“We have a crisis on our hands,” Frida Holmqvist said, as the new Council settled into their seats. I watched with some concern from the public bench. Frida had invited me as an observer, but it was clear that I wasn’t the only one. There were a dozen reporters and several known celebrities in the audience, the former probably under the impression that the latter supported the government. “We have thousands of people out of work and starving in the streets. We have an infrastructure that has been badly damaged and needs to be rebuilt. We have massive shortages of almost everything we need. We are, in short, in serious trouble.”
My eyes swept the Council as she continued to speak. Frida’s Council now numbered eleven after a handful of emergency elections had been held. The remainder had represented areas that were now torn and devastated by the fighting, the population so hopelessly scrambled that elections would be impossible — or at least that was the excuse. I couldn’t help, but notice that the newly-elected Councillors were all Progressive Party candidates, and that the other areas might well vote against a Progressive candidate. It wasn’t too surprising, either; a month after the insurrection had been ended, the Progressive Government had failed to improve their condition. Frida had to find that intolerable. It was quite possible that she was stalling long enough to make major changes as, with eleven Councillors, she had a quorum.
On the other hand, I decided, four of the Councillors were hardly Progressive Party. Two of them were Conservatives, a third was from the Independence Party — which effectively represented the Mountain Men — and a fourth was an independent. The Liberty Party had lost all of its candidates and, with the President injured and out of the picture, might well collapse completely. If they fell, where would their remaining voters go? They might go to either of the two main parties… but it might not matter. Frida had near-absolute power in her hands.
“Desperate times require desperate measures,” she continued, speaking for the crowd. No one on the Council looked cheerful, but some looked happier than others. The Conservatives, in particular, were looking wary. I guessed that no one had told them what was about to happen. “Our planet is on the verge of collapse. It therefore behoves us to take a good look at what we need to do and then do it, regardless of our sensibilities. There are few choices and none of them are good.”
She went on in that vein for nearly twenty minutes before getting to the point. “First, we have millions — yes, millions — of starving citizens,” she said. “The price of food is rising astronomically and the starving men and women are starting to die. That is unacceptable. I am therefore proposing a government-organised cap on the price of food so that it is priced at a level the poor and dispossessed can afford. This cap will be defined by a committee and all farmers will be bound by its decision.
“Second, we have to rebuild a vast amount of our industry,” she continued. “The shortage of trained personnel has made it harder to rebuild, therefore I am proposing that we conscript trained personnel into a pool that will allow them to be focused on the most vital parts of our economy. The vast shortages in farming equipment, vehicles, transport systems and mining gear must be solved, the sooner the better. The only way to do that is to rebuild our industry. Further, the trained personnel will impart their skills to others as quickly as possible, by serving as instructors of their disciplines.
“Third, we need to boost our off-world currency reserves in order to purchase items we require to rebuild our industry and develop an indigenous hydrogen cloud-scooping industry,” Frida concluded. “Towards that end, I am requesting that the mines double their output of rare metals and other items we can sell to obtain off-world currency.
“Finally, in order to give the dispossessed masses something to do, I am creating a massive job-creation scheme that will ensure that everyone who wants a job can have one,” she concluded. “We have much that needs to be done to rebuild and the dispossessed will aid in that rebuilding. We will provide training and guidance for those who want to seek a job, while creating a security blanket for those who are unable to find a position. No one will starve on our world. Svergie is a rich world and there is more than enough for us all. We will create programs that will ensure that everyone gets their fair share.”
There was a long pause. “I hope that you will do the right thing and ensure that these proposals are signed into law as soon as possible,” Frida added. “There is no time to waste.”
I watched the Councillors carefully. The Conservatives didn’t look happy now that the hammer had fallen and the Independence Party candidate looked furious. I wondered who would be the first to speak as I turned my attention to the reporters… and realised, for the first time, that Frida had sewn it all up neatly. The reporters were known friends and allies of the Progressive Party and would present her proposals in the best possible light. I doubted that it would be so easy to actually implement them. Svergie’s problem was that it had too many untrained people and not enough trained people. She might be right about trying to train others, but I doubted that they could train enough to make a significant difference.
Frida herself looked confident, and I understood why. As Acting President and a Progressive Party Councillor, she could be certain of getting the legislation through the government and into law. In a very real sense, she’d be giving herself the legislation to sign. Her supporters would back her up, of course, while her detractors wouldn’t be able to raise the votes to stop her. On the face of it, her plan looked workable, but I knew better. It was likely to be a disaster. The complex economic problems facing Svergie couldn’t be solved by seemingly-simple measures.
“I would like to speak against the… proposals,” Councillor Erik Henriksson said, finally. His voice was almost a hiss. The Independence Party would not take the proposals lying down. “I will focus on the mining issue. The mines are producing as much as they can produce and have been doing so for years, even before the UN left. We lack the heavy equipment required to expand the mines and even if we had it, it would be hard to expand them without causing a major ecological disaster.
“And then there is another issue,” he continued. “Your proposals are simple; you propose that the miners work harder and you city-dwellers get all the profit. You propose the same for the farmers. You may even propose the same for those who try to keep the sprawling cities running. You are asking us to do the impossible. We barely benefit from what we do now. Our benefits will not increase if we increase production, will they? We simply don’t have the manpower or the equipment to do as you request.
“You may suggest training up more men for the mines,” he concluded. “You should know better than that. It takes months to train a newcomer so that he doesn’t kill himself the first time he goes down the mines. Training is individualistic and very hard. We reject hundreds of men and women for working in the mines. We could not train miners on an assembly line. You are, again, asking the impossible. We cannot give you what you want.”
I shivered, despite myself. The last time I had heard anyone speaking in that tone of voice, people had died. The tribal leader on Botany had intended to wipe the UN garrison — which I had commanded at the time — off the face of the planet and had come damn close to succeeding. Councillor Erik Henriksson had the same tone… and the name of his Party was not the Independence Party for nothing. I had a nasty suspicion that all hell was about to break loose.
“And yet we must feed our population,” Frida pointed out, “or would you have them starve for lack of food and prosperity.”