Empress of Eternity

by L. E. Modesitt

  “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.

  14

  25 Quad 2471 R.E.

  Eltyn stood to one side of the “window” in the upper chamber that served as Faelyna’s laboratory. After one glance, he did not look toward the corner that held her pallet bed. He tried not to shift his feet from one side to the other as she went through the checklist for the array of equipment centered on the modified and overpowered polariton generator/imager.

  Estimate three minutes before initial probe. Faelyna made some adjustments that Eltyn could not follow.

  Second time you’ve said three minutes. [irony]

  You want me to focus unshielded PG/I on you? [humor]

  Not possible…before I move. [wide grin]

  Her response was a feminine snort.

  What Faelyna had earlier hoped would be several hours, or less than a day, had turned into two days and then three, before she had judged that the equipment was properly set and positioned. Then she had discovered a need for an additional modification. While she had worked on that, Eltyn had made some changes to the station equipment and power system, particularly in the reporting monitors—in reaction to the totally irrational periodic demands for station power reductions. He’d also isolate-blocked the internal net against probes from outside, but in a way that simply indicated that the entire comm system had been shut down except for emergency comm. All incoming probes and messages were quarantined so that he could view and analyze them without contaminating or compromising the station systems.

  Two minutes.

  Ready. Eltyn looked at her, trying to maintain a calm and unworried expression while not showing any sign of what he had begun to feel about her. To do otherwise would be unRuchelike.

  The command comm level seared a white priority pulse across all CommNet channels. URGENT! URGENT! All stations! Mandatory reduction of power usage to minimum. Discontinue all routine and [low] priority usage. Nonessential energy usage will result in disciplinary action…

  Faelyna glanced at Eltyn.

  Eltyn triggered the shield-system he’d developed in reaction to the power hysteria coming from Hururia, a hysteria he suspected was being generated by the RF fanatics among The Fifty.

  ????? questioned Faelyna.

  System shields activated, Eltyn private-pulsed. [concern] Possible RF takeover.

  Fanatics4, idiots7!

  The screens that had just shown the satellite images of continental weather blanked, followed by momentary light-static, and then blackness.

  MetCom out/down, observed Eltyn.

  Troubled times = fanaticism. So much easier than thought. As if political control will change the weather.

  Eltyn waited, then inquired, Wish to continue?

  No logical reason not to. Even more reason to continue. One minute.

  Eltyn moistened his lips, trying not to look too nervous while he waited. Her equipment could project enough power to fry his fingers. It wasn’t supposed to, but it could.

  Now…touch the “window” to open it.

  Eltyn did so, pressing his fingertips against the stone where human touch actually created an opening to the outside. He suspected that prolonged touch was unnecessary, that intent was primarily required, but some sort of touch/movement was nonetheless necessary. A gust of all-too-hot air dried the perspiration of anticipation—and fear—almost instantly.

  Close it.

  He did so, aware that even that momentary blast of air had raised the temperature in the l
aboratory where he stood significantly. He took a moment to smooth his hair, short as it was.

  Power to standby, announced Faelyna.

  Eltyn took a slow deep breath, then pulsed, Results?

  Something registered on the PG/I tracker. [satisfaction/anticipation]

  What??? Eltyn couldn’t help but display some impatience, unRuchelike as that was.

  Probable shadow entanglement. Parallel shadowing.

  Eltyn couldn’t help smiling. Did he dare? After a brief hesitation, he added, [admiration…affection]

  He could sense her embarrassment.

  Thank you. [appreciation]

  Not wanting to dwell longer in the uncomfortable area of expressed emotion, he pulsed, Detection sufficient?

  Indications suggest tracking by ???? within or behind the stone of the canal and station without actual energies being radiated or deployed beyond the surface of the stone.

  Eltyn frowned. How???

  Unknown this time. One step at a time. Doors next, then conduits. Pattern check. After that…[shrug]

  Pattern replication?

  Possible alternative. Except…what if replication freezes command structure?

  Eltyn winced. He certainly didn’t want to be trapped inside the station. Yet…being trapped outside in the heat and the wind-whipped sand wasn’t likely to be much better.

  The white emergency indicator pulsed three times before an announcement followed. In response to the urgent needs of the Ruche, The Twenty have superseded The Fifty, in accord with Prime Emergency Authorization Number One. The Twenty are already restoring full communications in Hururia…

  Prime Emergency Authorization? questioned Eltyn. When Faelyna did not respond, he added, ????

  Unlikely to have ever existed. RF invention. But it will appear in the records of The Fifty’s proceedings. Very proper.

  Already in place. [cynical acceptance]

  They turned and looked at each other, as if neither quite knew what to say when it appeared that the very structure of the Ruche was either crumbling or being supplanted from within.

  A single cyan pulse flared through the comm system. TechOversight Contingency Three. Contingency Three.

  The two exchanged glances.

  Contingency Three? That’s…retreat to Chiental redoubt, Faelyna observed.

  How do we comply? Transport? A thousand kays from the north side of the canal.

  In the middle of the Fhranan Peaks. [ironic disbelief]

  All the contingency plans had been designed more for climate or weather disasters, or for a breakdown in civil order, reflected Eltyn—not an internal coup and takeover. Still…it might work. Then he shook his head. There was no way they could even consider crossing the canal, let along making their way that far to the northeast. They had no boat, and who knew what was happening in Apialor, where there was a ferry?

  Another comm pulse followed. Disregard all other transmissions. Ruche security has already placed all comm and power-generation systems and facilities under immediate supervision. Over the next weeks, all independent and outlying installations will be inspected to assure compliance with the emergency procedures promulgated by The Twenty…

  That’s to give everyone time to give the impression of compliance, Faelyna observed.

  Sorting out noncompliers…isolating those who support The Fifty. He paused. TechOversight?

