"... I appreciate your good intentions, Tanz," the Emperor was saying. "And I plan to personally thank each member of my cabinet for going to all this thought and effort. But..."
He let the word sit there for a moment while he took another sip of his drink. From that moment on, Sullamora knew the conversation would be one he would take to his grave—or, at least, to his memoirs.
"I don't go for this independent agency concept," the Emperor finally said. He raised a polite hand as if Sullamora would protest—not that he would ever dare to. "I know you may think I'm being shortsighted, but these kinds of things have a way of taking on a life of their own. The fact of the matter is, I'm a one-man show. Always have been. Hope to always be. You fellows are talking about taking the long view. Well, I have to tell you, from where I sit, there is no way your view can be long enough."
He waited, encouraging comment from Sullamora.
"There was no disrespect intended," Sullamora said. "But we just can't see how one person—no matter how good—can handle everything himself. What we're offering here, sir, is a chance for you to take advantage of the experience of some of the best minds under your rule."
The Emperor pretended to think about that for a moment. Then he nodded to Sullamora.
"Okay. Let's run through this and see if maybe I'm wrong. I suppose we all agree on what we're facing once this is over. Once the Tahn agree to my terms, we turn off the war machine. And then we immediately face one holy mother of a depression. I doubt there has ever been a depression the potential size of what we're talking about.
"All your shipbuilding factories, for instance. They'll come to a halt. We've got enough ships of the line now for ten long lifetimes. The same goes for every other area of the economy. The torque will be tremendous. A whole lot of great big axles churning away, with no place to go."
"We've got ideas that specifically—"
"I've heard of them," the Emperor snapped. "And they don't wash. You want me to raise the AM2 tax from two mills to three or maybe four. But what you can't seem to get through your heads is that if you take money out of people's pockets, there's no way they can buy what little you'll be able to produce.
"It's not war that has destroyed the great empires of history. It's money, or the mishandling of same. When the soldiers' job is over, you've got this big whopping bill. And you've got interest running on that big mother of a bill. And you better not make the mistake of not paying it off. Otherwise, next time you need to fight, the money people will drag their feet and jack up the interest on what little they will lend you. Same with the little guy whose life we put on the line. If he comes home to misery, he's not gonna be too thrilled about fighting for you next time out, no matter how worthy you tell him the cause is.
"Personally, I'm thinking about pulling in my horns. Reducing the tax to peacetime levels. One mill. No more. And maybe after a while a temporary decrease to two-thirds of a mill. That way the local governments can pop on a quarter-mill tax of their own to pay back their share of what this stupid war cost."
Sullamora gasped at that idea. "At least we can increase the AM2 output," he said. "That'll bring in more taxes. Besides making it cheaper for us all to operate."
"Sure it will," the Eternal Emperor said. "It will also kick hell out of the value of the credit. People will be walking around with wheelbarrows of the stuff to buy a glass of beer."
Sullamora did not know what a wheelbarrow was, but he got the general drift. "You mentioned beer," he said. "Now, there's a way to make money nobody can object to. A tax on beer. A tax on narcotics. A tax on joy—"
"Used to be called a sin tax," the Emperor said dryly. "Another dumb idea. Between me and the Tahn, we have killed and mutilated more beings than I like to think about. What we're left with is a pretty miserable group.
"Now, the beings in this group may not agree on a lot. But if we let them, misery will be the first hammer they'll pick up. And they'll hit us with it, Tanz. I guarantee you that.
"No. This is a time to start encouraging a little more sin, if anything. Lots of spectacle. And as close to free as dammit."
That made no sense at all to Sullamora. The Emperor pretended not to notice and moved on.
"And speaking of keeping people happy," he said. "You realize that we're all talking about some major increases in wages, don't you? And if you want to sell anything, a major decrease in prices.
"In fact, since a lot of my fellow capitalists are usually pretty slow to get the drift of these kinds of things, I'm considering some pretty heavy-duty legislation on the subject."
"How—how can you possibly see that?" Sullamora sputtered out.
"Simple. Fewer people to work equals higher wages. Lower prices means more productivity providing things those people can now afford. And lots of cheap material to build those things from. For anyone with vision, that is. Take all those ships of yours, Tanz," the Emperor said, slipping the dirk between Sullamora's ribs. Sullamora realized that the Emperor planned on sticking him with a lot of those soon-to-be-useless warships. "With a little creative retooling, you'll have plenty of scrap of just about any kind of material going to build some useful products."
"Like what?" Sullamora asked in a bare whisper.
The Eternal Emperor shrugged. "Beats the clot out of me. You've got R&D geniuses. Put 'em to work making some new things to cook food with instead of frying people. Should be easy.
"Hell, Tanz. The more I think about it, we're talking about real opportunity here. Almost makes me wish I didn't have this stupid job. A guy with a little brains, a bit of money, and a lot energy could make himself a great big pile out of all this."
Sullamora had to ask the question. "Do you really believe that?"
"Sure I do," the Emperor said. "At least I know I could, although you probably think that's just big talk. Fact is, most emperors think the same way. There was a queen, way back when, who used to say pretty much the same thing to her advisers.
"She used to tell them that if somehow she were plucked from her throne and dropped in nothing but her petticoats on any desolate coast, it wouldn't take her long to be running things again. Some of her advisers used to laugh about that behind her back.
"Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth the First. Ever hear of her?"
Tanz Sullamora shook his head, knowing his audience was coming to a close.
"She must have been really something," the Emperor mused on. "Some historians think she was the greatest ruler ever. Maybe they're right."
A small wild thought crossed Sullamora's mind. He wondered what had happened to the advisers. The ones who laughed. Had they ever thought about...
"Of course, she was pretty quick with the ax," the Eternal Emperor said, and it was almost as if he were reading Sullamora's mind. The ship baron rose quickly to his feet, nearly knocking over his drink.
"Excuse me, sir," he stammered. "But I think..."
"Are you all right?" the Emperor asked, giving Sullamora a strange, puzzled look. But maybe Tanz was just imagining that. He made an excuse about feeling slightly ill and, after being dismissed, hurried for the door. Just as it hissed open, the Emperor called his name. Sullamora forced himself to turn back.
"Yes, sir?"
"No more surprises, okay, Tanz?" the Emperor said. "I don't like surprises."
Tanz Sullamora gasped out a promise and hurried away, vowing to break that promise the first chance he had.