Council meetings were often long, often rough, and heated. On occasion, Trevor would drive those meetings and be the only one speaking for hours on end. Other times he sat and listened while debates raged.
Nonetheless, somehow or another the council met the needs of the growing population and kept the war machine grinding away.
The meeting that day, however, threatened to be one for the ages.
Eva got things started working from a series of hand-written notes. She spoke in a formal, professional manner. They all knew she held little tolerance for bullshit; she considered her time too valuable to waste.
“The corn harvest in central Pennsylvania and Maryland will be 10 percentage points lower than last season. This comes despite a substantial increase in the number of farms producing corn. The reason is due to insect infestations. We have been dealing with a lack of pesticides. This will have a cascade effect over the rest of this year. Corn is the primary ingredient in farm animal feed. We anticipate needing to slaughter more animals because we will not have the feed to keep them eating through the winter. Needless to say, this will result in less meat yields per animal.”
“Now that is a cruel twist of fate,” Reverend Johnny said. “A bounty of meat this Fall because we’re running out of corn.”
“Furthermore, we will have less offspring and fewer animal products such as milk and wool. Enjoy your lamb chops this Fall, Reverend, but I hope you don’t freeze to death from a lack of a coat in February.”
She glanced from her notes and saw the audience hanging on her every word. Military speak and industrial output sounded cooler, but all of that meant nothing without food to eat.
“This situation will aggravate food supply problems in New Jersey, Delaware, and eastern Maryland. We estimate that as many as fifteen thousand souls in those areas will be subjected to rations below subsistence levels by October.”
“Wow,” Jon Brewer broke in. “What about fishing? Those areas have access to the Chesapeake, Delaware Bay, and the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of Jersey.”
“We have shortages in fuel to run fishing boats,” Eva responded. “There are two other considerations. The first is that so many of our foodstuffs were forwarded to Southern Command. Second, our facilities have recently come under aggressive attack from hostile animals. In the last week alone, I had distribution centers in Vineland, New Jersey, Rehoboth Beach, Delaware, and Denton, Maryland wiped out. Two trains were also hit by creatures, one resulting in lost cargo and a gutted crew.”
She took a deep breath and then hit them with another shock. “If you check your casualty reports you’ll find that more people protecting or distributing food were killed in the last several weeks than were lost during the assault on Raleigh.”
Evan Godfrey said, “Where the Hell is Internal Security?” he turned to Dante Jones. “Jesus Christ, we can’t even protect our food supply.”
“Hey,” Dante defended. “I’ve only got so much manpower. Do you know how thin we’re spread? I got guys using friggin’ 22’s because there isn’t enough assault rifles to go around.”
“Brett,” Jon Brewer said, “What can we do about cranking out more assault rifles?”
Brett Stanton had obtained the specifications necessary for making just about any human firearm from ATF files in Washington, D.C. Brett’s people cranked out a variety of guns as well as matching ammunition on assembly lines.
However, those assembly lines would not function without the transfiguration machines stolen from the Hivvans. Those machines morphed more plentiful materials-rock, wood, scrap, waste-into coveted resources such as metal, iron, petroleum, and rubber by actually changing the atomic structure of the substance. Without this alien technology, Trevor’s growing nation would not be able to maintain the war effort, let alone meet the energy, transportation, and manufacturing needs of the civilian sector.
Yet only so many of the machines existed, particularly the big industrial-capacity ones. Furthermore, the process of metamorphosis required planning and time. The matter transfiguration machines were a thin funnel through which many needs must pass. On top of that, transportation of those raw materials to manufacturing plants required coordination with the railroads for access to the trains’ coveted cargo capacity.
Brett Stanton answered Jon’s question, “Well I guess that would be one way to go. But wait, if I push the making of the actual guns to the top of the list then I’ll lose the capacity to make the bullets for them guns. We ramped up rifle and pistol cartridge production for the Raleigh thing. It will take a while to switch things over.”
