It was bright on the unshielded surface of Rica. The streams of light from the star that lit Jorda and Rica reflected off the steel grey rocks and dust, creating problems for the photographer.
Diana Wiltmore stood in her protective suit and watched the photographer turn this way and that, moving the jewellery again and again, searching for the right place to shoot it.
She was glad he were taking such care — apart from the fact this photo shoot was costing her personally a lot of money, she was also hoping it would mean the beginning of a new career.
The idea had begun to blossom when she started her job at the Rican Balcite Mining Company. Working in the PR department, she’d heard a lot of what people thought of the company and Rica. Overall, the impression was that people on Rica and across the planet valued the company for what it contributed financially, but they didn’t see any importance beyond that. Certainly a lot of the people on the planet’s surface thought the mine was the only thing going for Rica, and that otherwise it was a soulless, cultureless place.
Diana had been surprised — she loved Rica. There was always something interesting to do. Art shows. Dynamic productions. The restrictions of living in small communities in an artificial environment meant that artists in the colony created works very different to those seen on the surface of the planet.
She’d been toying with ways to get the message out about Rica’s rich culture when she was taken on a trip around the mine. As a member of the PR team, it was important that she understood exactly how the process worked.
She’d been around the mine several times with her father when she was a little girl, but she’d never paid much attention to it. All she really knew was that the mine produced six things — the three grades of construction balcite; enriched balcite; a by-product of the enrichment process called masitum, which created a substance that could burn without burning out for an astonishing amount of time; and the semi-precious gem Ortan, a red gem that made beautiful but cheap jewellery.
Diana had found the entire mining process fascinating — the darkness and isolation of working in the mine; the heat of the processes to extract the balcite from the ore; the danger of the enrichment plant; the joy of the gem polishing floor, when something of great beauty was discovered.
What had most inspired her, however, was watching the grades one, two and three balcite being formed into beams and sheets for shipping. Lots of small bits of balcite fell onto the floor as the items were being smoothed, and these bits were just swept up and thrown away.
She’d picked some of it up and her brain had started to click. She knew some artists took grade three balcite and melted it as part of sculptures. Would these small little bits be able to be melted down, polished up, turned into jewellery maybe?
‘Can I have some of this?’ she’d asked the tour supervisor.
He’d shaken his head vigorously. ‘Absolutely not. All balcite mined must be accounted for.’
‘But you just throw these bits away.’
‘You could do something with them.’
Diana had laughed. ‘What, you think I’ll experiment with them, try to enrich them? Really, if I wanted to know how to enrich balcite, I’d just ask my father.’
After that, there had been no real argument the supervisor could come up with and so Diana had left with a bag of small pieces and clippings of grade one balcite.
The next part of the plan had been convincing her favourite jeweller to experiment with balcite. At first, Xanthus Fortune had turned his nose up at the idea.
‘It’s just a building material,’ he’d scoffed.
‘I happen to own two of your wooden pendants,’ Diana had said. ‘Are you going to tell me that’s not a construction material?’
‘Wood is a beautiful natural resource.’
‘And here’s your chance to prove that balcite is as well.’
Finally, he had relented. ‘I’ll try making a plain band, and see how well it works.’
The answer was brilliantly. Particularly when Xanthus had discovered that by polishing it with a simple cleaning product, a brilliant lustre was added to the balcite that made it resistant to dulling no matter how it was handled.
The balcite came out black, with a silvery sheen. When Ortran gems were added to it, the effect was startling.
‘Well done, Diana,’ Xanthus had said. ‘With such a unique product to work with, my name is made.’
‘Our name is made,’ Diana had said, and unveiled the next part of her plan. She’d lain out a number of sketches of jewellery she’d made, all using the letters RBMC. ‘I want you to make up a couple of these.’
Xanthus had leant over the drawings, and Diana had watched his expression turn from dismissive to thoughtful. He’d looked up at her. ‘You’ve got exquisite taste.’
