Chapter 17

Trier, the industrial and manufacturing capital of the Duchy of Caledon, was now privately owned and operated by a triumvirate of corporations. Before the Rebellion, its secure facilities would produce some of the Dukedom's most high-end technological goods.

With a workforce of tens of millions, it had previously been the driving force of Caledon’s economy and the supplier of consumer electronics, military products like Mechs and weapons, and Starship components.

With Imperial restrictions on technological research and production, only a few planets were legally capable of producing the fabled Engine, with strict controls and security clearances required. One such place was Caledon before the Rebellion stripped them of the right, and the capability, to manufacture the prized machine.

After the Rebellion, a few of the remaining businesses sensed an opportunity. The facilities and workers lingered after the Imperials had seized the expensive and sought-after tools and devices housed there.

With a highly skilled and desperate workforce remaining, the corporations swiftly took over Trier, using only a small investment to secure new equipment and put the people to work again. The wages were significantly lower, and the work was backbreaking, but most had no other options.

Trier was producing again in only a few years, but they made much cheaper and more environmentally destructive products rather than high-end technology. Chemicals, weapons, inexpensive devices and manufactured goods, even hovercars.

Sustainable practices and clean energy were things of the past in Caledon after the Baron went into Stasis. A cloud of smog settled over the city, and the corporations raked in the profits.

Lines of hovercars carried goods to its ports, transports taking them from the surface to markets all over the galaxy. On the ground of the city, lines of workers plodded mechanically to their jobs, their expressions stoic and resigned as they breathed in the polluted air.

They had long since given up hope of a better life for themselves. They were merely trying to provide for their families as the corporations drained them of their vitality in exchange for ever-growing profit margins.

Over the centuries, the government of Caledon could not maintain control of Trier, leaving the city's rule to the businesses that owned it. Gradually, mergers and hostile takeovers consolidated the power of Trier under three corporations. A triumvirate of the largest organizations ruled the metropolis.

In the city's center, a building dominated the hazy and polluted skyline. It had been constructed for cost efficiency and wasn’t a beautiful architectural wonder but a cheaply made concrete and glass eyesore. Its surface was covered in advertisements and holographic billboards as it rose over a hundred stories high.

In a boardroom on the top floor, two people waited impatiently for a third to join them. The room was sparse, only used occasionally for meetings between the Triumvirate, the three corporations jointly ruling Trier. No artwork or pictures hung on its walls, and its windows only highlighted the bleak landscape.

What made this room special was its security. Guarded by the security forces of all three corporations, it was protected from the most common methods of eavesdropping and spycraft. Recording devices would not work, and no one outside the room could hear what was said by its occupants.

A triangle-shaped table dominated the center of the space, its edges bordered by a single chair, and its tabletop comprised each corporation's colour and logo. In the middle of the table, a holo projecting Governor Sylla’s speech was playing on a loop, interspersed by images of conflict across the planet.

The Governor’s speech had only ended less than an hour before, but Caledonian House Guards were assaulting multiple cities, imposing martial law and seizing illegal assets.

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On the right, a middle-aged man sat in a high-backed chair by a wall of windows overlooking the city. Handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes, his head was turned away from the table, looking out the window. If he was impatient or worried about current events, he didn’t show it.

David Rowe represented Eclipse Dynamics. It had originally been an asteroid mining company, before expanding into the corporate goliath it was today. Their symbol on the table was a white half-moon partially obscured by a black disk.

Across from the calm man, an older gentleman tapped his finger impatiently against the table. Short, with perfectly coiffed black hair and a neatly trimmed beard, Maximilian Webster represented Select Energy, their symbol a yellow lightning bolt splitting the ‘l’ in Select for their logo.

“This is ridiculous. Where is she? The planet’s going to shit, and we’re twiddling our thumbs. We need a plan, Rowe!” Webster grumbled, leaning back in his chair and impatiently looking at the door.

They had been waiting here since the Governor’s speech ended, having been called by their missing third member to discuss what to do about this new change of events. Despite the significance of current affairs, Miranda Atkinson of Atkinson Micromotors was absent.

“She’ll be here.” Rowe replied calmly, not even looking at his companion.

Of the three leaders of Trier, Rowe had always been the most composed, his emotions almost detached from reality. Webster thought he was a sociopath, but none of the information his people had found confirmed it.

To all accounts, he was simply an apathetic businessman, doing his job without a passion for it.

Compared to Rowe, Max Webster was always on the edge of impatience. He was a volcano, ready to erupt at any moment at the slightest inconvenience.

Unlike David Rowe, Webster immensely enjoyed his position as Select Energy's CEO. The money was good, but the power his work gave him was the best perk. He loved the feeling of control he had over the lives and fates of others.

In Trier, he had no equals, excluding his counterparts in this room.

“There’s no need for urgency, Max. Between our collective Security Forces, we’re more than capable of repelling any invasion from the local government. Moreover, besides infringing a few environmental and Imperial labour laws, we haven’t done anything to warrant the government’s aggression toward us.” Rowe explained, looking away from the windows and focusing on the Holo projection over the table.

“I’m so comforted by your bullshit, Rowe. There are Mechs already fortifying Caledonia, and there’s fighting in the streets of New Antioch!” Webster shouted, pointing at the video feed.

“Caledonia is a slum, and New Antioch is completely lawless. Ellis Morrow prides himself on being on the wrong side of the law. We are not him, Max. The maximum penalty for our alleged wrongdoing is a harsh fine at most. Take a breath and relax. Miranda will be here soon,” Rowe assured him.

“Speak of the devil.” Rowe continued, turning to his left as he heard the secure door unlock and open.

Miranda Atkinson was a stunningly beautiful, if cold, woman. Long black hair, bright blue eyes and pale skin, she didn’t need makeup or rejuvenation procedures to stun.

Extremely businesslike and professional, she had recently taken over the company from her Father, who had retired off-world for health reasons. A young woman below 30 years of age, she had led Atkinson Micromotors from the bottom in profits of the triumvirate to firmly at the head of the pack.

“Finally!” Webster exclaimed on seeing the beautiful woman.

Miranda wore a black business suit, jacket, and long skirt. Her heels clicked on the hard flooring as she crossed the room to the table and placed an expensive, slim Datapad on the table. Taking her seat, she didn’t have a chance to speak before Webster resumed talking.

“We need to come to a consensus, Miranda. This moron thinks we have nothing to fear from this upheaval, but I disagree!” Webster said, pointing a finger accusingly at Rowe.

“We don’t. We can negotiate a reasonable settlement with the Baron if we remain calm. Perhaps if we offer enough capital to distract him, he will allow us to operate normally, with a few additional restrictions.” Rowe reasoned.

“If that were the case, why did he have all our accounts frozen?! God damn that Merrick Tan. He’s even leaned on the smaller banks, I’m locked out of everything! I should have gutted that bastard when I had the chance.” Webster growled, wiping spittle from his mouth and beard as he cursed.

Rowe waved the argument away with his hand, not looking to start a dispute with the other man. Instead, he turned to Miranda.

“Why were you late, Miranda?” Rowe asked calmly, assessing the woman’s expression. Unlike her usual frosty demeanour, she seemed nervous and slightly uncomfortable.

“My apologies. I had a meeting.” Miranda replied, matching Rowe’s eyes.

“With whom? Who could be more important than us at a time like this?” Webster asked, surprised and irritated that they had to wait for her in the first place. Miranda took a deep breath, running her hand along her jacket, smoothing out an imagined wrinkle.

“The Baron Caledon.”