“We can replenish most of what we lost from local supplies,” Muna assured me, one evening. Perhaps she felt the same way too about leaving, but she had no ties to Svergie to keep her here, unlike the men who had gotten married in the last few months. We’d be down nearly four hundred men when the dust finally settled, but we could get replacements for them fairly easily. Quite a few Svergie men had volunteered to remain with the Legion rather than stay on the planet. “We only really need to pay for the new shuttles and UAV craft.”
“Make out a list of stuff we can purchase and we can pick it up from Heinlein,” I said. We’d be swinging through the Heinlein System after we departed anyway. “They should be able to meet most of our requirements.”
My earpiece buzzed before Muna could answer. “Sir, this is Thomas down in dispatch,” a voice said. “A Fleet battleship just entered the system and her Captain has demanded that you come onboard personally.”
“Understood,” I said. I knew who had to be onboard that ship. I also knew that delay would merely irritate Fleet. “Tell them that I’m on my way.”
There were only ever three battleships in existence and one of them was destroyed at the Battle of Earth, during John Walker’s coup. The UN had built them as prestige craft for the high-ranking Admirals, wasting resources that could probably have been used to build a dozen cruisers for each battleship. The Percival Harriman was an impressive vessel — I wouldn’t have doubted that — but it was wasteful. Fleet had kept the two captured battleships, but they hadn’t bothered to build more. What could one battleship do that a dozen cruisers could not — and more besides?
I was met at the shuttlebay by a single officer, who escorted me through the ship’s corridors to Officer Country, and waved me into a single stateroom. I could have been convinced of the wastefulness of the battleships just by the Admiral’s stateroom — large enough to store extra missiles or emergency components — but my attention was distracted. It had been nearly two years since I last saw John Walker in the flesh.
“John,” I said, shaking his hand. “You’re looking well.”
“Liar,” John said. He still looked absurdly young for the Admiral’s uniform he wore — he couldn’t be older than thirty-five, if that — but he looked worn. “You still haven’t got rid of those scars, I see.”
“No, sir,” I said, taking the offered seat. It was easy to sit and banter with him, a distraction from the real purpose of the visit. “I feel that they add character to my face.”
“Someone lied to you,” John said, deadpan. “I read your reports — and Captain Price-Jones’ reports. You did very well down on Svergie. How long do you think it will last?”
I hesitated. I hated intelligence officers who made predictions — often just pulling the answers out of their behinds — but I understood why John was asking. If Svergie was reasonably stable, Fleet could encourage investment without fear of something blowing up in their face and forcing them to intervene openly.
“I think the new government will last until the elections in five years,” I said, finally. “The worst of the effort involved in creating the new farms will be over by then, so I suspect that the Progressives will probably find themselves weakened to the point where they have to adapt or be replaced by other parties — neither of which will threaten the planet’s new stability. Without us, the Svergie Army should still be able to handle any trouble that pops up now that the main body of the enemy force has been degraded and destroyed. After that…”
I shrugged. “It should hold together,” I concluded. “We broke the worst of their problems during the emergency situation.”
“Good enough,” John said. He looked relieved. “Not everyone on the Admiralty Board was happy with the concept of risking the Legion — or, rather, risking our activities being revealed — to try to save Svergie from itself. Now that it’s happened successfully, I think we can probably press for more interventions, while offering Svergie the trade credits it needs to make the jump to a space-based economy.”
“And ensure that it becomes a waypoint for the development of the sector,” I added. John didn’t bother to deny it. “Is it true that there will be nine more worlds founded in the next few years?”
“There are millions of people who want off Earth,” John confirmed. “There’s no way that they can all be housed in the solar system, even if the people who have already settled on Mars and Venus were willing to accept them — and they’re not. They made their feelings clear at the big conference on Unity last year. They will take some children, perhaps people with technical skills, but no one else.
“So we have to rush around trying to settle new colonies for them and force a lot of people who were basically just worthless parasites to actually become something useful. The shipping capability is stretched to breaking point even with the new starships coming off Heinlein’s production lines. If we can settle them and force them to work or starve, we will, but most of them would probably prefer to starve.”
I scowled. “I trust that you are not thinking of sending the Legion to Earth,” I said. “I wouldn’t go there on a bet.”
“I don’t think that the Legion could do anything even if you went,” John said. “Fleet Intelligence’s most optimistic projection is that half the population will die in the next few years. There’s a total biosphere collapse underway. We’re holding the orbital towers in hopes of keeping the gates open as long as we can, but God alone knows how many people are trapped down there without hope of anything, but death.”
“I’m surprised you’re even trying,” I said. If it was that hopeless, was John pouring Fleet resources down an endless hole? “I’m surprised that your fellows are allowing you to expend resources on saving them.”
John shrugged. “Earth still represents the largest human population in the Human Sphere,” he said, seriously. “If we can save as many as possible, we might be able to expand faster, maybe even get the Federation on its feet without another war.”
“Yeah,” I said. “How is the Federation coming along?”
“Slowly,” John admitted. “Half of them think that Fleet intends to become an Empire, the other half are out for what they can get for themselves and hang the rest. It’s total bloody chaos, not helped by the fact that there are people in Fleet who think that we should become an Empire, just to keep the children in line. If what you found implicates Heinlein… that demand is only going to grow stronger. Heinlein is definitely one of our problem children.”
He shook his head. “That doesn’t matter for the moment,” he said. “Take your time; rest, recover, and prepare for your next deployment. Svergie is hardly the worst world out there, Andrew, and they all need fixing.”
I smiled. “Just call us the fixers,” I said. “It makes a change from breaking things in the name of the UN.”
Svergie
A Short Guide
Svergie was originally discovered in 2206 by a UN survey team. The planet was rapidly assessed as a 95% — i.e. close to Earth, but lacking some vital components, including edible fauna — and the UN declared the planet open for bids in 2208. A consortium headed by the King of Scandinavia (a neo-federation of Sweden, Norway and Denmark) purchased settlement rights from the UN and major settlement began two years later. After considerable haggling between the various elected representatives, the planet was officially named by the Swedes, but the various cities were actually named by the other nationalities. A site near the ocean was selected as the location of Landing City, which was renamed New Copenhagen after Svergie officially gained self-government.