by Jim Rudnick
“Take us to the proper coordinates now, Helmsman, and line us up for the return trip,” the captain said, and that too was more work for the crewman, but minutes later, all appeared to be properly aligned.
On the view-screen, the Neres sun now shone in the middle of the screen, it being the target of the jump.
“Initiate the Barony Drive,” the captain said, and in about the same thirty seconds, the Neres sun flashed and then went solid.
“Sir,” the helmsman said, “we’re home. Mission successful, Sir,” he grinned, and ”Booyah” echoed from the whole bridge crew.
“I want a full report—all departments and stations—on my console by end of shift today. If we’re going to report this, then it’s gotta be a complete report, and the admiral will have more than enough to read—least I hope so,” the captain said as he gave instructions to land on Neres at the navy yard landing port and began to work on his report.
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The chairman had come early for once to get the clerks to arrange the table in a format that would be better for them all—to balance the executive committee guests today.
The minister of commerce for Faraway would be present as would the trade master for Leudie—and to get them equal from the get-go, the seating at the table was the first thing to get arranged.
He worked on that, the Baroness noted, as she leaned over on the far wall against the table that held the refreshments, and she said quietly to a steward, “Did you get both Faraway and Leudie drinks too,” and the steward nodded back to her.
“Ma’am, yes, Ma’am … chilled waters for the Leudie and those sour fruit juices for the Faraway contingent,” he answered as he pointed to both ends of the long table. Faraway at one end, Leudie at the other—that was good thinking, she thought.
At the doorway, the Baroness noted, there were the normal duo of Provost guards who always looked after security so that only executive committee members got into the room—and then they closed the doors and waited outside. She wondered if there was a squad of extra guards somewhere close and hoped so. Not that there was any worry about violence erupting, but the committee had been forewarned over and over that this new trade war had made quite bitter enemies out of these two alien worlds.
She sipped her tea and was thinking about sitting down now that the chairman and his clerks had gotten the table just so and were standing back to look at their work when Admiral McQueen came in. He went to his usual place at one end of the table, and then one of the clerks motioned him to move down to a new seat, which he did. Dropping his files and tablet there, he came over to the Baroness and nodded his hello.
“Seems like we’ve our visitors all properly aligned, do we?” he said with a bit of a smile.
She returned the grin. “We do—and it’s taken them about a half hour to work on this too,” she said. “Hope that this is not for naught,” she added, and that got a nod from the admiral who was busy getting a piping hot coffee just so with his additions of cream and sugar.
“Like brown sugar the best, you know—it’s the molasses taste that really makes a good cup of joe that much better,” he commented as he added a big heaping spoonful of the mud-brown sugar to his big mug.
She just looked at him and half-smiled.
Having the admiral have the proper coffee was not in her job description, but that was beside the point today.
Today was a special emergency meeting of the committee to see if they could work out a compromise to the upcoming ultimatums the Leudie and Faraway members would be issuing the full RIM Confederacy Council in two weeks. A way to circumvent this must be found, all the committee members agreed, but they did have a plan B to use if the two trade-war planets could not find a way to work together.
She sipped her tea again and handed it to the steward close by to fill up with fresh Darjeeling and put at her place at the table.
The admiral took his place, his big mug sitting on the little coaster that a steward had placed there. Noticing, another steward rushed over and changed the coaster for a much bigger one, and that got her smiling. Attention to detail by stewards was to be expected, but this group was excellent. She should poach them, but then she realized that this kind of behavior would be frowned upon by the rest of the committee. That got another smile too, as she realized that today there were more important things to worry about, and just as that thought crossed her mind, five Leudies walked into the room.
One of the Provost guards stopped them right at the doorway and said, “Sorry, Sirs … but Master Trader Lofton is the only one allowed in the committee room—we can accommodate the rest of you down the hall in another room, if you’d like.” His tone was all no nonsense.
The Leudies crowded around him, and even from where she sat, the Baroness could see neck snakes uncoiling with rapidity.
“Gentlemen, please … as you can all see, the committee room is quite small—but the rest of you will be able to see and hear all that goes on within the room as it’s broadcast to your own room as well,” Chairman Gramsci said nicely. Politely even, as he tried to keep the request light and easy.
The Leudies backed up and went down the hallway for a few feet to argue, it appeared—least that’s what the Baroness could hear, and then Trade Master Lofton came back to the Provost guard.
“I will accept that you do not want more than one of us to speak to the committee—but we require that there is the exact same rules used for the Faraway group as well. My fellows will sit down the hall, as you’ve put it, but we too will be recording this for our own planetary government as well.”
He pushed right by the Provost guard, and the rest of them were shown their committee viewing room down the hall. He went over to the table to find a drink, and by accident, he got the end that held the Faraway juices, and he sneered at them.
“Wonder what kind of tariffs they paid to get their juices onto Juno,” he asked no one in particular, and while it went unanswered or unacknowledged by all, it did mean something to the Baroness at least.
Tariffs. Trade wars. All for more revenues and commerce—but for these two Confederacy members, the big prize was the trade itself. An addiction that she did not share. For me, the behind-the-scenes deals are the thing that is to be prized. She smiled, knowing her Barony Drive would be the tipping point but not today.