  Total creation of the less “traditional” of The Fifty. That’s why the cyan alert.

  They exchanged knowing looks.

  Eltyn pulsed, Interrogative possibility of gaining control of shadow system to prevent “inspection” by the RF usurpers?

  Time before arrival?

  ????

  Shadow system appears to exist. Existence = controls. Control protocol unknown. Control language unknown… A faint smile crossed her thin lips.

  [understanding…reluctant acceptance] [hope?]

  Suggest we move equipment to lower door. Soonest. Depowering system this time.

  Eltyn nodded and moved toward her.

  Their project was taking on very personal importance, with The Twenty in control of the center of the Ruche in Hururia, especially since there was no way to cross the sands to the south and east, and they had no watercraft for the ocean and canal…and neither time nor equipment with which to build one. There certainly wasn’t any way that they could make their way to Chiental without encountering the minions of The Twenty…or any certainty of what they might find there if they could.

  15

  12 Siebmonat 3123, Vaniran Hegemony

  The suspicious cargo-sailer did not attack. Instead, precisely at midday, the vessel anchored to the south-southwest of the station. Before long, several individuals began using giant kites to surf the waves. Then two other groups launched sea-canoes and began a series of races, stopping just short of the outer surf line before turning and paddling northward, if slowly.

  Duhyle stood at the corner of the ocean wall and the canal wall in the chill breeze. He studied the vessel, its sails furled, the picture of an ancient holiday cruise vessel, except for the heavy cargo booms securely fastened and immobile…and the cool temperatures out on the waves.

  Subcaptain Symra stood to Duhyle’s left.

  “What are they doing underwater?” asked Duhyle.

  “Preparing to attack,” replied Symra. “Most likely using an underwater lock to transfer gear and equipment to an undersea installation being assembled as we speak.”

  “SatCom won’t do anything?”

  Symra gestured toward the apparently innocent scene playing out on the deep blue-green waters of the Jainoran Ocean. “Someone doubtless has images of what we see. Can you imagine…?”

  Unfortunately, Duhyle could. “There’s no way to see what lies below? No evidence at all?”

  “What may lie below. The water’s deep enough, and sonic monitoring isn’t descriptive enough, especially if what they’re using is largely nonmetallic, which is what any smart operator would do, I’d judge.”

  “At present,” suggested Duhyle.

  Symra only nodded.

  Duhyle turned and walked back into the station. He made his way up to Helkyria’s laboratory to see what she might need. She didn’t even look up from the screens when he came up the ramp and waited. So he hurried down to the larger supply room and began to inventory what was there and what might be useful in unforeseen ways when they were actually attacked.

  He’d actually created about a kilo of biotherm and colored it to match the stone of the station when he received a private link from Helkyria.

  The airships are less than ten minutes to the southeast. They may need assistance in unloading and moving supplies.

  I’ll take care of it. Is there anything there for you…or that you need?

  No. Thank you. I’m working on something else. The link blanked.

  Duhyle packed away the score of innocent-looking circular lumps of biotherm so they wouldn’t dehydrate. The detonators would have to wait.

  By the time he was out on the stone to the south of the station, the first airship had arrived and trailed disembarking lines. The black cylindrical craft hovered ten yards above the ground, its bulbously asymmetrical nose pointed into the wind out of the northeast, its dark and nonreflective solar-film finish soaking in every possible photon for the four engines and ship’s systems. Security troopers slid down the lines. The soft and almost swampy ground to the south of the canal muffled the sound of their boots hitting the surface.

  Duhyle could not see the cargo-sailer from where he watched the troopers leaving the lower airship. But above him and to the south, the second airship had taken station to monitor the Skadira.

  Large as the two airships looked, at more than one hundred yards in length, Duhyle had earlier checked the specs. He’d found the payload to be something around twenty-five tonnes. The average security trooper, with full gear, weighed in at around 130 kilos. Theoretically, the airship could easily have carried two companies, yet e
ach only carried half a company. That should have left mass for heavy equipment as well. Or did the payload refer to the entire gondola and crew?

  He couldn’t tell from the airship specs.

  After the troopers came the pallets of food, ammunition, and other supplies, lowered on cables and quickly detached by the troopers on the ground. Given how organized the troopers were, Duhyle just stood by, in case there was something else that needed to be done.

  A lanky security captain, in one of the shimmering security singlesuits that changed shades depending on the environment and the needs of the troopers, trotted toward Subcaptain Symra.

  Duhyle couldn’t make out what the two women said, but almost immediately about half of the first troopers moved toward the cliffs to the west and took up positions overlooking the ocean.

  In minutes, the remaining troopers from the first airship were on the ground and had carried and stacked the cargo pallets on the stone of the canal wall next to the station. Then they turned and trotted toward the cliffs to join the first contingent. The first craft lifted, the engines whining gently as the airship circled skyward to cover the other ship. The second airship made a circling descent and deployed disembarking lines. The second half of the security company scrambled down the lines, following the same procedures as had the previous troopers.

  In minutes, all but ten security troopers were in position on the cliffs. The ten stood in a relaxed line before Symra.

  “Tech Duhyle, here, will show you where all the supplies will be stored.” After a brief hesitation, Symra added, “The station is effectively proof against any known form of explosive. Its one drawback is that access cannot be blocked, except by troops with weapons.”

  Duhyle thought quickly, then nodded, stepping forward. “The pallets with ammunition need to be stored in the main room just inside the south doorway. Put them against the wall.”

  One of the troopers looked pointedly at the featureless stone wall of the station.

  Duhyle smiled. “There is a door. I’ll show you.”

  He turned to move toward the point where the door was, but was spared that by the fact that the stone opened, and Helkyria stepped out into the weak sunlight.