Ephialtes (Ephialtes Trilogy Book 1)

by Parker, Gavin E

  “I hope you haven’t eaten,” said Venkdt.

  “I thought we were eating here?” replied Christina.

  “Yes, yes, we are,” said Venkdt. “Go through.” He gestured to the dining room.

  They entered the room and sat at places laid out for them. “How’ve you been, Dad?” said Christina. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s just fine,” said Venkdt. “Drink?”

  “You know, I think I will. Do you have any wine?”

  Venkdt spoke to no one, “Can we have some wine in here please? And we’re ready to eat.” He turned to Christina. “How’re things with you?”

  “They’re good, Dad. Work’s good, the apartment’s going well,”

  “Have they finished yet?”

  “There’s a little left to do on the bathroom, but it’s looking great. Thank you for all your help.”

  Venkdt waved a hand, “Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”

  A small drone entered the room and rolled up to Venkdt. “To my daughter, please,” said Venkdt and the drone moved to Christina. The top opened and a plinth rose up with a bottle of wine on it and two glasses. Christina took the bottle and a glass. She lifted the second glass, gesturing to her father, but he shook his head and she returned it to the drone, which whirred away. It stopped by the doorway to allow in a second, slightly larger drone. This one approached Venkdt and opened to reveal two plated meals, steaming and smelling good. Venkdt took a plate and the drone moved on to Christina, who had just poured her wine.

  “This looks good,” she said.

  Venkdt had already started eating. “It is,” he said. “Tuck in.”

  They ate and intermittently chatted about mundane day-to-day family things, and the odd little stories from their lives. Picking his time Venkdt brought the conversation round to what he really wanted to discuss. “You like the salmon?” he said.

  “Is that what it is? It’s delicious,” Christina said through mouthfuls.

  “It’s local, you know.”

  “Fabbed around here?”

  “Not fabbed. Grown.”

  Christina looked at him, impressed.

  “A couple of guys that used to work for us. They’ve got a place up in Dog Sur. Imported some eggs, built a pool and now they farm salmon.”

  “Amazing,” said Christina.

  “The wine too. Local, I mean. There’s a dome in Eastside that’s just filled with vines, and they press their own wines there. It’s very expensive now, but as they expand costs will come down.”

  “I’ve heard about them,” said Christina. “A guy at work is a wine nut. I can’t tell the difference between this and the fabbed stuff, to be honest, but he was raving about them.”

  “Did you know around two new businesses are starting each month at the moment?”

  Christina raised her eyebrows in acknowledgement. “I didn’t know that,” she said.

  “The Martian economy is growing at a rate of four percent.”

  “That’s great,” said Christina. “Isn’t it?”

  “It is great,” said Venkdt. “I think we should be a bigger part of it.”

  Christina looked at him, feeling a speech coming on.

  “Venkdt is the biggest player in the Martian economy by far. For now. We dwarf our closest rival, Hjälp Teknik, and all the rest are just minnows. But to compete in the long term we need to be independent. And I’m not just talking about the Martian arm of Venkdt, I’m talking about Mars itself.”

  Christina did not quite follow, and Venkdt read it in her face. “At the moment Venkdt Mars generates huge profits. Most of those profits go back to Venkdt Corp on Earth. Our endeavours benefit the parent company and its shareholders, and not us. I propose that Venkdt Mars breaks away from the parent company and goes its own way. We should be trading with them, not working for them. As an independent corporation we can be at the heart of the new Martian economy.”

  Christina looked at him. “You’ll never get that past the board. They’re not going to sell off their biggest cash cow.”

  “Well, no,” Venkdt allowed, “not if we give them the choice.” Christina raised her eyebrows again, higher this time. “But what if we don’t?”

  Christina put her fork down, chewing and swallowing her remaining food. Venkdt had gone back to eating. Christina spoke cautiously. “If you don’t what?”

  Venkdt looked up, startled. “Give them the choice. We can buy out their shares at the market rate, and that’s that. What are they going to do? Send an army?”

