by E. M. Foner
“That’s curious,” Daniel said. “Maybe they just aren’t that interested in the organizational aspects of empire building. In any case, I’m sure you all recognize Maker Dring, who is here to record the birth of the Human Empire for history. And if you’ve never met my wife, this is Shaina.”
“Hi,” Shaina said, giving the ad hoc committee members a quick wave.
“You all know Aabina from our holoconference calls, and sitting next to her is our ambassador’s son, Samuel, who is on loan from the Vergallian embassy. Maker Dring requested that I ask everybody who participates in the discussion to introduce themselves the first time they speak so he gets your names right for the record. In that spirit, I’m Associate Ambassador Daniel Cohan, the acting chair of the Human Empire ad hoc committee, and we’re here today to come up with a transitional framework that meets the tunnel network treaty requirements. Yes, Bob?”
“Bob Winder, Mayor of Floaters on Chianga, a Dollnick open world. All of our technology is manufactured under license from Prince Drume. I just want to state for the record that Chiangans are happy with the current state of affairs and we view the idea of humanity starting an empire to be as useless as a fifth arm. Our main concern is what impact it could have on current relations between the sovereign communities on Chianga and our prince.”
“Joan Powell. I’m the designated stakeholder for the human consortium operating mines on the Drazen open world of Two Mountains. I agree one hundred percent with Bob, substituting a second tentacle for a fifth arm, of course.”
“Of course,” Daniel said. “Did you have something to add, Tac?”
“Tac, from the Verlock open world of Fyndal, representing the academy,” said an athletically built woman of around thirty. “I just wanted to remind everybody else that I’m only here as a substitute for our academy head, Hep, who is leading the effort on Earth to reverse engineer a Drazen jump drive.”
“Any word of the progress on that?” Bob asked her.
“Hep is hoping to test our prototype later this year,” Tac replied. “He said that parts of the theory of operation still elude our team of scientists, but he’s confident that the copy they’re making will operate the same way as the original.”
“Interesting,” Dring muttered to himself. “I must arrange to be in the neighborhood to see that.”
“I suppose I don’t really need to do this, but can I get a show of hands on how many of the committee members are happy with the status quo?” Daniel asked. Every hand went up. “Right. We met with a Verlock tunnel treaty expert to go over our options, and it turns out that there’s a never-been-used-before middle path between accepting and rejecting empire status. Aabina?”
“It’s called the Thousand Cycle Option,” Kelly’s special assistant explained. “Choosing it will give the Human Empire approximately a hundred and fifty years to comply with the requirements, and there’s no penalty for dropping out.”
“So why would anybody ever agree to empire status right away and not take advantage of the wiggle-room?” Samuel asked.
“There is one downside,” Aabina said, “The Thousand Cycle option is predicated on our admitting that we lack the institutional knowledge to proceed, and therefore mandates the selection of a Stryx-approved mentor to guide the process of empire-building.”
“What’s the problem with that?” Tac asked. “There’s no shame in accepting mentoring.”
“It could be tricky picking a mentor without offending allies. After all, the ad hoc committee represents communities on worlds owned by a half-dozen different species.”
“I think it’s obvious we should choose the Vergallians,” Samuel said. “They’re the most populous empire on the tunnel network and they already provide the Alts with contract-queens. I’m sure the Stryx would approve you as our mentor.”
“Me?” Aabina said. “I’m too young for that kind of responsibility.”
“I think asking the Drazens would make more sense,” the woman from Two Mountains said. “Everybody knows that Drazen Intelligence already acts as a mentor for EarthCent Intelligence.”
“The Verlocks—” Tac began.
“The Dollnicks—” Bob said at the same time.
“Let’s postpone selecting a mentor until we get through the process of establishing a preliminary framework for decision making,” Daniel said quickly. “Any ideas there?”
“Annie, I’m the official secretary for the Break Rock mining cooperative. The executive committee of our cooperative is so dysfunctional that they try to pass off all of the decision making to me, and over the years, I’ve learned to delegate as much as possible to experts in the area. A mining habitat is a bit like a world in miniature, but despite the politics, everybody understands that we need an engineer in charge of air circulation and a police chief in charge of security. Maybe we could define vital sectors or interests for an empire and then assign working groups.”
“I like it,” Daniel said. “Just looking around this table I see potential working group heads for manufacturing, education, mining, health, and agriculture. Did I leave anybody out?”
“Trade,” a man said, raising his hand. “I’m Larry, the council head of the Traders Guild, and though I’ve visited some of the open worlds the committee members hail from, this is the first time I’m meeting most of you in person. I’m not sure I quite understand what we’d be delegating in this case.”
“We’re not sure either, but I understand that the Thousand Cycle option requires us to begin the process of building an imperial infrastructure,” Daniel said. “I’m hoping it’s like taking an advanced math class where the instructor gives partial credit for showing your work when you can’t completely solve the problem.”
