Empress of Eternity

by L. E. Modesitt

  “Absolutely,” declared Eltyn.

  Faelyna nodded.

  As the two left Rhyana, Eltyn couldn’t help but ask, Did they just think we’d let them walk in?

  Why not? Everyone else has, it appears. Except TechOversight. No way for us to get there. No way to know if Chiental has held them off.

  It’s a covert location…

  The RF types seem to be everywhere.

  Eltyn shook his head as he entered the station.

  21

  14 Siebmonat 3123, Vaniran Hegemony

  The next morning dawned clear and bright…and without any sign of the Aesyr. The security company had gone to stand-down. One squad remained on alert, stationed around the portahut on the grass just south of the canal wall. Duhyle stood outside the south station door talking with Subcaptain Symra, since Helkyria was buried in her workroom, trying to track “ghost” patterns within the station proper.

  “What will the Aesyr try next?” asked Duhyle.

  “Anything that will catch us off-guard. It’s likely to be an attack that doesn’t look like one. Or it could be a peaceful protest designed to look like an attack to get us to make a mistake. The Aesyr and half the government are already demanding the resignation of the Magistra of Security over the sinking of the Skadira.”

  “Security didn’t sink the ship. The Aesyr sank it themselves.”

  “That may be, but how do you prove a negative, especially when people saw a ship exploding from what looked like a satellite-launched missile? If you deny it without evidence, people think the government’s deceiving them, but the more evidence the government produces, the more people believe the government is fabricating it all and that it’s a cloaking job.”

  “Doesn’t anyone ask why the government would want to destroy an innocent ship? Or that it might not be so innocent?”

  “Throughout history, people have feared government, and mostly they’ve been right to do so.” A faint pink of sardonic humor colored the subcaptain’s eyebrows.

  The distant muted sound of horns caught Duhyle’s ear, and he and Symra turned. From out of the low evergreens to the south of the canal and the station emerged a handful of men playing brass horns of various lengths. All wore leathers, leggings, and horned helmets. Duhyle squinted. There were short battle-axes in leather cases attached to their wide belts.

  “Security!” snapped Symra, clearly on a tactical net. “Full alert.”

  The hornists were almost a kay away. So far they were alone, but that didn’t mean they’d stay unaccompanied.

  Security troopers began mustering south of the portahut, and two other Aesyr walked out of the woods. Each carried a long pole, with a banner stretched between the poles. Against the banner’s gray background, the four-word message in fluorescent crimson stood out—Aesyr Against Secret Research. The banner-bearers, also with battle-axes at their belts, followed the hornists by around fifteen yards.

  Captain Valakyr appeared, her eyes darting toward the demonstrators. “Sonic axes! Two can play that tune.” She hurried toward the portahut.

  “Sonic axes?” asked Duhyle.

  “They look like toys or ancient replicas, but they project tightly focused sound. They can be far more lethal than a real axe. They don’t have to strike physically to kill. In fact, if the edge actually impacted your arm, it might malfunction, but they look like toys, and they’re very light.”

  Two hundred or more demonstrators emerged from the trees behind the banner. All wore Aesyr costumes, with short leather cloaks, leather belts crossed over their chests, bound leggings, and horned helms. All were swinging the sonic axes in some sort of rhythm.

  Duhyle frowned, then asked, “Is the advantage to the sonic axes that Security can’t use longer-range weapons because they can’t prove hostile intent until they’re actually within yards of being killed or injured?”

  Symra nodded. “You can’t tell if it’s a sonic axe or a toy until it’s used. They can march up to the security troopers and turn away…or attack at the last moment. Oh…and the axes also have another capability. They disrupt several different forms of nonlethal restrainers, such as loopers and body foam.”

  “So…if the axes are lethal…?” pressed Duhyle.

  “They used toy axes last year in Asgard. Security cut down the first line of Aesyr demonstrators with high-strength stunners, and several died. The captain in charge was cashiered, and brain-conditioned. Even after a public trial, there was an uproar about Security overreacting.”

  Duhyle recalled seeing the media on the incident, but there hadn’t been any mention of the resemblance between toy axes and sonic axes.

  “That’s why there aren’t any Vanir security companies stationed anywhere in Midgard any longer,” added Symra. “They’re all Aesyr.”

  “They’re trying to create their own separate government for Midgard.”

  “Trying?” Symra’s single word was sardonic.

  Duhyle looked back at the approaching Aesyr. More than half a kay away a number of other things struck him immediately. Most of the so-called demonstrators were male; all the men were bearded; and the majority of them were not only taller than he was, but considerably taller and broader than their few female compatriots.

  The security troopers formed up in a staggered triple line along the flat stone at the southern edge of the canal wall. All carried circular shields and short stunners.

  “Are the shields sonic blockers?”

  “Yes. They’re not always entirely effective.” Symra’s voice was clipped. “Excuse me, Tech Duhyle.” She strode briskly toward the vehicle that had brought her, where the seven remaining spec-ops techs had formed up.

  Once she reached them, there was a quick exchange, and then one of the techs slipped into the vehicle and drove it forward toward the middle of the line of security troopers. Symra and the other techs trotted alongside the vehicle, until it came to a stop in the middle of the line.

