F. Wilson - An Enemy of the State

“There's no way out if we persist in limiting ourselves to simple and obvious solutions,” Haworth said into the ensuing verbal commotion. “If we freeze, or even significantly slow, the growth of the money supply, we face mass bankruptcy filings and soaring unemployment. If we keep going at this pace, something's bound to give somewhere along the line.”

Metep VII slumped in his chair. “That means I'm to be ‘the Depression Metep’ for the rest of history, I guess. Either way, I lose.”

“Maybe not.” Haworth's voice was not raised when he said it, but it cut cleanly through the undertone of conversational pairs around the table and brought all talk to an abrupt halt.

“You've got an idea? A way out?”

“Only a chance, Jek. No guarantees, and it will take lots of guts on all our parts. But with some luck, we may get a reprieve.” He began strolling around the conference table as he spoke. “The first thing we do is start to inform the public about Earth's new protein source, playing it up not as a great biological advance, but as a sinister move to try and ruin the out-world economy. We'll create a siege mentality, ask everyone to sacrifice to fight the inflation that Earth is causing. As a stopgap, we'll impose wage-price controls and enforce them rigidly. Anyone trying to circumvent them will be portrayed as an Earthie-lover. If legal penalties don't scare them into compliance, social pressure will. And we'll play the unions off against the businessmen as usual.”

“That's not a reprieve!” Krager said, turning in his seat as Haworth passed behind him. “That's not even a new trial-it's just a stay of execution, and a short one at that! It's all been tried before and it's never solved anything.”

“Kindly let me finish, won't you?” Haworth said as calmly as he could. The latent hostility between the Chief Adviser and the Minister of the Treasury was surfacing again. “What I'm proposing has never been attempted before. If we succeed, we will be heroes not only in the out-world history spools, but in the recorded history of humanity. I'm calling it Project Perseus.”

He scanned the table. All eyes were on him, watching him with unwavering attention. He continued strolling and speaking.

“We've been monitoring multiple radio sources concentrated in the neighboring arm of this galaxy. We've been at it ever since our ancestors settled out here. There's no doubt that their origin is intelligent and technologically sophisticated. We've sent a few probe ships into the region but they were lost. It's cold, black, and lonely out there and a single probe ship hunting for life is like loosing a single member of a hymenoptera species into the atmosphere of a planet which supports a single flower on its surface, and waiting to see if the bug can find the flower. But if a whole hiveful of the insects is freed into the air at carefully calculated locations, chances of success are immeasurably better. So that's what we're going to do: build a fleet or probe ships and contact whoever or whatever is out there.”

They all must have thought he was crazy by the looks on their faces. But Daro Haworth had expected that. He waited for the first question, knowing ahead of time what it would be and knowing that either Cumberland or Bede would ask it.

It was Cumberland. “Are you crazy? How's that going to get us out of this?”

“Through trade,” Haworth replied. “By opening new markets to us out there. The latest calculations show that there's another interstellar race in the Perseus arm, outward from here. It lives a damnable number of light years away, but if we try, we can reach it. And then we'll have billions of new customers!”

“Customers for what?” Metep said. “The only thing we've got to trade in any quantity is grain. What if they don't eat grain? Or even if they do-and that's unlikely, I'm sure-what makes you think they'll want to buy ours?”

“Well, we've got plenty of grain at the moment,” Cumberland said. “Let me tell you-”

“Forget about grain!” Haworth shouted, his face livid. “Who am I talking to-the most powerful men in the out-worlds or a group of children? Where is your vision? Think of it-an entire interstellar race. There has to be a million things we can exchange-from art to hardware, from Leason crystals to chispen filets! And if we don't have it, we can ship it out from Earth. We could arrange trade agreements and be sole agents for whatever alien technology is found to have industrial uses. We could corner any number of markets. The out-worlds could enter a golden age of prosperity! And”-he smiled here-“I don't think I have to remind you gentlemen what that could mean to each of us in the areas of political clout and personal finances, do I?”

The undertone began again as each man muttered cautiously at first to his neighbor, then with growing enthusiasm. Only Krager had a sour note to sing.

“How are we going to pay for all this? To build and equip a fleet of probe ships will take an enormous sum of money. Billions and billions of marks. Where are we supposed to get them?”

“The same place we get all the other billions of marks we spend but don't have-the duplicators.”

Krager began to sputter. “But that will send inflation into warp. It'll go totally out of control! The mark is already weakened beyond repair. Why it's still holding up in the Interstellar Currency Exchange, I can't fathom. Maybe the speculators haven't figured out how bad off we are yet. But this probe ship idea will completely ruin us!”

“That's why we've got to act now,” Haworth said. “While the mark still has some credibility on the Exchange. If we wait too long, we'll never be able to get enough credit to purchase the drive tubes and warp units necessary for the probe fleet. The mark has been holding up better than any of us ever expected. That indicates to me that the people active in the Interstellar Currency Exchange have faith in us and think we can pull ourselves out of this.”

“Then they're dumber than I thought they were,” Krager muttered.

“Not funny,” Haworth said. “And not fair. You forget that Project Perseus will also create jobs and temporarily stabilize the tax base in the interim.” He walked back to his place at Metep's side. “Look: it's a gamble. I told you that before I broached the subject. It's probably the biggest gamble in human history. The future of the entire Imperium and all our political careers is riding on it. If I thought there was another way out, believe me, I'd try it. Personally, I don't give a damn about getting in touch with the aliens in the Perseus arm. But right now, it's our only hope. If we succeed, then all the extra inflation caused by Project Perseus will be worth while and eventually compensated by the new avenues of trade we'll establish.”

“Suppose we fail?” Metep said. “Suppose there's something out there that gobbles up probe ships. Suppose they find nothing but the ruins of a dead civilization.”

Daro Haworth shrugged with elaborate nonchalance. “If we fail, every out-worlder will spit when he hears our names five years from now. And in perhaps a dozen years, Earth will reinstate her claim to the out-worlds.”

“And if we do nothing?” Metep asked, afraid of the answer.

“The same, only the spitting stage won't be reached for perhaps ten years, and the return of Earthie control won't occur for twenty. Face it, gentlemen: this is our only chance. It may not work, but I see no other alternative. We're all to blame; we've all-”

“I won't take the blame for this mess!” Krager shouted. “I've warned you all along, all of you, that someday-”

“And you went right along, too, old man.” Haworth's lips twisted into a sneer. “You okayed all the increases in the money supply. You made noises, but you went along. If your objections had had any real conviction behind them, you would have resigned years ago. You flew with us, and if we go down, you'll crash with us.” He turned to the others. “Shall we vote, gentlemen?”