EMPIRE: Intervention (EMPIRE SERIES Book 13)

by Richard F. Weyand

  “Bring him in, Tom, bring him in.”

  North waved a thin ascetic man into the room.

  “Ma’am, this is Malcolm Barrymore.”

  “Madam President,” Barrymore said.

  “Welcome, Mr. Barrymore.”

  Turley came around her desk and shook Barrymore’s hand. She waved to the seating arrangement under the windows.

  “Please have a seat.”

  When they were both seated, Turley jumped right in.

  “Minister Blackwood contacted you for the Minister of Treasury opening, is that correct?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “And you are interested in the position, Mr. Barrymore?”

  “Perhaps, Ma’am. I’d like to ask you some questions, if I may.”

  “Of course, Mr. Barrymore.”

  “First, how much do you know about economics, Ma’am?”

  “I have my doctorate in history, concentrating in government and military affairs, Mr. Blackmore. I know something about economics as part of that, but not at an advanced level. I mean, supply and demand, price level, tax impact. The basics. You know.”

  “But how much do you know about macroeconomics?”

  “You mean like money supply, inflation, the velocity of money, that sort of thing? Enough to be dangerous, I suppose.”

  Barrymore chuckled.

  “Ah, but even being able to say that much, you outpace most of your peers, Madam President. So what are your goals for the Treasury?”

  “I want a tax policy everyone can think of as being pretty fair, even if they don’t necessarily agree with it. I want tax policy to be broadly stimulative. I don’t want the government picking economic winners and losers, and I am not into using tax policy to incentivize or disincentivize citizen behavior.”

  “Indeed? That last is usually one goal of tax policy.”

  “Oh, I understand, Mr. Barrymore. The problem of using the tax code to incentivize positive behaviors or disincentivize negative behaviors is, Who decides which behaviors are positive and which are negative? Whose moral compass does one use? The government’s? I don’t generally think of the government as the best source of moral guidance.”

  Barrymore chuckled again.

  “I suppose not, but it is refreshing to hear from the head of the executive. Another question. What about corporate profits, particularly off-planet corporate profits?”

  “I’m not against profits, Mr. Barrymore. To be against profits, one must necessarily be against capital investment, because without the prospect of one, you will not attract any of the other.”

  “There is capital investment by the government itself, Ma’am.”

  “Which is notoriously inefficient, Mr. Barrymore. You’re better off letting the private sector handle that and take its profits. It will still be at once cheaper and more targeted to the need than the government solution will be. I’ll make exception for massive capital infrastructure of general application. In particular, right now I am working on a hydroelectric dam to provide fresh water and electricity, and a massive increase in refinery capacity to relieve farmers of crushing prices for diesel fuel and get agriculture moving again. Particularly animal husbandry. I’m not fond of low-protein diets. Normally, when I eat, it means something died.”

  Barrymore nodded. He was smiling.

  “And the overall level of taxation, Ma’am?”

  “About half what it was, Mr. Barrymore.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Yes. Having a government as bloated and expensive as this one was for a colony of ten million people is unacceptable, Mr. Barrymore. Every single person working for the government is one less person working in the private sector and actually building something. I want to keep that trimmed down so we can get things done.”

  “Your attitude is unusual, Ma’am. And refreshing. I was more than half convinced I would turn you down, but Minister Blackwood cautioned me against preconceptions in your case. Having heard your goals for the Treasury and your approach to government, I find that was good advice.”

  “So you’ll accept the position, Mr. Barrymore?”

  “Oh, yes, Madam President. I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

  Turley stood up and extended her hand.

  “Welcome aboard then, Minister Barrymore.”

  Turley turned to North, sitting in a side chair nearby.

  ”Mr. North, get Minister Barrymore some office space in this building.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Turley turned back to Barrymore.

  “We’re all camped out here until all the repairs are completed on the buildings I, um, damaged.”

  “I understand, Ma’am.”

  “And get me the bones of a tax proposal at your earliest convenience, Mr. Barrymore.”

  Everywhere And Nowhere

  As Ann Turley started standing up a new government during the first weeks after the resignation of James Mieland, Paul Gulliver was everywhere and nowhere. He sat in meetings, monitored others in VR, sat in bars and listened to conversations around him, and had private conversations with people throughout the citizenry, Turley’s forces, Chapman’s resistance forces, and the former and returning government employees.

  And yet, if you were to ask people, nobody would remember him being anywhere. They couldn’t even tell you where he was staying. He was ubiquitous, and anonymous.

  Turley was relying on him, though, and he knew it. Their long planning sessions and conversations leading up to the active phase had also covered the aftermath. He knew her mind and could anticipate her needs, With the unbending support of both Dieter Stauss and Section Six, he had set many things in motion, both before the active phase began and after it was over. But with a one-week hyperspace travel time from Alexa, there was only so fast things could happen.

  The true depth of his involvement would therefore not become apparent until the end of the second week.

