by Chris Hechtl
Liberty ships under construction were scrapped, as were any other major construction project not needed for the rebuilding. The ships in service that had not been bought by war bonds were taken by their respective owners for their own purposes. Some were sold off to independent buyers while others were scrapped. There was a brief concern about returning soldiers getting home. To end that the Federation government retained the Liberty ships that had been outfitted as transports and hospital ships as well as a small modest fleet of freighters.
A bill worked its way through congress to form a Federation Navy. It stalled in committee, many didn't see the need at the time.
It was inevitable that there would also be protests and problems with the war bonds. Many people came forward with the idea to refuse to honor them, stating that the corporations had acted as war profiteers. Others wanted a quick means to pay them back, usually for pennies on the dollar. Senator Brakin worked out a compromise that the corporations reluctantly accepted. They and others who had bought the war bonds to help finance the war could use them in return for taxes. But his bill only allowed them a 50 percent write-off per year, however. No corporation or individual would be allowed to get off without paying some form of taxes to the government.
Manufacturing contracts were studied and voided wherever possible to save money. Some companies protested the loss of revenue, complaining to the media that they would need to lay off employees and how that would impact the still fragile economy.
Barbie Cole announced in a press conference that Lagroose Industries was already retooling back to a peace-keeping model and was looking forward to their products reaching the civilian market. That muted some of the protests.
Since taxes hadn't been enacted on the Earth population, in fact they had a moratorium in place not to enact any taxes for a decade, deficit spending began to rear its ugly head. The purchasing of war bonds had slacked off when the negative press had hit. Credits were still needed to pay the Marines, manufacturers, food manufacturers, and medics.
Another contentious bill began to work its way through congress. It would allow land grants on future holdings such as Venus or Titan or an extra solar colony to surviving Marines in lue of some of their back pay. An alternative was the purchase of surplus goods such as Liberty ships, shuttles, or vehicles to them. A hasty revision provided for the families of the deceased as well. Many of the new Neo species didn't have existing families however.
It took Jack a day to recognize Senator Brakin's hand once more. Apparently he had taken a page from American revolutionary history, when the soldiers had been promised land grants instead of pay. Many had been cheated out of them in the end by their own government. When that comparison was drawn up in the media, the idea died publicly, though lingered in the back halls of Congress for weeks afterward.
Some of the humans saw alarm in the population boom from the Neos and spacers. They were called carpet baggers by natives of Earth when they came to resettle the planet in an effort to help rebuild. Other children turned their interests elsewhere. Despite the moratorium on terraforming, private enterprises began surveying Venus and Titan. Other Neo groups turned their eyes on Mars.
LGM and Mars Tek were finally turned loose on Earth to help rebuild the climate. They created giant air ships to skim the atmosphere to clean it, as well as machines to scour the seas and land. The machines were manned only, with no robots and heavily protected against A.I. intrusion.
Jack wasn't surprised about the ban on robots and internet on Earth. The horror of cybernetics and implants was also something expected. The stories of zombie cyborgs had been all over the media. It had been the bane of the military's existence. Due to the lengthy time it took to clone and replace limbs or organs, plus the long rehabilitation time to regain their use, the government had reluctantly allowed cybernetic limb replacement on a voluntary basis.
Those who wanted to get back into the fight had taken up the offer but only after a lot of soul searching and careful planning to stop an A.I. from taking control. Even he was tormented by the idea of being trapped in his own body. He was fairly certain Roman had a few nightmares about the subject from time to time.
The ban on nanites, nukes, and antimatter hit him hard however. According to the news the Federation Congress had voted overwhelmingly to ban them all as well as research on them. Since the three were prohibited, corporations and even some local governments were scrambling to deal with their stockpiles while lobbying for clarification.
Pavilion had managed to lobby for a two-century moratorium to be inserted into the language of the law instead of a complete ban at the last minute. They and Radick had also managed to get the ban to be limited to just the Terran solar system. They had managed to do a bit of horse trading in agreeing to stop production of their Neo species and repurpose the wombs for human use. All for free too, a means to allow people to continue to reproduce after their exposure to radiation. It was a small public affairs victory for the companies involved. Quickly others got on the bandwagon. Jack promised to use some of his company's uterine replicators as well, which didn't endear him to Doctor Glass or other Neos.
“A bit like closing the barn door after the horses have escaped,” Jack said bitterly when he read the news of the bans to the board. They should have already gotten it, but he wanted to be certain they were all on the same page.
“I was thinking that ship had sailed myself,” Roman replied dryly. Athena's avatar nodded. “But they are right, Jack. All three weapons are terrifying. And in the wrong hands …,” he shook his head.
“I know. But a tool is just that, a tool. It is up to the user on how they use it. They have to do so wisely or not use it at all.”
“Right now, the public isn't listening to that and you know it,” Barbie warned. Jack grunted. “They are tired yes, but after seeing what happened, how close they came to extinction, this is a monumental shift. You can try to get in the way, but I'm warning you, if you do, you'll get run over.”
“Damn it,” he sighed.