“Excellent analogy,” Dring said, writing rapidly on the scroll he had brought to record the proceedings. He dipped his quill in the inkwell to recharge it, and then added, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please continue.”
“So you’re saying that we’re going to be graded on the process rather than the results,” Bob surmised. “If that’s the case, we should do something that will make the aliens stand up and take notice.”
“I heard that the Vergallians on Aarden, where the independent traders held our last Rendezvous election, are still laughing at our guild’s method of self-government,” Larry said. “I don’t think they’re overly impressed by democratic processes.”
“A general election is viewed by my people as a complete breakdown of royal leadership,” Aabina informed him. “What’s the point of having queens if you still have to sit through political campaigning?”
“Point taken,” Daniel said.
“Evie, I’m actually from the human community on Aarden,” a woman spoke up. “Maybe we could choose a queen from among our own people. Would that meet the tunnel network treaty requirements?”
“Why not a prince, or a council of princes?” the mayor from the Dollnick open world suggested.
“Or we could organize as a consortium and hold a singing competition,” Joan said. “That’s how we settle everything on Two Mountains.”
“I certainly understand where you’re all coming from, but I’m afraid that your suggestions would only resonate with the populations of the open worlds you call home,” Daniel said diplomatically. “We want a process that all of our communities will see as fair and transparent.”
“Like an open outcry auction,” Larry suggested. “It’s how traders handle pricing when a bunch of us are competing for the same wholesale merchandise.”
“An auction!” Shaina cried, grabbing her husband’s wrist. “How could I not have thought of that? We can sell the seats for the working groups to oversee the creation of various government departments, and the communities that have a vested interest in the outcome can make their priorities clear through their bids. It’s the best discovery mechanism for true market value.”
Dring’s quill scratched furiously across the parchment as he took down Shaina’s words, his reptilian lips pulled
back to show blunt teeth in a happy smile.
“But you wouldn’t want to end up with working groups that represent just a single interest,” Samuel said. “What’s to stop a rich community from buying all of the seats and driving the outcome for the whole empire?”
“Auction bylaws,” Shaina said. “Listen. We’ll limit each community to one seat per working group, or maybe to participating in one working group overall, since that will force them to choose carefully. We’ll want an odd number of spots on every working group so there won’t be any tie votes, let’s say five seats, and the chairman for each could be the high bidder. After that, we could offer the remaining open seats at the second-highest bid, and if they don’t fill, we could go to the third-highest bid.”
“There should be some accounting for the size of the community,” Larry said. “I represent millions of independent traders, but the way you’re talking, I could end up having the same weight on a working group as a member from an ice-harvesting habitat with a few thousand transient residents.”
“But you could bid enough to be chairman,” Daniel pointed out.
“I can’t claim any experience with direct elections,” Aabina said, “but I’ve read about your representative democracies on Earth, and there was usually some kind of adjustment for population. Maybe you could weight the votes of working group members in accordance with the population they represent, but give them all the same amount of time to talk.”
“It might work better to give them all the same voting weight, but apportion their talking time by the number of people they represent,” Daniel said. “Don’t forget that the first task for the working groups will be deciding whether or not to go ahead with the Thousand Cycle option, after which they might disband without doing anything else. We’re just looking for a method that will meet the transparency requirement and let people feel like their concerns are being heard.”
“How long would it take you to set up an auction?” Bob asked. “The tradeshow opens in just five days, and I’d really like to put this whole empire issue behind us before we go home.”
“I can do this in my sleep,” Shaina said confidently. “I ran an auction business with my sister and Stryx Jeeves for years. All I need is an audience, a space, and something to sell.”
“Was that you who did the Kasilian auction around twenty years ago?” the woman from the human community on Aarden asked. “I was glued to our entertainment system for the whole week. Where was it held?”
“In the Galaxy Room of the Empire Convention Center, which we’ve already reserved for the tradeshow. We could hold the auction right after the opening ceremony and the keynote address.”
“I don’t have any objections, but we’ll have to finalize the auction rules and get them out to all of our members in a hurry,” Daniel said. “What do we have so far?”
“If you’ll allow me,” Dring said, looking down at his scroll. “For each working group, you will auction five seats, with the highest bidder becoming chairperson. The amount of speaking time in the working group allocated to each member is to be proportional to the population of the community they represent. After the winning bidder becomes chairperson, the second-highest bidder is seated, and other participants get the chance to buy in at the same bid.”
“What if there are more than four people interested at that price?” Samuel asked.
“First come, first serve?” Shaina suggested. “We could use InstaSitters for spotters, just like we did at all of our auctions on Stryx stations, and if there’s an argument, the station librarian could check the security video.”
“All in favor?” Daniel asked. Every hand went up.
“Splendid,” Dring muttered as he moved his quill across the parchment at a breakneck pace.
“How many working groups in all do we want?” Daniel asked, glancing down at the limited notes he’d taken on his tab. “I have six so far, including trade.”
“Phillip, President of the Actors Guild, representing the sovereign human community on Timble, a Grenouthian orbital,” a man with a goatee spoke up for the first time. “Entertainment is a must.”