‘As I’ve shown by buying your jewellery over the years,’ Diana had said. ‘There’s more. I want to develop two ranges of jewellery. One young, funky and cheap. The second expensive, elegant one-offs. I think you should design the second range, your work is peerless, but I want to have a go at the first.’
‘Go ahead,’ Xanthus had said. ‘Young, funky and cheap is so not my thing.’
The next step had been negotiating the supply of balcite, and that had meant winning Plissa Waltric over to the idea.
At their first meeting, Diana had walked into Plissa’s office with knees that barely supported her, they were shaking so much.
She’d taken the opportunity to look around at the changes and thus give herself time to collect her thoughts. This had been Cassandra’s office, when she was head of distribution. Diana had visited here often, generally to borrow money.
She’d winced at the memory. She really had been horrid, just thrusting out her hand and getting whatever she’d demanded. She wondered why Cass had given in so often — not always, but enough to reinforce Diana’s behaviour. She’d have to ask her sister about that.
The one thing Cassandra and Plissa had in common was that their offices were scrupulously tidy. Apart from that, it was like being in a different room. Plissa Waltric, for example, had a much smaller desk and it was pushed over to one side, rather than taking the centre of the room as Cassandra’s had. Instead, it seemed the main place Plissa expected people to talk to her was on the lounges, without a barrier between them. Cassandra had preferred to sit behind her desk and maintain distance.
At least, she had with Diana.
‘Miss Wiltmore.’ Plissa had stood. She was a tall, solid woman in her mid-forties, with striking features. She’d probably looked a bit strange and harsh when she was younger, Diana had thought, but in twenty years that face would still be strong and smooth when many women’s faces were starting to slip.
Diana had lifted her hand, one finger pointed upward, and had touched the tip of the finger to her temple. Plissa’s face had showed no reaction to the request for mental communication and Diana had wondered if the other woman showed any emotion at all.
She’d felt the press against her mind and let Plissa in. ‘How can I be of assistance, Miss Wiltmore?’
‘Ms Waltric, I have an idea for the use of the remnants of balcite from the production process.’ Diana had put forward her idea as clearly and succinctly as she could. No emotion, just facts. When she’d showed the pieces she and Xanthus had already made, Plissa had looked them over carefully.
‘I’m impressed by your business sense,’ Plissa had said when Diana was done. ‘This is the sort of ambitious yet considered plan I can get behind.’
Diana had smiled, feeling truly confident the idea would work.
The negotiation of the price had been tough — Plissa’s support hadn’t extended to a discount — but still it had come well within the budget Diana had set. It had then taken weeks for Xanthus to create a manufacturing process so Diana’s designs could be mass-produced, and thus the price kept down.
But here they were. There were half a dozen examples of each of the two ranges, plus three types of the badges that Diana had designed for the distributors.
Every cent she’d managed to save over the past six months had gone into this project. Tomorrow, at the board meeting, she’d unveil it, and hope that the board agreed with rolling it out. She was sure this range would not only improve the company’s reputation, but start to show the planet that Rica was more than a place for hard people to mine balcite.
‘There,’ the photographer said, her voice coming through the comlink between their protective suits with a mechanical edge. ‘That’s the place. Perfect light.’
Diana nodded. The jewellery rested on various outcrops of a grey rock. The rock was angled in such a way that it reflected perfect light onto the jewellery, which glittered. ‘I love it.’
The photographer started to take the pictures. She did each of the pieces individually, then all the pieces from one collection together, and all the pieces from the other. Finally, every one of them was in the final photograph.
‘They look great,’ the photographer said. ‘Now, are you ready to do this?’
‘Ready,’ Diana said and reached for the fastenings on the protective suit. It was possible to stand out here unprotected for several minutes before you started to get burnt. Breathing was impossible, so the last thing Diana removed was the oxygen unit. She took a deep breath, put it down, then picked up the first piece of jewellery and put it on. The photographer started to take quick snaps.
Diana had to stop three times to take another breath of oxygen. She could feel the heat of the star starting to char her skin. She’d put on lotion, but still there was no doubt that by the end of this, she’d be red as a berry. But she kept posing with the jewellery until the photographer had all the shots.