“I know, it sucks,” Trevor stated. He looked over to the rest of the board. A few looked uncomfortable.
“I'm not moaning about the loss of weapons of mass destruction. I am a little peeved about losing nukes to move asteroids,” Jack said scowling blackly. That got a startled grunt from a couple of them. He eyed them. “And the loss of nuclear medicine. Not to mention nanotech medicine, Nanotech industrial applications, and antimatter medical applications.” He saw the dawning comprehension sink in. “This will set back mankind's technical evolution by decades, possibly centuries. We might even be static for … forever,” he said in disgust, waving a hand. “I don't think Lynn, Sheila, Phil, or Mia thought this one through. It's going to bite them in the ass right along with the rest of us.”
“And is that such a bad thing?” Barbie asked. Jack turned a cold look in her direction. She spread her hands apart. “The technology, Jack, it's dangerous. Is it so bad saying enough is enough? That some things mankind …,” she shot an apologetic glance to Doctor Glass, “sorry, all sapients shouldn't play with? When the price is more than we can afford or are willing to pay?” she asked, pulling up an image of the battered Earth.
Jack looked at it, then sank into his chair slowly. “I don't know. I just don't, know,” he murmured.
Chapter 55
The powers that be argued for weeks on where the ceremonies should take place. Some compromise was in order eventually; many different ceremonies were carried out—some simultaneously, including in the capital.
The largest was on Earth of course, where all of the soldiers who could attend did so. It took place daily for well over a week as the brass worked through the list of medals, citations, and promotions. It was a very long list and for most, well deserved and long overdue.
Sergeant Baloo and Colonel Khan found themselves mutually out of a job but for different reasons. Baloo like many of the older Neo generations had had his fill of war and wanted peace.
&n
bsp; Khan, however, had ambitions he'd long put off that he now wanted to act on. His war record and heroism was enough to jump him into any one of several venues he'd selected and cultivated. Everything from politics to mercenary work, to big business.
Eventually he had set his sights on starting a business. Not any business, he wanted a corporation, one to rival some of the others already established. But not yet, of course, it wouldn't do to show his hand too early and get squashed before his opportunity arose. No, first he had to take his medicine as he had in the military and work his way through the ranks of other corporations after he'd gotten his college education.
He did keep an eye on the idea of purchasing the now decommissioning Liberty ships. The market was lucrative since the prices were so low.
He didn't like that he owed the bear several times for saving his life and career. But Baloo put him on the idea of jump-starting his corporate dream. With his backing the tiger assembled the survivors of his brigade and talked many of them into lending him a portion of their accrued pay as an investment. He even hired a few on, but all who gave him credits bought shares and became his shareholders. Khan Industries was born. He knew he could buy them up through fair means or foul at a later date.
Baloo split his income against the tiger's advice and bought a used shuttle. His eyes glowed as he looked at the wretched thing. He had coveted flying and had fallen in love with the shuttle class the first time he'd been on board. He'd even wangled a pilot into giving him lessons.
She was a sweet bird, and he made it clear to one and all that he was going to call her the Space Duck once she was finished being refitted. “Now I've just got to get a hyperdrive to work in her,” he rubbed his hands gleefully together. Having something to do, something to tinker with, something to keep his mind active and busy while exhausting him but keeping him happy would go a long way to help him find his peace and get over the occasional nightmare he had to endure. He dragged Lois down to the docks to see the bird the moment he had signed the papers and gotten the title.
Lois wrapped a long, shaggy red arm around him. “Well my man, you've got years to think about it since we've all got the anti-aging treatments.”
“Heh.” Baloo scratched his head then shrugged such concerns off. “Come on, let's go get wasted and start a fight.”
The orangutan looked at him and then snorted. “I'm for that except the fight part. The only one willing to take your fat ass on is gorilla or another bear,” he said shaking his head as he poked the bear's ample tummy. “And it better not happen in my bar,” he said.
Baloo's eyebrows rose in surprise. “Your bar?”
“What'samatta you got a hearing problem or something, Baloo, my man?” The orangutan pretended to use a pinky finger to clean out an ear. The bear swatted him away good naturedly. “I'm going to open one somewhere someday. Right now I figure my money's safe with the colonel, same with the rest of the brigade. He knows if he fracks up and losses it all, we'll all hunt his ass down.”
“Definitely,” Baloo growled with a nod.
“Now come on, let's go get some food, then that drink,” Lois said, wrapping his arm around the bear's shoulders.
The bear smacked his lips together and grinned. “I'm all for it,” he said. As they walked off, he turned to see Khan lingering with a work crew nearby. The tiger was in a suit and stood regally as he watched the crew at work. Hopefully the tiger knew what he was doing; the bear wasn't going to be around to back him up much anymore. He made a note to keep an eye on him when he had the time and inclination.
<>V<>
General Elliot had the good fortune to attend several ceremonies with Charlie, Harper, Fiben, and a few other surviving friends. As ranking officer, Major General Caesar had presented the awards to Colonel Collins as well as thousands of other officers and noncoms that day.
