The Troyuan Chronicles...Book 3

THE TROYUAN CHRONICLES…BOOK THREE

By Ernest Velon

Smashwords Edition, License Notes.

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Copyright c 2006 by Ernest Velon.

ISBN# 978-1-4259-4480-9

Revised by the Author on 1/2017

CONTENTS

FOREWORD

THE JURISPRUDENCE AFFAIR

THE TARTARUS AFFAIR

THE EARTH AFFAIR

THE NEFERATI AFFAIR

About the Author

FOREWORD

You cannot experience our joy when the Wife and I stumbled upon the ‘chamber of sages’, as spoken in faded texts, lost legends and those who claim a spiritual link with the distant past. Eons ago, or many a millennia, the ancient records are poorly preserved, their numerations no longer seem accurate of tell the lore of great ethereal Beings of unlimited wisdom. Whenever these local heathen, living in simplicity and ignorance, are confounded by the ‘unexplainable’, they cluster at night, upon the mound where hidden mysteries are buried under the centuries of rubble, and howl at the sky seeking answers.

At first we only laughed at such silly tales only children will speak when alone, but as we continued our excavations, even the professional must turn aside and wonder. Here, beneath our very feet, amongst the mounds of shrubbery, are the limbs of ghosts in the ancient ruins. As we carefully cleared away the eons of debris, the lore of that wonderful chamber grew in our minds. The whispers thrown as wind from the colossal crumbling pediments, is now a voice, a cry, for us to push onward. For such words are the drifting reflections of the Voices embedded in the shadows of ages past.

Now we walk within the silent darkened chamber, our footsteps raising a faint cloud of dust, our breathing breaks the millennia old silence and we are not alone. Around the tattered remains of emblems of lost glory, of rusting entablatures defiantly spelling a forgotten tongue, are the blistered busts with broken haggard faces of the ancient giants. Yes, not gods, but giants! Who once roamed these busted vaults; who saw things as they once were, and now we see what is from their deepest nightmares.

We stand transfixed in the gloomy haze, facing the tiered platform partially covered by the shards of a giant avian image. Now splintered about, the pockmarked head with beak, the huge spread wings and the claws grasping at the dust. The half circle of decayed and rotten desks, a small remnant of the rosewood platform they called the Dictum. The electronic viewing panes, revealing events faraway so these giants knew the corners of their powers, are gone, stolen, like their masters, all dead.

Gazing upon this great find we are reminded how minuscule our lives are. With every breath we are older and every step taken we slip into chaos, even our distant relations will not know of our names or deeds. We cannot comprehend the passage of so many eons, where each generation loses a part of itself, until history is a dim mystery. But, not so in here!

What poured from the ‘chamber of sages’ are not whispers of legends and lore, or titans in armor in ethereal combat, or old ladies whose tales are of demigods, but of a time of education. People, as our selves, with a sense of duty, of honor, of purpose, of commitment, of valor, of ethics, piloted the Amazian nation over the rocky squalls of history, to the calm waters of achievement. This hallowed place is the Senitium, where our ancient hero stood his ground and purged the infection from the body of the Imperium.

Ernest Velon

Larentia, 3/29/9817 U.C.

THE JURISPRUDENCE AFFAIR

By Ernest Velon

Let us compare the concept of LAW… began the multi-facet hologram in Alack’s living room. Commonsense should be the bases of all jurisprudence. Since the ages of one body rule, as in primate monarchy government, to the pristine body of equations upon the mathematics of social guidance and grace, to what we have devised too govern the Universe currently... The shallow pointed features of Civius Proctor, his long flat wavy hair bending down behind his ears, then spurting up, did not flitch as he paced back and forth. So realistic is the projection from the Senatorial Archives only a slight creak, the absence on the floor, told Alack he is only photonics. I quote the sage Spinaza, ‘truth is the seeking of facts and the revelation of knowledge from these facts.’ We can systematize all LAW from all planets, all ages, to a concise formulation, which can be the guideline in Universal governance. A compendium of thought, which can be applied to all races, on all levels, for all times, this I propose.

