Chapter Twenty-one
Guns and Butter
Emperor Austin Burnell
A civilisation is measured by how it treats its weakest members. – Mahatma Gandhi
Our society must make it right and possible for old people not to fear the young or be deserted by them, for the test of a civilisation is the way that it cares for its helpless members. – Pearl S. Buck
…the moral test of government is how that government treats those who are in the dawn of life, the children; those who are in the twilight of life, the elderly; those who are in the shadows of life; the sick, the needy and the handicapped. – Hubert Humphrey
"So who are the weakest, helpless members of our society?" I ask.
I took the Comm…Mister Tucker's advice to heart and jumped into the course from the Defiant's database with both feet. Moreover, during a sleepless night with a fire in my head after reading just the first chapter, I knew I needed a study group to help me clarify my thoughts, identify and prioritise the problems we needed to resolve within the Empire, and formulate solutions we can begin to implement; and so here we are, in the latest meeting of it, which although necessarily with fewer attendees, feels strangely familiar – even down to the sideboard with coffee and nibbles, which I ordered out of a touch of nostalgia.
It was imperative that if my staff were to assist me in addressing the aims that I now have, given form by that chapter and those that followed it, they would need to share in the source of the vision. With that in mind, I ordered Amanda Cole and Ian Trainor to read the course too. Given her experience in both running and organising the charity distribution under then-Commodore Tucker, Amanda is the natural inheritor of that function under me as well as any others that may contribute to bringing about the change I want. Ian, for all his comparative youth, is acutely intelligent and competent, a natural recorder of information, and is not only able to add his input to the debate, but has taken up the secretarial role previously filled by the egregious Ms Chastain. This good lady is currently reaping the rewards of her treachery but her long-term survival is so extremely unlikely that I understand there's already a sweepstake running on what date she will have an unexpected and highly unpleasant encounter with an English-accented stranger with a grudge.
I could, of course, arrange far more intense protection for her, but for some reason the idea keeps slipping my mind.
The main thrust of the course is about the difficulty of balancing peace and prosperity with the eponymous Guns and Butter representing the types of production driving the economy during wartime and peacetime respectively. With the Empire having been at war as long as any of us have been alive, the idea of a peacetime economy is novel in itself, but often, as has happened today, we find the information in quotes and sidebars sparks more interesting and productive discussions.
"Well, I think Humphrey does an adequate job of telling us." Ian begins copying and pasting words from the quote into a list.
Children
Elderly
Sick
Needy
Handicapped
I've taken to running these study session – indeed, just like the morning meetings on Jupiter Station – with an agenda and talking points that are fleshed out into the meeting minutes as the discussion proceeds. I always found it astonishing how quickly problems were identified and solutions devised in those meetings and thought (correctly, I was pleased to realise) the same format would work well for me.
"I'd say that's a good start," Amanda chimes in, "but it's hardly complete and not nearly as specific as it needs to be."
One of the advantages of being Emperor is you don't have to ask anyone to be your study partners. Amanda is a highly capable and intelligent young soldier. I can count on the fingers of one hand the officers I know who were as good as she is when they were her age, but she's not at all the bookish type. There's no way she would have chosen to study this course on her own, but since I've ordered her to do it, she's given it her all.
"So, how would you expand and clarify the list?" I ask. I have my own ideas, but I generally don't contribute until Amanda and Ian have thrashed things out. I'd hardly consider either of them 'yes men', but Ian, who knew I welcomed his input from serving as my secretary while I was still SiC of the MACOs, was intimidated for a while by my new title; and Amanda, who was still justifiably wary of me from how I coerced her to join my staff, took some convincing that advice, correction, and even respectful dissent were permissible under the appropriate circumstances.
Happily for progress, that stage is now past. We've reached the point where they seem to feel as comfortable talking in my presence, and even talking to me, as then-Commodore Tucker's staff felt during the morning meetings on Jupiter Station; and every time they do so, once again that little bell of recognition sounds. It's a reassuring, even a pleasant sound, because the system on Jupiter Station worked exceptionally well at all levels, even despite what might have been interpreted as the 'lack of respect' for the senior officer present. The thing was, the officers' informality was not in any way an indicator of their lack of respect for the Commodore, but of their trust in him. I can't imagine you could trust anyone you don't respect, so I've taken the same attitude in this meeting, and though I don't say so, I'm delighted by the way the approach is paying off.
