Results?
Need to analyze. Different pattern.
[hopeful] ???? Eltyn straightened and stretched.
It’s a beginning. [doubt/hope] Possible key to command structure.
Linguistic basis?
Structured basis required. Linguistics…???
Isn’t all structure based on language?
All structure we know, Faelyna pulsed back. Since no one yet has figured out what lies behind or beneath the station…????
How would we know? They might have figured it out and still left the station alone. Knowledge can’t always be translated into acts.
For our sakes3…best hope we find a way.
Eltyn’s response was a wry smile.
Vehicle approaching! pulsed the local alarm system.
Faelyna turned, an inquiring look on her face.
Eltyn virtied the scanner and pulled an image. Supply wheeler. He watched for a time, extending the image to Faelyna. A woman driver eased the vehicle up to the station’s south side.
That’s Rhyana. She sometimes does the deliveries, Faelyna pulsed. Seems like a good enough person.
Might as well see what she has to say.
The two of them left the equipment and walked up the ramp to the main level. Eltyn picked up one of the stunners before he pressed the stone to open the southern door. Then he led the way.
Rhyana had pulled the wheeler up close to the door, in the area that Eltyn and Faelyna kept clear of the sand. That was both to keep sand from flowing into the station and to make it easier for those who delivered goods, parts, and equipment. The delivery woman stood beside the wheeler, her hands empty. Her eyes flicked from Faelyna to Eltyn and the stunner. Her orange driver’s cap was slightly askew over her short and curly brown hair.
Eltyn couldn’t tell if the covered cargo bin of the solar-powered wheeler contained anything. Whatever it might be wasn’t that massive, because the vehicle wasn’t resting heavily on the narrow tires.
“What is it?” Faelyna asked.
“I had to leave Apialor. I saw what they were doing. They didn’t see me. No one looks at manualers. The Twenty sent a team with a scanner. They’re brain-scanning everyone. Those who aren’t loyal are force-conditioned.”
Eltyn winced inside. Brain-scanning was bad enough. If done less than expertly, the process created permanent damage and learning problems. Force-conditioning wasn’t much better than an ancient lobotomy or a Caelaarnan partial brain transplant. The body was the same, but mental functions were greatly diminished, and initiative was almost non ex is tent. “Why?”
“They claimed there were secret agents of The Fifty everywhere, especially anyone associated with TechOversight.” Rhyana glanced back eastward.
The level surface of the canal wall was empty of figures or vehicles.
“I did bring some supplies…had to be those left in the wheeler. Would have liked to have brought my rifle. Couldn’t risk going back into the depot,” added the driver. “Would have liked to have used it.”
Too bad she couldn’t, Eltyn private-pulsed.
Agree3.
“You think I could stay here?”
“You’re welcome to.” Faelyna smiled. “It’s severe. No entertainment, except a few cubes we brought.”
“Brought my own favorite cubes, the ones I carry with me for when I have to wait,” admitted Rhyana. “Couldn’t see staying. First thing they did was grab Kealyn and force-condition him to tell everything about anything. Heard that, and I sneaked off and took the wheeler.”
“Kealyn’s just a driver,” said Eltyn. “Why would they do that?”
“Said drivers know what everyone does.”
“How soon do you think they’ll be headed here?” asked Faelyna.
The delivery woman shook her head. “I don’t know. They came in from the north side of the canal on an old SEV. I took the only wheeler they weren’t using. They had the others carry stuff from where they tied up the SEV, down on the floating dock. Their team was armed. There weren’t that many, maybe twenty.” She paused, then added, “I thought you might have some way to hide or defend yourselves.”
“We’re working on it,” replied Faelyna. “The station is impervious to explosives and energy weapons, but the entries can’t be blocked.” Not at the moment, she private-pulsed to Eltyn. “You should know that, but you’re welcome to stay. We do have food. It’s mostly dry-condensed, but not bad.”
Rhyana shuddered, looking southward at the sandy dunes and scattered cacti and sagebrush and mesquite. “No place else to go.” She forced a smile. “I can help…do things…”
“We’d appreciate that,” replied Faelyna. “Do you need help unloading?”
“I wouldn’t want to be a bother…”
“That’s not a problem,” said Eltyn. “The sooner we get everything inside the better. We might even be able to squeeze your wheeler inside.”
“That’d be good.”
Very good, pulsed Faelyna to Eltyn.
He nodded.
18
13 Siebmonat 3123, Vaniran Hegemony
Duhyle stood at the ocean wall of the canal, looking out over the patches of late-morning mist that drifted across the low waves of the Jainoran Ocean. There was no sign of anyone who had been on the cargo-sailer. A day after the destruction of the vessel, the sea-canoes and kite-sailers had vanished. The narrow beaches below the western cliffs were empty of all human presence, without any prints in the intermittent patches of sand between the pebbled shingle. Seabirds swooped and landed, and skittered along the edge of the waves. An occasional crab scrabbled sidewise to avoid or to engage the water.