Alack sat back in his white kimono, a bag of ‘amblem’ cookies at his side and on a tray is an old bottle of ‘sly wine’. He pulled many strings to get this tape. Many versions exist for public and educational purpose but this version is the full one, unedited. And to what means, we ask, are we to pursue such a worthy course? In an age when science and decadence is out of control, and the universe is merely the playing ground for the mega-rich, enforcement of social and moral values is trampled by those of great ambitions and wealth. Then, such a body of jurisprudence is needed more than ever to bind the conquests to our side...a lasting testament to the wisdom of this august body, where the heart beats Amazian!

The year is early 2032, the Zaterian Wars are in full swing and the Senitium is exhausted from the tyranny of the Second Amazian Emperor, Zaterite. One man, the last on a secret list, is addressing the Senitium; his agenda is to propose a new era of Law and to overthrow a madman. Throughout the drama of history we have seen the race of kings and presidents and philosophers come and go, but the tyrant is always. The Usurper of Law is amongst us to the end of eternity, and like some hidden genetic defect, will rise again! But, the Rule of Law, especially a compendium encompassing all legal decisions since time memorial, will prevent that disease from rearing its face!

‘Those were dangerous times,’ thought Alack with a mouthful, ‘they killed him shortly after this, but the best of men fear nothing.’

It is not our job to legislate the freedom of decision making from a planetary governing body, if we do, then we are just as damaging as the tyrant but wearing a different gown. No Conscript Fathers, we must not tread within those waters of absolute control, but we must present to the new worlds the tools of navigation. Let them chart their vessels of state and cherish their freedoms and cultures as their own. One of the terrible crimes of all legislative bodies is to pass laws that are selective and judgmental to only a few. Looking back in our own history, the last centuries of Norume, the Republic of Om, the Bridar Crown, all major powers of the Pre-Evil ages, and see their mistakes. Laws upon laws upon laws that stifled the Amazian spirit under a mountain of legal bull! Laws protecting young murderers, laws allowing the rich to avoid jail terms, laws not dispensing justice because the criminal has a mental unbalance, these selective rules and alternatives to incarceration is only a small fraction we must avoid.

Alack took a quick swig of the long stem glass trying not to miss a single word.

Acualitas! Gustatus! Liburtas! They cried in the streets of Norume when a tyrant fell from lofty heights. But their voices went up, and no one heard them. Why? Because it was an empty tradition, and the mountain of legislation so high and heavy, no one could surmount it or even move it. The selective breeding of so many laws blocked out the light, and only the traditions are seen by a feeble candle. In all this, Conscript Fathers, one word should guide the law making process in this endeavor. Equality, or as the ancients rightly spoke, ‘acualitas’, pertains to all our laws on this level governing billions of worlds, they should be equal for everyone. Let us call it Imperial Law, and is to be based upon the crime, not an entity’s age, religion, race, gender, mental stability, social status, economics or physical limitations, just overall criminal equality. All are of equal standings. There must be no exceptions, no selective limitations. Let the many planets, with their many cultures and customs decide on that, but when they stand before US, then they shall experience the final judgment without any form of selective favoritism!

Alack’s full academy training at the SSG flashed back. The long hours of study, of lectures and demos of thousands of major legal situations from millions of worlds; and it all started here.

That is why, fellow Fathers of Amazia, we must begin such a legal Code. We must start the process of binding the new worlds to our hearts, our minds and this sacred chamber. To do that we must begin work on such a body of simple Laws that not even a tyrant can stand and face the light we shall create!

The projection paused, the household computer announced a Service Guard identified as Rallon, waiting without; Alack grunted giving the word to enter.

And it is that light which will shine through the heavens for all eternity, glorifying the Amazian race…

I know this one, said a middle aged Amazian male, round curious greenish pale eyes, light brown sticks for eyebrows, a square nose and weak lip mouth combination, all in a bright pinkish dark face. Fully dressed in the navy blue with red stripes, a Colonel’s rank with one chevron yellow stripe, peaked hat and red knee length cape, stood with thumbs in his thick black utility belt. He so angered Zaterite that the Service General Talous added his name to the List and the rest is history.

