“Program P-Seventeen, Session Three, twenty-two October 3662, zero-nine hundred hours, twelve minutes,” Ben announced for the tape.
“Good morning, everyone,” Heather began. “This session should be a little more relaxed than the last one.”
Nervous laughs came from most people in the room as they remembered the assassination of the president, and their feelings and attitudes immediately following.
After all the military people had stated their names, the security chief added, “Also in the building is Maria Ta-benro, the new cook. Everyone has proper clearance, including the two who have not yet been introduced.”
“Susan, would you tell us about yourself?” Heather requested.
The woman had been looking at Heather with confusion, but managed to find her voice when asked to speak. “I . . . just completed my doctorate in psychology. My . . . um . . . dissertation was on mental states found in extremely stressful environments, like . . . um . . . refugee camps, and how counseling services can be provided to those persons.”
“Thank you. Richard?”
He smiled at Heather without quite looking at her. “Doctor of History, specializing in recent and current events. Co-chair of the History Department at the University. Married, two children.”
“Thank you, and welcome to the team. You are both very brave for agreeing to the terms of umbra clearance.”
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They, and others in the room, chuckled.
“I’ve already explained to them,” the general mentioned, “that our format does not allow interruptions during the main presentation.”
Heather nodded and closed her eyes.
“Two years ago, the Trilbourne Accord was signed by the confederation of island nations in the Southern Ocean that had, until then, remained completely neutral and open to trade and tourism by anyone in the world. It was drafted behind closed doors, and its signing was barely noticed by the media. Within a week, everyone had forgotten about it, except those directly involved.”
Heather found the type-written sheet in her stack of notes. “Specifically, today’s topic is Will the Trilbourne Accord be effective in achieving its goals?
This topic has several purposes. First, it’s a test of me. Hardly anyone knows about the Accord, and it’s too new to be in that dusty encyclopedia in the conference room.”
Both General Bo-seklin and Major Ma-soran smiled.
Heather noticed a concerned look on Lisa’s face. “Don’t worry,” Heather began, “I don’t mind being tested. The quicker I can establish a track record, the better this team will function.”
Lisa
nodded.
“Second, it’s a small topic, easy to talk about, and fairly non-controversial.
That’s good for the team right now, as we still have many things to learn . . .
about what we’re trying to do here.”
Colonel Ba-kerga, somewhat to Heather’s surprise, nodded agreement.
“Third, it will introduce a few concepts that will be . . . um . . . challenging to some of you. People in the future often know things that are hidden in the present.”
She could clearly see uncomfortable looks on several faces. The new psychologist, however, was listening intently. Heather took a deep breath.
“The Trilbourne Accord never fulfills it’s stated purpose because it was not designed nor intended to. It does, however, fulfill its real purpose for a few decades, and is then tossed into history’s dustbin, along with many other such trade agreements.”
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 64
The rumble in the room was almost a growl. Heather waited patiently with a calm, neutral expression. Eventually, everyone fell silent.
“Do you know what a wealth pump is?” she asked the entire room.
Most faces showed complete ignorance. The historian wore a thoughtful expression.
“Okay, basic structure of empires.” She looked around. “Um . . . um . . .
portable blackboard from the conference room. Sorry I didn’t think of it sooner.”
Two security guards hopped up to fetch it.
While they were gone, Colonel Ba-kerga strode to his desk, returned with a camera, and handed it to Sergeant Ta-nibon at the tape recorder. “No erasing until it’s photographed.”
Heather nodded as the blackboard was brought in and placed against the wall.
“Every empire has a heartland or core, which receives the primary benefits of being an empire. Outside that, usually close geographically, but not always, is the inner circle of allies. They are fairly powerful themselves, so the imperial core can’t extract much from them — usually one to five percent of their wealth. Finally, farther away, are the external tributaries, also called subject nations. They get sucked dry, in the ten to fifty-percent range.”
She stopped drawing and turned to face the circle. “I know exactly what you’re all thinking right now. Sarah, would you give voice to the thought in the room, please?”