"Well, 'children', for example," Amanda says, and I can hear the controlled passion in her voice that tells me this is a sore subject. "To what age? Because the workhouses will take them as young as three or four years old. As soon as they're potty trained and can feed, dress, and bathe themselves, they can be taught to sort produce and fold laundry. Four- and five-year-olds with a little manual dexterity can learn to wire simple circuits and sew shoes and basic garments. If they're really good, they can even do embroidery and embellishment on clothes for the wealthy."
"I was thinking we were talking about kids who hadn't yet started their formal education, so they would be included anyway," Ian replies as he adds '(aged five or six)' to the entry on his list.
"Really?" Amanda challenges him. "You know, being in school is no protection against your family's debt. There are five and six year olds harvesting cabbages in Wisconsin right now instead of going to school."
"Okaaay." Ian sounds thoughtful as he deletes '(aged five or six)'. "Well, you can drop out of school and start working full time at thirteen," he points out, but this time, he waits to see what Amanda will have to say before he fills it in.
"I know, I tried, but you have to have consent from a parent or guardian and mine refused."
"Is that so?" I interject, genuinely surprised. I feel as if this is something I should have known about her, but since it didn't happen, it certainly wouldn't show up in her personnel file.
She shoots me a grin. It's still somewhat tentative, not quite the saucy look she used to give Comm...her former CO, but it's getting there.
"Oh, yes, sir, Your Majesty," she responds, colouring slightly. "I was furious at the time. Didn't speak to them for weeks. Then, when I decided to join the MACOs and found out I needed a high school diploma, I made a point of thanking them."
That genuinely pleases me – I already know what an asset she's going to be to my administration – so I smile when I tell her, "Next time you speak to them, you should convey my gratitude as well."
Her blush deepens. "Thank you, Your Majesty, I will."
Then she turns right back to Ian and continues, "You can be sold to a Comfort House at fifteen, you can't control your own bank account until you're sixteen, and unless you're joining the military, you can't sign a legal contract until you're eighteen."
Frankly, I'd like to have a few more voices in the discussion; as bright and thoughtful as they are, Ian and Amanda have limited perspectives, as do we all, according to our personal experiences. The problem is, I don't know who else I can trust. Jignesh is undoubtedly already making plans to overthrow me if the opportunity ever presents itself when he has enough power to succeed me, so anything he learned in these sessions would be stored up to be used against me when he makes his move. I can't blame him for it because that is the nature of Pack, and there inevitably comes a point when one's closest allies also become one's greatest threats and have to be kept at a distance. Hoshi remains reticent whenever I share my ideas for reforming the Empire, so I'm not convinced she would be supportive of our discussions. Even if she didn't undermine our talks, her mere presence requires greater formality. Where I expect only the appropriate level of military courtesy and respect during working sessions, she usually demands subservient submissiveness from her underlings (the day of my promotion to colonel being a remarkable exception), which would have a stifling effect on our radical discussions.
I've suggested that Amanda and Ian start sounding out their colleagues to see if they can find some like-minded individuals, but I'll still have to get to know them before bringing them into the group, and even so their presence will mean at least some return to the original ultra-formality that was such a brake on progress before my subordinates realised I actually didn't order immediate executions if I wasn't being Your-Majesteyed in every other sentence. Of course, the two people who would be most helpful to me might as well be radioactive, though now that I think of it, the Comm…Tucker might be able to suggest a name or two.
By the time they've finished debating, my study partners have exploded Mr. Humphrey's list. Some of the broad categories have been expanded based on differing needs, privileges and risks of members in the group; some have been split into sub-categories based on multiple definitions of the term; and some have been combined based on similarities and overlap between the groups.