Pausing the program Alack rose and greeted the 132 Illo’s (five and a half feet) tall fellow displaying all whites. Sit, this is almost done. Both sat on the sturdy couch of hard wood and thin matting. I thought it would be good to review the process how the Code of Dwitinton started.

Very good, Alack, but we will be dealing with the Zoferin Courts on Amazia. Only if they appeal to the Emperor’s courts, then it becomes an Imperial matter. Alack voiced off the projection, went to his room and returned pulling on his Special Service coat with yellow trim. Uh…I was thinking of something less formal, Colonel. Alack’s heavy eyebrows curled, halting. Since you will be assisting me in piecing together Zoferin evidence for pre-trial criminal investigations, I think your standard field uniform…uh leisure garb…would be more appropriate. If we both appear in full uniform that might cause confusion, do you have a problem with that?

Alack continued to hold his long muscular arm half way thru the sleeve, thinking. Then gave a slight nod agreeing and removed the coat folding it carefully. I’ll be right with you. and returned to his room.

When Alack emerged five minutes later with his valise he is dressed in standard rubbery walking shoes, black pants, heavy utility belt around his slim waist, white short-sleeved shirt with high collar displaying his colonel’s insignia and Calcomp strapped over a broad shoulder. His shirt and pants are slightly on the tight side revealing leg muscles and upper body size. Rallon paused studying the 158 Illo (almost seven foot) Seminian, stretched his chin in approval. Where we’ll be going you’ll definitely come in handy. He saw Alack’s pistol clipped to his belt. Uh…it’s best you don’t wear that, in the open it could cause the wrong impression.

Alack removed the Anti-D holster placing it in the secret compartment of his valise. You sound like we’re going to some savage place off world, Colonel Rallon.

Call me Wendal, our pre-trial work will be localized on Amazia. Alack’s big brown eyes opened wider hearing this. Yes, we may be one of the more advanced planets in the Imperium but we still have primitive places untouched, or willingly left alone. I think we’ll both find this to be an interesting adventure.

All knowledge is self sustaining. Commented Alack as he shut down the house placing it on automatic ‘rest’ mode. Both climbed into Wendal’s SSG dark blue Zo car with the square redcross surrounded by the black circle symbol. They lifted off with a gentle roar leaving the one story ranch house, the Kensington shoreline, far behind.

Our first Affair is over at the Jalyio Mining Corp, located deep within the Undizisen-Kromra Mountains, specifically, a place called the Kalifonian Rift. A local named Aten Urdorf killed Sylo Burgon, who raped Aten’s new bride and then ran off into the hills. A clear 10-01, a 9-01 and a 5-01, resisting arrest has been added, of the Local Codes. Sounds simple but the Prefect can’t go up there to capture Aten.

Why not?

Well…when we arrive at Camp Alimatra, Prefect Semblon will have a full report, you’ll find this challenging.

Rallon, half piloted and half allowed the Global Navi-Net do the driving. Great swaths of the planetary grid system is missing as they approached the rising misty purple embankment known up north of Hardin as the Shield, but here, the towering spinal back of the curving chain continued to climb. Created by the action of two massive tectonic plates, the Undizisen chain boasted some of the highest peaks on the Union Continent. Mount Boteon and Liy, over five Sectals up (almost 4 miles), called the Twin Giants by the Tobotus tribes of antiquity, guard a depression called the Kalifonian Rift, where rare deposits of Fibrous Funnmenium ores were discovered in the 1790’s.

The massive upward climb of woodland, the wispy purples giving way to a lush carpet of marching dark greens of the Hiberwood tree, are broken by craggy basalt embankments. Rallon forced the Zo up higher; Alack felt compressors straining to equalize cabin pressure. The heavy bristled Hiberwoods became smaller, replaced by Spiderwoods, eventually to a frost line of small flat bush called Rock-Clingers. Small herds of the resilient Lor-Muns (mountain goat) ran along tiny precipice trails away from the roaring machine. A vibration began to rattle the interior as the soft whiteness of snow and glistening blues of ice capped the very spine of hard worn rock.

