THE MARMOROS TRILOGY: BOOK 3
The refugees from Ystradis arrive at Marmoros, much to the annoyance of officials from the powerful Department of Exo-Affairs, and Rachel and Jeren travel to the Imperial Court to ask the Emperor to intervene.
The Belsi continue to press their claim to the mine on Ystradis, but when evidence emerges that a major trading company is secretly supplying Vostov with ore from the mine, a chain of events is initiated that threatens the security of the entire Empire.
Follow the story of the two young heirs to its dramatic conclusion, as Rachel is forced to make use of her telepathic abilities in ways she never imagined possible, to defend the people of Marmoros and protect the life of the Emperor himself.
Heirs At War: The Marmoros Trilogy Book 2 was successfully released as a Kindle e-book on Nov. 25th 2015.
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Chapter 1 – Petrograd
Several thousand light-years from Marmoros, the High Court of His Imperial Majesty Marcus V was adjusting to life following the annual migration to the Imperial Winter Palace at Petrograd. Nobody was quite sure why the High Court migrated to Petrograd every year, except that it had always been so since the days of the Emperor’s great grandfather, Marcus Polonius, known irreverently throughout the empire as Marco Polo.
Nobody wanted to move to Petrograd. The courtiers and servants of the High Court hated it. They hated the disruption, which was considerable, and they hated Petrograd, which was cold and damp despite the best efforts of an army of environmental engineers. The staff of those ministries required to attend the High Court at the Winter Palace hated it for much the same reasons. They also hated it because of the courtiers who were insufferable throughout the entire migration. The courtiers, on the other hand, hated the staff who they blamed for much of the disruption. And all concerned hated the Emperor for dragging them all there for three months out of every year, although none dared say it to his face.
Most irrelevant of all, the Emperor hated it. It always seemed to be snowing in Petrograd. He was quite prepared to admire the intrinsic beauty of the snow both in the diverse forms of the individual snowflakes, and in the massive grandeur of drifts that seemed to alter the very contours of the land outside the palace walls. What he could not stand was the cold. Indeed the entire Marcus dynasty appeared to have been cursed with exceedingly thin blood, which made the choice of Petrograd as a winter vacation resort to be even more inexplicable. And although regularly petitioned to alter the timing of the annual vacation, the High Council was invariably swayed by the unanswerable logic that the visit to the Imperial Winter Palace had to take place in winter.
The Emperor’s personal quarters were maintained at a temperature which ensured the instant demise of any errant snowflake that approached within twenty paces of the palace walls, but he still shivered whenever he looked out through a window. The annual migration did, however, have the positive benefit of dramatically reducing the volume of court business that he was obliged to deal with. Only the hardiest petitioners, or those with the most pressing business, would undertake the trek to visit him at Petrograd.
About the only section of the community surrounding the High Court who were in any way pleased by the annual migration were the traders and captains of the vast merchant fleet that was chartered each year to transport the Emperor and his entire entourage from Galgos to Petrograd and back again three months later. It was good steady business. Indeed some captains reckoned to make enough profit during that three month period to be able to put their feet up for the rest of the year. Which, as the standard imperial year consisted of 48 months, was not bad going.
One of the more powerful of the Trading Baronies was the Held Trading Company, controlled with an iron fist by Baron Frederick, the great grandson of the original founder of the company and the fourth Baron Held. By following a policy of strict neutrality during the Canine Insurrection, it had not only managed to avoid the worst of the Emperor’s wrath but, when the insurrection was finally put down, it had gobbled up the juiciest parts of its competitors who had injudiciously traded with the rebels.
The Held Trading Company maintained offices, or at least agencies, on every civilised world in the Empire, staffed according to the importance of the business generated. In the case of Petrograd, there would normally be only one resident official of the company to handle the year round trade in furs, musk and semi-precious gemstones from the one operating mine. However, during the period of residence of the High Court, the offices of the Held Company would bulge with dozens of extra staff, drafted in to cope with the mass of additional flights required.
This year the records showed that one of the draftees was Lord David Held, nephew of Baron Frederick and lord in his own right of the only moon around a small and utterly insignificant planet in the Xantherides system. The planet itself was uninhabitable due to an atmosphere that was totally inimical to carbon based life forms, and the only life on the moon was a small trading post that existed solely to service the prospectors and miners in the vast asteroid belts of the system.
