The Forever Hero

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  The continued hush bothered her. In her own thirty plus years of Service, never had she heard such sustained quiet, almost as if it were a funeral or memorial rather than a mere change of command.

  Her eyes swept the parade ground, the crowd of support personnel, and the visitors. No frowns, no laughs, no signs of fear, but no signs of celebration.

  When the last detachment had stepped past the stand and back into position, then and only then did the commodore move, in quick steps, to the podium.

  He offered no salutations, no jokes.

  “All things must end, and all things must begin.

  “My time here must end, and the time of Commander H’Lieu must begin. Standora Base is respected, appreciated, and, I believe, a worthwhile place to be. That it is all of these things is not because of a commandant, and not because it merely exists, but because the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. Because together we can do what none can do separately.

  “No man, no woman, no child…stands alone. Nor have we. Together we have accomplished much. In this, I must include those who were stationed here and who have since departed, as well as those of you who have remained. Times and people have changed, but Standora Base remains. Change is a necessity for excellence, and excellence has been your greatest achievement.

  “With Commander H’Lieu, I expect you to build upon that excellence, for much as we have accomplished, much remains to be done. We have forged strong working ties within the Service, within the Empire, and with Stenden, its people, and have begun to work well with the Standoran government. But that work must continue.

  “Never forget that your success is built upon more than machines, on more than discipline. It is built upon the spirit. In the end, that spirit can move and change planets. That spirit alone can achieve excellence, and understand its price and responsibilities. And for that spirit, which you have demonstrated year in and year out, must all of you be commended.

  “In my leaving, my departure, you lose a commandant, and you gain a new one. But your spirit you keep. May it always be so.”

  The commodore bowed his head momentarily in the silence that held, if possible, deeper than before.

  “And now”—and he lifted his sword—”I offer my command and sword to Commander H’Lieu.” He turned. “Commander H’Lieu?”

  The commander stepped forward to the podium, marveling yet at the understated eloquence of the commodore and beginning to ask herself, for the first time seriously, how she could follow the example he had set.

  She stood opposite him, accepting the sword he had offered, then laying sword and scabbard on the half-table on her side of the podium.

  What could she say, knowing that her lengthy remarks, at least by comparison, would have been totally inappropriate?

  “Thank you.” Her words came slowly. “Unlike you, I have not had the privilege of working with Commodore Gerswin. The example he has set is one to which anyone could and should aspire.

  “I am not Commodore Gerswin. We are different people; we have different backgrounds. However, I share his striving for excellence and his belief that such excellence can happen only when we work together.

  “Beyond that, the commodore has said what must be said, and I wish him well. I look forward to continuing his tradition and working with and for you all.”

  She stopped, deciding against any flowery conclusion, and bent to pick up the plain sword and black scabbard.

  “Commodore, while I accept the responsibility you have passed to me, your sword is yours. May it always be so.”

  The commodore stepped forward to take back the sword. Then they exchanged places, and both faced the command and the crowd.

  Still…silence lingered across the upturned faces.

  After a long moment, nine notes sounded from the trumpet, in three groups of three, and the reverse parade began as the two senior officers presided over the retreat.

  This time as each squad passed the reviewing stand the commodore received a salute from each. The squads did not reform on the parade area, but continued down the plastarmac to the nearest hangar, into which they disappeared.

  When the parade area was at last empty of military personnel, except for the corner sentries, nine more notes sounded from the antique trumpet.

  The commodore broke the spell by twisting toward the new commandant.

  “Nice touch with your acceptance. They’ll like it, and you’ll come to believe it, if you give them the fairness, the discipline, and the hearing they deserve.”

  She inclined her head toward him stiffly.

  “It is rather difficult to follow a living legend.” She pointed toward the civilians who were now filing out toward the main gate. Even from the reviewing stand she could see that several were wiping their eyes.

  “Hasn’t always been so. Won’t be.” He patted her shoulder. “You’ll make it, probably a lot farther than I did.”

  “Did?”

  “Resigning. I have a few things left to do, and I need the time to do them.” He paused. “Shall we go? Captain Ihira is waiting to show you to your office and quarters.”

  “You’re out?”

  “Out and packed. With the ceremony, my resignation is fully effective.”

  “Just like that?”

  He shrugged. “Traveled light for a long time. Still do. Seems to work that way whether I decide to or not.”

  “What…where…will you go?”

  “Intend to travel. Check on some research.”

  “If I’m not too bold…Commodores are well paid, but not for extensive travel.”

  “Been careful. A small bequest. Position with a group…and there’s the Caroljoy.”

  She could not have missed the accent on the name.

  “The Caroljoy? A ship?”

  “Patchwork of sorts, but certified and speedy. Keeps me more than busy.”

  “Caroljoy…unusual name…understand your—” She broke off the sentence.

  “No…wouldn’t have been right to name it after someone still living. She made it all possible, and a great deal more that I never knew.” His eyes seemed to mist over for a few seconds, and he stopped speaking.

