Alector's Choice

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Eleven hundred here, and twenty one hundred there.”

  Dainyl fingered his chin. “Thirty percent survival rate for a world translation is normal, and both worlds will have greater lifeforce within another year or so. Some will choose not to try the translation.”

  “Most will put it off, and that will reduce the margins,” she pointed out.

  “When will they begin mass translations?”

  “The Archon has… indicated that key alectors will have to begin translations in six months—if they want a guarantee of a position here or on Efra.”

  “You don’t look happy, dearest.”

  “The Marshal of Myrmidons on Ifryn attempted a coup, along with several colonels. Almost fifty alectors died.”

  “That won’t help much;” said Dainyl. “Just a week or so.”

  “Dainyl!”

  “What do they expect?” He snorted. “Our forebears took the risk of the translation here when the success rate was more like fifteen percent. Five percent for the very first, according to Asulet. Their chances are at least four times that, and for someone with the ability and lifeforce of a senior alector, it’s more like forty five percent.”

  “Dainyl…” she said softly.

  “Yes?”

  “We can talk about all that later. You’re back, and I missed you.”

  “I missed you.” Dainyl set aside the wine goblet.

  108

  On Londi, Dainyl did not hurry unduly, but neither was he late in reporting to Myrmidon headquarters. He had no sooner settled into his study, not even with a chance to look at the reports neatly stacked there, than Colonel Dhenyr knocked on the door.

  “Come in, Colonel.” Dainyl offered the words with a smile and gestured to the chair across from him. “How are matters with the other Myrmidon companies going?”

  Dhenyr shifted his weight in the chair. “I’m most glad you’re back, Submarshal. Most glad. Might I ask about Dramur first?”

  “The revolt is over, and the mine production is back to normal. We did lose two pteridons to unusual circumstances. I’ll have to brief the marshal before I can say more. Most of the rebels and rebel leaders were killed, well over a thousand rebel casualties. The Third Cadmian Battalion had a particularly effective captain. When I have a moment, I’ll be recommending him for promotion to majer and command of the battalion. You may have to follow through on that. Now… what have you to report?”

  “You knew about the pteridon lost near Scien?”

  “Didn’t that happen before I returned to Dramur?” Dainyl frowned. “Or did we lose another one?”

  “Yes, sir. In that same area. The marshal has ordered all flyers to avoid it until further notice.”

  “Have we lost any more pteridons anywhere else besides Dramur?” asked Dainyl dryly.

  “Ah… yes, sir. One flying out of Dereka over the Barrier Range on a message run to Indyor, and one near Aelta. Fifth Company found the burned rock in the Barrier Range, but no one has found any sign of the pteridon that was flying north of Aelta.”

  “What were they doing up there?”

  “I’ve put in an inquiry to Captain Fhentyl, sir, but we don’t have a response.”

  Dainyl managed to take a long and slow deep breath. In less than a season, six pteridons had been lost—six out of slightly less than two hundred, and none could be replaced. According to the records, not one pteridon had been lost in the past three hundred years. Why had the ancients decided to attack pteridons now, after so many years of being invisible? It had to be their work. “What else? What about Coren, Catyr, and Hyalt.”

  “Hyalt’s calm, and all of First Company’s second squad has returned—except the one Myrmidon lost, of course. We’ve been able to stop overflights of Coren, and the marshal ordered the return of the squad covering Catyr yesterday. They haven’t returned yet.”

  “Any more skylances missing in Dereka?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What else should I know?”

  “I understand that the Duarch is not pleased with events, sir. That’s what the marshal said on Octdi, anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dainyl nodded, and the colonel slipped away. From what he could tell, Lystrana’s analysis of Dhenyr was accurate. He tried hard, and he was conscientious, and he had even less Talent than people had thought that Dainyl had—and far less insight. Dainyl wasn’t sure whether to be more worried about Dhenyr or about the lost pteridons. Clearly, the marshal and the Highest did not want any higher-ranking officers in headquarters with both insight and Talent. Dhenyr had neither. They’d accepted Dainyl—for the moment—because, while he had insight, they did not know that he had more Talent than was obvious.

