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"Such details are for others to determine," the Darhel responded, breath shuddering. "I take it that is agreement," it continued, sharply. There was a note of anger in its voice.
"To what?" asked Worth. "When did we meet? I don't think I've ever talked to a Darhel. Have I?"
"Ah, just so." The figure drifted forward and there was a sudden gleam of teeth. Worth shuddered at their resemblance to a shark's. "So glad not to do business with you, Mr. Worth."
Worth's eyes widened as the figure was revealed.
* * *
The Chief of Procurement, Army of the People's Republic of China, Shantung Province, tapped a pen on his documents as he related to his superior, Commander of Forces, Shantung Province, the facts that had just come to light. One of his junior officers, during preliminary discussions related to production and procurement, had hit a stumbling block. Believing that it was a problem with the AID's translation—such things had happened before—he questioned his Darhel opposite number closely and at length. The elfin Darhel had an almost amazing ability to steer conversations away from problem areas but finally, after referring to both an Indowy technician and a Tchpth science-philosopher, the junior officer broke off negotiations and composed a long report. This report and an expansion composed by the major's superior were now in the marshal's lap as he reported the bad news.
"I am, perhaps, remiss in my understanding. How can they have no industrial capacity? I have seen their ships. Where do these AIDs come from?"
"It is a question of translating the word `industry.' They produce phenomenal products, wondrous spacecraft and these attractive helpers, but each item is hand crafted; they have no concept of assembly line manufacture. Do not think of assembly lines as a technology; they are a philosophical choice not a strictly mechanistic development. Furthermore, production by assembly line creates a fundamental need for pla
"Yet the flip side to industrial, and by that I mean assembly line, production is that individual items can be produced quickly and at relatively little cost. That is why everyone is forced to use it." He stopped and considered his choice of words.
"There is, however, another way. We are sure now that the Federation is both highly structured and largely stagnant. I can refer you to the appropriate papers. . . ."
"I've seen them," said the marshal, picking up a pen in turn and begi
The chief of procurement nodded his head. "There is a strong degree of specialization in this Galactic ant colony." He again stopped and considered how to say the next item.
"Our place, it would seem, is to be soldier ants. The Indowy, those greenish dwarf-looking bipeds, are the worker ants. They create high technology at an almost instinctive level. Their tolerances are so exact that the products look as if they were made in a factory. And each product is made to last a lifetime. Since each product is handcrafted and is designed to last for two or three hundred years, each one is incredibly expensive. It may take a single Indowy a year to produce the Galactic equivalent of a television. The cost is comparable to a year's pay of an electronic technician or electrical engineer. The sole exception seems to be AIDs, which are manufactured using mass processes by the Darhel. There is apparently also a shortage of rejuvenation na
"How does anyone purchase anything?" asked the commander, perplexed.
"The Darhel," responded the procurement officer, dryly. "There was a term associated with everything that we took to be price and that was how the AIDs were translating it. A more precise translation would be `mortgage' or `debt.' Unless you are massively wealthy, to buy the simplest items you have to take out a loan from the Darhel." He smiled thinly. In every procurement officer there is a slight love affair with a really good scam.
"Federation wide?" asked the commander, thinking about the numbers involved. It was a staggering concept.
"Yes. And the loan is payable for up to one and a half centuries. At interest." The procurement officer gave a very Gallic shrug. "On the other hand the products never break and are warranted for the life of the loan."
"The ships?" asked the commander, returning to the most important subject.
"That was what brought about the understanding. The Indowy must have a hierarchy more complex than the Mandarin Court. An Indowy chooses a field, has one chosen for him, at a young age, the equivalent of four or five years old in human terms. The most complex hierarchy, and the highest paid, are the ship builders. Every piece of a ship, from hull plates to the molycircs, are made by the construction team, usually an extended family. Raw material comes in, finished ship comes out. Every part is signed and cleared by the master of the subsystem and the master builder. Every part. Thus, Indowy ships have a useful lifetime in the thousands of years and virtually no maintenance. No spare parts required; if anything breaks the component is remanufactured by hand. It is as if every ship is one of those skyscrapers," he waved out the window at the towers beyond, "with every part made on site. All of their systems, equipment, weapons, etceteras are built the same way.
"An apprentice starts as a `bolt' or `fitting' maker then progresses through subsystems—plumbing, electrical, structural—learning how to make each and every component of the system. If they are lucky, in a couple of centuries they can be a master, in charge of construction of an actual ship. Because of this process, and the fact that there are very few masters available to make ships, there are rarely more than five ships completed each year in the entire Federation."
"But . . . we need hundreds, thousands of ships within a few years, not centuries," said the commander sharply, tossing the pen onto the desk. "And there are plans to produce millions of space fighters."
"Yes. That particular bottleneck is why their ships are all converted freighters. They apparently did produce some actual warships, but very few, and losses against the Posleen have wiped them out. There is a Federation-wide shipping shortage because they are losing these converted freighters much faster than they can be replaced."
"You would not have brought this to me if there wasn't an answer," the commander said. Sometimes the chief of procurement could be intensely pedantic, but his answers were usually worth the wait.
"There are only about two hundred master ship builders in existence . . ."
The commander was startled by the number. "Out of how many Indowy?" he asked.
"About fourteen trillion." The chief smiled faintly at the number.
"Fourteen trillion?" the commander gasped.
"Yes. Interesting figure, don't you think?" smirked the procurement officer.
"I should think so! For one thing, the pricing ratio on our troops was based upon Indowy craftsmen wages. There are, at most, one billion potential human soldiers," the commander growled. "Putting their worth as equivalent to an Indowy now seems ludicrous."
"Yes, our perso