Chapter 4

Lyrissa Shander sat in the back of the limousine, a frown on her attractive face.

“I didn’t expect this,” she said. “Certainly not from the Imperial military.”

The black luxury vehicle cruised through Hacon’s Vision, taking Lyrissa to Portent Communications. On her way she’d received a call from Paula Perez about a developing crisis at Eclipse Transport.

“You think there’s a hidden agenda?” Paula asked.

Paula was displayed on the raised partition between Lyrissa and the driver. The screen was split four ways with other people in each quadrant. They represented the response team that Eclipse’s C.E.O. had scrambled together.

“There has to be,” Lyrissa replied. “What I’d like to know is, whose?”

“Huxton seems to be at the centre of it,” said a red-skinned male troll in the bottom left corner of the screen.

“Which surprised Orthin as much as the rest of us,” Paula said.

Lyrissa schooled her own expression to repress the smile which threatened her lips. The man in question wasn’t part of the call. He was already on his way to meet with Lyrissa at her destination.

“She may be calling the shots but the direction must be political,” Lyrissa said.

“I hate this side of business,” Paula frowned. “I founded Eclipse for the love of good, clean engineering problems. Not messy political ones.”

“I’m not a huge fan, either,” Lyrissa agreed.

“I never would have guessed,” Paula said, eyes curious. “You seem like a natural.”

Lyrissa thought of how her younger self - aspiring model and enthusiastic party girl - would have responded and smiled slightly.

“If so, only because I forced myself to learn from people who are better at it than I am,” she said instead. Thankfully she’d outgrown that type of juvenile language years ago.

Paula smiled back, unaware of the true reason behind Lyrissa’s amusement.

“Would one of those teachers be Baron Willowbrook?” Paula asked.

In spite of his low rank in the House of Lords, the Baron of Durant was a deal-maker and influence peddler in the imperial government. Largely unknown to the civilian public, any businessperson who dealt with the Imperial military - and the research facility nicknamed the Black Hole in the province of Merth - soon learned his name.

Lyrissa nodded in response to Paula’s question, then braced a hand on the cushioned seat beside her as the limousine turned a corner.

“Baron Willowbrook has far more pressing problems with the demonic incursion on his doorstep,” she said.

“All the more reason for him to support the Spitfire proposal,” Paula groused. Then the silver-haired woman grimaced. “Ancestors guide me, I can’t believe I said such a heartless thing.”

Lyrissa raised her hand and gestured as if throwing something away. “You’re just stressed,” she said.

“I feel like I failed you,” Paula admitted. “I should have caught the potential patent infringement beforehand.”

Lyrissa could see Eclipse’s C.E.O. was upset. The other members of her response team didn’t look very happy either.

Eclipse had always enjoyed good relations with the military. This sudden about-face must have hit them harder than Lyrissa had realized. She had to make it clear she didn’t hold them personally responsible.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Lyrissa said firmly. “Their widespread pressure tactics make it clear that someone’s come knocking at our door, looking to start a fight. We didn’t invite it and had no reason to see this scrap coming but however unexpected, I know we’ll be the ones to finish it.”

Paula showed a renewed determination in the way she sat straighter, while the rest of the team displayed similar reactions. Lyrissa was pleased to see it but she hadn’t just mouthed empty words to buck up the troops.

Something else was clearly at work. She just hoped they’d be able to discover what.

Mere hours after Prism’s approval of Lyrissa’s Spitfire proposal, Eclipse released a statement notifying its own stakeholders of the decision. The immediate response had been highly favourable. Demons were a scourge to all life on Torvus and the Order of Lightbringers enjoyed a near-mythic status in society.

So when Paula received a strongly-worded message outlining the Imperial Soelanaran Air Force’s ‘extreme displeasure’ at the ‘ill-advised dissemination’ of ‘classified joint research’ it took her completely by surprise. And when other military projects started to receive pressure too, surprise had turned to confused panic.

“We should go public,” a member of Eclipse’s response team suggested. “It might turn the pressure back on them instead.”