“You won’t see anything, Kavn.” Helkyria stepped up to the ocean wall beside him. “Not yet. Not until just before they decide to attack—if they decide to attack.” She half-turned.
Duhyle heard boots on the stone. He glanced back to see Captain Valakyr and Subcaptain Symra approaching. Both wore professionally grim expressions on faces that might otherwise have been attractive.
“Ser?” offered Valakyr as she stopped a yard from Helkyria. “What have you heard?”
“Outside of the reports of political chaos, the violent demonstrations in Asgard and all across Midgard, the more muted counter-demonstrations in Vaena, the political maneuverings among assistant magistras, the blanket condemnations of Security? Outside of those?” Helkyria’s eyebrows lifted, and highlights of green and dark gray momentarily appeared there, while the tips of her hair darkened into nearly pure black before fading to gray and then resuming their silver-blond hues. Her eyes remained silver.
“Ah…yes, ser,” replied Valakyr.
Symra nodded, the tips of her hair darkening the slight bit that was possible.
“All the Aesyr representatives to the Assembly have left Vaena, and so have the magistras in charge of Environment, Transport, and Finance and Commerce.”
“Those were all the departments headed by Aesyr, weren’t they?” asked Captain Valakyr.
“That’s my understanding.”
“Why the condemnation of Security?” asked Duhyle. “At least half the security companies are primarily Aesyr.”
“The Magistra of Security didn’t deploy those companies.” Helkyria’s voice was dry. “For rather obvious reasons.”
“Some of them might be down there, hidden out of sight.” Valakyr gestured toward the ocean and the empty beaches. “Seventh Company all requested leave at the same time. Major Gemli granted it.”
“What else did she grant? Access to unlimited lethal weapons? Use of company vehicles or government transport?”
“I wouldn’t know, ser.”
“I wouldn’t have thought anyone would go that far, but…these days, who could say?” Helkyria nodded. “If you will excuse me, Captain, Subcaptain, there are matters to which I need attend. Please don’t draw any power from the local net without checking with me or Duhyle first. Let me know if you see any sign of activity from the Aesyr…or anyone else.”
“Yes, ser.”
“I’ll let you know if I hear anything else from Vaena.” Helkyria inclined her head to Duhyle, then turned. He immediately joined her, but did not say anything until they were inside the station and walking up the ramp to her laboratory.
“You’re going to try something with the fermionic entanglement and ghost diffraction imager?” After her earlier reaction to the FEGDI acronym, he wasn’t about to use the term in speaking. He still thought of the odd assemblage of equipment that way.
“Yes. It’s the next logical step beyond implementation of a matching protocol system.”
“You’ve made sense out of those ghost patterns?”
“They’re more like shadow patterns, created by some sort of entanglement. I can use them to open and close the doors and windows without being near them. That’s interesting, but not terribly useful. I need—we need—some way to lock the entries. Beyond that…” The corners of Helkyria’s lips lifted, if for a moment.
“Beyond that?” prompted Duhyle.
“There’s more beyond the stone than meets either the eye or past instrumentation and equipment. The question is whether I can find a way to view and control what else is there. It’s unlikely, but not impossible, that anyone has done so since the station was first used by the early Vanir. Before that, who knows?”
“Isn’t it possible?”
“Possible? Yes. Probable, no. The potential power of the canal is so great that had its secrets been rediscovered and used, it’s unlikely Earth itself would be anything but fragments.”
“Like the Mist Ring?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the two were linked, but right now I have no way to even prove theoretically that is possible. We do know that the Mist Ring constitutes what remains of Earth’s moon, and that ancient tidal patterns confirm that it was an unusually large satellite in comparison to Earth itself, so much so that some scients have doubted those findings.”
“If the science shows it…?”
“Even in those with an education in science, belief can dominate education, facts, and proof. That’s why not all who are educated in science are actually scients.” She laughed. “It’s the same everywhere. Not all who study music turn out to be musicians. Not all students of economics end up as competent economists…If unfounded belief is stronger than discipline and knowledge, then the practitioner is seldom a true professional in the field, whatever that field may be.” She stopped short of the equipment. “It will be a bit before I’ll need your help. Is there anything you need to do?”
“Not now. I do have some biotherm ready.”
“Save it.”
“In a while I’ll need to think about fixing lunch.” Duhyle moved to the second stool and settled onto it.
Helkyria turned her attention to her assembled devices.
Outside the station, the security forces patrolled, watched, and waited.
19
21 Ninemonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn
After his short morning meeting with the minister, Maertyn walked to the front of the building toward the small office he retained in the Environment Research Subministry. He stopped outside the office of the assistant minister.
“Is Josef in, Marcent?”
The young-faced aide looked up from his console. “The assistant minister will be out until the twenty-third. He’s touring all the science universities on Conuno that receive Unity Science Grants—the environmental ones.”
“Who’s going to tour the science universities in Occidenta?”
“There are only two that receive grants there.”
Maertyn knew that, but he’d asked the question to make a point.
“Or Galawon?” Maertyn persisted gently.
Marcent did not reply for a moment, then said, “Oh…sir. Assistant Minister Cennen said that you were to use his office while you were here.”
