Empress of Eternity (7 page)

12 Siebmonat 3123, Vaniran Hegemony

In the dim light of dawn admitted by the wall-windows, Duhyle finished pulling on a duty techsuit. He glanced at his consort. She wore one of the ice-blue singlesuits, rather than a uniform security singlesuit.

“You’ll call when breakfast is ready?” she asked.

“It’ll be a bit. Preparing for ten takes longer.”

“You’ll manage. You always do. It’s one of your graces.” She smiled, and for a brief moment, gold flickered at the tips of her short-cut hair and across her eyebrows. “I’ll be in the lab.”

“Working on…whatever you’re going to call it? The fermionic entanglement and ghost diffraction imager? The FEGDI?”

Helkyria laughed. “That sounds like an Aesyr curse or some killed-animal pie. We’ll have to think of something better…if it works at all. Oh…I’d like you to depower everything you can after breakfast.”

“The FEGDI’s a power-glutton?”

“More than I’d calculated. That’s something else I’ll have to track because it’s not showing up as excess heat, either.”

“Inadvertent battery or capacitor effect?”

“I hope not. All I’d need is a discharge in the wrong place or at the wrong time…or some sort of magnetic effect.” She frowned. “I don’t think so. My scanning monitors would have registered an energy buildup.” She turned and walked across the top of the ramp to the laboratory on the other side.

Duhyle followed her to the ramp, then turned downward. That there were no internal doors in the entire station hadn’t bothered him when there had just been the two of them, but now…? He shook his head. He’d get used to that as well.

While Helkyria started work in her laboratory, Duhyle continued down to the area he had made the kitchen. There he began to assemble a breakfast for ten. Doreat—one of the male techs—entered the kitchen area as Duhyle was whisking the eggs for omelets. Scrambling eggs would have been the easiest, but for him scrambled eggs were always a last resort. He hated to do anything as a last resort.

“Can I help?” asked the other tech.

“You could grate the cheese and slice the shrooms.” Duhyle moved to making the drop-biscuit batter.

Half an hour later breakfast was ready, with two large pots of tea and crystalline mugs at each place. Everyone except Helkyria was seated around the two tables that Duhyle had linked together. He could hear her boots on the stone ramp. The other techs stiffened.

“At ease,” offered Helkyria dryly. As she settled herself at the head of the table, she looked somberly at Subcaptain Symra.

“Ser?”

Helkyria sipped from the crystalline mug before replying. “There’s a heavy cargo-sailer headed inbound for the canal. Vestalte doesn’t have any records on the vessel, and the profile only matches the
Skadira
or the
Gullveig
.”

“The giant cargo-carriers?” asked Duhyle. “They’d be hard to miss.”

“There’s only one problem. The
Gullveig
has been verified as in the Great Eastern Sea, bound for Muspelhome, and the
Skadira
was reported as vanished five years ago, ostensibly lost in a storm in the Jainoran Ocean.”

“Then she’s reappeared under Aesyr control,” suggested Symra. “What other possibility is there?”

“I’ve contacted SpecOps headquarters. There aren’t any patrol vessels within half a day’s travel, not any with weapons sufficient to deal with that large a ship. They’re sending a company from Saarland by airship, but they still won’t get here until early afternoon. SatCom estimates the
Skadira
will be off the point by noon local.”

“How many airships?”

“Two.”

“They won’t be bringing that much in the way of heavy weapons, then. They’re only rated for a half-company without support.”

“That’s what’s available in the time frame we’re looking at. Security still has three companies on containment duty around Scefing. Just a coincidence, of course.” Helkyria’s voice held the faintest trace of irony.

Duhyle glimpsed the faintest flicker of green across her eyebrows, but no one else did. He could see that.

“Can’t SatCom take out the ship?” asked Symra.

“Not until she demonstrates hostile intent, and the Aesyr will have an attack planned with that in mind. They’ll expect to lose the vessel, but by then everyone will be clear. They’ll jam all comm with a facsimile CME and visual with a pseudo fog. We may
know
that the sailer is filled with Aesyr beserkers, but it would be just like them to fill it with holidayers, create what SatCom interprets as an attack, and sacrifice innocents. Both the Aesyr and SecCon understand that. If we sank a pleasure ship because it might contain Aesyr ‘irregulars,’ just how long before an immediate plebiscite overturned government and we had emergency security decrees everywhere while Baeldura the Beloved implemented Operation Green house?”

