons to the southern forts."

"Done," Warner said without hesitation. "Anything else?"

Matthew’s eyes narrowed. "Tell your quartermasters to report back on how the weapons are performing. I want to know what’s working and what’s not. If something needs improving, I’ll fix it—fast."

Warner allowed a small smile. "That’s why we trust you, Mr. Hesh. You’re not just building weapons; you’re building confidence."