Children
Infants, toddlers and nursing mothers
Primary grades, pre-teens and single mothers
Employed teens
Workhouse and Labour camp denizens
Comfort house workers
All other miners
Elderly
Physically and Financially Independent
Physically only
~Government subsidised
~Government dependent
Financially only
~Physical and/or Medical support needed
~Physical and/or Medical care dependent
Fully dependent
Sick, Disabled, and Handicapped
Acutely and Critically ill
Chronically ill
Terminally ill
~Independent
~Support needed
~Care dependent
Needy
Working poor
Registered unemployed
Registered destitute
Unregistered
"Minors is spelled with an 'o'," Amanda quietly corrects.
"Typo," Ian admits with a wry smile and makes the correction.
"So, just to be clear, with this list, we are saying that the Empire, as a society, will not be fully civilised until we find a way to meet the needs of all these groups," I summarise. "Based on that assumption, do either of you want to make any changes?"
This is decision-making on a far higher level than anything either of them would ever have dreamed about being involved in, and I can understand that it's a massive responsibility, but they seem remarkably unfazed. Indeed, I can imagine that after being involved in the charity distribution programme under ex-Commodore Tucker, which she must have felt such despair for after his fall, Amanda must be inwardly thrilled by the possibilities being held out of achieving so much more than she could ever have dreamed of under Tucker's aegis. She and Ian each glance several times from their own notes to the list they generated on the shared screen.
"What's the difference between disabled and handicapped again?" Amanda asks.
"A disabled person is completely incapable of performing certain functions, a handicapped person requires some sort of accommodation to perform certain functions, and still might not be quite as efficient about it," Ian explains.
"So, like, a deaf person who's never responded to treatment and had no luck with hearing aids is disabled because they simply can't hear, but a hard of hearing person who can use hearing aids is handicapped."
"That's right."
"Well, then, do we really need the distinction?"
"I think we do," I interject before they have any time to think about it because this is one matter on which I have quickly formed a firm opinion. "To use your example," I nod toward Amanda, "you would never put a deaf person on the comms for any ship. Even though we have speech-to-text software at every comm station, it's far from perfect. If, for example, they're receiving a set of co-ordinates with the string of digits two-one-three, but due to interference the software doesn't recognise the one, a deaf person wouldn't even know to ask for clarification and the ship would go off in completely the wrong direction. The hard of hearing person, on the other hand, would hear the interference and know to verify the co-ordinates before relaying them to the helmsman.
"By the same token, you wouldn't put a hard of hearing person on comms on a battle cruiser because in heavy action, while you might still need to verify co-ordinates, there isn't time to double check everything the software gets wrong. A hard of hearing person could handle inter-system cargo hauls or lunar transport runs, but in the heat of battle you need a comms officer with at least average hearing to get the gist of garbled or panicky emergency messages that the software would miss."
They look at each other, look at their notes, and nod.
"Yes, sir," Amanda agrees for the both of them since it was her question.
"So, last call, do either of you have any additions, subtractions or changes you'd like to make?"
More looks, and finally, they both shake their heads.
"All right, then, I think we should change 'single mothers' to 'single parents' or even 'guardians' because there are some fathers raising their children alone and some people raising children who are not biologically theirs."
"If I may, Your Majesty, we might say 'caregivers' instead of 'guardians'," Ian suggests.
"I think 'guardian' has specific legal connotations," Amanda objects. "If we say caregivers, we could have multiple people claiming benefits for the same child."
Glancing at her, I say, "I see your point, but someday, when we actually have services for children in place, we don't want to make it too difficult to access them. Find out the requirements to be named legal guardian of a child. How is it different when the biological parents agree or object? How is it different when trying to become the guardian of a child who has been living off the grid? Once we have that information… Say, sometime next week?" She nods, and I continue, "…we can discuss this again and decide whether we want to say 'guardians' or 'caregivers'."
She makes a note and Ian adds 'guardians (caregivers?)' to the list in place of 'parents'.
So far so fairly much as expected, but I have a surprise to spring. "I also think you should add 'prisoners' and 'slaves' to the Needy category."
They both look at me in surprise and I can see them turning the idea over in their minds.
"Truly, Your Majesty?" Ian dares to ask.
