Rex had visited the Bridge before. This was the first time, though, he had been asked to attend the Captain for undisclosed reasons.
No matter what he thought of Tony personally, the man was still the elected leader of the ship and politically powerful, so Rex presented himself at the Bridge at the appointed hour, curious to find out what Tony wanted.
Tony’s Chief of Staff, Staci Houtem, an overweight woman in her eighties, with purple hair and eyes tinted the same color, settled at the board table alongside Tony. There was a third person that Rex didn’t recognize, a man who looked to be barely beyond his Emergence, with a sharp chin and dewy cheeks.
“Wes Alfsom,” Tony said, indicating the boy. “My newest Minister of Finance.”
Rex considered Alfsom. “Did Morris retire?” he asked.
“Something like that,” Tony said, settling in the big chair at the top of the table. He said it dismissively, which told Rex there was a story there he wouldn’t be told. He made a note to find out later what had happened to George Morris. Clearly, he hadn’t left the position under his own steam.
“Wes is a full graduate of the Economics Institute,” Tony added. “He chose to serve the Bridge, when he was on track to head the Institute.”
Rex considered Alfsom again. Alfsom stared back at him without flinching. The Economics Institute was one of the “new” breed of training institutes. It was barely a hundred years old. It was small and exclusive. Rex had recruited two of his own finance managers directly from its ranks and understood the quality of the training.
“Sir, we only have eight minutes,” Staci said quietly.
Tony nodded. He threaded his hands together and laid them on the table in front of him. It was a movement designed to look as though he was being open and honest, yet the body language was too practiced. “Wes has been crunching numbers and running models since he came onto the Bridge. Then he spent three hours teaching me how to read the same models.” Tony gave Rex one of his smiles, the one that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. “It took me that long because I really wanted to understand the details. The models are talking about the future of the Endurance.”
Rex nodded, waiting for Tony to get to the point.
Tony glanced at Alfsom. Then he grimaced. “The Endurance is going to run out of money in three years.”
Rex held himself still, letting the little shiver of shock run through him without revealing it. It left his stomach swirling. “The ship can’t run out of money. It’s a closed system. The energy is there. It doesn’t bleed away. It doesn’t go anywhere. It just gets converted to different forms.”
Tony sat back, looking relieved. “Then you do understand this stuff. Wes said you would.” He glanced at Alfsom once more.
Alfsom leaned forward. “The credits needed to buy a glass of wine, two years ago, will only buy you half a glass of wine now.”
“Inflation,” Rex said, for this was the same ground Emma had gone over, in her endless mini-lectures, whenever he could spare a few minutes of his attention to listen to her. She had spoken eloquently about the evils of inflation.
Alfsom nodded. “A historical term for the diminishing buying power of money.”
“It’s not an historical term if we’re using it to describe a current condition,” Rex replied.
“I mean merely that the history databases are replete with examples of runaway inflation and what authorities of the time did to curb it,” Alfsom said.
Rex smiled. “You’ve found a solution from reading history?”
Alfsom tried to look modest. “History supplied the inspiration. I had to adapt it to circumstances aboard the Endurance.” He tapped the desk in front of him.
Rex heard a screen resolve in the air behind him. He didn’t turn to look at it. He had his own models, that Emma had been helping him build. Besides, if the kid was going to be rude enough to form the screen behind him and force him to twist in his chair, he could be just as rude and refuse to cooperate.
“What’s your solution?” Rex growled.
Alfsom cleared his throat, his gaze skittering toward Tony, his confidence shaken. “Um…we have to break the link between credits and energy.”
“Fiat money. That’s all you’ve got?”
This time, Tony looked surprised, too. “You’ve been doing your homework,” he said.
“It’s called taking care of business,” Rex replied. “I thought you had only eight minutes? Do one of you want to get to the point? Because, so far, I fail to understand why I was pulled into this meeting.”
Tony frowned. “Wes?”
Alfsom deleted the screen. Rex heard the quiet pop behind him as it dissolved. “Well…um…the stronger economies on old Terra would often borrow money from other countries in order to stimulate the economy.”
“There are no other countries here,” Rex said flatly.
“There are entities with cash to spare,” Tony said. His voice had lost all the joviality and warmth it usually held. He had stopped pretending.
Rex stared at him. “You’re asking me for a loan?”
“An injection of cash into the economy works, in every single model,” Alfsom said defensively.
“My cash,” Rex said. “Why would I even consider giving the Bridge money? So you can write me a note you’ll never honor?”
Tony glanced at Alfsom again.
Alfsom swallowed. “We can pay you for the use of the money.”
Rex felt slightly ill. “Interest…” he breathed, looking from Staci, who was shifting on her seat, looking as sick as he did, to Tony, who wore a defensive scowl, to Alfsom, who still looked dewy and young and completely clueless.
Rex got to his feet, almost lurching to them, the chair scraping backward at his movement. He looked at Alfsom. “I don’t think you read far enough back in the history books, kid. What you’re proposing used to get people executed.”
Alfsom blanched.