“Too early for that,” Paula said. “We’ll keep our ... disagreement ... quiet for now since they seem to be too. But we’ll hold that option in reserve and we’ll definitely let them know we’re willing to do it.”

Lyrissa nodded. “We should also tap the Lightbringers themselves,” she said. “The Keeper of the Flame in Astagar is no wilting flower when it comes to imperial politics.”

The five minute warning flashed on the display panel in front of Lyrissa. She looked out the tinted windows at the passing scenery then pressed an illuminated button to turn the warning off.

“I’m nearly at Portent,” she said.

“Thank you for your time, Lyrissa,” Paula said. “I’ll reach out to the Keeper right away.”

“And I’ll let you get to it.” Lyrissa smiled and ended the call.

The screen went dark and Lyrissa let her smile fade. She brooded over the mess she’d gotten Eclipse into as the vehicle entered the underground garage for a gleaming, glass-and-steel skyscraper - Portent’s main office in downtown Hacon’s Vision.

When the limousine rolled to a stop she forced herself to put the Spitfire matter to the back of her mind and focused on the upcoming meetings. She rode a private elevator directly to the highest floors of the skyscraper. Unlike her visit to Eclipse the other day there was no fanfare at her arrival; Portent was familiar territory. She was simply greeted by the assistant to Portent’s C.E.O. and followed the woman to his office.

“Welcome, Lyrissa,” Farketh Nur’ja Tanegra’ma said as she entered his spacious corner office. The tall troll pushed his chair back and circled the broad desk to shake her hand. “I hope you had a pleasant ride over.”

“Thank you Farketh,” Lyrissa said. “I did until I got word of trouble at Eclipse. Speaking of which, one of their people will be coming to see me. His name is Orthin dun Maltos.”

“It’ll be taken care of,” Portent’s green-skinned chief executive said. He turned and nodded his totally hairless head at his assistant, who stepped out of the office. “Will Ser dun Maltos be joining us at the meeting?” he asked Lyrissa after turning back.

“He may not arrive until after we’re done,” Lyrissa said. Then, with a wry smile she added, “Besides, he prefers to avoid meetings when he can.”

“A man after my own heart,” Farketh said with an amused turn of his long ears.

Farketh Nur’ja Tanegra’ma had sat in the top chair at Portent for seven years. He’d successfully led the consumer electronics giant into several new markets while maintaining its prominence in core segments.

The meeting today was about the latest product he’d championed. One which Lyrissa herself felt with a certain pride was finally ready to be introduced to the markets.

Lyrissa and Farketh moved to his desk. Portent’s C.E.O. sat back in his chair while Lyrissa took a seat in front of it.

“The latest survey results were excellent,” Farketh said. “If the projections are even close then the first units will sell like soulfire.”

“That’s fantastic,” Lyrissa beamed. The news went a long way to improving her mood.

“Manufacturing’s already rubbing their hands gleefully and dreaming up plans for new facilities,” he smiled back. “I haven’t even cleaned my boots from the ribbon-cutting at the last one.”

“You hate being stuck behind that desk anyways,” Lyrissa said with a distinct lack of empathy. “How are the trials going?”

“We’re approved for expanded Torvan trials in the Empire,” Farketh said, using the accepted term for the multiple sapient species on the planet. “Employee interest is also high. There’s a lot of buzz about a special raffle to pick alpha users.”

Lyrissa nodded but felt a moment’s apprehension. “Has there been any ... unusual pushback from the government?”

“None,” the green-skinned troll said. “Why do you ask?”

“That trouble I mentioned,” Lyrissa said. “The military is kicking up a fuss about my Spitfire proposal.”

A filmy white membrane flickered briefly across each of Farketh’s eyes.

“The Soelanaran government objects to a goodwill gesture towards the Lightbringers?” the green-skinned troll asked incredulously.

Farketh had been holographically present at Prism’s board meeting and given his approval along with the others.

Lyrissa shrugged and leaned back in her chair.