  “Submarshal! Welcome back!” Shastylt stood in the doorway.

  Dainyl rose, not quite so easily as he had before and would again.

  “You were injured, I see.”

  “Broken arm and broken leg. They’re mostly healed. It happened when we lost Quelyt and Falyna and their pteridons.”

  Shastylt nodded slowly. “I feared something like that.”

  “I have a report here, sir. Would you like me to tell you, or would you prefer to read it, then discuss what happened?”

  “Why don’t I read it? It won’t be long. That’s the first thing we need to deal with. I assume that you resolved everything in Dramur?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” A twisted smile appeared on the marshal’s face. “The Duarches would like some good news. If you have that report…”

  Dainyl lifted the thick envelope off the desk and handed it across to Shastylt. “It may be longer than you need. As you requested, that is the only copy.”

  “Good. I’ll be back to you shortly.”

  After Shastylt departed, Dainyl settled down with the re-.ports. He’d only made his way though five when the marshal reappeared, stepping inside the study, and closing the door.

  The marshal settled into the chair across from Dainyl, looking solidly at the Submarshal. While Dainyl was well aware of the Talent-probing of the marshal, he left his shields in place, with the same apparent unaware stolidity that Lystrana had helped him develop years before.

  “I’ve read your report, Dainyl. It’s most remarkable. Or rather, I should say that your actions were most remarkable. You seem to have prevented a runaway rebellion with a minimum of casualties, that is, given the feelings of all those involved.”

  Dainyl had his doubts about the “minimum” of casualties. To him, nearly half of the Third Cadmian Battalion, more than a thousand dead rebels, and two Myrmidons and their pteridons were far greater than minimum casualties. He’d managed to salvage the situation, but his actions were anything but remarkable. The only thing remarkable was the fact that he hadn’t seen what was happening earlier. In hindsight, it had all been so obvious. There hadn’t been a rebellion, until the combination of Majer Herryf’s arrogance and stubbornness and Majer Vaclyn’s stupidity had collided and created one. But then, that was clearly what the marshal and the Highest had intended. Things would have been worse if it hadn’t been for Captain Mykel.

  “There was one aspect of all this that troubles me, Marshal,” Dainyl said, trying to inject puzzlement into his voice. “As we discussed much earlier, there could not have been a rebellion without large numbers of Cadmian rifles present in Dramur. Has anyone been able to determine how such unmarked weapons got there?”

  Shastylt laughed. “Coins. Golds. All the steers of Acorus are obsessed with accumulating what they perceive as wealth. The landowners on Dramur tend to be fearful of both the prisoners and each other. They have more wealth than many. The smugglers knew that, and they bribed one of the assistant weapons engineers in Faitel to produce extra rifles. Over time, he reported a number of production runs as spoiled, requiring extra production. The runs were not spoiled, but were slipped out of the manufactory as scrap to be reused, then were diverted. The engineer in question has been dis
covered and punished. Before he died, he revealed what happened.” The marshal smiled coldly.

  “I see. Thank you.” Dainyl returned the smile, hoping he could keep to himself, behind his shields, the knowledge that the marshal was not telling the entire truth.

  “The more important aspect of your efforts in Dramur was the discovery that the ancients are still alive and active, if in a reduced capacity. Things could have been much worse,” reflected the marshal, “but, in many ways, matters turned out better than they might have.”

  “Better, sir?”

  “We are aware of the problem before the ancients have been able to act against us on a larger scale.”

  “Colonel Dhenyr reported that we have lost four other pteridons in the past season.”

  “That is true, but only in Dramur do we know what happened. In all other cases, the pteridons either disappeared or mysteriously crashed. We would be guessing, or acting with less than complete knowledge…” Shastylt was clearly more concerned about the ancients. He had seemed almost amused about the abortive rebellion. “… the Highest and I have decided that it would be best if you were the one to brief the Duarch on the events in Dramur. You have the greatest personal acquaintance with the situation, and you were the one to bring everything back under control.”