This sent everyone’s eyes toward Omar, the Director of Science and Technology.
“Oh, now you all be just waiting one second here now,” the man said with a cigarette hanging from the edge of his mouth. The more aggravated Omar felt, the more he played up an Indian accent to match his complexion, as if trying hard to hit the stereotype on the head. “I will be saying that there is only so much I can be doing with the machines we have. It is a very delicate process and not something so simple as it sounds. The transfiguration equipment is very limited in what types of matter it can change into what types. It already is running at fullest capacity.”
“The man says we need guns, that’s the priority now,” Gordon Knox jumped but Eva Rheimmer countered, “My department already has a request in for plastics and coolant, unless you want rotten produce showing up on your doorstep.”
Lori Brewer added her voice to the cross talk, “We are already behind schedule for heating oil. A lot of people in Pennsylvania are going to freeze this winter if we don’t-”
“Wait,” Trevor raised a hand and silenced the group. “Lori, have your people raid every damn military museum in our territory. Christ, there’s got to be five hundred Civil War museums alone. Also, hit every knife shop and sporting goods store. You’re looking for swords, maces, clubs, spears…primitive weapons, yes, but weapons all the same. I want them distributed to Internal Security to supplement their current fire arms.”
“Swords?” Dante gasped. “How the hell can we expect to use swords to hold off a skip beetle or pack of Jaw-Wolves?”
Evan Godfrey said, “Just pull some damn troops off the front line and give them over to I.S. That would solve the problem.”
Brewer sneered, “Sure, and let the Hivvans retake North Carolina while you’re at it.”
“Might as well,” Evan waved a hand in the air. “We’re not safe back here!”
Trevor said, “No front line troops will be pulled out. We’ve got the Hivvans on the run now. Several thousand people were just freed and a lot more are waiting for us in Columbia.”
“Thousands of people we can’t feed! They’re better off slaves for now because they’d just starve here!” Godfrey pushed.
“End of discussion.”
Under his breath but loud enough to hear, Evan mumbled, “Yes, my Lord.”
“Doctor?” Trevor moved on with a glance toward Dr. Maple.
“Yes, um, well, in your packs you will find a chart of infectious diseases that have hit several communities inside our borders. Thankfully all of them are of Earthly origin.”
“You know, that’s been bugging me,” Dante broke in. “We’ve got thousands of animals and people from other planets but not a single weird alien disease? I mean, remember how Small Pox wiped out the Indians and stuff? Why nothing like that here?”
Trevor’s lips moved but he held his tongue even though the answer hovered there. Like humanity’s nuclear arsenal, bio-weapons-intentional or accidental-probably fell under the category of ‘weapons of mass destruction’, hence outlawed by The Old Man’s ‘rules’.
Instead of sharing his guess, Trevor told them, “I’ll bet they went through some kind of decontamination before coming over. Probably were inoculated against our microbes and viruses, too. Just a guess.”
“It does not matter, Mr. Jones,” Dr. Maple continued. “Our own diseases are lethal enough, particularly given the, um, s
anitation issues. For example, last week we, um, dispatched a brigade from General Prescott’s 1 ^ st Armored Division to isolate and contain the population in Lynchburg, Virginia. There is a, um, respiratory infection that has taken the lives of a dozen people there and hundreds more are quite ill. We are treating it as best we can but the priority right now is to contain the illness to that settlement.”
“Nice,” Evan Godfrey sneered. “Our health care program’s number one priority is to contain sick people, not heal them.”
“Limited resources,” Maple answered. “We did, um, send a team of specialists. They have an old Army mobile bio weapons lab and have set up camp at the center of town. We are hopeful that rudimentary medicines can lower the mortality rate.”
Godfrey showed signs of jumping on his soapbox again as he said, “And that’s all we have: rudimentary medicines. We’ve got attack helicopters, tanks, and alien air ships in our military but little more than aspirin and cough syrup in our hospitals.”