“Essentially my reaction,” she said. “Along with everyone at Eclipse. Hopefully Orthin will help shed some light.”

The green-skinned C.E.O.’s long ears perked forward.

“Orthin, is it?” he asked.

“Don’t you start,” she protested immediately. “I get enough of that nonsense from Belica.”

“Of course,” Farketh said. “The boss’ love life is none of my business.”

Lyrissa’s eyes narrowed. “She already got to you,” she accused, voice laden with suspicion.

Farketh held up his hands placatingly.

“A fellow member of the board may have passed along some information about a certain Eclipse employee,” he acknowledged. “Nothing untoward, I assure you.”

“Is there no such thing as privacy anymore?” Lyrissa sighed.

“Of course there is, we have nothing but respect for you,” the troll said. “We should get back to business though,” he continued briskly. “Shall we move on to changes in the product rollout?”

“Please,” Lyrissa said quickly, eager to drop the topic.

Farketh nodded. “I recommend a more aggressive expansion in our lineup of domestic robots. In particular, the planned ‘concierge’ line aimed at the affluent.”

Farketh placed both elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers, then met Lyrissa’s eyes.

“We want to market it as ‘tall, dark and handsome’ and give it a name suggesting dependability and strength. What are your thoughts on the ‘dun Maltos’?”

Lyrissa shook her head even as she enjoyed a good, relaxing laugh.

Not long afterwards Farketh received a call from his assistant. Orthin had arrived and was on his way up.

Lyrissa was a little surprised he’d arrived so soon. When Farketh’s assistant brought him in she stood to greet him, as did Portent’s C.E.O.

“Ser dun Maltos,” Farketh said and extended his right hand. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“Thank you, sir,” Orthin replied as man and troll shook hands. “I appreciate you allowing me to be here.”

“We’re all one happy family under the beautiful Prism umbrella now,” said Portent’s C.E.O.

Lyrissa looked at him askance. His facial expression was unreadable, though his ears gave him away with an amused twitch. Farketh could be quite the humorist when the mood struck him.

“You made good time getting here,” she said as she turned to Orthin. “I thought you’d take longer.”

“Traffic was good to me,” the former naval officer replied.

Lyrissa glanced at the clock on the wall across from Farketh’s desk.

“Unfortunately Farketh and I are due at a presentation. About robots.” She lifted one shoulder then let it drop. “It shouldn’t take long. We’ll have to discuss Admiral Huxton a bit later.”

“Would you care to join us?” Farketh asked. “From our discussion, it seems you prefer to avoid meetings.”

Conspiracy between Belica and Farketh confirmed, Lyrissa looked at the green-skinned troll with an arched eyebrow.

Orthin, in turn, did the same to her.

“I’m being ‘discussed’?” he asked.

The man’s body language and expression were amused rather than offended. Lyrissa nevertheless felt some contrition.

“Yes,” she admitted. “As well as the virtues of privacy. I apologize for my lack of consideration.”

“Unnecessary, but accepted all the same,” Orthin said. “Your honesty does you and the Ancestors proud.”

Lyrissa responded with a smile. One she was mindful to ensure stayed merely polite.

“My assistant can get you anything you need while you wait,” Farketh was saying.

“Would she scrounge up a chair?” Orthin asked. “That is, if your offer’s still open.”

Apparently today was the day for surprises, Lyrissa thought. Some more pleasant than others.

“No fear of the plague?” she asked.

“Portent’s robotics program is cutting edge.” Orthin shrugged. “I’m curious.”

“We can ‘scrounge’ another chair from somewhere,” Farketh smiled and Orthin thanked him.

For her part, Lyrissa wondered if Orthin’s interest in robotics was as an engineer or because of his cybernetic left arm. She didn’t ask out of respect for his privacy.

The boardroom was finely carpeted and austerely but tastefully decorated, just like Farketh’s office had been. The outer wall was a floor-to-ceiling-window with no visible blinds. Farketh sat at the head of the long, oval table. Lyrissa sat to his left, with Orthin on her’s. When the other executives had taken their seats Farketh stood.