  Christina frowned. “It would be illegal. Giving them the money for what you take from them doesn’t make it right, if they don’t want you to take it.”

  “We’ve made huge profits for them over the years. We’ve earned them trillions, and we’ve been out here taking the risks and building this thing and sending all the money back to them. I say we’ve paid our dues, and we should take what’s rightfully ours. This can be a new nation here, hell, a new planet. It belongs to us.”

  Venkdt was smiling. ‘Sheesh’, thought Christina, ‘he’s really going to do it.’

  “So you’re going to go ahead with this?” said Christina.

  “I think so. In a month or two the hundred thousandth Martian will be born. We’ll make an announcement then.”

  “You’ve spoken to the board?”

  “No. I’ve sounded out Mike Summers. He’s not happy.”

  “You should take this to the board.”

  “I know what they’d say. I’m going to take it to the people.”

  Christina looked at him blank-facedly. “What?”

  “I think we should run a plebiscite to ask the people of Mars what they think. I’ve got a pretty good idea what they’d say, too.”

  “This is crazy. None of this is legitimate. What about the garrison? The USAN will have you thrown in a cell before you get anywhere with this.”

  Venkdt lay his cutlery down. “Firstly, I don’t think they’d dare. And secondly, we have our own security division to prevent that from happening.”

  Christina shook her head, her shoulders slumping. “Are you serious? People could get hurt, things could turn nasty. This is nuts.”

  “A little nuts, maybe, but necessary.”

  Venkdt patted his face with a napkin while Christina drained her wine glass, quickly pouring another. “Nuts,” she said again, under her breath.

  Charles Venkdt was beaming. “Dessert?” he said.

  There was only one non-disclosure agreement prepared. It was a silly oversight. Although only Jack Karjalainen had been invited to the meeting it was well understood that he would be too ill to attend. For a number of months his legal team of Oatridge, Strich and Philips had been acting on his behalf. Their daily briefings at his hospital bed had become something of an irritant to the hospital staff.

  “I’m so sorry, could you just wait here a moment while I sort this out?” said Venkdt’s assistant.

  The lawyers nodded politely as the PA left the room, embarrassedly pointing out the refreshments available and making further apologies.

  “What do you think?” said Strich.

  “I don’t know. A buyout, maybe?”

  “No,” said Oatridge. “He’d wait for the old man’s passing before trying that trick. And there’d be no need for the NDAs.”

  “It’s probably just some new tech. Maybe he’s willing to license it to us. Something to do with mining in the asteroid belt, or something like that,” offered Philips.

  “Whatever it is, we just nod and smile. We take it back to the old man before we do anything else,” said Oatridge.

  Philips twitched. “Can you please not call him ‘the old man’? He’s our employer and I think he deserves our respect,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Toni,” said Oatridge. “I meant it affectionately, that’s all.”

  Philips pulled a quick tight smile and nodded in acknowledgement.

  “Here we are,” said Venkdt’s PA, slightly breathlessly
. She placed two additional sheets on her desk and, quickly moving to her side of it, she grabbed pens and offered them to the lawyers. “If you could just sign and date here,” she said, pointing.

  Oatridge, Strich and Philips dutifully signed their agreement not to disclose any details of the meeting to any third parties. “Of course,” said Philips, “we will have to discuss this with Mr Karjalainen. We’re only here today as his proxies.”

  “I’m sure Mr Venkdt understands your position, legally. Under any other circumstances Mr Venkdt would be meeting with Mr Karjalainen directly. All this would be dealt with by a handshake or somesuch, but we have to protect ourselves. I hope you understand.”

  “We understand,” said Oatridge.

  The PA ushered them into the boardroom.

  Venkdt was seated at the head of the conference table. He was working on some notes. When the delegates entered he cheerily acknowledged them. “I’ll be with you in just a minute, I’m just finishing up on this,” he said.