Maple consulted a pile of papers and replied, “Well, um, actually there is some good news on that front. Vaccine production out of Swiftwater has reached seventy-percent capacity. Most of the population has received the important inoculations and we are in the process of, um, expanding the scope of the vaccination program. Furthermore, um, our quantity of penicillin, fever-reducers, and antibiotics has more than doubled thanks to a slight increase in output but, um, more importantly the discovery of government stockpiles.”
The fire under Godfrey faded but he pushed on anyway, saying, “What about diabetics? What about heart drugs? What about surgical supplies? Those are hard to find.”
Trevor said, “When you think about it, it’s good news that we need those kinds of things again. It means people with chronic conditions aren’t doomed from the start; it means they’re living long enough to need specialized care and medicine.”
“And we’re not giving it,” Godfrey complained. “There are children being born with conditions that require specialized treatment and drugs. Our capabilities in this area are lacking.”
Maple presented more good news certain to ruin Evan’s tirade. “The, um, ‘Physicians Training and Education’ facility at John Hopkins in Baltimore will be ready to open within, um, two weeks or so. The, um, immediate focus will be on fundamental health care but we will expand the, um, curriculum to more advanced studies as we progress. Approximately one-hundred, um, ‘students’ have enrolled for medical training.”
Gordon Knox never missed an opportunity to hit Godfrey with a zinger. “See that, Evan; all your concerns have been addressed. That should keep you quiet for a minute or two.”
Godfrey shot Knox a vicious glance, which Gordon countered with a big grin.
“That it, doctor?”
“Um, yes, Trevor.”
“Dante, what have you got for us?”
“Pirates,” Dante answered. “They’re hiding out in the Poconos hitting supply trains and civilians. Four officers and twice that number of K9s have been killed by these guys this month. That’s not counting the civvies ambushed and killed. The regional I.S. Supervisor over there needs a helicopter or two to do aerial sweeps. Maybe with infrared gear.”
“We’ll see what can be done,” Trevor looked to Jon. “An Eagle might do a better job. See if you can get him one of the recon models with surveillance gear.”
“I’m not sure if we’ve got one to spare,” Brewer answered. “Two are down for repairs and we have that new commitment we talked about.”
Dante huffed and repeated, “Like I said, what about a helicopter? Or two?”
Brewer thought and said, “Plenty of helicopters around but not enough pilots. Last count, we had fifteen pilots in the field who could fly the big military birds, another three or four with civilian level training. Hey wait, there are a couple of guys in chopper flight school right now. I’ll see if they’ve advanced enough to do the job.”
Dante-frustrated-waved a hand toward Omar to move the conversation to the next station.
“My friends, this is a great day,” Nehru told them after enjoying a long drag on a cigarette. “We have secured four more industrial-sized matter transfiguration machines from the factories of Raleigh. I have confirmed…they are in good operating condition. I am going down myself in a few days to personally examine the equipment. Once things are on line, I will coordinate output with Mr. Stanton.”
“How long until full capacity?” Jon Brewer asked.
“I cannot say. At least a week. The building where they were housed was damaged by shelling, but the machines were not harmed.”
Trevor said, “That’s good news. Who’s next?”
Evan Godfrey occupied the seat alongside Omar.
“There are too many kids going hungry,” he looked to Eva Rheimmer and added, “I think Eva and her people are doing an incredibly good job. However, I did a little checking and found there are several bridges destroyed during last spring’s retreat that otherwise would provide more direct routes to some of the outlying settlements. We re-took the ground during the summer, but the bridges have not been repaired.”
“Lots of things need to be repaired, Evan,” Jon Brewer said. “I can name half-a-dozen airports that could do us some good if we had the time and manpower to pave the runways. Most secondary roads are in horrible shape, and ports in Delaware and New Jersey need serious attention. None of that can be done without sacrificing somewhere else.”