She smiled to herself once more and then sipped her tea.
The Doge of Conclusion and the Duke d’Avigdor both appeared together and said their hellos as they seated themselves at the table, noting that a Leudie now sat on one side of the table and there was an empty chair directly opposite of same. Moments later, the Master Adept appeared with the Caliph, and the Baroness wondered if she needed to think on these couplings as a head of state almost always needed to. Just as she began to think on that, a Faraway citizen appeared at the doorway.
“Minister Gavin Gibson, invited to join the committee for this meeting,” the alien said, his tail down on the floor.
“Good sign,” she said to herself as the Provost guard admitted him.
He made his way over to the large bin of iced juices, chose one, wiped it carefully with a cloth, added a glass to his hand, and then went and sat in the only seat left, and yes, it was made for a Faraway citizen who had a long muscular tail. He snapped open the drink can and poured his juice carefully, she saw, noting that he used the coaster provided.
She looked over at the Leudie, who was twisting his bottled water, not using the coaster and glaring at the Faraway citizen, and said to herself, “it’s going to be a hell of a meeting…”
Chairman Gramsci, two of his arms crossed on his chest and two more draped on the table holding up a single page of paper, today’s Agenda, used one more arm to bang the gavel softly on its stone pedestal, and he nodded to them all.
“Let’s call this meeting together, shall we?” he said as he looked at the clerk.
“Mr. Chairman, the executive committee is here, no regrets either. We have our two invited guests�
�Minister Gibson of Faraway and Trade Master Lofton here as well. On our emergency meeting Agenda today is one single item only—the negotiations on the current trade war between their two realms and what the future holds for same,” she said, reading it off the page.
The chairman nodded and as the Leudie leaned forward to speak, he held up his hand to stop him.
“Trade Master—you will have more than enough time to speak—please though, we do ask that you allow us to conduct the meeting according to our normal procedures. Who on the committee wishes to speak to this matter first?” he said, and the small panel in the tabletop in front of him lit up with the six green lights from each of the regular committee members.
He went through them one by one, and each member spoke.
Some, like the Duke d’Avigdor and the Doge of Conclusion, indicated that they were unhappy that two of the Confederacy members could not get along, but trade was trade and the market would decide what was needed. The Baroness nodded since she agreed with that. Yes, the market was still the great leveler, she thought. Today would be the day that she’d get their positions and figure out if the way she thought she could end the war would work … never mind what the committee wanted to do.
The admiral was next and added not a thing other than to remind one and all that the RIM Navy was the force that counted here on the RIM. And they’d enforce the Confederacy rules with no quarter given. “Tough but fair,” she said to herself..
The Caliph said little. He did say that the Caliphate would use whatever means necessary to buy and sell goods—and if needed, they’d field their own delivery ships. That got a snort from the Leudie citizen and a shrug from the Faraway citizen, and all present noted it.
The Master Adept said plainly that she could not see how this worked out … there were too many variables that had to come to fruition before she could even get an idea of what might happen. But she did say that, for the most part, she felt that this was a tempest in a teapot kind of war, which got not a single nod at the table.
Finally the chairman said that for the Alex’n Hegemony, he could only add that, like the Caliphate, they too would simply commission new ships to handle trade—in fact, he said he was surprised that no one at this point in the Confederacy had ever done that.
The Baroness smiled at them all and spoke softly. “We of the Barony find—as does the Master Adept—that this is a big to-do with not much of a downside for any of us. What we buy, we will simply change from FOB ORIGIN to FOB DESTINATION. That would mean that anyone who’d sell us anything has to arrange for transport on any commercial carrier. What we sell to people would be FOB ORIGIN, meaning that if you want to buy anything from a Barony realm planet, you have to arrange for your own shipping. Seems to us that this would effectively end this trade war and at the same time create a whole new class of carriers. That sounds like a good thing to us … would end the whole ‘my planet against your planet’ type of trade war that we currently find ourselves in. Yes?” she said to no one, but while she did not get an answer, she did get some heads nodding.
The chairman looked at the Leudie and said, “We did a pre-meeting coin toss—and the Faraway citizen will speak first on this,” and even though the Leudie protested, his neck snake uncoiling even more, the attention of the committee turned to Minister Gibson.
He looked around the table and did not smile nor say anything for a minute.
Then he looked down at his tablet and turned it off.
“I find it somewhat disturbing that the trade war started by the Leudies is being thought of as a minor to-do by heads of state at this table. It is not. We, as a trading planet, provide transportation to all the RIM Confederacy realms for their goods. You buy or sell and we move the freight. Yes, we make a markup, and yes, we do quite well sometimes—sometimes like just a few months back, you may remember the excavating generators mix-up over on Roor as an example, we lost big time on. We do not use any kind of illegal substitution of products, of subsidies, of huge tariffs either to stay competitive. The Leudies, however, have found that their own revenues have decreased—not because of any illegal activity—but that we’re becoming more and more of a real competitor for pricing. Hence, their huge increases in tariff applications. Hence, their use of knock-offs when they ship poorly specified products. Hence, their use of claims of subsidies and other illegal practices. None of which are true,” he said, and he had to hold up a hand to the Leudie across the table from himself almost with every sentence, and he went on.