Indeed to call it a moon at all was stretching the definition of the word almost to its limits. It was a jagged lump of rock no more than 50 kilometres long and 30 kilometres across at its widest point; an asteroid in fact, blasted forth with more than usual vehemence during the destruction of one of its nearest neighbours, and captured in a wildly elliptical orbit by the one surviving planet. Still the income from the trading post on that desolate rock, and from his shares in the Held Company itself, allowed David to have a certain independence from the day to day administration of the company, whilst allowing him to use the family business as a cover for other activities.
Today however, he was pacing impatiently in the antechamber of his uncle’s office awaiting the summons. Eventually the door slid aside to allow him to enter, and he blinked in surprise as he crossed the threshold. Apparently the baron had transported his entire office with him for the winter; not just the furnishings but the actual office. The room smelt old with an air of antique permanence; of deals made and contracts won and lost. The office was large but dominated by an enormous desk of highly polished wood, fully ten paces in from the door. There was no window in the room but the walls were covered with expensive drapes, alternating with portraits of various family members. On either side of the room were display cabinets containing treasures from more than 70 different planetary systems.
David’s feet sank into the deep pile carpet, so thick that he glanced curiously behind him, half expecting to see tracks where he had walked. He reached the desk and looked round hopefully for any sign of a visitor’s chair, but there was none to be seen. He gave a little sigh as he stood there waiting to be noticed. This was going to be a difficult meeting.
The man on the far side of the desk looked up from the holographic screen he had been studying, his face florid with anger.
“Are you deliberately trying to bankrupt your family?” he asked. It was not a shout, not quite, but the question echoed around the room, bouncing off the family portraits on the walls before assaulting him from all sides. The entire Held dynasty looked on accusingly as the current head of the family pointed a finger at him.
“You have spent 100 million credits of the family’s money on a rusting pile of junk that was sent to the scrapyard years ago.”
“It wasn’t scrapped, Uncle, and it’s not rusting. It’s actually in quite good working order.”
The reply was ignored as his uncle turned his attention back to the display. “I have compensation demands here from over 30 merchant captains, some of them from trading companies I have never even heard of.”
David doubted the truth of that last statement, but tried to put a conciliatory tone into his voice as he replied. “I have copies of all the valid contracts, Uncle. I uploaded them from the ship’s log as soon as I made orbit here.”
“I know. I can see that. But why should we cover their trading losses, late delivery penalties? What do we get out of this?”
“The Held Trading Company has single-handedly saved the remnants of the Ystrad race from extinction. Even if we get no monetary recompense directly from these contracts, we will have gained an enormous amount of kudos in certain quarters and that, as you know, can open many doors.”
Baron Frederick regarded him silently for a minute. “Hmph! That’s as may be, but what about this other matter. You advanced a loan of 100 million credits to buy an ex-imperial battlecruiser. For what? Let’s be generous and say it was an investment. When are we going to see any return on our money?”
“The loan was secured against the output of the Biridium mine on Ystradis.”
“The ownership of which is currently in dispute. And where is the contract setting out the terms of the loan?”
“It was a verbal contract,” David admitted uncomfortably.
This time it was a shout. “Verbal! You lent 100 million credits on a verbal contract? Are you mad?”
“It was a personal loan to the ruler of the Ystrad. It will be honoured.”
“How? Production at the mine is shut down. The planet has been rendered uninhabitable for the indefinite future. How exactly is that loan going to be repaid?”
“The mine can still be worked by fully robotic equipment. Admittedly it will be more expensive but the price of Biridium is sky-high at the moment. The profit will still be there, and if you could get the contract to do the mining…”
The baron paused for a moment to consider that possibility. He switched his attention to the screen on the desk and tapped in an enquiry. When he looked up, he had a thoughtful expression on his face.
“That contract has already been placed. The Mauger family have it. A ship carrying the mining equipment is already on its way to Ystradis.”
“When was that contract placed?” David asked. “And with whom?”
His uncle tapped at the screen again. “According to this, the contract was placed four days after the attack on Ystradis, and was endorsed by Baron Mauger and the new leader of the Belsi.”
“Then it’s an invalid contract. Ystradis belongs to the Ystrad.”
“Ystradis was being occupied by the Belsi. They are claiming ownership of the mine.”
“But the Belsi were not occupying Ystradis at the date of the contract. It’s invalid.”
“Possibly, but even if the Ystrad make a counter-claim through the courts, they won’t see a penny out of that mine for years.”
“All right then, consider this. How much robotic mining equipment is available on the market at the moment?”
“Next to none. That stuff’s so expensive it’s all tied up on long term contracts.”