  Some impacts were already apparent, even if no one would have connected them to the Section Six agent. Gulliver had had a conversation with Mark Chapman the evening of Mieland’s resignation. He had expressed the hope Chapman would hang around and provide the fledgling government, which at the time was made up completely of outsiders, with insight into Julian and its citizens. When Turley had asked Chapman to be Presidential Adviser the day after the active phase, Gulliver’s softening up of Chapman the evening before proved decisive.

  When Lieutenant Parsons had asked about a minister for the personnel department, Gulliver had already identified Anita Blackwood as a good candidate. Gulliver beat Parsons to others he consulted, so Parsons heard the suggestion more than once.

  Gulliver had also mentioned to Blackwood his sympathy for poor Lieutenant Parsons, who was both being heavily leaned on by the new president and was manifestly out of his depth trying to assist in running a government. A wonderful aide, yes, but this was another matter entirely.

  Blackwood had responded that Turley should probably have a chief of staff, as well as a staff pool for assignments. Gulliver had deferred to her expertise, while suggesting relief she was already on top of the situation. ‘Somebody like Tom North, perhaps,’ Gulliver had said. ‘I’ve heard some good things about him. Ministerial experience? Something like that.’

  In a hundred tiny ways, here, there, everywhere, and nowhere, Gulliver was the oil lubricating the gears of Turley’s efforts.

  And then, on Friday of the second week, the first freighter came in from Alexa.

  Neither Gordon nor Turley had brought to Julian any clothing or personal items not selected to be a part of their covers. The two corporate executives had left their professional wardrobes on Alexa, still packed up from their shipment from their home planets.

  The clothes Gordon brought to Julian were those of an on-site construction engineer, not those of a construction executive who oversaw dozens of projects at a time. The clothes Turley had brought were those of a mousy housewife and schoolteacher, not those of a senior executive
in a massive interstellar company.

  Those undercover clothes and the MCUs that showed up with the equipment were all the wardrobe the two had those first two weeks after the active phase of the operation.

  Gulliver had also confirmed in the lead-up to the active phase that the government had not made VR nanites, contraceptive nanites – which were necessarily managed from within VR – and atherosclerosis-clearing nanites available to the population for years. He knew that both from the orders for colony support the Julian government had made from Imperial sources – largely Stauss-owned companies – and from casual conversations in the bars of Monroe.

  Gulliver had estimated the shortfalls and initiated the delivery of those items to Alexa before the active phase began.

  The planning trio of Gordon, Turley, and Gulliver had also discussed the infrastructure shortages on Julian before the active phase began. Gulliver had compared the Julian government’s colony support orders to those of other colonies at the same level of development, and had noted the lack of heavy construction equipment and refinery capacity.

  Shipments to make up those shortfalls had also been staged on Alexa.

  On Wednesday of the second week, the prisoners were released, both from the government prison in the outskirts of Monroe and from the prisoner of war camp that had been set up in the basin of the future dam. Both groups watched the video of President Turley’s admonition about the futility and danger of continuing violence and the future that was possible with her policy of reconciliation. The prison group took several sessions to get them all through the video, which was shown on a wall in the rec room of the prison.

  Most people seemed to accept Turley’s warning, but there was usually a small knot of fellows in each group who weren’t having it. The reaction at the first session was typical.

  “Bullshit,” one big guy said. “She can talk all she wants, but she ain’t been in here. Some o’ those Secret Police guys got it comin’.”

  “Yeah. I’m with you there,” a dark fellow said.

  “Not me,” one medium-sized fellow said. “I seen enough o’ this shithole for one lifetime. Fuck ‘em. They ain’t worth it.”

  “I hear ya there, buddy,” a slim blond said.

  “Yeah. You’re probably right. She sounds like she’ll come down hard on any o’ that shit,” the dark fellow said.

  “Well, she didn’t get to be a general by not being a hard-ass when it counted,” the medium-sized fellow said.

  “Yeah. You’re probably right,” the big fellow said. “Fuck. Well, I can still dream, I guess.”

  “Dreamin’ won’t land you back in prison,” the slim blond said.

  They all queued up to be processed out. Somewhere along the way, the medium-sized Paul Gulliver separated from the others and was back in the rec room, screening Turley’s speech as part of the next group.

  Tom North came into Turley’s office on Friday morning.

  “First item today. I have a meeting request from a Mr. Paul Gulliver. Who is that, Ma’am?”

  “He’s the Galactic Equipment Supply representative on Julian.”

  “Ah. Very good. I wasn’t sure what priority to give his request, Ma’am.”

  “High. It’s important I see him. He’s the source for Imperial support of the colony.”

  “Very well, Ma’am. Ten o’clock, then?”

  “That will be good, Tom. Thanks.”

  North came back into her office at ten sharp.

  “Mr. Paul Gulliver, Madam President.”

  “Thank you, Tom. Hang around, please.”

  Turley shook hands with Gulliver.

  “Good morning, Mr. Gulliver.”

  “Good morning, Madam President.”

  Turley waved to the seating area under the windows, and they were both seated. North and Parsons both took side chairs out of the way.

  “So what’s new, Mr. Gulliver?”