“Entertainment,” Daniel repeated. “That makes seven. I’d say transportation, but the Traders Guild has a corner on human-owned spaceships. And there are tens of millions of humans working as mercenaries, but they aren’t living in sovereign communities, so we don’t need a military committee. Aabina?”
“Gaming,” the Vergallian girl suggested. “Several CoSHC members are involved in the industry, and this may be a good time to bring the ad hoc committee up to date on Flower’s request.”
“Funny old bird,” Bob said. “I never miss the chance to visit when she stops at Chianga.”
“Flower has expressed an interest in joining CoSHC and then the Human Empire,” Daniel said.
“But she’s Dollnick to the core!”
“Flower claims that the human population she has living on board deserves representation and that she’s the one in the best position to represent them.”
“Personally, I like Flower, but if you let her join, she’ll take everything over before the year is out,” Samuel cautioned them. “A Drazen friend of mine lives on board and we visit every time Flower stops at Union Station. Nothing would make her happier than being appointed Empress of the Human Empire.”
“She’d make an interesting mentor,” Bob said.
“I don’t see how we can exclude Flower’s population, or that we would even want to,” Daniel said. “We just need a rule stating that representatives on the working groups must be humans.”
“Can’t do it,” Aabina said. “The tunnel network treaty prohibits limiting committee participation by species.”
“It does? I’ve never heard of humans sitting on alien committees.”
“There are plenty of ways to achieve exclusivity without employing species-based language. For example, it’s impossible to serve on a public working group in the Empire of a Hundred Worlds without pledging your loyalty to a queen.”
“What’s so hard about that?” Daniel asked.
“It’s up to the queen whether or not to accept your pledge.”
“I’m not comfortable with the idea of limiting our membership to humans-only,” Phillip said. “There are a number of alien actors living in our community on Timble. In addition to enriching our acting traditions, they contribute to the Grenouthian pension fund that we all participate in. The bunnies weren’t willing to cut separate deals with every individual alien who showed up, so we let them work under our contract. It wouldn’t be fair to take away their voices as community members.”
“I don’t see what you’re all so concerned about,” Shaina said. “Just maintain the auction results after the empire decision is made and then Flower’s influence would be limited to at most one governmental department.”
“Clever,” Dring said, underlining the last sentence he had recorded.
The door to the corridor slid open and a male Frunge stumbled in, followed by a female with a towering hair-vine construction on an elaborate trellis work. Both of the aliens carried Human Empire swag bags with custom embroidery.
“Is this the Human thing?” the male demanded. “Where’s the bar?”
Aabina jumped up from her chair and approached the inebriated observers. “Pizzer, Klzmat,” she greeted them. “How good of you to come. Please take a seat and I’ll get you a drink.”
Daniel held up a hand to stop the Vergallian as she passed him on her way to the kitchen. “Are they really observers?” he whispered.
“Absolutely. I delivered their bags last night and gave them a personal invitation to this meeting.”
“Welcome,” the associate ambassador addressed himself to Klzmat, as Pizzer seemed to have fallen asleep in a chair against the wall. “Long night?”
“There was a little bar in our hotel room with miniature bottles,” the Frunge woman said, holding her thumb and forefinger apart to illustrate the size. “Pizzer thought that the Huma
n Empire put them there as a challenge so we had to drink them all. Then we went out clubbing.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourselves. To get you current with what you’ve missed, we’ve just defined an auction system to—”
“Isn’t that a type of shopping?” Klzmat interrupted, brandishing her swag bag. “Where? I’ve never been to an auction.”
“Shaina?” Daniel nudged his wife.
“Is it your first time on Union Station?” Shaina asked.
“First time anywhere,” Klzmat said. “We’re newlyweds. I’ve barely been off my family’s farm, except for school.”
“Why don’t I take our guests to the Shuk and show them around, and you can continue with the boring details of empire,” Shaina said, giving Daniel a wink as she rose from her seat. “I’ll take those, Aabina,” she added, intercepting the Vergallian as Kelly’s special assistant emerged from the kitchen with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “We’re going to have a little wine-and-cheese tour of the Shuk.”
“Lovely idea,” Aabina said, gladly handing over her burden. She helped Klzmat get Pizzer back on his feet, and then Shaina ushered the two Frunge out of the conference room.
“Those were the observers?” Samuel asked. “I’m not great with alien ages, but she didn’t look any older than Flazint.”
“You never know who you’re going to get with observers,” Aabina explained. “It’s entirely up to the species that send them, and they all have different selection methodologies. If there’s an important event, the local ambassador usually makes the choice, but for something like this, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Frunge picked a couple out of a line at the spaceport.”
“The birth of the Human Empire isn’t an important event?” Bob asked.
“Not to the Frunge, apparently.”
“Well, if that’s what all of the observers are going to be like, I guess we’re lucky they didn’t—Hello,” Daniel cut himself off as the door slid open and a Verlock slowly shuffled in.
