Chapter 22: Heavy Metal Contract — Part 1

Placid was in an atypically slow orbit around its star, its position and orbital speed heavily influenced by a neighboring gas giant also in an eccentric orbit. A dull, living desert forever covered in a dusty haze reminiscent of smog, the harsh world served as a home to hardened people living difficult lives. Mounds of sand and quartz lay in piles across its surface; granite mountains ripped their way to the surface from beneath that ocean of sand. Human immigrants and most surface life existed only where the tornadoes never touched down, in small patches of land that existed between storm belts. The life that Placid harbored seemed remnants of a kinder time, a time when the storms did not endlessly scour the land. In the good lands, where there was rain but no storm, moss and fern tree forest owned the land. In the lands covered in tornadoes and lightning storms, only tumbling plants and armored animals made their presence known on the surface. Plants native to the storms were of dozens of species, all of them spherical, moving whenever the wind blew. Some were spiky, some were fluffy, and a few looked like eccentric birdcages. None of them had roots, and all of them flowered and went to seed every time the wind broke and let the rain take the land.

The biggest animal life on the entire planet was a crustacean, known locally as the edible sand crab. The size of a bulky St. Bernard, it could shred a man with its pincers. It was smart enough to live at the edge of the calm places — scavenging from both ecosystems as the opportunity arose.

Satrap Esteban would be serving sand crab as the evening meal. He studied a vortex through his binoculars, tracking its path as it built in force over a rocky outcropping. The vortexes cut mountains down to boulders, boulders to rocks, rocks to stones, stones to pebbles, and pebbles to sand. After thousands of years of constant erosion, the sand would be beaten into finer grains, becoming molecular dust that would settle slowly into deposits, only to become rock once again. Esteban thought that much the same was happening to the human race, but was too proud to allow himself to wonder if he were dust, or mountain. As usual, Satrap Thomson was late. Esteban had established a private trade agreement with the scientist, one proving to be life sustaining for Placid and its inhabitants. The treaty protected his people from starvation on a planet with limited organic resources. In exchange, he gave the Satrap a portion of his vast mineral resources. Late, but not entirely negligent, Satrap Thomson’s ship dropped into upper atmosphere, coming clearer into view with each passing moment. The ship set down in the plains near his home. Thomson limped up the stairs, his face warm and courteous, despite his obvious injuries. The stairs were made of planks of hardened glass, and Thomson always looked uncomfortable walking on them, because one could see right through them to the foundation below. His discomfort seemed more so today. Thomson had a friend with him, an older man with whom Satrap Esteban was not acquainted. The two of them walked into the dinner chamber, a simple affair for heads for state to exchange ideas, and Esteban ordered a third seat set for Thomson’s guest.

Satrap Thomson sat down with a hiss, and then greeted Esteban in his usual, relaxed manner. “I hope business is going well.”

“Oh, just wonderful. Iron sales are up fifty percent since Earth’s little fiasco broke their attention on us, but I’m having to trade out all my export power on food for my people.” Esteban grumbled through a dry throat.

“I brought a new shipment of food processors for you, and my men are already unloading the shipment at your central complex. By the way, I solved the bugs with the tachyonic drive system, now we’re as fast as Satrap Grison’s fastest war ships.”

“Grison.” Esteban spat the name out as if it brought his tongue discomfort. “The bastard’s tried to kill me six times now, and he’s pretty cocky about letting me know who’s trying. The last fellow had a little calling card on him that said, ‘You’ve just killed another assassin sent by Emperor Grison.’ He also had a card on him that said, ‘This dead body is the result of Grison’s will in action.’ Bastard.”

Thomson rubbed his leg. “Called himself Emperor Grison in my calling card too. Is the guy power hungry or what?”

Satrap Esteban seemed to float on his anger. Then he calmed down, remembering his manners. “Forgive me sir. We haven’t even been formally introduced. Who the hell are you and what are you doing on my planet without an invitation?”

“I’m Baron Johnson, and I’ve come to make a proposal. But please, finish your local business first.” Baron Johnson sat back as if waiting for business to continue.

“No, no, it is important we focus on matters of state.” Satrap Thomson smiled. “The Baron has eight planets under his control, and with the Cynosure in its current state, he’s managed to establish peaceful relations with all his Satraps. With Grison trying to gain enough control of the human race to declare himself Emperor, I accelerated some of my research, making some amazing discoveries in the process. We now have ships that can safely take living cargo straight through twisted space. Just pop a resonance hole in the universe and go right on through.”

Esteban spoke without hiding his suspicions. “Grison already has ships with this capability, and so do the pirates, and others. I can see it is a help to us, but what I can’t see is how you would think it to be a big help.”

“I’ll let the Baron explain our edge.” Thomson said.