  “The ICV Solar Wind has come out of hyperspace and is making for the planet, Ma’am.”

  “I saw a note on that this morning. What’s her cargo, Mr. Gulliver?”

  “A large number of items from GES, as well as some personal items, Ma’am. For one thing, it has your and Sergeant Major Gordon’s personal belongings aboard.”

  “Oh, wonderful. I was afraid they would be delayed to get a shipment together.”

  “Oh, no, Ma’am. There’s quite a shipment aboard.”

  “Do I have to beat it out of you, Mr. Gulliver?”

  “No, Ma’am. Her manifest shows the following items. Earthmovers and bulldozers sufficient for building Mr. Gordon’s dam project. A complete refinery kit. One large epoxycrete fabricator and supplies. One small epoxycrete fabricator and supplies. One million VR nanite doses, plus VR training boxes. One-half million VR contraceptive doses. One thousand medical diagnostic chairs. Two-hundred-fifty thousand atherosclerosis-treating nanite doses. One thousand medical diagnostic chairs. Two-hundred-fifty thousand civilian semi-automatic pistols. Two-hundred-fifty thousand civilian rifles and shotguns. One billion rounds of assorted ammunition for the above. All on the Solar Wind.”

  “That’s quite a manifest, Mr. Gulliver. However did you manage that?”

  “We staged it on Alexa before the active phase of the operation, Ma’am. What we didn’t need could always have been used by another colony. It’s pretty standard stuff. What isn’t in this load is the hydroelectric generating station for the dam, the water treatment plant, and the piping necessary to connect to the municipal water system. Those are more specific items for which I needed Sergeant Major Gordon’s input.”

  “But those are on the way now, too?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. On the way to Alexa at least. They should be here before we can use them, actually.”

  “Marvelous.”

  Turley turned to North.

  “Mr. North.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “We need to make sure none of this disappears from the spaceport before we can deploy it. Notify General Jensen of the need for adequate security for this cargo when it comes down. I don’t want any black market activity.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “And you should also let Minister Baum know his medical supplies have arrived.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Turley turned to Parsons.

  “Lieutenant.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Can you see to the delivery of Sergeant Major Gordon’s and my personal shipments to us here at the Executive Building?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Well, Mr. Gulliver. Welcome news. Welcome news, indeed. Thank you so much for your role in securing all this for Julian.”

  “No problem at all, Madam President.”

  On Saturday, Gulliver was out at the refinery location overseeing the delivery of the refinery ‘kit’ being delivered by the cargo shuttles of the Solar Wind. The big shuttles came in from orbit and set the containers on the coordinates the government’s surveying crews had specified.

  Lucas Joubert was there. Taken captive at the opening of the active phase of the operation, he had been released that same evening. He had been pleased to learn the dam was actually going to be built after all. Building a new refinery as well had him thrilled.

  Gulliver had seen to it the majority of the former regime’s infrastructure department had been immediately hired into the new government.

  Having set their containers, the shuttles flew to the dam site and picked up the empty containers that had held the M15s. They transferred these to the refinery site, setting them on the specified coordinates. These large containers would be modified to be the bunkhouses for the men working on the refinery, first setting it up and then running it. The eighteen-foot width allowed bunks to be arrayed down both sides with a five-foot aisle down the middle.

  Then it was back to orbit for the next load.

  When the final components of the refinery had been brought down from orbit, the shuttles started bringing down the equip
ment for the dam. More of the eighteen-foot-wide containers, with actual bulldozers and earthmovers, were placed on the spots where the M15 containers had been. Once the equipment was off-loaded, these containers would be the bunkhouses for the men working on the dam.

  The government advertised for construction workers for the dam and the refinery site. Former Secret Police were encouraged to apply. First, it would keep them out of trouble. Second, many of them had been resident in barracks in the Government Center complex and simply had no other place to go. Many who had been released on Wednesday had simply hung around, after signing up for the construction jobs. Third, they had the discipline to work on a heavy construction site without violating safety rules and getting themselves killed.

  Their first job was to modify the containers into bunkhouses, adding man-doors, windows, and space heaters for the cool evenings.

  Their second job was to move their bunks from the former Secret Police barracks in Government Center out to the construction sites.

  Turley and Gulliver’s meeting in the residence portion of the Executive Building on Sunday night was much less formal than their business meetings. Gulliver noted as much.

  “I have to say I never had any bias against MCUs, Madam President, but that outfit is a notable improvement.”

  “You like it?” Turley asked as she pirouetted in the black-lace bustier sans culottes.

  “Well, I don’t want one like it, Ma’am, but on you it looks good.”

  “It’s harder to get off than MCUs, though, Mr. Gulliver. You’re going to have to work for it.”

  “I may just leave it in place, Ma’am. It’s not actually in the way.”

  Later, they talked about more plans, more needs, the way forward for the colony. They were at it for hours. When they finished their discussion, Turley had a question.

  “And now, Mr. Gulliver, with business out of the way, do you need to spirit off immediately, or do you have a little more time you can spare for me?”

  “Oh, I suppose a little more, Madam President.”