Then she pulled her suit on, gathered up the jewellery and followed the photographer back to one of the few ports in the domes that allowed entrance onto the moon’s surface.
Just inside, Xanthus stood waiting. ‘Well?’
The photographer pulled out her tablet and started to scroll through the photos. Diana and Xanthus looked over her shoulder. Xanthus oohed and aahed over some, clicked his tongue over others. He loved the first shots of Diana, but the later ones wouldn’t be usable tomorrow — her face had turned very pink and it would take time to edit that out.
Xanthus looked at Diana and laughed. ‘You are so burned. Better head off to the healers or you won’t be able to move tomorrow.’
Diana touched her face, felt the heat radiating from her skin and winced. Even with the help of the healers, tomorrow was going to be uncomfortable.
The healers clucked over her, covered her body with lotion and as it sank in, most of the heat left her body. When the treatment was complete her face was still pink, but a lot of the glow had dissipated.
She walked through Ricmin, whistling. Her father had always said hard work and sacrifice would pay off. Well, there was no doubt Diana had done both in this case. That had to bode well.
She hoped so.
She was walking across the park in the centre of Ricmin when a voice called out, ‘Miss Wiltmore.’
Diana swung around to see Jorge Harris, the Tatryn ambassador to Rica, hurrying towards her. Like most Tatrynians he was short, but there was a wiry strength to his slender body. What Diana didn’t like about Tatryn was that all the inhabitants seemed to be permanently frowning. Their jealousy of Angonia’s success had soured the entire country.
‘Mr Harris.’ Diana smiled, noting that it hurt just a little. ‘How lovely to see you.’
‘Miss Wiltmore. Lovely morning.’ He bowed, then frowned. ‘Are you well? You seem to be flushed for some reason.’
‘I’m perfectly well, thank you.’
‘Good, good. I’m glad I caught you here, I was on the way to your abode to speak with you.’
‘Then it’s good I’ve saved you the trip across town. What can I do for you?’
‘The Pontifex of Tatryn was hoping you’d join her for afternoon tea today.’
Diana blinked. It was a request so totally unexpected that she wasn’t sure what to do.
‘Really? With me?’
‘Absolutely. The Pontifex was quite taken with you yesterday, and believes that you could become good friends.’
Diana wasn’t sure if she wanted to go, but she couldn’t be rude. ‘Of course. I would be delighted.’
‘Thank you. We’ll see you at the Tatryn embassy at three.’ Harris bowed and scuttled away.
Instead of walking the rest of the way, Diana found a transport room and was soon whizzing through the clear tubes that laced the city. Just minutes later, she walked into the family home, hoping her parents were still there.
They were, having a late breakfast. Venus gasped when Diana walked in.
‘Diana, what have you done to yourself?’
‘I went outside and got a little burnt. I’ve had treatment, I’ll be fine.’ Diana sat down.
‘Outside? Why on Jorda would you do that?’
‘You’ll find out at tomorrow’s board meeting.’ Diana looked at her father. ‘Is it still on?’
‘It is. I wish you’d tell me what you are planning.’
‘I need your honest opinion at that moment, along with the others. Actually, I need your honest opinion right now. I’ve been invited to afternoon tea with the Pontifex of Tatryn. I said I would go, but should I?’
‘Did she say why she wanted to see you?’
‘The ambassador said she’d taken a shine to me yesterday, and she thought we’d be good friends.’
‘I wasn’t aware you spoke to her,’ Venus said.
‘I said hello and how are you enjoying things, but that was it. Certainly nothing that could have a person thinking I was delightful and I should be their bosom buddy.’
‘Unfortunately, you have to subscribe an agenda to everything Tatryn does,’ Andar said. ‘Whole damn place is nuts.’
‘Andar,’ Venus scolded. ‘The Pontifex has always been polite and kind to me.’ Venus had been the one who attended planetarium get-togethers on behalf of the Prince of Rica while Cassandra had worked at the RBMC, but now she was relieved of that duty.