Several of the techs winced.

“We’ll discuss how to proceed after breakfast.” Helkyria smiled politely at the subcaptain, took another swallow of her tea, and then a bite of the omelet. “Very good, Kavn.”

“Thank you.”

“It is indeed,” added Symra.

Duhyle detected a trace of darkness glooming from the tips of the subcaptain’s hair, but he nodded politely and addressed his own platter.

With the help of the other two male techs, Duhyle had the kitchen cleaned and powered down in less than a quarter hour after everyone had eaten. The two officers had departed for Helkyria’s laboratory and makeshift comm center.

The techs hurried outside, presumably for drills or recon. Duhyle decided to check all the energy-using applications in the larger main-floor chamber first. He might overhear something of interest, although Helkyria would tell him later. That assumed she had time.

He began in the corner away from the ramps. He disconnected the holojector, since the standby function did drain power, albeit a minute amount. Next came the emergency lighting pack, which he had to switch off and then disconnect, since power interruption actually turned on the light. From there, he picked up some of what drifted from the laboratory.

“…cargo-sailer that size could carry three companies and weapons support…Even with the company from Saarland…can’t expect to hold them off…”

“…for a research installation?” replied Helkyria.

“…is not normal research, Commander…”

Helkyria laughed.

“…be difficult to defend…certain you can’t block the entrances?”

“…always opened to any human…don’t see why that would change…but they’ll have trouble entering except in twos…”

“…two entries makes it harder…”

Especially if the attackers used an energy beam through one entry at the back of any defenders on the other side, mused Duhyle. They’d have to get the bulky equipment up the western cliffs or up the sheer wall of the canal, but the cargo-sailer was big enough to carry a ratchet-climber or the equivalent. Still, if the defenders put their backs against the wall beside each entry…Then, too, the upper-level “windows” would open, if briefly, and that would allow defensive fire from points that couldn’t be stormed.

He hoped that the fighting didn’t get that close and personal, but the way the two officers were talking, it was all too likely.

He moved to the second emergency lighting console.

20 Ninemonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn

When the tube-train slowed to a halt, the compartment speaker announced, “Arrival in Caelaarn. You are on platform twelve, second level. All passengers please exit.”

Maertyn rose, picked up the bag, slipped the strap over his shoulder, and opened the compartment door.

“Have a pleasant day in Caelaarn, Lord Maertyn,” the car speaker offered politely.

He did not respond, knowing that the system would merely offer another programmed response.

A dark-haired woman of indeterminate age, wearing the solid blue trousers and jacket of a senior Ministry functionary, opened the door to the next compartment as Maertyn neared, but she immediately paused. “You first, Lord.”

Maertyn smiled politely. “I’m in no hurry. Please…” He gestured for her to proceed.

After a moment, she did, and he followed her at a discreet distance to the train car door and then through it. As in Daelmar, the platform was of deep gray, lit indirectly. Unlike Daelmar, the living surface showed signs of wear in places, and it was far from empty, with two hundred or so passengers slipping quietly from the long cyclindrical cars and walking swiftly toward the moving ramp that led up to the main concourse. As befitted the world capital, the tube-train station in Caelaarn was substantial, with two levels of twenty platforms each. The indirect lighting was bright enough to banish shadows, but not intense enough to create reflections off the brushed pewter-like finish of the cars of the tube-trains and the walls and fixtures of the station.

As he let the ramp carry him upward, Maertyn pushed aside his worries about Maarlyna, if with difficulty, and concentrated on what lay ahead of him, and not a moment too soon, because when he reached the top of the ramp and stepped out onto the pale golden surface of the main concourse, he caught sight of a slender older man, attired in maroon and silver-gray, but in the more formal maroon jacket over silver-gray shirt and trousers, with a simple black cravat.

Seeing the familiar figure of Ashauer standing between two Ministry guards—in khaki singlesuits with black belts and boots—Maertyn couldn’t help thinking,
Lord Ashauer S’Detemer, to be precise, conveying so effectively polite and measured menace.

Ashauer stepped forward, smiling warmly. “Maertyn!”

Maertyn noted that the other still wore the small pewter pin of the Transport Ministry on the thin lapel of his jacket, indicating that the older lord continued to hold a position as Deputy Assistant Minister for Regional Liaison. Doubtless Ashauer also kept up his reputation as a bit of a gambler and wastrel, all of which served as a cover for his real position—what amounted to the director of lordly intelligence operations for Executive Administrator of the Unity…and probably far more than that, Maertyn suspected.