I’ve always wanted to see how high these things can go… grinned Rallon eyeing Alack’s growing concern, these issues are rated for two Sectals, but I’ve gotten it up to almost three. We’re very lucky theres no storms or turbulence, otherwise we would be Lor meat by now.

Like some great ripple of living rock, the stark whiteness fell away, a frightening bottomless decline going down to a chasm of mist, then another face scaling upwards. More Hiberwoods, making the undulating carpet surge in basaltic waves, then a downward thrust to another chasm. A towering mantel of soaring volcanic rock touched the sky ahead. Clouds and strands of moisture swirled about its tiered base, jutting up in jagged layers, to an almost solid bastion of white snowy rock.

Mount Boteon… commented Rallon avoiding certain canyons producing titanic winds and deadly updrafts, you’ll find this navigation impossible most of the time. Today, we are very lucky… Alack watched the tiny dot of a shadow jumping and leaping over the erratic contours of the mountainous landscape. Another ten minutes and we’ll be safely within the Kalifonian Rift.

And if we crash here?

If we survive…we’ll end up eating another.

But, this is Amazia, I thought…

Seventy percent of the planet is modernized, but areas like this are still, let us say, difficult?

More titanic fingers of rock and snow passed beneath the vehicle, giving way to a gradual downward slope of rising Hiberwoods. This continued its decline, losing all contours and features amongst lakes and darkened valleys. The Zo now dropped suddenly, caught in a deadly down draft, until Rallon turned on the Gravamatic field. Leveling off at two thousand four hundred Illos (100 feet), the tops of Pine and Fernwoods scraped the machine’s keel; Rallon gave Alack a wink.

There are Silorians we could have taken into these hills.

What’s wrong Colonel, afraid of a little excitement? I've been told your favorite saying is, ‘death is alweays waiting in the future.’ I thought you guys in the Special Services thrived on that. Before Alack replied the treetops separated and a long murky blue lake appeared. On the distant misty shore is a small community of metallic buildings. Camp Alimatra, six thousand inhabitants, with schools, amusement centers, stores, hillbillies, a tourist trap... A red light now blinked on the driver’s console. This is SSG Zo 195 requesting permission to land, as per Prefect Semblon’s party. A moment of silence as both computers linked up, made the necessary data checks, then a voice gave permission to land. I know you want to eat when we arrive.

How do you know I’m starving?

Your Boss briefed me on some habits of your race, but I’ve got to see for myself… and besides, the noises from your stomach.

Alack fell quiet as fishing docks, buildings, warehouses and other domestic structures spread out before them. Yes, he is terribly hungry, four hours is a stretch for him.

Welcome to Alimatra, Gentlemen. Began Prefect Semblon waiting as they left the vehicle garage, Colonel Rallon and…Colonel Troyus of the… he paused further studying their credentials, Special Services?

He’s on loan for further training in the field, Prefect, and by the looks of him might come in handy, you agree?

The heavy featured man, thick skin, hard bone jaw and dark grayish eyes gave Alack a good going over. I agree, Colonel. He’s not Amazian…but…?

Seminian, Alack gave the Valentian Salute, my service is yours to command.

Never heard of them but you’re most welcome…this way to the Inn, gentlemen.

The Prefect gave them a two-room suite, the deluxe accommodations of the ‘Inn on the Rift’, and left. With a big bedroom, parlor, toilet and shower room down the hall. Somewhat comfortable in prefabricated materials resembling wood and cement, the furniture simple, the rooms with a fine window view of the lake. After checking in their items Alack claimed the floor in the parlor dropping a simple sleeping mat, demanding. Let’s eat!

Rallon watched with rising sickness Alack gorging himself at the small restaurant. Ordering one dish after another, a stream of gluttony, swallowed in a terrible manner. His belly churning like a black hole, knew no satisfaction until he licked the last ceramic dish clean, a contented look swept his handsome features followed by a loud burp. In a secluded corner, away from other locals of the mining establishment and tourists, the SSG Colonel asked quietly. Are you finished?

Alack’s heavy auburn eyebrows slowly went up, big brown eyes opened, a sparkle of new vigor emanating. Yes…I’m satisfied.