‘You should go, Diana. Be very quiet, polite, nice, but listen and look, and then come back and we’ll work out what the subtext is,’ Andar said.
So at three that afternoon, Diana found herself at the door of the Tatryn embassy.
The embassy was in a two-storey apartment building, but it took up the entire top floor. It was sumptuously decorated with thick carpets, large gilt furniture and huge paintings of rolling plains with farmers looking proud as they toiled on the land. It was so different to the usual Rican decorating style — low-key, plain with muted colours.
The Pontifex was in the small garden on the roof. Somehow, they’d managed to get citrus trees to grow here. Plants that were more suited to the sub-tropical climate of Tatryn than the dry, cool artificial atmosphere on Rica. They gave the air a delightfully fresh smell.
‘Diana. Thank you so much for coming to join me today. How lovely you look.’
Diana smiled, glad that her choice of a conservative blouse and skirt had borne fruit. ‘Thank you, Your Excellency. It was very kind of you to invite me.’
‘After yesterday, I felt it was necessary. I am sure we will be very firm friends.’
Diana sat and was served Tatryn coffee — they did do amazing coffee — and pastry delicacies.
‘I understand you designed your sister’s wedding dress yesterday. What a clever little thing you are.’
‘Thank you, Your Excellency. I was so happy that Cassandra had found love, and I wanted her to look perfect on her wedding day.’
‘A little too much skin for my liking, but then I know some young people prefer that.’
Kernan certainly had, Diana thought. ‘You looked lovely yourself, Your Excellency. The Tatryn royal jewels are stunning.’
‘A little overblown, but then one must put on a show when one is competing with the might of Angonia. Don’t you agree?’
Diana hadn’t expected the anti-Angonia sentiment to come out so quickly. ‘You don’t have to compete with Angonia in my view, Your Excellency.’
‘Yes, I imagine your view of Angonia is a little tarnished, after last night.’
Now Diana was completely confused. ‘Last night?’
‘Yes. You don’t need to hide your humiliation from me, my dear. I know full well what it is like for Angonia to brush you aside, as if you were naught but an annoying insect.’
Oh Peace, Diana thought, as realisation crashed around her. Somehow, the Pontifex of Tatryn knew that Gareth had turned her down.
It was bad enough that she’d have to face the humiliation of Gareth always knowing. Now the Tatryn government knew too.
How to play this, Diana wondered. She had two options: bluff her way out and end this ridiculous conversation, or dive right in and get a further insight into what the Pontifex was really about.
‘I’m so ashamed,’ Diana murmured. ‘I really did think he was interested in me, but no.’
‘He toyed with you, dear. As he does everything. Angonia thinks of nothing but his own pleasure.’
The Pontifex’s words dripped with bile. Diana felt the hatred wash over her like a chill wind. ‘I shall be aware of that in future.’
‘If I were you, Diana, I’d avoid him totally. Having anything to do with Angonia will do you no good. Now, you should come see me in Tatryn some time. I have no doubt the people of Tatryn will honour you as you deserve. Indeed, I can think of several people who would love to meet you. My nephew, for example.’
Oh, Peace. This was a set-up.
‘Lovely,’ Diana said.
‘Let’s say in a week,’ the Pontifex said. ‘You can come stay with me, and I will show you the delights of my wonderful land.’
‘I’ll need to check to see if I can be released from work,’ Diana said.
‘Of course you can. You’re a Wiltmore. Your sister is the heir. For a brief time, you were heir. It’s not out of the realm of possibility that you could be Prince of Rica. You are royalty, Diana. Take your place with pride.’
When afternoon tea was done, Diana dashed back home and told her father everything.
‘Ah,’ Andar said. ‘The Pontifex sees you as her in to the Wiltmores. She wants to get you onside so you can sway Cassandra or the Prince and make them her allies on the planetarium, not Gareth’s.’
‘Right. Like that’s going to happen,’ Diana said. ‘So, you’ll not let me out of work so I don’t have to go?’
Andar looked thoughtful. ‘Actually, it might be a good idea to send you to Tatryn. There is still the unknown of that stockpile. Maybe by becoming best friends with the Pontifex, you can find out exactly what’s going on.’