  Dainyl understood that as well. The marshal and the High Alector of Justice were tired of being called to task.

  As abruptly as he had entered, the marshal stood. “The Highest requested that you attend him immediately upon your return. I took the liberty of summoning the duty coach. It will be here shortly, after taking a message to the Hall of Justice.”

  “Right now?”

  “That is the meaning of immediate,” Shastylt replied wryly.

  Dainyl laughed and stood. “I’ll be on my way.”

  He did have to wait a quarter glass for the coach to take him to the Hall of Justice.

  Once he arrived there, what surprised Dainyl even more than the immediate summons was that the High Alector of Justice ushered Dainyl into his private chambers instantly, and with a broad, almost relieved, smile.

  “I had feared you had been even more seriously injured than you were, Dainyl.”

  “I was fortunate, Highest.”

  “We have not talked since you returned from Lyterna, Dainyl. We’ve been somewhat preoccupied. What did you think of what you learned there?” asked the High Alector of Justice.

  “Some of it, sir, I knew,” replied Dainyl carefully. “There was much I did not know.”

  “Asulet knows more about life forming and lifeforce than perhaps any alector in our history here on Acorus. We are most fortunate to have had him guiding us.”

  “He is most knowledgeable, and he was most instructive.”

  “You have seen much of Acorus over the years, Dainyl. What do you think about our progress in building lifeforce mass?”

  Dainyl kept his expression pleasant and a tight rein on his emotions and shields, even as he wondered why the Highest was more interested in Lyterna than Dramur. “I would not be the one who could best judge, but I would say matters are progressing more slowly than might have been hoped.”

  Zelyert laughed, a hearty booming expression. “You are so tactful! More slowly than might have been hoped! So delightfully droll.” His voice dropped into a lower tone, one almost sad. “And so unfortunately true. Life here on Acorus is still most fragile, despite outward appearances. We must be most careful. That was one reason why we did not wish to send a full Myrmidon company or even a full squad to Dramur.”

  “I had wondered,” Dainyl said politely.

  “As you have doubtless seen, over the past year, the life force mass here is slow to respond, and that is something that we have had some difficulty conveying to the high alectors who serve the Archon in Ifryn. Using the Tables for messages is most difficult, because recorders at each Table must hold the link open simultaneously, then read and write down what appears.”

  That was something Dainyl did not know.

  “The only alternative is to send a courier, and that tends to be hard on the couriers.” After a moment, Zelyert went on. “We have tried to point out the fragility of the life structure on Acorus, and how we are caught between two difficult alternatives. Because of the rapidly deteriorating conditions on Ifryn, the Archon and the Duarchs have directed the high alectors here on Acorus to manage the life-force growth for maximum gain. This requires strict controls on the landers and indigens. They resent it, and there are uprisings and disobedience. The ensuing violence and the greater use of pteridons and skylances reduces growth as well. You saw this in Dramur. The recent events in Catyr and Coren are other examples. If we are less strict, then we do not face so many uprisings, but lifeforce growth is slower, and that is not acceptable to the Archon and the Duarchs.” Zelyert offered a sigh. “This problem is also why we have permitted so few alector births. Oh, I understand that you and the most honorable Lystrana will be expecting a child?”

  “Yes, we are,” replied Dainyl. “We are most grateful.”

  “As you should be, but I can think of no couple who more deserves a child.” Another smile crossed the face of the Highest. “In addition, Marshal Shastylt and I have decided that you are worthy of being not only Submarshal, but designated, unofficially, of course, as the next Marshal of Myrmidons.”

  “That is quite an honor and responsibility,” Dainyl replied.