What your boss said…but this…this is incredible. Don’t you gain weight?

I burn off far more calories than normal Amazians do.

Rallon relaxed leaning back sipping his water bottle. The average Amazian needs four thousand calories a day to subsist…

I require between seven and nine thousand...depends on what I’m doing.

I’m impressed, Colonel. Are all your people like you?

No, I’m…special… Alack leaned in closer, his finely groomed hair bouncing slightly, I’m descended from our God, Samue, specifically, one of his sons, Apollinar. He was a mighty hunter and warrior. My family is orthodox in the worship of him. I am gifted with some of his talents. And fell back eyeing the dessert menu. Tell no one of this.

A divinity…ah? Is there a ritual I’m suppose too observe?

You must watch me eat. Alack broke a funny grin with the ends of his mouth up. Back in their room both began unpacking their valises. When Rallon entered the parlor he saw various weapons carefully lying on the couch. Picking up a long white quarterstaff with a hammerhead blunt end, inquired. What are you planning to do with these?

Alack, whose white shirt is off displaying a muscular back with spectacular latissimus dorsi, quickly twisted around taking the ornate carved staff. Do not touch my weapons, Wendal. These are sacred tools from my hunting days. This is my Flafstaf… Alack touched a small button near the center and a deadly sharp halberd blade telescoped from the pike’s end. Proudly, he swung it around his slim waist, under arm, over the back and above his head. In a lightning maneuver, it separated into two weapons, one for slashing, and the other for knocking someone or something out. It’s used for close quarters in a fight with many.

Rallon, who had taken a few steps back, nodded then saw another strange weapon on the couch. And this?

Retracting the halberd, Alack carefully grabbed the heavy metallic fabric handle with a long forty-eight Illo’s (2 feet) length of big chain links. This is for longer reach, the Arm Hung, when I swing it around like this… To Rallon’s horror, the links in the chain opened and tiny razor blades emerged at a cutting angle, becomes a very nasty offensive weapon.

Meat grinder is a better word... Feeling his stomach turning slightly, Rallon faced away from the gruesome sight. I prefer a simple Anti-D pistol, Alack.

I have that to! and from a concealed compartment in his valise removed his Service Pistol. In perfect Equestrian SSG form, Alack held out the thirty Illo (a foot and a quarter) length polished Higgons II. Popped out the ray cell demonstrating it could not be fired, and presented it to Rallon stock first.

I believe you, Colonel… Alack holstered and packed it way, do you always travel so well equipped?

Alack then held up his long Bowie knife and a few polished sharp throwing stars called ‘Lac’shers’, This is the first time I’m out in the field with a seasoned SSG rep, who is withholding further details, I try to be prepared for anything. A smug look passed over those handsome features, standing proudly with his splendid upper body erect.

With a physique like that who needs weapons? Rallon went back into the bedroom then paused by the panel door further studying his Seminian partner. I have a feeling you and I are in for some high adventures. and closed the door to take a quick nap.

Later, they gathered at Prefect Semblon’s office, a small four-room attachment to the Inn with living quarters. The problem I’m having is with the Urdorf Family. They are mountain people, going back hundreds of years, intermarrying with other mountain clans, and they think they own the entire South Ridge and the Puma Escarpment. As you know, the older brother Aten, killed Sylo Burgon, a 10-01, who had raped his wife, an 8-01. Aten, left the scene of the crime, a 9-01, refusing arrest, a 5-01. The Bride committed suicide, a 6-01. But the guilty charges are 10-01, 9-01 and now 5-01, as per Local SSG Code. Aten is holed up at their home refusing to come down.

Mr. Aten took his revenge. What influence do they have with the mining operations? asked Rallon making digital notes on his Calcomp.

None. The Camp Forman, Mr. Sevador Challons, says Aten and his Brothers only show up for work went it fits them…

Or when they need the money. injected Rallon.

Yes, better put. So he gives them low priority jobs. Our concern is capturing Aten without going to war with the entire Urdorf family, relatives and friends.

Is there any member of the family we can talk to?

There’s one educated brother, Lowell, who is the Assay Officer…

Assay Officer? Alack frowned.

