Federation Reborn 2: Pirate Rage (35 page)

He had a lot to be proud of. So did newly-promoted Commander Ssri'allth for that matter, since the Naga had taken
Denmark
,
New Day's
soon to be completed division mate. The Naga had taken a week of leave since his ship was further behind on the completion date.

Harris on the other hand had been given the option of taking
New Day
or wait for
Congo
to launch. That was two months away. He'd gone with
New Day
despite not getting a chance to see Antigua. He wasn't well known for taking time off anyway.

Besides, he'd never been to a planet. He wasn't sure if he wanted to or not. Knowing his luck, he'd trip and break his neck or something. Best to stick to space where he belonged.

Nara, Monty, and Matilda had sent him congratulatory emails. He treasured them. He'd gotten a few from other old friends too, including ansible emails from Admiral White, Trajan, and to his surprise, Shelby.

“You know we've got our work cut out for us, right?” his Veraxin XO asked with a hint of trepidation in her voice. He turned to eye her. “We're up against
Maine
in the working-up exercises.”

“I taught Naomi a lot,” Harris said with a grin. “Don't worry. With this baby, we'll do well.”

“Yes, sir. As long as we don't have any teething issues like the other ships did, we'll be okay,” the Veraxin said.

“You are something of a pessimist, aren't you, Commander?” he asked.

She clicked her mandibles. “A realist. It goes with the XO job.”

“Right,” he drawled.

---<>))))

The more he delved into setting up a working government and civilization, the more headaches came with the process, John thought. They were making some progress, though it was all agonizingly slow to him.

He had finally rammed through Doctor Kraft, another sleeper, as Surgeon General. Mnemosyne had taken over the A.I. relations cabinet posting, and he'd relented in signing off on the cyber Veraxin D'red as attorney general. D'red resigned his posting on the Antigua Prime ruling board, helping his replacement settle in over a week as he smoothly transitioned to take on the full-time work of handling the setup of the Justice Department. Irons had been grateful the bug had made it all seem so effortless and smooth.

Newly promoted Captain Jg Matilda had recommended Professor Kyle Tyler as the new secretary of education and he'd agreed. Professor Tyler was another sleeper who had been up to his neck in running the Antigua Prime college. His debates with some of the history professors were quite loud apparently. The man tended to shout down anyone who disagreed with him. But he cared immensely about education.

The Treasury Department was his next project however. One he wasn't looking forward to but knew it was past time to get it sorted out. T'rel'n, the Antigua Veraxin Treasurer, was his current lead. He had done an outstanding job on Antigua. There were protests from some of the delegates that he was taking too many people from Antigua without considering candidates from other star systems.

Again, politics was rearing its head. At least they weren't protesting the bug's race he thought darkly.

One of the things Sprite had brought up to stimulate economic growth was a low or no interest loan program guaranteed by the Federation or local government to businesses and individuals in order to purchase equipment to update their farms, industries, and cities. However, many wanted the loans as an outright gift, and of course they fought over how to pay for it all, he thought sourly.

Again his thoughts turned to the need of a proper treasurer. Someone he could hand off the day-to-day crap like that so he could focus on stamping out the 1,001 other fires that needed his immediate and undivided attention.

He shook his head, still considering the treasury angle.

The growing civilian industrial corporations and even small factories in Antigua and Pyrax had awoken to the marketing opportunities on agrarian worlds. That was a good thing, though there was some concern about exploitation. A hundred-acre subsistence level farm needed eight men and one or more women to be run successfully, more if some of the beings were of species not suited for farming. It was back breaking work wrought with heart break and the ever present threat of crop failure and starvation.

By adding better equipment or even mechanical equipment, the advantage shifted to the farmers. It shifted further with weather forecasting. With less need for the hands on the farm and even on ranches, those people were spending more time learning or moving into the cities to the local industrial centers or mines.

But the farmers couldn't pay for it. At least not right away, not without indenturing themselves. Some refused to adapt, seeing themselves as clinging to the land and ways they'd grown up with. Others wanted to jump straight to the best technology had to offer, while another group despaired about food replicators destroying their market all together.

It was an age-old pattern in civilization. Finding a balance was an issue. The local government and the Federation had their own incentives to spread the cost of the farming equipment. With it came prosperity … as long as people knew how to use and
maintain
it. They had some teething issues on Triang and Gaston with both of those conditions. And of course corruption was an issue. It was one reason why he'd relented on D'red's appointment.

From his perspective, the additional mechanization allowed smaller number of farmers to handle larger parcels of land. Some as large as ten or more hectares. Fertilizer and modern crop management was creeping into the mix as well. Famine on the planet was going to be a thing of the past. Once word got out other planets were jumping on to the band wagon to various degrees.

But that drove the price of food down. He didn't have a fix for that and refused flat prices or subsidizing the farmers further. What he was more focused on was the freeing up of the people. All those hands had to do something.

A pre-industrial farm needed every hand. Males were more important since they could handle mind numbing tasks and heavy lifting. Most males were built for it, though there were some species exceptions.

Children were also put to work. And if they were working the farm for their entire life they could only arrange an education around the crop cycle. That meant they had a spotty, at best, education. Many hadn't learned to do much more than count or read and write.

Now that was changing. Now those kids could remain in the school system and out of the farms and factories. He knew Professor Tyler had been adamant about getting the tools to properly educate the kids into the right hands. But he also insisted on teaching the teachers too.