  “Who was she?” asked Commander H’Lieu softly. “She must have been rather special.”

  “Special?” laughed the commodore, and there was an underbite to the self-mocking expression. “Like saying Old Earth was special. Or that devilkids are unusual. She was a—” He stopped again. “Getting old, I guess, because I’m tempted to talk too much. Leave it at that. She was special.”

  “I’m sorry,” apologized the commander. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “You didn’t. You asked, and I did not have to answer.” He grinned. “But I’m just a relic on the way out, with time on my hands.”

  Commander H’Lieu could not help grinning back at him. “You’re scarcely a relic, and I doubt seriously that you will ever have time on your hands.”

  “Perhaps not, but I won’t have my hands full the way you will. Especially if High Command finds out how good your people really are. Then some senior commodore, a real commodore, not a preretirement commodore like me, may decide to take over Standora Base.”

  “You think so?”

  “Unless you make commodore first.” His tone was light, and the shadows that had crossed his features minutes before were gone, gone as if they had never been.

  Captain Ihira was waiting at the base of the now nearly empty reviewing stand for them.

  The commodore returned the captain’s salute, crisply. He turned and was gone.

  Commander H’Lieu swallowed twice before speaking.

  “Lead on, Captain. Lead on.”

  XXXIV

  G. Kyra J’gerald, Bio. D.

  Department of Environmental Biologics

  University of Suharta

  Faith, New Hope Code FNH-Red-Sec 3-RT

  DL

  Dear Dr. J’gerald:

  The foundation has reviewed your proposal for the develop
ment through genetic substitution and accelerated environmental stress of “fuel globes” suitable for use in vehicles as a nonpolluting fuel source.

  Your proposal has been approved for a Class II grant, for a maximum of seven Imperial years, as you proposed. Class II grants are reviewed annually, and funds are disbursed for the following year upon successful completion of the annual review. If the final specimens meet the criteria outlined in your prospectus, and function as you have outlined, an additional sum will be paid, equivalent to the total amount of the seven-year grant, either in a single payment or annually for ten Imperial years.

  The attached contract contains all details. If you agree to the proposal, please authenticate and return three of the copies. On receipt, the foundation will disburse to the account you have specified the first year’s funding.

  Failure to make specific annual or semiannual reports will constitute breach of contract. Failure to undertake the work, for reasons other than illness, will be taken under advisement and treated under both local and Imperial law.

  We wish you the best.

  Sincerely,

  Lyr D’Meryon

  Administrator

  Narla Div Kneblock, Bot. D.

  Drop D-100

  Full City, Urbana Code FCU-Blue-Sec 2-RT

  BG

  Dear Dr. Kneblock:

  Thank you for your proposal to create structural and building materials through the accelerated genetic selection and cultivation of deciduous T-type flora (trees).

  Unfortunately, this work has largely been perfected, and the foundation is not in a position to expend funds for incremental improvements at this time. Since we may not have fully understood all the implications of your proposal, if you have amplifying material, of course, we would be more than pleased to review that in light of any updated submission you choose to resubmit.

  Again…thank you for your proposal, and for your interest in improved biologics.

  Sincerely,

  Lyr D’Meryon

  Administrator

  Restra Ver Dien

  Professor of Sanitary Engineering

  University of San Diabla

  Ghila, New Arizona Code GNA-Green-Sec 1-RT

  HY

  Dear Professor Ver Dien:

  Thank you for the update in your annual report on your progress in modifying water sylphweed to provide the dual function of water purification on a commercial scale and to precipitate toxic and nontoxic contaminants in a reusable mineral form.

  In view of your success with water purification, the foundation is pleased to extend your grant another two Imperial years to allow you the additional time necessary to develop the precipitation capabilities in selected sylphweed strains.

  An addendum to your contract is attached. Please authenticate all copies and return three to the foundation immediately. Upon receipt of the copies, the foundation will disburse the first of the four additional payments provided for in the addendum.

  Looking to your success,

  Lyr D’Meryon

  Administrator

  XXXV

  All planets have life. Somewhere…somehow…there is life. It may be in hibernation forever, created when there was heat, sleeping until moments before a final conflagration. It may be buried in sheltered ravines, or float in high clouds over burned-out lands, but there is life. With one exception.

  That exception is Marduk.

  Picture a T-type world, with an old red sun still close enough to maintain life, half-covered with oceans, and circled by three small moons.

  The seas are crystal violet, and when the waves crash on the rocks, the droplets coating the stone sparkle with the shimmer of blood red diamonds in the sun.

  The clouds are white, towering, with a hint of purple.

  The sands are purpled silver, and bare, as bare as the dark brown-purple of the mud flats that stretch where there should be marshes.

  Where there should be forests stretch only kilometers of purpled clay. Where there should be grass roll on kilometers of purpled bare hills that slowly ooze toward the depressions where rivers should run and do not.