  “After you brief the Duarch of Elcien—and that may be a good week or so, if not longer, for he has a crowded schedule, I also have a small task for you. I would like you to travel to Alustre—by Table, of course—and consult with Submarshal Alcyna. I would like you to find out if she knows more about the disappearances of the pteridons near Scien than we have heard. You are, I believe, far better suited to such a task than anyone else.”

  Dainyl nodded. “By then, I will be more conversant with what occurred in my absence.”

  “I am most certain you will.” Zelyert stood. “I congratulate you on your handling of a most delicate situation, and, of course, upon your child. I am confident that we can continue to rely upon your judgment and discretion, and that you will provide an instructive briefing to the Duarch on the events that transpired in Dramur.”

  Dainyl stood, more slowly, and inclined his head. “I hope that I will prove adept in conveying to the Duarch not only our successes in Dramur, but also the difficulties of relying upon landers and indigens to build lifeforce when resources for supervision are as limited as they have been.”

  “You do that, Submarshal,” replied Zelyert, “and you will have our gratitude. I fear he has heard that too often from us. He needs to hear it from one who has just returned from the field. As for the matter of the pteridons and the ancients… I would suggest that you also note that we are working to develop a contingency plan, should it appear necessary, but that the details have not all been worked out.”

  Dainyl nodded again. “I can see the wisdom in that.”

  “I thought you would. Give my best to Lystrana, and do not strain yourself too much until you are more recovered.”

  Dainyl maintained a pleasant smile on his face until he was well away from the Hall of Justice.

  109

  Mykel had barely finished stabling the chestnut and hauling his gear to his room in the officers’ quarters in the Cadmian headquarters compound in Elcien when he turned to find a senior squad leader standing at the door.

  “Captain Mykel, sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “Colonel Herolt would like to see you, sir. At your earliest convenience.”

  Mykel set down his gear. He might as well see what the colonel wanted. It had been a long day, already, after five days at sea, and a tedious unloading of all the mounts and men remaining from Third Battalion, although far shorter, unfortunately, than the loading out had been when they had left Elcien more than two seasons before.

  “If you’d follow me, sir.”

  Mykel followed the senior sq
uad leader across the courtyard and into the headquarters building, then to the door of the colonel’s study, which had been left open.

  “Captain Mykel, reporting as requested, sir.”

  Colonel Herolt, with his iron gray hair and black eyes, looked up. “Come in and close the door, Captain.” He motioned for Mykel to seat himself.

  “Captain—or should I say, Majer?—I have a report here from the Submarshal of Myrmidons, with an endorsement from the High Alector of Justice.”

  “Yes, sir?” Mykel allowed himself to look puzzled.

  “Do you know the Submarshal of Myrmidons?”

  “Submarshal Dainyl, sir? Yes, sir. He took command of all operations in Dramur, sir.”

  “How well do you know him?”

  “Not well at all, sir. I saw him preside over a court-martial, and I briefed him on Fifteenth Company operations—it couldn’t have been more than three or four times. I could check on that, but that’s what I recall. He was injured in the last battle in Dramur, and Fifteenth Company recovered him and provided cover.”

  “You and Majer Dohark most clearly impressed him.” The colonel stared at Mykel.

  Mykel met the colonel’s eyes. After dealing with the Submarshal, the colonel seemed far less intimidating.

  “I don’t like promoting junior officers too soon. I like being ordered to do so even less. On the other hand, both Majer Dohark’s reports and the Submarshal’s indicate that your conduct and your accomplishments were all that stood between a successful revolt and the destruction of the entire battalion.”

  Mykel waited, sensing that it was best to say nothing.

  “I can see a certain calmness and responsibility that was not there a half year ago. It might even be enough to get you through.” Herolt sighed. “You understand that, once Third Battalion is back to full strength and retraining is finished, you will be ordered to handle the most challenging and unpleasant assignments?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you understand why?”

  “Yes, sir. To prove that Third Battalion will receive no special favors or easy assignments, and that any officer who receives early promotion not only earned that promotion, but will have to continue to prove that it was earned.”