“That was kind of him…or has he given mine to one of his…protégés?” “Protégé” was a polite term for the string of unusually handsome male graduate students on whom Josef lavished special attention…and doubtless more.
“Only until you return permanently, sir. He…well…you don’t return to Caelaarn that often these days.”
“That’s true.” Maertyn smiled politely, then made his way into the assistant minister’s office, a space roughly six yards by eight, overlooking the gardens on the east side of the building. It held a desk with full built-in comm capabilities and a conference table that could be used as either another desk or as part of a remote, full visual and sound, conference facility.
Josef’s absence and the effective reassignment of Maertyn’s office strongly suggested that Assistant Minister Cennen did not believe that one Lord Maertyn S’Eidolon would be returning to his previous position, and that the good assistant minister did not wish to be linked at all closely to Maertyn.
“Not surprising,” he murmured to himself as he settled himself at the small conference table by the window. He really didn’t want to use Cennen’s desk, and he didn’t have to in order to review his presentation, or even to answer any comms that might come his way. He doubted there would be many, and certainly not before all his peers evaluated what happened at his briefing.
He opened the folder. What was so obvious that he had forgotten to explain it? What could he present more effectively? Those questions always helped refine a presentation.
Just before midday, there was a rap on the door, which Maertyn had left slightly ajar. He looked up to see Amirella Lihusan, easily recognizable for her straight gray hair, a result of a gene that couldn’t be modified because it was linked to another defensive gene whose absence would have created an unacceptable risk of a score of different carcinomas or whose modification was impractical, if not impossible. “Amirella!” He rose from the conference table.
“Would you like to join me for lunch?” She smiled. “Or, more properly, might I join you so that we could eat in the junior ministers’ dining room?”
“You’re of deputy assistant minister rank…”
“But not with the title. Besides, it sounds better if I can tell everyone you asked me.”
“You’re incorrigible.” He walked to the door and stepped out to join her.
“With what I do, how else could I be?”
“I am hungry.”
“Good.”
They walked out of the assistant minister’s suite and into the corridor that led to the ramp. Maertyn could sense Marcent’s eyes on his back.
The junior ministers’ dining salon was located on the second level in the middle of the front section of the building, overlooking both the narrow line of greenery and the car park.
“Lord Maertyn…it’s good to see you back,” offered a woman in a dark gray and formfitting singlesuit.
“A corner booth, if you please, Cariena.” Maertyn noted the increasing warmth of the hostess’s professional smile at the use of her name.
“I think we can manage that. This way…”
The two followed the hostess to the booth in the farthest window corner on the east. They had barely settled into the natural green leather of the booth when a server appeared.
“Might I get you something to drink?” Her smile was polite and solicitous.
“A glass of white shiraz,” replied Amirella.
“Just iced tea, please, unsweetened,” said Maertyn.
“The day’s menu is on the sheets. I’ll be back with your drinks and take your selections.”
Maertyn nodded and picked up the single thin flexible sheet and scanned the options. Every morning, each sheet was fed through the repermer with the new menu. Most sheets lasted close to a year before they had to be recycled.
“What will you have?” he asked.
“The quail. You?”
“The pheasant. The biologics up north are mostly limited to lamb and beef and chicken. Not enough people to support a full-scale bio-replication facility. I also like the fact that the wild rice is actually ma
rsh-grown.”
“It’s a bit…wild…for me.”
The server eased up to the table and set the goblet of clear wine before Amirella and the tall glass of tea before Maertyn. Amirella ordered first, then Maertyn, and in moments they were alone at the table again.
“How have things been with you?” asked Maertyn.
“In what I do very little changes.” She smiled mischievously. “I understand you’re giving a presentation on your research on the canal to all those in the Ministry—at the level of deputy assistant minister and above. All those in science and not staff positions, that is.”
“Except for my own superior. He’s out touring the science universities in south Conuno.”
“Just far enough away to be unavailable and close enough to return in a hurry, if necessary.”
“You’d think that of the honorable Josef Cennen?”
“I think worse of him than I’ll ever say. What would you say?”
“I’d say that his behavior is excessively prudent.”
Amirella laughed.
Maertyn couldn’t help smiling.
“How’s Maarlyna?”
“Better. The quiet is good for her. She’s not looking forward to returning to Caelaarn. I think she’s counting the days with trepidation.”
“I can understand that,” Amirella said sympathetically, then paused before going on. “What can you tell me about your research? In simple terms. I’m a numbers person, not a researcher.”
“I noted from temperature reports and scattered observations that the temperature around the canal was never as extreme as in the adjoining areas. Also, the temperature of the stone never varies no matter how much sun strikes it or how much ice piles on the north side—except it doesn’t stay piled there. It builds up right behind it and then topples over it and into the water. In simple terms, I’m trying to find out why.”
“Are you having much success?”
“I’ve found out a few new things about the canal. Some suggest possibilities, but I haven’t yet figured out how to devise the follow-on experiments to investigate or quantify them.”
“That’s very cautious…”
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