  To Philips this was perfectly reasonable. Venkdt was just putting the finishing touches to his presentation. To Oatridge and Strich there remained the possibility of a premeditated slight. The lawyers sat down at various places either side of the conference table. They prepared their devices and note-taking equipment as Venkdt finished what he was doing. Presently, Venkdt placed his pen at the side of the document he had been working on and waited for the others to settle before he began.

  “Gentlemen, Ms Philips, first of all thank you for coming. I guess you’re all aware of the upcoming hundred thousandth live birth on Mars, which we expect to take place sometime within the next two months. This is as good an occasion as any, I feel, to proceed with a plan that may have momentous impact on all of our futures, and the future of the colony that we, and our forebears, have established here at great cost and effort.”

  None of the lawyers had a clue where he might be going with this, but they kept their best courtroom poker faces on.

  “I intend to propose a plebiscite be held, within six months of this day, asking the people of Mars if they would like to proclaim independence from the USAN and, thereby, independence from Earth itself.”

  ‘What’s a plebiscite?’ Strich discreetly messaged to Oatridge.

  ‘An election. For plebs,’ Oatridge replied.

  Venkdt continued, “If the plebiscite returns a positive vote for independence, with more than a two-thirds majority, I will propose that we secede from the USAN and adopt our own constitution, written from the ground up to serve Martian needs and ideals. I’ve had plans for such a constitution drawn up, and in the event of a vote for independence we would run further elections to our own senate and presidency which would go on to provide the governance for an independent Mars.”

  Strich and Oatridges’ message conversation had continued as Venkdt had been speaking.

  ‘Is he nuts?’ messaged Strich.

  ‘Probably,’ Oatridge replied.

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘Nod and smile.’

  “On whose authority would this plebiscite be held?” said Philips.

  “It would be run under no particular authority,” shrugged Venkdt. “It would be a grand survey of opinion, nothing more. And the two-thirds majority would be absolute to the population, not to votes cast. Anyone opposed just has to get out and vote.”

  “But where is the legal basis?”

  “As an independent planet we’d make our own laws.”

  “But we’re not an independent planet now.”

  “Not now. But if the people vote for it we’ll secede quietly and honourably and start out anew.” He smiled broadly at his last remark. “Any more questions?”

  Strich was receiving another message from Oatridge. It read, ‘Illegal and immoral’, and ended with a frowny face.

  “What you’re proposing is illegal and immoral. It just won’t work,” said Strich, smiling apologetically.

  ‘Don’t antagonise him!’ came Oatridge’s instant message, instantly. Strich couldn’t help the smirking glance he shot across the table to Oatridge.

  Venkdt shrugged. “Illegal, maybe. But it is moral. And it will work,” he said. “Why wouldn’t it?”

  “Because no one is above the law, Mr Venkdt. I would strongly advise you against taking this course of action,” said Philips. “You’re a respected businessman of good standing. Why throw all that away? Even with the support of the Martian population the USAN could never let this stand. What you’re suggesting is, after all, tantamount to treason.”

  Venkdt took a few seconds before replying. “Ms Philips, what I’m talking about here is bigger than the law. Out here on Mars we’re way beyond the reach of the greater USAN. Of course, that doesn’t give us license to act as we please. But Mars’ destiny is as an independent state, and I feel the whole planet is behind me on this. We have the opportunity here and now to make a clean break. In order to do that we have to forego the niceties of law in the strictest sense, just temporarily on this one important issue. Don’t get me wrong; I appreciate that the rule of law is essential. If I lose the plebiscite I will hand myself over to the courts. But I - we - have to do this. Our destiny is calling us.”

  “What does any of this have to do with Hjälp Teknik?” said Oatridge.

  “I was hoping to talk with Jack Karjalainen directly. This will have a major impact on Hjälp Teknik, however it pans out. I guess in some ways I just wanted Jack to know. We’re both old. I feel a kinship with him, despite our history.”

  “We’ll relay your thoughts to him. Is there anything else?”

  “No,” said Venkdt. “The announcement will be soon, in the next few weeks, I hope.”