“We intend, at the next full RIM Confederacy Council meeting, to demand for a full halt in the process of new tariff applications and a roll-back of the past year's worth as well. We also intend to ask for reparations for costs and customs fees from the Leudies for their instigation of this trade war too. We intend to back up our demands with the notice that should we not get what we ask for—we intend to leave the RIM Confederacy as a member realm. We will continue to trade and transport goods wherever we can, but we pay no tariffs, no fees, no customs fees no health fees, and no duties either. Not a single one. This is what we will present at the council meeting. There is no equivocation in our intent, either …” he said as he finished and took a large drink of his juice.
The table sat and pondered on that, but the Leudie had other ideas.
“This is wrong … all wrong, and I can offer up the following. We did not start the subsidies and protectionism that Faraway did to get such a quick entry into being traders. They have also hundreds of customs applications on file too, and we have had to respond because we must try to protect ourselves and our trading routes and customers over the past years. We totally repudiate these claims, and we too have an ultimatum for the Confederacy Council—either allow us to trade as we always have—or we leave the Confederacy on our own. Think of what it’d be like here on the RIM if there were not a one of our hundred or so Leudie trading ships moving goods around the RIM. You all think it’s so easy—you’d be both surprised and then go broke as there is more to trading than pointing the helm at a star …” he said, and his neck snake tucked its head inside a coil and the Leudie rose at the table.
“I leave you all with this. Either the council votes to accept our ultimatum or the Faraway one—you can’t have both …” he said as he turned and walked over to the doorway, and he banged on it to call the Provost guards outside to open it.
Followed by his fellow Leudies who came from down the hall, they left striding down the hallway, their boots all in sync.
The chairman shrugged and looked at the committee members one by one.
Not a single green light lit up on his next to talk panel in front of him, and he looked at Minister Gibson.
“Minister, thank you for attending and letting us know the official Faraway position. We will take it under advisement and discuss it, and if we can come up with an alternate for you to consider, we’ll Ansible it to you EYES ONLY. Thank you once again,” he said, and he smacked the gavel down on the stone pedestal to end the meeting.
“Interesting,” the Baroness said to herself, “very interesting … but how unnecessary …”
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In the light gray hospital private ward room, Kondo felt a bit like he needed more sleep. He’d not gotten very much since his dad had come out of the coma three days ago, and that was not a wonder.
His father had, it appeared to the medical team, suffered some major issues with not getting oxygen to the brain during the heart attack—hypoxia they had called it medically. He had woken slowly, and open eyes and fluttering eyelids had been the first sign. Once they’d called for a nurse or doctor, the team had assembled, and they’d slowly gotten his dad sitting a bit more upright using the power bed. He’d coughed a bit and had taken some water, but the whole first day, speech appeared to be beyond him.
He’d talked to his dad too … telling him how much he was loved and how they were all so glad that he’d come through this and was fine. Or going to be fine. And soon would be fine. And Kondo wo
ndered just what fine really meant as it slowly dawned on all of the family that his father had been severely affected by the heart attack.
The medical team had given him tests and had used physical therapy testing and psychological testing to try to find a baseline to work from.
While his dad did turn his head if you spoke to him, Kondo had little hope that he’d be much better than what he appeared to now be—an invalid in a hospital bed. He cried that night. He cried again down in the cafeteria when he’d had to tell the deputy prime minister and few of the cabinet members who also were teary eyed too.
He had watched his mother morph into a woman of hope. She said quite regularly that it’d be her job to rehabilitate her husband—she’d have him up and out of bed and talking in a few weeks, she said. She wouldn’t hear of anything that anyone else would say about her husband.
Klara was heartbroken as was Kasmer, and yet both too had an ounce or so of pure hope—Dad could improve, the medical team had said, and they seemed to cling to that. Once in awhile over the past couple of days, he’d glanced over at one of them and found emptiness in their stares and knew that in truth they felt like he felt. There was no coming back from this for their father.
The deputy had appeared at the doorway first thing this morning, and he’d roused himself to go down to the cafeteria to chat with him, and they’d been met by more than a dozen cabinet ministers too.
“Oh-oh,” he’d said to himself, and he steeled himself to be polite and to say no.
The deputy offered his support and said that while they now had some idea of the state of his father’s prognosis, they knew they had to speak to him now. Today. He quickly moved to their main concern. The silence around the prime minister’s health—and his future—wouldn’t last forever and the truth would leak out so very soon. They had a whole planet and parliament to think about, and it was time for Kondo to consider their offer.
A minister who Kondo didn’t know chimed in that there were more than four billion people on Amasis, that they were a major manufacturing planet in the whole RIM, and a valued member of the Barony of Neres. Another reminded him that while being a captain in the Barony Navy was a good job—there was something to be said for the running of a whole planet that meant so, so much more. A third said that serving the public good was better than any job anywhere, and that did make sense to him.