Diana shook her head. ‘Father, I don’t want to go to Tatryn. They are so dour and boring, and the Pontifex is stark raving mad.’
‘I’ll have a chat to Gareth. See what he thinks.’
Great, Diana thought. The King of Angonia would probably happily send her off to Tatryn in the hope it would bore her into a sense of duty.
It seemed she needed to get her head around the fact she was going to be playing spy.
***
‘We’ve got him, Sire.’
Gareth looked up from his paperwork. ‘Hactrim?’
‘Yes.’ Bana Ericson, head of Angonian security, stood to attention before Gareth’s desk. ‘One of our informants, a shop owner who is married to an Angonian woman and therefore sympathetic to us, let us know that Hactrim had visited them for some food. He was followed to an apartment block in one of the outer suburbs of Tatryn city.’
‘Damn.’ If Hactrim were experimenting there with enriching balcite, then thousands of people could be at risk.
The process to turn normal balcite into the most powerful explosive on the planet was a highly secured secret. Gareth wasn’t sure even Andar Wiltmore knew how to do it. People were constantly trying to work out the process, and over the decades there had been many deaths.
‘We’ve passed on the address to Tatryn security and are waiting for them to move in.’
‘Good. Keep me appraised.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’ Bana bowed and left.
Gareth opened up his communicator and got in touch with Andar. ‘I wanted to let you know we’ve located Hactrim, and Tatryn forces are on their way to arrest him right now.’
‘Excellent news,’ Andar said. ‘I know Cassandra will feel much more at peace when Hactrim is behind bars.’
Gareth nodded. Hactrim’s last desperate act to try and make his original plan to destroy the RBMC work had been to kidnap Cassandra and blackmail Grendon into getting legislation passed by the planetarium. Luckily, Cassandra had kept her nerve and been able to find a way to let people know where she was, and then Kernan had rescued her.
‘I’m glad you’ve got in touch, because I’d like your advice. Something a little strange has happened here on Rica. This afternoon, the Pontifex of Tatryn invited Diana over to afternoon tea. She knows about — well, let’s say Diana’s failed attempt to get to know you better.’
Gareth blushed. He’d been failing miserably at putting Diana Wiltmore from his mind. He hadn’t had time to get a lover to take the edge off his need, and so he kept seeing that silver-lit body, and hearing her husky voice tease and torment him.
Then he realised how embarrassing that must have been for Diana, to have that moment pointed out to her by a complete stranger.
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Gareth said. ‘I attempted to be as discreet as possible in my refusal of her.’
‘Diana made her approach so publicly, she cannot be surprised that people saw you leave alone and reasoned the rest,’ Andar said. ‘She’s never been one much for subtlety, even though she’s well capable of it. Which brings me to my question to you. The Pontifex has decided to take advantage of Diana’s hatred of you to inveigle herself into my family. She’s invited Diana to come and stay. I think it’s an opportunity to get insight on what is going on in Tatryn and if the Pontifex is up to anything. What do you think?’
The idea that Diana hated him shouldn’t affect him — it was to be expected, really — but it did. Gareth forced himself to focus on what Andar was suggesting. ‘You want Diana to spy for us?’
‘Yes. Socially, she’s extremely capable. Except when she’s chasing men, she has a good sense of discretion. I have no doubt that she could gain some great information for us. But there is the worry of what could happen to her.’
‘What does Diana think?’
‘She doesn’t want to go to Tatryn. She thinks it’s boring and dour.’
‘Her concern isn’t that she can’t do the job?’
‘Not at all. It was Diana who first pinpointed Hactrim as the problem when she was gathering information in Flactor for Cassandra. She’s very capable.’
Gareth tapped the table. Truthfully, he’d love to have someone he could rely on with a connection to the Pontifex so he could keep on top of what was happening in Tatryn. But could he rely on Diana?
‘What if Diana decides she’d rather sleep with a man than pay attention to the job?’