“Yes, I know,” Evan agreed. “In the past thirty days Trenton has lacked power for more than three weeks. Five thousand people live there and it’s the regional hub for supply distribution, security, and medical facilities yet we cannot keep the lights on most days! I suggest we slow our advance against the Hivvans to secure our infrastructure and deal with the population currently under our control. It does no good to liberate ‘survivors’ only to have them starve here.”
Knox said, “Tell you what, Evan, why don’t we have you parachute into Columbia, South Carolina and ask the human slaves there if they want to join us now or would mind waiting until we sort all the bugs out of the system.”
“That’s not the point but if you want to go that way, fine. Eva and Dante just told you about how much havoc things are causing behind our lines. Internal Security is short of manpower and weapons, let alone vehicles and fuel. The attacks on our civilians, our trains, and our supply depots prove that we’re not as secure as you think!”
Anita Nehru stroked her long, dark hair and explained, “Actually, I think the attacks on the trains and the supply depots demonstrate that the predators in our rear areas are becoming desperate. The Hunter-Killer teams have been effective in wiping out alien life forms, reducing the prey animals and forcing the predators to become bolder.”
Evan Godfrey, however, kept rolling.
“That’s another point. Why are we killing every single animal that came here? Most of those animals are not dangerous; they’re the equivalent of rabbits, pigs, and horses from other worlds. From what I can tell, animals like chew-cows and horned fur-pheasants could be harvested for edible meat or have glands that produce drinkable liquids.”
Lori Brewer raised a hand to her mouth and gagged.
Gordon Knox offered, “Evan, I will personally serve you up a helping of broiled rat-thing if you’d like.”
Before Godfrey could respond, Trevor told them, “No. I have told everyone at this table before and I will say it again: any animal that does not belong on this Earth is to be destroyed and disposed of. There can be no exceptions.”
“And so says Trevor Stone,” Evan mocked.
“Yes, so says I. Next order of business.”
“I’m not finished.”
Trevor said, “I didn’t hear one word about housing, Evan. You were too busy worrying about everything else. If you have issues in your specific area of responsibility, submit them in writing. Next.”
Lori Brewer coughed to clear away the gag induced by Evan’s food suggestions and consulted a bi
nder of notes as she spoke.
“I talked to Trevor about this earlier in the week; he said to bring it up here so here it is. We have to consider starting some kind of currency. Right now, our ‘economy’ is made up of barter, charity, and handouts. If you want to get your haircut, you trade a pair of shoes. Need a new chain for your bicycle? Then you better have some bullets, eyeglasses, or chocolate to trade. Of course, I’m not even going to get into people trading sex for stuff or the fact that indentured servitude has come back into style.”
Jon Brewer asked, “What about bringing dollars back? Plenty of them around.”
Godfrey responded, “That’s the problem, they have no value. In the winter people were burning bucks to stay warm.”
“So?”
“So, General, a currency has to have a value attached to it. You can’t just say ‘hey, ten dollars buys you a haircut, folks.’ It’s not that simple,” Godfrey shot.
Trevor sighed. “Actual dollar bills aren’t really worth anything now that there’s no U.S. government backing them. We can’t just go out, hit the banks, and collect as many as we can find then call them our new money.”
“At the same time,” Lori said. “No one is being paid for their work. Without compensation, how long will people want to work in a factory? Who wants to be a garbage man?”
Evan joined in, “Without a formal currency there will be no economy. If we have a real economy, the result will be improved production and a more involved work force. You’ll also get investment and entrepreneurism.”
“Just like the old days?” Trevor asked with skepticism in his voice. “We can’t turn the clock back, Evan.”
“Just stop and listen for a second, Trevor. The only incentive people have right now is to survive. In the short term that works because people are just glad to get a ration of food and a warm place to sleep. In the long term, it is doomed to fail. You have to give consideration to creating a currency and developing some kind of economic foundation. Eventually your war will grind to a halt because you won’t have the bullets, food, or fuel to keep pushing forward, matter-makers or not.”
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