Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

Clans supported their essential needs. Now they’re free citizens, the Clans have washed their hands of them. Freedom’s all very well, but it doesn’t put food on the table.” Owen thought he’d never heard so many people being so ungrateful, and felt like saying so. But he didn’t, because he just knew they’d find some way of blaming it all on him. And because he didn’t know who should pay for it all either.
    Economics had never been his strong point. He was a warrior, not an accountant.
    He looked at Hazel, who shrugged.
    “Don’t ask me. My only ideas for a fairer redistribution of wealth involved becoming a pirate and a clonelegger. Neither of which worked out particularly well.”
    “The problem is the rate of change in the Empire,” said Diana Vertue. “It’s too slow.”
    “The problem is it’s too fast,” said Gutman.
    “You would say that,” said Diana. “It’s you and your kind who have the most to lose.”
    “We’re just concerned about changing too rapidly from a system based on people to one based on tech.
    We don’t want to end up like Shub.” Diana scowled intimidatingly. “That’s just a smoke screen, Gutman.
    The undergrounds don’t want clones and espers replaced by tech, just better working conditions and an equitable day’s pay. You’re just changing to tech to avoid that.”
    “Which brings us neatly back to money,” said Gutman, leaning back in his chair and looking out over the assembled crowd. “With everything in turmoil, and our economy running wild with no one at the helm, inflation has shot through the roof. Prices are rising everywhere, even on the most stable planets. Savings have been wiped out. Banks have collapsed. The Families are doing all they can, but the only thing they all agree on is that things are bound to get worse before they get better. Whatever else you can say about the old order, it always maintained the value of credit. Even if the Empress had to hang a few bankers to make her point.”
    “How about a tax on pompous windbags?” Hazel suggested sweetly. “Or a windfall tax on those who managed to profit very nicely from the changing situation? That ought to raise a fair amount of cash.”
    A great many of those present growled and muttered among themselves, but no one had the nerve to demand Hazel retract her comment. “Please let us all try to refrain from personal attacks,” said Gutman severely.
    “I think it might be best if we were to move on to the next order of business.”
    “But nothing’s been decided about the last question!” Owen objected. “I said, we’re moving on,” said Gutman. “As Speaker I am in charge of the agenda.”
    “I told you,” said Owen, glaring about him. “I warned you this would happen.”
    “I could have you removed,” said Gutman.
    “You could try,” said Owen.
    “Please,” said Hazel.
    “We will now move on to the next order of business,” said Gutman. “General Beckett, officer in charge of the Imperial Fleet, is waiting most patiently to address us.”
    A floating viewscreen appeared in midair almost immediately, as though it had just been waiting for its cue, and General Shaw Beckett scowled impartially out of the screen at one and all. His large, square head was set upon a pair of massive shoulders, though most of his intimidating bulk remained out of sight.
    His uniform was stretched tightly across his great frame, strewn with medals beyond counting. His wide mouth was set and stern, his dark eyes unwavering. As always, he was smoking a large cigar, and paused occasionally to blow smoke at the camera.
    “About time you got around to me. Right, pay attention, and take notes if you have to, because I’m damned if I’m going through this again. Ever since the Fleet was blown apart during the rebellion by outlaw ships and those bloody Hadenmen vessels, we’ve been struggling to operate a bare skeleton service. Most of the starcruisers are gone, D and E class, and we’re having to rely on destroyers and revamped frigates to carry a workload they were never intended to handle. We’re short of crew too.
    There are plenty of volunteers, but it takes time to train real crewmen. Can’t let just anyone loose on a starship. “We’re using the larger ships to protect food routes to the hardest-hit planets. There are lots of hungry people out there, but so far we’ve managed to avoid large areas of actual famine. Pirates have been a problem, attacking the convoys to sustain