Bollinger had gotten his own awards with the brass at the capital a few weeks before, but he'd attended Harper's ceremony as a friend. The generals were getting heartily tired of bouncing between Earth and the capital. This was his second trip out to be there for the colonels to get their awards.
He nodded to Fiben who nodded back. Harper caught the nod, traced the exchange back his way. The general nodded once to him. The colonel came to attention and saluted. Elliot returned the salute quickly. He then struck the salute and turned to shake someone's hand. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two Neochimps come together like long lost brothers.
They'd patted each other on the back heartily and had gone off to drinks together.
Elliot envied them their friendship. He was stuck shaking hands for hours more he thought sourly. He hated being in uniform, let alone the formal affair some idiot had come up with. It wasn't as bad as some of the proposals but bad enough. At least he'd gotten them to leave the kilometers of gold braid off.
Sylvia smiled indulgently at him as he tugged on his collar with a long finger. Her eyes and expression scolded from afar to behave. The lively glint in her eyes also told him he'd get a bit of a reward later to go with the stick. He inhaled and then exhaled in a sigh, resigned to his fate once more.
They had scars; they all did. For many they were only half-remembered and that was a good thing. He like many others hadn't bothered with quick heal. Some of his wounds had been stapled or glued back together, sometimes while still in combat—the shrapnel on face and in arm for instance.
Rumor had it Charlie had been shot in the ass, more than once. Charlie of course wasn't saying and no one had the balls to ask to see it.
As he waited patiently, a corner of his mind mused about the future. All of the soldiers had gotten geriatric and anti-aging treatments initially, to go along with all the injections against various biological weapons and diseases. There was already some sort of backlash from those who hadn't signed on, calling foul. That was too bad for them; they didn't risk their asses. It seemed though that some in the media were already marginalizing their works.
Some things never changed he thought sourly. Who wrote that line about the soldier being treated like crap until he was needed? The poem? He'd have to look it up again he thought.
He closed his eyes as flashes of battle danced in his memory, threatening to overwhelm him. Someone had to go in hand-to-hand, to dig out what the KEW strikes couldn't. Resentment was building to cut back on all the promises for the budget. That was sparking some grumbling in the ranks.
He could see only one way out, to retreat. His best option was to go to the stars. To grab his family and move out, out beyond Earth so they wouldn't have to listen to the bickering and bullshit. New frontiers and all that, new challenges and fresh places to grow a new generation. Away from all the painful reminders in Sol. That was what he was planning. Somewhere … well, not quiet, he'd be terminally bored that way, but nice. Quaint. A nice view, good air, and a place to raise the next brood. He glanced at Sylvia. She winked. He snorted. She wanted him to run for politics. Hell with that. She might know all his tickle spots, but he knew hers. It'd be hell but he'd fought harder battles, and he was just as stubborn as she was. And the strategist.
He snorted softly at the thought. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd get his ass whooped in the end. She'd put on some doe eyes, but he'd lay out his case to the others in their family group. He nodded mentally to himself. Yes, a direct approach might not work, but he knew other strategies. He banished the smile that was starting to creep onto his face when she looked at him sharply. Best not to give away the entire match so soon he reminded himself.
He regretted that other people, many friends and colleagues hadn't survived to the end of the war. But they were there in spirit. Behind General Sinclair standing near Caesar was General Murtough, Schlock, and Martell hovering ghost-like he thought. Dozens, thousands of others were there as well, off in the distance he thought, smiling slightly. He felt the wind in his face—artificial, like the sun projected on the fake sky. But the clouds were real.
He'd love to see it rain. Perhaps a planet w
ouldn't be so bad.
Sylvia better not get any ideas about having him run for governor or something he thought again as they continued the reception line.
<>V<>
Tumagar retired with many other officers. He had intentions of going back to his colony and assume his rightful place as beach master. He was more heavily scared; perhaps some young fool would underestimate him.
“Chicks dig scars; they make great war stories,” he said to a familiar lion face. The red mane was different, but he looked so much like Claudis.
“Um … sorry? Were you talking to me?” the lionoid replied.
“I thought you were an old friend. Sorry,” the Walrus said, limping away. The lionoid watched him go with a slight puzzled frown.
Tumagar like many Neos knew that their new release was going to fuel an eventual population explosion that would in turn fuel the colonization drive. Many Neos had medical implants to prevent unwanted pregnancy/regulate hormones. There was a breeding issue for some and of course, issues with genetic damage from radiation exposure. Many questions lingered about who could and couldn't support and maintain a family. He shook his massive head as he stroked his one remaining tusk. There was no welfare families in space. Some of the colonies had passed dependent laws to prevent large families from swarming them. It was already being challenged in Federal court. He knew it was unlikely that it wouldn't be sustained, however. Spacers were dreamers rooted in practicality.
Perhaps it was indeed time to move on he thought. Find a blue world with nice seas to explore.
Neos who hadn't gone off to war as he had seemed to resent the special status of those who did. The resentment was getting bigger as the retired soldiers entered the civilian workforce. Jobs were plentiful on Earth. Every hand was needed to rebuild, but many Neso didn't want to be there, to be reminded of the war and its costs.