“Ashauer. You’re looking as dapper as ever.” Maertyn offered a rueful smile. “I hadn’t expected an escort.”

“How could we not provide an escort to one of the few hopes remaining to the Unity?” Ashauer added cheerfully, “Minister Hlaansk has been most vocal in singing your praises.” He turned and began to walk toward the high pewter arch that led to the transit corridors. “He has not been restrained in the breadth of those praises.”

“He sings everyone’s praises,” replied Maertyn with a soft laugh, walking beside Ashauer, but not too closely. “That’s one reason why he’s effective in dealing with scientists.”

“Ah…but you’re the only lord in our generation to also be a fully qualified scientist, and that does make you special.”

“Different, perhaps, but hardly special.”

“Special enough that he would not want you taking public transit to your town home. That is where you’re headed this evening, is it not?”

“It is indeed, but I doubt that Minister Hlaansk would trouble himself over it. Others might, as you well know, but why would any concern themselves with the obscure research of an even more obscure lord? Or his brief visit to Caelaarn?”

“You have always been modest, Maertyn. I’ve never been certain whether it was the modesty of arrogance or the arrogance of modesty.” Ashauer led the way through the arch and past the local tube transit corridor to the covered portico over the small circular drive of the northernmost transport corridor.

Two vehicles were waiting there, the first a two-seat patrol vehicle with a single hard-faced patroller standing beside it, her dark uniform emphasizing the angularity of her face. She nodded politely but not effusively as the two lords passed and made their way to the second personal transit car, its gleaming finish the dark blue solar-metallic of the Transport Ministry. It was designed to hold but four, the driver/guard and another guard in front, and two in the shielded rear, with a small boot for luggage. The locks clicked open as the guard touched the door plate.

Knowing that Ashauer would insist he enter first, Maertyn took the cushioned seat behind the driver, noting as he did that the privacy barrier was up. Ashauer took the other seat.

“You would not have heard that there is dissension in some outlying districts,” offered the older lord once the car pulled away from the station.

“Doubtless somewhere in Galawon or and especially in Saenblaed.”

Ashauer nodded. “And in places in Occidenta.”

“What has the Gaerda found as the reasons for such unrest?”

“The Gaerda? How would a mere Transport functionary know their judgments?”

Maertyn smiled faintly. “How indeed?”

After a moment of silence, Ashauer said conversationally, as quietly as if idly musing about the regularity of the tube-train schedules, “There are reasons why you’ve been recalled to the capital, Maertyn, and not merely for a routine report or because a few ultra-capitalists protest the science behind Unity regulations.”

“Besides my research? Or besides my charms and non ex is tent wealth?”

“You’re not so poor as you have let others believe. The Gaerda—rather Gaerda chief Caellins—tasked the Finance Ministry with assessing the holdings of all lords currently serving in the government. Yours are far from the least substantial. They are, however, among the most, shall we say, dispersed, so much so that even the Finance Ministry reported it was unlikely that all of them had been identified.”

“The Finance Ministry does me far too much credit.”

“Far too little it would appear. Now…would you like to know why it was suggested to Minister Hlaansk that he request a report in person from you? Or rather that he remind you to come to Caelaarn to make your report in person?”

“I would be most interested in knowing that.”
Not that I’ll trust most of what you’re about to impart.

“Knowing you, I’m certain you’ll be skeptical, but there are those who would prefer that you succeed in your research. The leadership of the Gaerda is not among them. Any indication of progress on your part will require more attention be paid to you, and, obviously, will leave fewer resources and emphasis on the scrutiny of others. Your recent request for more equipment suggested that your research might actually result in useful information.”

“As opposed to being a mere cover for a sabbatical for a lord who dabbles in research? Even so, why would our vaunted security forces be interested in my research or even in my nonexistence? I certainly pose no threat to them.” Ashauer’s words and presence definitely confirmed, in Maertyn’s mind, that the Executive Administrator of the Unity, to whom Ashauer reported, assuredly directly, was engaged in a struggle of some sort with the Minister of Protective Services, who also controlled the Gaerda.”

“Your request for equipment confirmed, among some, that more lies within the great canal than you have reported. They are also convinced that you are unlikely to turn that information over to them.”

“If they’re so convinced of that, why haven’t they just appeared at the station and demanded that I turn over all my research?”