  No spires grace continental divides, but aimless heaps of weathered crimson and maroon stone, some buttressed from the bedrock, some lying loose.

  The planet promised life, and there was none.

  All the explorers found was death.

  N’Doro—dying in his shuttle. Crenshaw—screaming for death for days in the Service wards at Bredick. The crew of the Copernich—found dead to the last soul in orbit. The list is long, longer than it should be because the planet should, by all rights, have supported life.

  The deaths bolstered the argument that there had to be life, for what else besides unknown viruses or alien organisms could kill so many so terribly?

  The answer, when it came, was disappointing. Chemicals—just chemicals. Every virulent chemical known to intelligence existed in the oceans and lands of Marduk. Every stable synthetic concocted by the late masters of Old Earth had been concocted earlier by the departed masters of Marduk. Concocted and left for the universe to find.

  If it is violently mutagenic, teratogenic, carcinogenic, oncogenic, or toxic, Marduk has it.

  And for some, Marduk held a certain promise…

  ANNALS

  Peitral H’Litre

  Bredick, 6178 N.E.C.

  XXXVI

  The OER Foundation administrator checked the itemization from the Special Operations Account again.

  “Unique power source (obsolete) for nontech planet—C/r 1.5 million. Special equipment transport (one time charge)—C/r 4.5 million.”

  No explanation on the official accounts, just the figures. The commander, and she thought of him as the commander despite his preretirement promotion to commodore, had spent more than a third of his annual operations budget on just two items. If they were audited by the Imperial Revenue Service, she’d better know what they represented.

  On the off-chance that he had had an explanation, but didn’t know how to code it, or wanted to leave that to her, she checked the “notes” section, which was sealed except to her personal key.

  Wonder of wonders, she thought. There was an explanation.

  “The unique power source is an obsolete atmospheric pulse tap. Couldn’t buy an equivalent source for less than ten times this, but gadget is good only on a planet with an atmosphere and without intelligent life with a metal based technology. Somewhat limited, but fine for my outspace operations. Even have a place to put it. Will reduce the power costs for the ship. Could be as much as eighty percent less.”

  Lyr nodded. It sounded crazy, but if he was right, and about equipment he had always been right, the cost would be absorbed in less then a standard month. His energy bills ran nearly C/r 10 million annually, and that was what he drew from the foundation. From his private sources, who knew what he was paying?

  “The one-time transport charge is what it cost for a oneway disposable jump hull to carry that and some other equipment to base. Didn’t want to charter a freighter, though it would have cost half as much, for obvious reasons. Hope you can figure out a way to explain this.”

  She worried at her lower lip once more.

  Some things he was so secretive about, as if the Empire really cared about the doings of a foundation promoting biologics research and use. The secrecy, she was sometimes convinced, might cause more problems than the mission.

  She frowned, but finally settled on the standard classification of equipment freight charges, with a few codes and supporting figures that should get her through all but the most thorough of audits, if one were even requested.

  In more than twenty years, she had been requested to appear before the Imperial Revenue Service twice. Once had been for a grant to Sadukis University, which had been diverted to support the candidacy of the University Chancellor for delegate—unknown to the OER Foundation.

  The second time had been because the receipts to and assets of the Forward Fund had exceeded, for
a two month period, the thirty percent maximum requirement. That had been her fault, because of a rather spectacular increase in the value of some Torinian bonds that the banking community had written off as worthless.

  Still worrying at her lower lip, which was always chapped despite the moisture shield cream she used religiously every night, she began to input the information.

  If the commander, in his capacity as trustee, were not so obviously committed to the foundation and its aims, she would have been more worried. At times, his single-minded pursuit of improved biologics scared her, and now that he was pushing the implementation of the basic research and research into actual applications…

  She shook her head. If she knew more, she would only worry more, and there was more than enough to worry about with the research grants and the accounting legalities.

  XXXVII

  “The assignment is a standard one—the father and the son. The baron, if one could call him that, and the heir. That means the timing must coincide.”

  “Explain.”

  “The father has his own yacht, and can pilot it himself. He is surmised to have a hidden base, probably in an uninhabited system. The son lives with the mother and her clan, separated from the father. But he remains the only heir.”

  “Then there is a preferred order.”

  “Exactly. Father, then son. The client did not specify the order, but preliminary investigations indicate that the father is the more formidable of the two, and would be even more so if alerted by—”

  “The action against the son.”

  The woman nodded. “You understand.”

  “If the man travels so freely, how can one predict where he will be?”

  “That takes patience. He does have a philanthropic connection in New Augusta and must travel there occasionally. That is the sole predictable factor in an extremely irregular and unpredictable schedule. He has never made less than a trip a year, often two or three. We have taps on the torp center and on the clearance sector in Imperial control. Those should give us advance notice, but you will have to take up residence in New Augusta.