“How are we going to pay for all this? To build and equip a fleet of probe ships will take an enormous sum of money. Billions and billions of marks. Where are we supposed to get them?”
“The same place we get all the other billions of marks we spend but don't have-the duplicators.”
Krager began to sputter. “But that will send inflation into warp. It'll go totally out of control! The mark is already weakened beyond repair. Why it's still holding up in the Interstellar Currency Exchange, I can't fathom. Maybe the speculators haven't figured out how bad off we are yet. But this probe ship idea will completely ruin us!”
“That's why we've got to act now,” Haworth said. “While the mark still has some credibility on the Exchange. If we wait too long, we'll never be able to get enough credit to purchase the drive tubes and warp units necessary for the probe fleet. The mark has been holding up better than any of us ever expected. That indicates to me that the people active in the Interstellar Currency Exchange have faith in us and think we can pull ourselves out of this.”
“Then they're dumber than I thought they were,” Krager muttered.
“Not funny,” Haworth said. “And not fair. You forget that Project Perseus will also create jobs and temporarily stabilize the tax base in the interim.” He walked back to his place at Metep's side. “Look: it's a gamble. I told you that before I broached the subject. It's probably the biggest gamble in human history. The future of the entire Imperium and all our political careers is riding on it. If I thought there was another way out, believe me, I'd try it. Personally, I don't give a damn about getting in touch with the aliens in the Perseus arm. But right now, it's our only hope. If we succeed, then all the extra inflation caused by Project Perseus will be worth while and eventually compensated by the new avenues of trade we'll establish.”
“Suppose we fail?” Metep said. “Suppose there's something out there that gobbles up probe ships. Suppose they find nothing but the ruins of a dead civilization.”
Daro Haworth shrugged with elaborate nonchalance. “If we fail, every out-worlder will spit when he hears our names five years from now. And in perhaps a dozen years, Earth will reinstate her claim to the out-worlds.”
“And if we do nothing?” Metep asked, afraid of the answer.
“The same, only the spitting stage won't be reached for perhaps ten years, and the return of Earthie control won't occur for twenty. Face it, gentlemen: this is our only chance. It may not work, but I see no other alternative. We're all to blame; we've all-”
“I won't take the blame for this mess!” Krager shouted. “I've warned you all along, all of you, that someday-”
“And you went right along, too, old man.” Haworth's lips twisted into a sneer. “You okayed all the increases in the money supply. You made noises, but you went along. If your objections had had any real conviction behind them, you would have resigned years ago. You flew with us, and if we go down, you'll crash with us.” He turned to the others. “Shall we vote, gentlemen?”
IT WAS THE FIRST TIME LaNague could remember being happy to see Broohnin. He and Doc Zack and Radmon Sayers had waited in the warehouse office into the hours toward dawn. The money drop earlier in the evening had gone off as smoothly as the heist that morning. Things were looking up all over, at least as far as his plans for the revolution were concerned. Everything was going according to schedule, and going smoothly. Too smoothly. He kept waiting for a kink to develop somewhere along the line, waiting and hoping that when it appeared he would be able to handle it. The meeting tonight between Metep and his Council of Five could possibly produce a kink, but that was unlikely. There was no way out for the Imperium now. No matter what they did, no matter what they tried, they were unaware of the purpose of Boedekker's activities on Earth. The Imperium was going to crumble, that was for certain. The Boedekker aspect of the plan would enable LaNague to control the exact moment of its fall, its rate of descent, and its force of impact. The Boedekker aspect would ensure an impact of such force that no trace of the cadaver would remain.
“What's the word from the meeting?” LaNague asked as Broohnin entered the office.
“Nothing,” Broohnin said, scowling through his beard. “A complete waste of time. You wouldn't believe what they wound up deciding to do after hours in hush-hush conference.”
“Spend more money, of course,” Zack said.
Sayers nodded. “Of course. But on what?”
“Probe ships?” Broohnin looked around at the uncomprehending faces.
“That's right-probe ships. I told you you wouldn't believe it.”
“What in the name of the Core for?” Sayers asked.
“To find aliens. Haworth wants to jump over to the next arm of the galaxy and sell stuff to aliens. He says they're over there and they can save the Imperium.”
As Zack and Sayers began to laugh, Broohnin joined in. The three of them whooped and roared and pounded the arms of their chairs until they noticed that LaNague was not even smiling. Instead, he was frowning with concern.
“What's the matter, Peter?” Sayers said, gasping for breath. “Have you ever heard of a more ridiculous idea?”
LaNague shook his head. “No. Never. But it may ruin everything.”
“But how could-”
LaNague turned away from the vidcaster toward Broohnin. “When does construction start?”
“Immediately, from what I can gather.”
“Is it going to be a military or civil project?”
“Civil. They're going to run it through the Grain Export Authority.”
“And monitoring?”
Broohnin looked at him questioningly. LaNague's intensity was alarming. “I don't-”
“Communications! The probes have to have a place to report back to, a nerve center of some sort that'll coordinate their movements.”
“That'll be the GEA comm center, I guess. That's where all the grain pods reported to as they assembled for a run. It's got all the necessary equipment.”
LaNague was up and pacing the room. “Have you got any contacts in there?” Seeing Broohnin nod, he went on. “How many?”
“One.”
“Get more! Slip our people onto the duty roster in the communications area. We need people on our side in there.”
“That's not going to be easy. With the grain runs falling off, they've cut the comm staff. Not enough work to go around.”
“If we have to, we'll bribe our way onto the staff. Beg, plead, threaten…I don't care what you do, but get us enough people in that comm center to keep it covered at all times.”
“But why?” Sayers asked.
“Because I want to be the first to know what those probe ships find. And if I don't like what they find, I'm going to see to it that the information takes an awful long time getting to the Council of Five.”
Doc Zack spoke from his seat. “You don't really think finding aliens to trade with could open up a large enough market to offset what the Imperium's already done to the economy, and what the cost of this probe ship program will do on top of that, do you? Let me say as an authority on economics that there isn't the slightest chance of success.”
“I realize that,” LaNague said from the middle of the room.
“Then why the sudden panic? Why tell us that it could ruin everything when you know it can't.”
“I'm not worried about them trading with whatever aliens are out there. I'm worried about them stumbling into something else-the one thing that might turn everything we've worked for around; the one thing that's always helped the Meteps and the Imperiums of history out of slumps. And you of all people, Doc, should know what I'm talking about.”