“Besides the fact that it would represent overriding the authority of the Minister of Science? Or that it would require a written order of either the Executive Administrator or the Minister of Protective Services?”

“Which the Council or the Judiciary might well overturn.”

“The Council could be finessed, with the proper timing. The simpler answer might well be that they don’t believe you will turn over what they wish. Or that you could be forced to do so. It’s rumored that you’re an Indurate Master.”

“So that I can’t be mentally coerced? If I were, and there’s certainly no evidence of that, it still wouldn’t mean I couldn’t be killed or otherwise…neutralized.”

“Your existence, or lack thereof, is of little concern. The knowledge you might possibly recover is of great concern.” Ashauer shrugged. “All men have their weaknesses, and you know yours. Mine, as you know, has always been my vanity. I did think that it might be wise for me to suggest that those few matters that surround you and your work are receiving more scrutiny than might be otherwise obvious to you…since you have not been in Caelaarn that recently.”

“I do appreciate your concern.” Maertyn paused, letting the silence draw out.

“Oh…it’s nothing personal, Maertyn. I’m certain you understand that.”

Maertyn did. The Executive Administrator of the Caelaaran Unity—the most honorable Estafn D’Onfrio—did not wish that whatever Maertyn might discover should fall into the hands of the Gaerda, but he also didn’t want the struggle becoming public, not with unrest in both Galawon and Occidenta. That also suggested that Minister Hlaansk had other agendas…and other supporters that neither the EA nor Minister of Protective Services Tauzn wished to cross. And all of that left Maertyn very much alone—and that was before he’d discovered something that everyone thought he would.
I would that I had their confidence in my capabilities.

“It’s never personal to others, Ashauer, but it’s always personal to those it affects, and yet through the ages, men have persisted in insisting that actions adverse to others are not personal.”

Ashauer laughed. “You do retain a philosophical bent, Maertyn.”

“It’s the best way of viewing government. You should know that.” Maertyn offered a brief chuckle in return.

Ashauer nodded, but did not say more, and in a few minutes, the vehicle came to a silent and gliding stop. Maertyn glanced through the glassine side window toward the gates that blocked the entrance to the front courtyard of his town home.

“I wouldn’t worry yet,” said Ashauer. “No one would want anything to happen to you now.”

“I do appreciate your concern. Thank you for the transportation.”

“You’re most welcome.”

Maertyn opened the car door and slipped out, then closed it, offering a polite smile to Ashauer before the vehicle eased away in the twilight.

He glanced up at the Selene Ring, somehow less bright over Caelaarn, then back at the house. The three-story town dwelling was on the hillside overlooking the greenbelt, with the front gates on the perimeter road where Maertyn had alighted. The vehicle gates were at the west end of the property. He stepped toward the iron grille and tapped the combination into the security pad, then let his fingers rest on the sensor. The gates recessed to let him step into the brick-walled courtyard, then closed behind him. The exterior biowood panels of the house were a deep green, except for those framing the corners, which were dark gray, as were the window casements and door frames. The front of the house was twenty yards wide, roughly as wide as the canal station, with a centered main entry a mere two steps above the antique sand brick walk that led from the gates. Maertyn’s boots clicked slightly on the bricks.

As he stepped under the entry portico roof, the door opened, held by a muscular figure in black trousers and a deep green jacket.

“Lord Maertyn, welcome home.” The man bowed slightly, then stepped back

“Thank you, Rhesten.” Maertyn smiled. “It’s good to be here.”
Safely.

Rhesten closed the door and turned to face Maertyn. “Will you require dining, sir?”

“I’ll have a light supper in the study. Just bring it in when it’s ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you.”

Maertyn walked through the modest two-story entry hall and took the second door on the left, into the study. The lights eased on as he closed the door, revealing the desk with the comfortable swivel behind it, the side windows, now blanked for the evening, and the settee flanked by two chairs, each with a now-concealed reading screen.

Stark—that had been how Maarlyna had always described it.

He shook his head. Simple, he would have said, but he never had, at first because it hadn’t mattered, and then, later, because it had mattered too much.

He set the shoulder bag on the narrow shelf to the left of the ebony panels that concealed the working screens, then turned to stand beside the wide and empty desk, a desk, for all its polished ebony finish, that felt ever more alien each time he returned.

As had doubtless always been the case, nothing was quite as it seemed on the surface, or perhaps it was better said that nothing was all that it seemed, either on the surface or beneath.