Tony stood quickly. “I don’t think ancient religious practices have any bearing on our situation here. This would be a simple business deal. You provide the cash we need and we pay you for the use of it. It’s for the good of the ship, Rex. It will save our future.”
Rex shook his head. “Find another way,” he said, his voice harsh.
“There is no other way,” Alfsom said, sounding panicky. “We have to have money to pay for essential services and we don’t have it. You do.”
Tony put out his hand. “You don’t seem to understand, Rex. Tightening our budgets and scrimping isn’t going to fix this. If we can’t pay for essential services, then the ship fails. It’s a matter of survival.”
“So to survive, you’re going to make things worse than they are already?” Rex asked.
“What’s wrong with the way things are?” Alfsom asked curiously, sounding surprised.
Rex shook his head. “You’re intelligent, Wes, but you’re not smart.” He looked at Tony. “Send me the models and the numbers. I’ll look them over. Beyond that, I agree to nothing.”
Tony should have exploded. Rex was being insufferably rude to the Captain of the Endurance and his staff. Tony would have been well within his rights to kick him off the Bridge at the very least. Rex had seen Tony verbally slap down people for failing to respect the office, before, with a flat tone and a look in his eyes that made them almost snap to attention in response.
Yet Tony did none of it. Instead, he sighed and nodded, his gaze on the table. It told Rex how serious this really was.
He headed for the Bridge gate, his uneasiness building. Emma had spoken of a crisis and now the Bridge was telling him that, too.
Suddenly, he wanted to get back to his full service terminal and really study the data Emma had been amassing. He wanted to give it his full attention.
This had moved beyond the pouting of an empathetic AI yearning for the past. It was a real thing, now.
* * * * *
As he was passing the Capitol, Rex made himself look at the Walls, with their rusty and filthy façades. Only the First Wall was fully exposed to his view, with the other Walls lined up behind it. No one could be seen anywhere around the Walls. No one lingered in the area. Why would they? The avenues between the walls were crime-riddled and barren.
Even though he wanted to look away, Rex kept his gaze on the view, until the Field of Mars blocked it.
The car alerted him to a personal call and when he looked at the code, his stomach squeezed. It was Belen’s code.
Before he could debate with himself the wisdom of taking the call, Rex connected it.
Belen stared at him, her jaw stiff with anger. “I saw you on the Bridge,” she said, her voice controlled and mellow. “I asked Tony what you were doing there.”
“Meeting with Tony and his people,” Rex replied. “Is that a problem?” he added, because her fury was evident even on the tiny screen the car was generating.
“He told me you offered to clear the Bridge of all debt for the next five years…for interest!” Her voice took on a rich, roiling note of disgust.
Rex schooled his face into a neutral mask, while his mind swirled. Tony had lied to her. Why? To make himself look good? Possibly. If this deal went ahead, then he would have to spin it in some way that made him look like a hero to the ship, or his captaincy would be in jeopardy.
Only, if that was why he had done it, then it meant that Belen was no different to him than one of his constituents.
Or had he lied to make Rex look evil to her? Was it still that personal?
Rex wanted to believe that Tony still felt threatened by him because then, at least, it meant he cared about her.
Ultimately, it didn’t matter why he’d lied. Rex wouldn’t expose the lie because that would hurt her. Belen was smart. People smart as well as intellectually brilliant. She would come to the same conclusion Rex just had and it would devastate her.
So he nodded stiffly. “The Bridge is in financial crisis, Belen. I’m sure Tony has told you that. It’s a way out.”
She looked at him as if he was a piece of rotting meat. “You’re proposing nothing less than usury.”
His heart was hurling itself against his chest, slamming into it hard enough to hurt. There was a high buzzing in his head. The need to spit out the truth was powerful. He gritted his jaw. “Does it matter what it’s called, if it works?”
Belen shook her head. It was a tiny movement, yet Rex knew what it meant. She had given up on him.
Then she straightened and spoke with precise annunciation. “Antonio has asked me to invite you to dinner tomorrow night. He would appreciate the opportunity to discuss the matter in more…relaxed surroundings.”
Rex let out a slow breath, hiding the unrealistic spurt of pleasure her icy invitation had given him. “Under the circumstances, I don’t think that would be a good idea, but thank you.”
“Come to dinner, Rex,” she said stiffly. “Tony insists the future of the ship is on the line. Who am I to resent a dinner companion when the stakes are that high?”
“You don’t mind?” he asked carefully.
“I am completely indifferent. Six p.m. Don’t be late.” She switched the screen off abruptly.
Rex sat back in the seat. The car was already into the Aventine.
“You’re shaking,” Emma said softly.
Rex swallowed. “Most people think I am an asshole. It comes with the territory. They resent my success, or my insistence upon meeting business agreements or paying the penalties. I’m used to it.”
“Most people…but not Belen,” Emma said.
“Oh, Belen more than anyone thought I was beyond redemption. It was comforting, knowing she still cared enough to despise me.” He cleared his throat. “Now, even that is gone.”