Beyond Armageddon: Book 02 - Empire (10 page)

“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 binder 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.”

           
Before Trevor could respond, Lori Brewer agreed. “Evan is right. We’re not a little lakeside community anymore. I was a counselor in the old days, not an economist, but even I see that we have to build some kind of economic foundation.”

           
Trevor closed his eyes, pinched his nose, and said, “Okay, okay. I get it. Lori, I want you and Evan to put together a group to come up with a proposal. Find the best financial minds.”

           
Brewer said, “There’s a sergeant in 2
^nd
Mech who used to work for the SEC. I think he spent time in jail for some sort of insider trading or something. I can get you his name.”

           
“See, that type of thing,” Trevor nodded. “Sit down, work it out, and then we’ll make some decisions.”

           
“Good, great,” Lori said. “This brings me to another question. Kind of a dumb question, actually, but something we have to address. For the last four years, we’ve been fighting and expanding. Hundreds of thousands of people are now a part of this whole thing. We’ve got cities, regional governors, armies, and—I guess sometime soon—money.”

           
Trevor grunted, “So what’s the question?”

           
“The question is, what are we calling ourselves?”

“Huh?”

           
Lori rephrased, “What do I put on my letterhead? What are we? Who are we? There are only so many times you can say ‘the community’ or ‘mankind’s new nation’ or whatnot. Are we a country? A city? Are we Trevor’s great nation of wonderful folks?”

           
“I see,” Trevor came to understand the question.

           
“We’re Americans,” Jon Brewer said.

           
Trevor thought of the thousands of ‘foreigners’ who were a part of the effort; visitors and tourists in the
United States
when Armageddon struck. Many served in his military, shedding their blood not for ‘
America
‘ but for mankind.

           
“No, that’s not right,” Trevor said. “We have people fighting and dying for the cause who weren’t American citizens. We have to discard those old boundaries.”

           
A variety of suggestions bounced around the room

           
“Human Nation.”

           
“The Coalition for Earth!”

           
“Trevor’s Posse!”

           
“Shut up, Dante.”

           
The suggestions whittled away to silence.

           
“Well, there is something that has been tossed around in a newspaper,” Dante suggested coyly. He apparently knew damn well which newspaper tossed it.

           
“Oh?” Trevor looked to him.

           
“Empire,” Dante set the stage for another argument. “I think it was,
Trevor’s personal Empire
.”

           
“I see,” Trevor ran a hand over his eyes as he realized where that one came from.

           
Evan Godfrey—the man who wrote that particular newspaper article—said softly, “All of the good ones were taken.”

           
“What’s that?” Brewer asked as he shot Evan a sharp glance.

           
“I said, all of the good empire names were taken,” Evan slid away his chair and stood as his angry enthusiasm bubbled to the surface again. “You know…Roman, Ottoman,
Galactic
. All of the good Empire names are taken, so I had to wing it. But it sounded about right. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Trevor’s personal empire.”

           
Jon Brewer stood, too. “Sometimes I think you should just shut up.”

           
“That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?” Evan fired. “Shut me up. Stop that guy from talking about freedom and elections and rights. We don’t want to listen to him. He just keeps on screwing around with this good thing we’ve got going.”

           
“You sorry piece of shit,” Brewer growled.

           
Trevor held a hand aloft, stopping Jon’s counter attack but both men remained standing at opposite ends of the table, red-faced and angry.

           
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Trevor said calmly. “You would just love it if we shut down your newspaper, maybe threw you in jail or stripped you of your position.”

           
“You wouldn’t dare.”

           
“And there you go. Throwing down the gauntlet. Drawing a line and daring me to cross because you
want
me to cross it. You want me to find you more than just an annoyance. You want me to give you credibility. Shut you down and you become some sort of modern day Thomas Paine, right? The voice so dangerous Trevor had to silence him. Well, I’m not going to do it, Evan. You go on, publish your newspaper and try and convince people that I’m some evil dictator who’s doing all this for personal power.”

           
“My mistake,” Evan sneered from his soapbox. “You were picked by destiny, isn’t that the story? The Gods chose Trevor Stone.
 
Oh, I’ve heard the stories about you and your trips into the woods. I’m not buying it. The Egyptians thought their pharaohs were Gods. The Kings of Europe justified their absolute power by claiming divine right. All I see is a man, and no man should have the power you have. The power must ultimately be with the people. If you were really a great leader, you’d see that. You would set up elections. Then you’d dare to run to see if your peasants really do adore you.”

           
Dante Jones quipped from the sidelines, “Wow, Evan, just think of the campaign you could run. You could buy TV commercials, have a convention, and make neat bumper stickers. Man, that would be fun! Hey, I’ll put a sign in my yard for you. It’ll be like old times.”

           
Lori Brewer’s tongue let fly, “Hey asshole, maybe you haven’t been paying attention but the world is a little different now. And you know what, it’s better. All the politicians and lawyers and accountants are gone.”

           
“Better for
you,”
Evan said. “You know most of the leaders of the Nazi party were nobodies before they had Hitler. Then they got to wear those nifty arm bands.”

           
“Why don’t you pack your bags and get out of here then?” Jon Brewer said through clenched teeth, clearly inferring that he would be happy to carry Evan by the scruff of his neck to the border and give him a swift kick toward Hivvan lines.

           
Evan stopped as the weight of so many angry faces bore down on his speech. He glanced around the table, shook his head, and as he sat in his seat again he muttered, “Like I said,
Empire.”

           
The silence remained unbroken for several long seconds until Trevor—his chin resting in his hand propped on the table—said, “I like it.
Empire.
It has a ring.”

           
Evan’s eyes grew wide; incredulous that Trevor took the mockery he created in a newspaper column and embraced it.

“It’s aggressive, and I plan to be aggressive. It has a sound of inevitability to it, as if it encompasses everything. I think our people will take a comfort in that name for now because it implies strength. For the same reason, our enemies will tremble at the sound of the words.”

           
Jon Brewer asked, “So, what, like the American Empire or something?”

           
“No, no,” Trevor shook his head. “This doesn’t have anything to do with
America
or
Canada
or
France
or
Norway
or any of them. The countries are gone now. We just happen to be in this part of the world. Just Empire.
The
Empire. As if every other empire that came before was something less.”

           
Evan said, “I guess that makes you the Emperor. Someone get this man a crown and a cape and some tapestries to walk on.”

           
“You go on printing your paper, Evan. Tell your side of the story,” Trevor leaned forward for emphasis. His eyes narrowed and he warned his adversary, “But Evan, if you ever print anything that gives away future operations, or costs the lives of our soldiers…”

           
“I’d never do that,” Godfrey snapped. “That’s right, dismiss me as a traitor. Tell yourselves that I’m not a patriot. Point your finger at me and call me that pain in the ass who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. History will show that I was the biggest patriot of them all. I will fight when I have to, but I will not blindly follow, particularly not a despot who sees himself as some divine emissary.”