In an isolated mining operation like this, Colonel, these mountain families have no steady income for Republican Security. They gather precious stones, valuable metals and even animal furs. Lowell converts them into credits so provisions can be bought and payments made. That is, the items they can’t barter for. He gave Rallon a disk, here’s the full case history, everything on my dilemma. Understand, I can’t call in Service Troops and take the place by storm, these mountain families can be fighting guerillas, many are descendants from those who fought in the Revolt, and can cause much damage if aroused.

Say no more, Prefect, Rallon, then Alack stood terminating the meeting, let’s give this a going over and we’ll devise a plan.

One question Sir, Alack paused as Rallon opened the door, Before he resisted, did you try to reason with him?

Semblon opened a draw to his desk and removed his Prefect’s hat that has a darkened blaster hole in the front. Yes, I have. and wiggled his finger through it.

Oh…

Outside, both quietly walked down the main Silorian. Stores, restaurants, offices and many other merchant establishments lined both sides of the long open road. An inviting tourist village of architecture from old-world style sidewalks, of various heights covered by porches with awnings, greeted each quaint store and shop. Square paned windows, curtains of flat colors, brick and wood face with ornate street lamps, signs resembling fancy calligraphy, all buildings with two or three stories with gabled fronts. People strolled about, a mixture of miners, merchants, tourists, laborers, laymen, professionals, all carefully moving shopping or associating, wrapped neatly in their own little busy worlds. No aliens, all are variants of the Amazian home world race stretching back into time during the Pre-Evil nations.

I would expect a very active place with dirty saloons and men fighting in the mud with prostitutes cheering down from balconies. grinned Alack.

You’ve been watching too many stylized videofonics from Vastuum Studios, Colonel. Proctor once said, ‘the quality of a town is only as good as its people. An antique shop caught Alack’s attention, stopped to gaze inside. You’re not going to Lowell’s office? The Prefect’s maps are not detailed enough.

This intrigues me… Alack turned and carefully opened the door as a tiny bell chimed. Both are surrounded by tables, shelves of antiques, from entire furniture sets to broken Norumian dinnerware. A strange ceramic woody odor peaked Alack’s nose as he saw a series of bookshelves and old scroll dockets. Wow…

May I help you? came a cute middle-aged Lady, auburn hair in twin buns with needles, a clear face resembling a whitish ceramic doll, holding a set of piercing black eyes. She wore a lab coat stuffed with instruments including a Palm Comp hanging around her neck by a simple string.

This collection, Alack carefully removed a faded maroon bound book with plastic pages, the ‘Sue Maryaunt’ by the Pre-Evil author Gadfello, is it in its entirety?

Only volume four has two pages of extracts missing, besides that, its whole.

I wish to purchase the entire collection.

Alack, interrupted Rallon but the Seminian ignored him.

The full market price is six thousand credits, but since the pages are missing, and some water and fire damage to volumes two and seven, five thousand even. She made a puckering of her thin lips signifying a final offer.

Alack handed her his Retallite Card. Ship it to the address of S.P.& P. Imports, please.

As she went over to her Merchant Terminal, Rallon whispered. Five thousand credits! Are you out of your Seminian mind! Another antique store can give you less…

Bear with me in this. When Regulan invented the printing press in 913 UC, people published thousands of ‘pulp’ magazines flooding Norumian society. During the last centuries before the fall of Norume, when barbarian influences caused education standards to decline, reading lost its fashionable qualities, and as the economy collapsed, the people used these ‘pulp’ magazines to heat their homes. This collection from the Pre-Evil times is the only one of its kind. I must have it!

Rallon held up his hands stepping away, surrendering.

Everything has been arranged Mr. Troyus. She handed Alack back his card with another detailing the sale. Is there anything else I can help you with?

Alack took Volume One, I’ll start with this. Thank you.

Rallon nudged him in the side seeing the Seminian’s big brown eyes falling upon another trinket, and followed Rallon out of the shop.

I still think that’s a lot for some moldy old books. You paid her rent and utilities for the next decade.