There was a pause and Gareth watched an unknown hardness settle over Andar’s face. ‘What are you saying about my daughter?’
Gareth realised he’d blundered. Of course Andar didn’t want to hear the truth about Diana. ‘My apologies. Some silly rumour I’d heard. Of course Diana is dutiful and trustworthy. She is your daughter.’
‘I know my daughter well, and I don’t always approve of her life choices. But Diana is dedicated and dutiful. If she takes on this task, she will deliver. Thank you for your advice, Your Majesty.’ Andar signed off.
Gareth slumped in his chair, rubbing his forehead. Stupid mistake, to say that. Truly, Diana was messing with his head.
The door slid open and Bana came in. Judging by the deep furrows on his brow and his narrowed lips, he wasn’t bringing good news.
‘Your Majesty, the Tatryn security forces are refusing to arrest Hactrim.’
‘What?’ Gareth rocketed forward until he was sitting on the edge of his chair.
‘They won’t act without the approval of the Pontifex of Tatryn, and she is currently en route from Rica and they are unable to contact her. In the meantime, our contacts report activity within the apartment. Hactrim’s going to make a run for it.’
‘Follow him,’ Gareth growled. ‘I’ll get the bloody permission for them.’
Bana saluted and left. Gareth stood and prowled around the edge of his desk to a door on the left wall of his study. He slammed his fist against the lock and waited while it read his prints and opened. Then he walked into the planetarium chamber.
Every other planetarium member entered by another door. Only he had the direct connection, being the president.
He didn’t often use his power over his fellow rulers, but he sat in his chair and placed his left forearm flat against the arm, engaging the implant in his wrist.
A headset came out of the top of the chair and settled on his head. A microphone curved around to stop in front of his mouth.
‘I wish to speak to the Pontifex of Tatryn,’ he said.
Minutes passed, and then her voice came through. Because of the implants, and bionics in their ears, every planetarium member was contactable by the president no matter where they were. ‘What is the emergency, King of Angonia?’
‘Your Excellency, we have located Hactrim Wilson, the man who kidnapped Cassandra of Rica, in an apartment block in Tatryn City. Your security forces are refusing to move against him without your permission. Please contact them and provide it.’
‘I’m travelling at present, Angonia. It’s very difficult for me to get in touch. Are you sure it is Hactrim Wilson?’
‘I am. We fear he may be experimenting with enriching balcite. Your people could be in danger, Pontifex.’
‘I believe I shall be the judge of that, Angonia. Thank you for your counsel.’ She cut off the connection.
Gareth punched the arm of the chair and the headset was sucked back into the furniture. He could only hope and pray that the Pontifex wouldn’t let her hatred of him guide her decisions.
He stalked back into his office and sat there. He waited, and with each moment that passed, his feeling that it wasn’t going to be good news grew.
When Bana returned, his expression was so dark that Gareth felt chilled. ‘Hactrim is gone. He left the apartment, and we tried to follow him, but he managed to lose us in a crowd. He’s free again.’
‘Fuck.’ Gareth hit his desk, hard. ‘Damn that bloody woman.’
‘We’ll keep looking for him, Sire.’
‘Except now he’ll go to ground again, and it will be months before he’s game to show his face. And who knows where that will be? He could leave Tatryn, go somewhere else.’ Gareth started to pace up and down the office. ‘This was our chance to grab him, to stop all this, and it’s gone.’
‘You don’t think the Pontifex did it on purpose, do you?’
Gareth slowed. He didn’t feel the Pontifex herself was personally involved, like Grendon had been. But this action had him wondering.
‘Damn.’ He hit his communicator and pulled up Andar. ‘Andar, we need Diana to get close to the Pontifex. Please, convince her to do it. She’ll have the support of the Angonian security forces.’
‘I’ll let her know,’ Andar said.
‘We’ll do what we can,’ Bana said when the connection was broken. ‘But Tatryn is the hardest country for us to operate in, since their security won’t work with ours. As we’ve just seen.’
Gareth considered that. ‘Then it’s time that we found a way to bypass their security, and I think I’ve had an idea.’