I'm under no obligation to explain my thinking and a small warning note sounds at the back of my mind that I need to beware of letting my decisions be questioned at every turn, but I've gone to some trouble to encourage both of them to challenge my ideas as long as it's done respectfully. And, taking yet another page from the Book of Tucker, I often explain myself anyway, so I see no harm in doing so on this occasion – it's the biggest departure yet from the accepted modus operandi of the Empire. "Is there anyone more helpless and needy than those without agency?" I ask.
"Even the smallest child in a workhouse can still fight for a bigger crust of bread or a warmer blanket," I point out, remembering my own days in the workhouse during my family's financial hardship after my younger brother was born. After a moment, when my audience register a mixed degree of understanding and unease, I continue. "Even the ugliest whore in a comfort house can still scheme and connive a way to avoid the most undesirable clients. Even those wretched beings at least have the capacity to do something to try and improve their circumstances, however ineffectual it may be.
"A prisoner's entire existence is ruled by the whim of the state. They're told when to sleep, when to wake, when to strip, when to bathe, when to dress, when to eat, sometimes even when they're allowed to eliminate. Where they sleep, what they wear and what they eat is decided for them. Many of them are held in isolation, never seeing the sun, never having a visitor, never hearing the news for the entire duration of their sentence. Any attempt they make to deviate from the prison routine is punished, and if they're lucky enough to survive until the end of their sentence, they're delivered back into the world as displaced and disoriented as a newly captured alien slave.
"A slave, in many ways, might be better off than a Human prisoner, at least as long as they survive. They often have the company of other slaves. They might even get to see the sun as they go from the barracks to their jobs. But they're property and can be abused, damaged or killed with impunity.
"And of all the members of our society, prisoners and slaves get the least compassion from the public because the former have broken the rules and deserve to be punished while the latter are property, considered to be sub-Human, no better than animals and deserve no rights or consideration whatsoever."
Very clearly this is revolutionary thinking. And I have no illusions as to how difficult it's going to be to change the status quo, or even begin to modify it. If I had, the doubtful faces in front of me would make it clear; both Amanda and Ian are kindly creatures at heart, and if they struggle with the concept of including slaves as people who ought to be given 'consideration' then I can't underestimate the degree of resistance from people and organisations who have massive investment in the slave trade and will object violently to any diminution in their profits – because that's exactly what any amelioration of their property's conditions will ultimately cause.
"Respectfully, sir, if you're going to add prisoners, I think you need to distinguish between convicts and POWs," Amanda says at last. "Convicts are our own who have gone astray, like wayward children; POWs are aggressors we've captured in battle."
"Do you think one is more deserving of humane treatment than the other?" I inquire.
"I…don't know," she admits, her brow knitted as she struggles with the unexpected turn the conversation has taken and the ramifications of it, "but it's certainly going to take different arguments to convince people that both groups deserve Human rights, or, in the case of aliens, I guess we should say Sentient rights. Also, their needs are surely different, sometimes even down to the food they can eat and the air they breathe. A human convict can potentially be returned to society after he's served his time, but if an alien POW isn't killed as an enemy of the state, shouldn't they…I don't know…" She exhales gustily. "If we're saying slaves deserve better, should we keep making more of them? Or would it be better…more humane…to just send aliens home after their worlds surrender?"
"I take your point," I agree with a nod. "Convicts and POWs are two different classes of people."
Ian adds 'convicts', 'POWs' and 'slaves' to the list, checks my schedule and sets a time for us to discuss the next lesson two days hence. It appears we've all got a lot to think about in the meantime, but there's something I have to say before then, just to set the record straight.
"I want to make one thing absolutely clear," I begin, both face and voice suddenly stern. "I'm fully aware that there will be those who see these changes as evidence that I'm 'soft'; that they will be able to manipulate the new order just as they did the old one and because I don't resort automatically to violence they'll get away with it.
"Well, if they think that they'll be very quickly disabused. I'm interested in this new way of doing things not because I'm sentimental, but mostly because it's more efficient, and when it's not, I believe the change will be good for the Empire in other ways. Anyone who attempts to turn it to their own advantage will learn extremely quickly that when they're found out – and they will be found out – they'll be dealt with the way any other disruptive agent in delicate machinery is.