You have to be into the history to appreciate it, explained Alack carefully fingering the ornate silver scroll work, the cost means nothing...money is a tool, not a trust.

Even to a third of your annual salary?

If she wanted ten thousand, I still would have bought it.

Too quote you, ‘wow’.

They arrived at the open door shop of the Assayer’s Office. A line of shabby workers in dirty coveralls with protective sheet plastic coats waited holding various buckets and boxes in their hands. Alack took up a position behind the last fellow. Rallon, made a hand gesture to him, and followed into the shop bypassing the angry scowls of the locals. When inside, Rallon wrapped his red Service Cape about him and sat in a chair, Alack did the same.

The line moved slowly. Lowell Urdorf, a medium built fellow with gold curly hair, a plumped round face with almost female features, seemed to get a little nervous over his two guests. As Alack leafed through the antique, Rallon took the time to study the Prefect’s disk. The miners deposited their rare metals, gems and minerals in various dishes, which went into different cabinets resembling analyzers. Here, they are weighed, analyzed for impurity and current values posted. After each miner made his mark, Lowell collected the materials paying the man in hard Retallite currency.

You multiply this by tens of thousands all over Amazia, began Rallon, it’s quite a haul on the Metallic Exchanges annually. Most of this wealth is sold by the government for triple the prices, keeps the benefits flowing for hundreds of millions.

Alack frowned, I recall a State Senator wanting to tax this source of income but the local miners made such a protest, he dropped the idea.

What you didn’t hear, his house was burnt to the ground.

Wow. Alack went back to his book commenting. And we’re still on Amazia?

You would be surprised what exists in your own backyard, Colonel.

The last miner dragged a huge sack of rocks and began to take one out at a time, studying each and placed them in their separate cabinets.

Impurities are high, Klum, Lowell studied his readouts on the displays, to many sulfides and hydrides, didn’t you bother to bake them?

Ain’t got time, Low, just give me their worth. My kid’s sick, I need them serums. Rallon heard this and stood, closing the door. May I help you, Sir?

The crusty scraggly half shaved face with missing teeth and deeply recessed eyes glared at him. Ain’t no need for’ya, Servie.

Full value on his load, no subtraction for impurities. Rallon flashed his credentials, I’ll make up the difference.

Your office will compensate? Rallon handed him his expense card. Full value it is. And Lowell gave Klum a small leather sack full of Retallite pieces of higher denominations.

The grizzly fellow hesitated staring at the hefty pouch, bit his lip in finality and carefully took it. Feeling its weight, he broke a gentle smile, my boy thanks ya. and quickly left for the Apothecary’s Shop.

Something I just learned from you, Colonel. Retrieving his card Rallon questioned Lowell on the Urdorf family and his brother Aten. Lowell is educated at the University of Parmont in the geological sciences, banking and finance, applied for his Assayer’s license on the State level and is given a commission to officiate in this locality. The Urdorf family considers him an outcast. He abandoned the mountain life for the town life. He’s the town liaison between the ‘upper hill’ families, the mining corporation and the Prefect. He also gives legal advice on claims, holding deeds and has actually represented some folks in court as their Resonator.

He’s as stubborn as a male Pedrof (moose) and he’s not going to budge from the cabin. It’ll take an army of Service Troopers to get him out.

That’s what I’m trying to avoid, Rallon scratched his cheek in thought, Can you give me a detail of the place, layout of ground?

Lowell pulled out a miner’s survey map in grids and elevation lines hastily drew various buildings, gullies, trees, boulders, roads and embankments surrounding the Urdorf estate. It’s not going to do you any good, Sir, I tried, the Prefect tried. He’s up there and he’s not gon’na come down for nobody. Civeron himself would be wasting his breath on my brother.

Well, we don’t expect to go that far. Thanks for your time, Mr. Urdorf.

As they left the neat little shop, Klum came up to them and pushed a half filled sack at Rallon. I took what’s I need, keep your dirt money, Servie. My boy thanks ya again. and walked away with a package of medicines under arm.

These are difficult people. mumbled Alack. Man’s pride is always to be right.

"Their tough…don’t like strangers, prideful and hardworking,