“But even as I think it,” the executive officer admitted, “I know in the pit of my stomach that it’s probably wrong.”
“Good, but please say it anyway.”
“Um . . . we’re not an empire.”
“Did she capture everyone’s reaction?” Heather asked, looking at the entire team.
Most heads nodded.
“Okay, let’s review a few facts,” the girl said, turning to the blackboard and drawing a funnel shape. “We currently have about six percent of the world’s population, and consume about twenty-five percent of the world’s wealth. By the end of the century, our population will be four percent, and our wealth
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consumption thirty percent.”
The room was filled with a tense silence.
“General, how many military bases do we have on foreign soil?”
He swallowed to moisten his dry throat. “About a hundred.”
“By the end of the century, there will be more than two hundred. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the basic structure, and the essential definition, of empire.”
She looked at the historian, and saw intense fascination on his face.
“Just so you know, the Beklan Empire also does not call itself an empire, so its common people have no idea they live in one.”
The historian nodded.
“The Trilbourne Accord is simply not a free-trade agreement. Those island nations had free trade for centuries before the Accord. They chose, of their own free will, to produce a small number of high-quality works of art and craft, and charge high prices for them. We and our allies didn’t like that. It made them money, not us. Three years ago, we sent a battleship to visit them, even though that was illegal in their waters under their laws. But they had no way to respond militarily. They had, and still have, little more than canoes and spears.”
She could see most of her listeners trying to understand, but struggling against past assumptions.
“The Trilbourne Accord is a wealth pump. Under implied threat of military force, in the thin disguise of so-called free trade, it transfers as much as possible of the wealth of those islands to our imperial core. The quality of the arts and crafts produced there has begun to fall and will continue to do so, as well as the standard of living of the people. In a decade, the growing poverty will hurt the tourist trade, and in three decades, few people will visit and the arts and crafts will be forgotten.”
Several faces in the room wore frowns.
“Eventually, we will write them off, cancel the treaty, and they will be rid of us. But they will be a broken people, pushed back to stone-age grinding poverty.”
She let a long moment of silence pass.
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 66
“That’s how empires work. I am not advocating for those island nations, nor against us. If those craftsmen and fishermen someday managed to create an empire, they would do the same thing to others.
“The important thing, for this team to begin to learn, is how to step back and view events from a perspective not much different from God’s. Only then will you be able to handle, without catastrophic results, knowledge of the future.”
“Are
we
always going to feel this small after your presentations?” General Bo-seklin asked when Heather opened the session to questions.
She smiled with sympathy. “For a while, then you’ll get the hang of it and help me analyze things.”
The doctor of history raised his hand.
“Richard?”
“I’ve studied the Trilbourne Accord in depth, and don’t remember anything about a battleship.”
“Probably top secret,” Sarah suggested.
“I . . . think I know someone who can find out,” the general pondered with a frown.
“That would be a nice verification of my memories,” Heather said, “but please be careful.”
“I will. Actually, you can’t send a battleship somewhere without lots of people knowing.”
“And I’d just like to say,” Richard went on, “that even without the battleship, the thing stank of back-room arm twisting, so I wouldn’t be surprised if Heather’s analysis turns out to be completely accurate.”
Everyone absorbed the historian’s words in thoughtful silence. The psychologist’s hand crept up timidly.
“Susan?”
“So . . . you’re not in favor of helping the people who . . . got the raw end of
. . . that treaty?”
“No. I love people, but I, and this team, can only learn how to handle the gift we’ve been given — knowledge of the future — if we step way, way back.
No one can see a process clearly from the inside — in other words, while being
NEBADOR Book Nine: A Cry for Help 67
involved with it. You and Richard are going to listen to Sessions One and Two tomorrow morning, right?”
They
both
nodded.
“In Session Two, you’ll learn why I didn’t say anything about the assassination of the president before it happened. Please make sure you understand those reasons well . . .”