Some of the governments had taken his advice and worked on adult re-education camps as well. Since they were hands-on trained, the camps focused on the trades that could be taught that way. They held job fairs to help promote employment. That was where not only the various companies and hopeful start-ups shopped for cheap labor but also the Federation military branches.

Within the military a recruit gained a first class education, medical care, employment, and a career. He made certain the recruiters emphasized all of that. They were starting to get plenty of recruits, more in some cases than the academy could handle. But they were raw recruits, which meant it took time to get them up to speed.

Time they fortunately had. And every year the base level got a little bit better as educational initiatives and medical care filtered down into the population.

Still,
paying
for it all was a headache and a half. The farmers didn't have the money so many companies had resorted to leases that the farmers barely understood. There were some outright dirty loans and shenanigans going on; some farmers were losing their farms even when they did everything right. Then there were small loan companies that were cropping up all over the place, all unregulated and unsecured. Some of it very predatory.

The shipping was slowly getting there, but the costs weren't coming down as quickly as he'd hoped. Then there was the government stand point. The governments involved, both local and Federal government, were still getting a handle on the tax situation. Taxes, fees, import and export duties … tariffs had reared their ugly head until he'd squashed it.

His government was still functioning in a deficit spending mode until the tax situation could get resolved. They were making up some of the lost income by selling some industrial capacity, loaning out the services of naval ships or personnel, and by licensing fees for replicators and the various tech. Everyone wanted, it, so it was turning into the best way to garner some income.

Which reminded him, he thought, shaking his head. Every patent was officially nullified due to the passage of time. Most had only been a century, and seven centuries had passed. But he wasn't willing to give everyone the keys to some of the military or heavy industrial tech. He shook his head.

Who got what percentage of the cut was another problem, budgeting kept getting harder and harder. He'd had experience managing stations and ships, but this was an entire different order of magnitude in complexity.

Everyone wanted a bigger piece of the pie, but the navy was eating up the largest share currently.

It was a mess; one he
seriously
needed to dump onto a treasury expert as soon as possible. He made another note to get a second crack at the bug.

Then his mind scanned his other to-do list items. He moaned and shook his head, placing his head in his hands.

Protector noted the admiral's blue mood. Ordinarily Sprite would do something about it. She'd left notes on how to get him out of it. “A lot of work. And the more you do, the more seems left to do. I'm glad you have some help, sir.”

“Not enough. Never enough it seems. I
hate
politics,” the admiral grumbled, rubbing his face with his hands before he looked up. “What's up?”

“Nothing.”

“You've been quiet.”

“I've been doing what I've been assigned, sir. It's been hectic. I was … checking in, I suppose you could say.”

“Oh.”

The A.I. accessed the admiral's most recently viewed files and then did a rough assessment. “Treasury—you've been getting flack over using people in the circle of friends you know. That's not right,” the A.I. said. “But you have made some small progress on that front.”

“But never enough!”

“Then you're going to have to get hard. The job isn't about making friends. Not from you. The job is to get the job done. A lot is being left undone and that is frustrating you as well as others. They are starting to turn that against you,” Protector reminded him.

The admiral nodded. “I know.”

“Then do what you do best, Admiral. See it through. Find the people who can do the job and have them do it. Train them, and delegate. If they can't handle it, train them some more. If they still screw up, fire them and find someone who can handle it.”

The admiral frowned thoughtfully and then nodded slowly. What the A.I. had said was paraphrased from the manuals. It was essentially what he was trying to do with the military. He had waffled a bit too much though, and he had to admit privately that he was just a tad bit too concerned about his image and keeping people happy.

He settled himself, straightened and then nodded, hands flat on his desk. “You've got a point. Time to kick over some ant hills I suppose. Get me T'rel'n. Tell him I'm appointing him as secretary of the treasury. Let Governor Randall know I'm poaching him,” he said.

“I think Governor Randall will understand. It is for the greater good.”

“Yes it is. When the bug responds positively, I want you to send him a thumbnail brief on everything I've been looking at. A précis,” he explained. “Then get me a list of candidates for the other positions. This farmer initiative … it could do with a bit of someone in charge. Get me that list again. I think someone from Agnosta was at the top?” he asked.

“One of the members of the delegation actually,” Protector supplied.

“Fine. I want him. He'll have to resign his posting as a senator elect I suppose. Remind him of that. They'll have to have a special election to replace him or Governor Clampett will have to appoint a replacement,” the admiral said.

“Yes, sir. Hopefully he doesn't appoint a hillbilly replacement.”

“I don't know, I like that they are down to the Earth and refreshingly honest. And they can be wily about it all too,” the admiral said, smiling ever so briefly.

“Send an email to Emily Berkheart. Same deal, but I want her for secretary of labor. I think she'd be interested in the challenge.”

“And she's made the occasional noise about getting out of Antigua in the forums,” Protector murmured, making a note. The admiral really was striking while the iron was hot apparently.

“Send the same feeler to Templeton Myers for industrial secretary. I doubt he'll take it, but he's got the skills to handle it.”

“Yes, sir. That's gutting a lot of the old guard on the Antigua Prime Board,” the A.I. warned him.

“A turning of the guard is good for them,” the admiral said. “And you just reminded me to just do it,” he said, eying the A.I.'s avatar image.