  “Thank you, Mr Venkdt,” said Oatridge, standing. “I’d like to wish you good luck in your endeavours, but I’m afraid my conscience won’t allow me.”

  “I understand,” said Venkdt.

  The Hjälp Teknik representatives left the meeting in amused shock.

  “We should go straight to the garrison,” said Oatridge, melodramatically.

  “He’s insane,” said Strich.

  Philips simply grimaced.

  “This is treason, plain and simple,” said Oatridge. “He should be locked up for it. Hell, they could lock us up just for having been a part of that meeting,” he said, unsure if he was joking or deadly serious.

  “It won’t fly,” said Strich. “It’s just some crazy stunt. No one will take it seriously. I doubt if even he takes it seriously.”

  “He’s serious alright,” said Philips, “and he will do it. So we’re going to be dragged into this whether we like it or not.”

  The other two thought about that. The three of them made their way from the building to the car park, where they walked the short distance to their driverless car. At the car they stopped and Philips spoke again. “Venkdt is going to run this plebiscite and he’s probably going to win. That’s going to leave us in a very difficult position.” They got in.

  “I want you to look at all of our options, legal and practical, if this goes ahead,” Philips said to Strich. “And I need you to look into every damn way possible we can make it not happen,” she said to Oatridge.

  The more Oatridge thought about it the less amusing it seemed. He noticed that the smiles had left Strich, too.

  They sat in silence on the drive back to Hjälp Teknik.

  St Joseph’s Hospital was situated in the heart of Marineris. Like the majority of Martian buildings it was mostly underground. It covered three floors. The lowest was for maintenance and services. The next floor up was theatres, clinics and treatment rooms, catering and the transport hub. At the surface were the wards and private rooms. They had the luxury of daylight, which was seen as a therapeutic plus.

  Jack Karjalainen was in one of the largest private rooms at the furthest end of the hospital. He had been one of the hospital’s greatest benefactors and had personally paid for scholarships and bursaries to encourage bright young doctors from Earth, as we
ll as Mars, to come to the hospital. He had used his waning influence on Earth, earned through Hjälp Teknik’s respected medical division, to form solid links with one of the major teaching hospitals on the home planet at Calcutta.

  Jack was proud of his philanthropic endeavours. He had always thought of himself as a moral being who had deep respect for other people and the rule of law, and he served them equally.

  In his youth Jack had worked for voluntary organisations in the non-aligned countries. He had seen for himself the terrible conditions that some people lived in, and experienced at first-hand the folly of the fools who perpetuated such misery. It had forged in him a steely resolve to always do the right thing. To stand up and give a voice to the oppressed. To talk back to the pompous and the belligerent.

  He had formed Hjälp Teknik on his return with the idea of developing effective and cheap solutions to problems affecting the poorest sectors of society, both at home and abroad. Nutrition, coms, education and transport were all areas where Hjälp Teknik had an interest. Products aimed at the poor had small margins but large client bases, and Hjälp Teknik worked that angle.

  Karjalainen moved the entire operation to Mars based on one simple idea. The idea was this: to make the new world on Mars better than the old world of Earth. Earth was riven with factions and irrational belief systems, ingrained over centuries or even millennia, and these caused untold misery and unnecessary problems. On the new world these issues could be headed off at the pass, snuffed out at the very beginning, before they grew into something dark and destructive.

  The move was funded by selling off the parts of the company that wouldn’t work off-Earth, with the remainder being moved or torn down and replaced at the new location. Hjälp Teknik’s most valuable assets were intellectual property and personnel, more than a quarter of whom signed up for the move.

  Karjalainen had headed to the new world with his young family and re-established Hjälp Teknik there partly as a business decision. More importantly it was a mission, in every sense, to make sure that humankind, in that most unforgiving place, could be all that it could be. That it could rise above the petty squabbles of the old world and look forward to the new world in which people cooperated, interacted rationally and forged a bright new chapter in the history of mankind.