"I may never resort to laying any convicted criminal on a metal slab and slicing him into pieces, but rest assured, I am every bit as capable of punishing offenders as the former General Reed ever was. And anyone who tests that capability will very, very quickly come to regret it."
It's not the pleasantest thing to say, and to be honest I don't believe I need to say it to either of them; they've already witnessed my methods aboard Jupiter Station, even if some of the details were kept somewhat veiled. But it very much needs to be said to the Empire as a whole when this new regime is begun, and I mean every word of it.
"Yes, Your Majesty." They say it in unison, sounding rather subdued.
"Good. Ian, pour us a coffee. And I'll have one of those cheese crackers, with a few grapes please." I don't actually want anything, but it breaks the awkward atmosphere; and by the time we've all got our mugs of coffee, the moment has passed.
With about ten minutes to spare until my next appointment, we talk about the days before all aliens were declared slaves of the Empire. Ian, who was still in school at the time and paid about as much attention to current events as your average adolescent boy, didn't even realise that it only happened when Hoshi came to power. Amanda, who's not much older than him, remembers.
"My first – and last – deep-space tour of duty was on the Dauntless," she reminisces fondly. "Our chief helmsman was Andorian and the guy in charge of the armoury was a Tellarite."
It makes me feel old to hear her wax nostalgic; I'm more than fifteen years her senior. "I can remember when aliens in the Fleet were eligible for combat medals and hazard pay," I tell them. "It wasn't really that long ago that the fleet regarded them as something more than cannon fodder. I can't speak for the opinions of individual officers, of course, but apart from a certain added degree of suspicion and a testing bias favouring Humans when applying for competitive positions, the policy was to treat them all just like us. That included requiring junior Human crew members to salute their alien seniors and address them with 'sir' or 'ma'am' or by their rank. Failure to do so resulted in the same punishments as it did with Human officers."
"Were there ever any aliens in the MACOs?" Ian asks in wonder.
"No," I answer before Amanda can because I'm a bit taken aback by the question. "And being a MACO yourself, if you think about it for a moment, you should be able to tell me why."
Ian turns a charming shade of pink as he searches his memory while Amanda grins and sends a text to my PADD. I read her answer and nod. Ian puts a hand over his face and groans in realisation, "We're Homeworld Security, we don't even take Humans who weren't born on Earth."
"And where does it say that?" I press.
They look at each other blankly.
"The Starfleet Charter?" Amanda guesses well, but by her questioning tone it is obviously a blind guess. For all she knows for certain, it could have been printed on the back of a cereal box.
"Article Fourteen, Section One," I confirm. "'There shall be established, as a separate chain of command, a fighting force of native Earth-born Human personnel tasked exclusively with defending and safeguarding the security of the Terran Homeworld, Earth. In furtherance of its stated objective, this task force shall be authorised and equipped to conduct, independently or in conjunction with other services, covert or overt operations, anywhere within or without the borders of the Terran Empire, in territories opposed to, allied with, or neutral toward the Empire.'"
"Wait! So, we were formed from Starfleet?" Ian asks in disbelief.
"Yep," Amanda tells him. "The whole first generation of MACOs were 'Fleeters."
"The next thirty sections of the article go on to enumerate specific responsibilities designated to the MACOs. You should both read it sometime. If you ever want a command of your own, you'll have to study it to pass the Advanced Command Assessment, and even if you don't, I can almost guarantee it will surprise you."
Then, Ian informs me that I need to leave for my next meeting. I'm surprised by the depth of my disappointment at the reminder; I actually hate to see the hour draw to a close. So far, these discussions have been one of my favourite parts of being the Emperor. I genuinely enjoy listening to them debate the merits of an idea from that other Universe or discuss how some principle could be applied in the Empire, and while I've relished every moment of every busy day since my people took over the throne room, nothing else I've done has been nearly as much fun.
If you are enjoying this story, please leave a review. Are you surprised how seriously Austin is taking Trip's advice? Did you catch the reference to Section 31?