“But Baron Mauger had enough of it available to be able to sign an immediate contract with the Belsi.”
“Well obviously the Belsi tipped him off in advance. So that he had time to make the equipment available.”
“No!” David said excitedly. “Don’t you see, Uncle? The Belsi didn’t know about the effects of the virus. They didn’t know that it would affect their own people as well as the Ystrad. They thought that they would end up in sole occupation of the planet and continue mining the Biridium as normal.”
“Then who did tip Mauger off?”
“Where did the virus come from?”
The blood drained from Baron Frederick’s face as the realisation hit. “Vostov,” he whispered. “Mauger has contacts with Vostov.”
“That’s something that needs a great deal of proof before an accusation can be made. But it’s too curious a coincidence to be ignored.”
“Well you’re the spy, the secret agent. Get me some proof.”
“I will need some help from you, Uncle. If you could make some discreet enquiries through your own commercial contacts, I will raise the issue with Khan and see what he says. But think of this. If the Mauger Barony is involved with Vostov, and it can be proven, the Emperor will be furious. They will not only lose this mining contract, they will be stripped of all their other contracts too. A trading company that is positioned to take over some of the more lucrative business could do very well out of this.”
Baron Frederick sat silently for several minutes, lost in thought, as a broad smile spread slowly across his face. Finally he stood up, eyes glittering, to walk around the desk and place an avuncular arm around David’s shoulders. “My boy! I always knew we would make a trader of you.”
***
The local offices of Khan’s security network on Petrograd were situated in a grey nondescript building in the centre of the commercial district. The weathered sign on the door announced that these were the offices of the Muritake Gemstone Corporation, dealers in precious and semiprecious gems. That effectively explained the extensive video and electronic surveillance that covered the whole exterior of the building, while the armoured shutters on the doors and windows reinforced the view that this was not a building to be trifled with.
The front door of the building swung open to his touch and David found himself in a narrow lobby leading to a reception desk. There was a door in both of the side walls, behind each of which, he was sure, there would be a number of heavily armed guards. He walked up to the desk and smiled at the receptionist. She was an attractive, smartly dressed brunette but her answering smile did not reach her eyes.
“Good afternoon, sir. How may I help?”
“My name is Held. I have an appointment to discuss a purchase of some small stones.”
She studied the screen on her desk for a few seconds before looking up. “Ah yes, Lord David Held. Our principal dealer is expecting you.” She pressed a button and a small panel in the front of the desk slid open. “If you would be so kind.”
David inserted his hand into the opening and waited while the bio scanner verified his identity. Eventually she looked up with a genuine smile this time. “Thank you, Lord Held. You may go through now.”
She waved a hand at a section of wall to her right and the holograph vanished, revealing an inner lobby and a set of lift doors. There were no controls inside the lift; it simply started to descend as soon as the doors closed. When the doors opened again, David was not sure at which level, he walked into a small room devoid of all furnishings. The walls were uniformly white and unmarked, except for a solid looking door in the far wall. The lift doors closed behind him and the inner door slid open to admit him into Khan’s private office.
Khan was a lean, ascetic looking man, dressed in the sort of smart business suit appropriate to a dealer in precious gemstones. He got to his feet and greeted David warmly.
“A bad business, David. Very bad. How is the young queen holding up?”
“Better than I expected,” David admitted. “She has Jeren with her, of course, and his support is invaluable. But mostly she is channelling her sorrow into fury against those responsible. The targets change quite rapidly, alternating between the Belsi and Vostov, and currently, the Dept. of Exo-Affairs.”
Khan chuckled. “Minister Walstrom is having a right strop at the moment. He’s furious with you, and therefore with me. Apparently he’s also had a go at the Navy for not taking action against that merchant fleet you hired. He got short change out of Admiral Wei on that one, but his nose is still well out of joint. I’m not even going to ask how you smuggled that young king into Petrograd, but I take it the Minister’s proposals are why you’ve brought them here.”
“Yes, Rachel wants to appeal directly to the Emperor and try to pre-empt any action by the department.”
“Good idea. I wish her luck. Now I got your message about Baron Mauger and we’ll talk more about that in a minute. But first, I want to know what the situation is on this planet that’s causing all the fuss. The whole Ystrad story has caught the public imagination and everybody is talking about it. De facto, the planet itself seems to have acquired the name of Marmoros, despite not being officially a part of the Empire. So tell me about the place. If Minister Walstrom doesn’t get his way, how well are the Ystrad going to settle in there?”