  Duhyle nodded. Symra would use the vehicle’s shields.

  Captain Valakyr joined the subcaptain and the two talked for a moment before Valakyr turned away.

  By now, the hornists were three hundred yards away from the security troopers. They did not continue toward the troopers, but turned eastward, marching until they were even with the easternmost troopers. Then they stopped, about-faced, and resumed playing. In the meantime, the banner-bearers had turned westward, heading parallel to the security forces. When they reached the western end of the troopers, they swung around so that the banner faced the hornists. They stopped and set the banner poles on the ground.

  More and more Aesyr marched forward, and the group took on a semi-military appearance, with spacing neither that of a crowd nor in the ranks of an overtly disciplined force.

  Valakyr issued an order, and the security troopers immediately re-formed into a front only slightly wider than the approaching Aesyr demonstrators, now all swinging their axes in a coordinated pattern, as if in a drill, and chanting, “No more Vanir secrets…no more Vanir secrets…no more Vanir secrets…”

  Symra’s voice rang out across the space between the two forces. “This is a reserved and protected area! Demonstrations are not permitted here, by order of the Assembly. You have made your point. Disband the demonstration or face restraint and incarceration.”

  The Aesyr did not respond, but kept marching toward the canal and the troopers, their chanting ever louder and more rhythmical, as was the swinging of the sonic axes—or were they merely toy axes?

  In the distance, Duhyle could hear a high-pitched whining coming from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, but the structure of the station blocked his view to the north. He turned his eyes back toward the advancing Aesyr, now less than a hundred yards from the security troops.

  “You have been warned!” Symra announced. “Halt immediately or face restraint and incarceration!”

  Duhyle had to wonder what Symra had in mind, because the demonstrators easily outnumbered the security troopers by three
or four to one. Exactly how did the security troopers or the spec-ops techs plan to restrain a force four times their size, especially if the axes were indeed sonic weapons? He looked back at the station. Since there was no way to lock the stone entrances, there was little point in retreating inside.

  The Aesyr were close enough that Duhyle could make out individual expressions. Those varied from outright laughter to broad smiles, many of them cruel.

  The whining became even louder, accompanied by a thunderous roar.

  Then Symra gestured, and the spec-ops vehicle somehow shimmered and vibrated, and the air seemed darker…

  …and Duhyle could hear nothing, nothing at all.

  What he saw and felt was a single security ramjet pass less than a hundred yards overhead before climbing out to the south. With that single pass the Aesyr crumpled—every last one of them, until they all lay on the uneven partly grassed ground south of the station. Several of the security troopers staggered, but they did not fall.

  The spec-ops vehicle returned to normal, and Duhyle could hear once more.

  This time Valakyr’s voice was the one amplified. “Restrain every single Aesyr. Some may be dead, if they fell on their own axes, and for some the axes may have intensified the effect of the sonic stun. You have less than a quarter hour. Move!”

  The security forces hurried toward the fallen figures, loopers and foamers out.

  Duhyle turned to see Helkyria emerging from the station, but she was headed toward the spec-ops vehicle and the two junior officers. He followed.

  “The airships are on the way, Captain,” Helkyria announced to Valakyr. “They’ll be here in less than two hours to pick up the demonstrators. We’ll need a count of any casualties.”

  “I’d like it if there weren’t any,” replied the captain. “That’s not likely. The way some of the Aesyr were swinging those axes, they were already projecting.”

  “We have some recordings of that.” Helkyria nodded. “Even so, the media will be demanding your removal. I’ll be taking the liberty of releasing an analysis of the axes, along with a schematic and a cutaway of the weapon. The Subministry of Public Safety will pick up the axes from the airships and will make them available to the media. That might prove to be of some assistance.”

  “They’ll claim that we switched the axes.”

  “I know. Almost anything we provide, they’ll find a way to twist or refute. We stunned peaceful demonstrators, and killed some of them.”

  “Few healthy humans die from stun-shock, especially prime physical specimens like those.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Helkyria’s voice was suddenly resigned…or tired. “You take care of the demonstrators and get me some axes quickly.”

  “Yes, ser.”

  Helkyria turned.

  Duhyle followed her, but waited until he and Helkyria were back inside the station before he spoke again. “They’ve planned this all out.”

  “They have, and there will likely be another attack, but not until the Aesyr have fully exploited the idea that the Vanir government is excessively brutal and cruel when the most reasonable Aesyr are only asking for an end to secrets.” She kept walking, making her way up the ramp to her working area.

  “Most of the Aesyr were men, and they were huge.”

  “Most people don’t know,” replied the scient-commander. “The Aesyr have been using genetic engineering to reemphasize sexual dimorphism. It’s been tried before. The last documented usage was during the last years of the Amberian Anarchists. The women reacted violently to that not-so-disguised attempt at resubjugation, and that led to the fall of the culture, but those traits have persisted in a diluted form. The Aesyr have been isolating and gene-splicing them for close to three generations.”

  “Isn’t that against the Assembly principia?”

  “It is, but genetic material is private and legally privileged. How can one prove that if those who are ‘benefiting’ from the traits refuse to have their genetic material analyzed?”

  “The Aesyr are perverting the laws and protections to their own ends, and no one can say anything about it?”

  “All fanatics and all those with great wealth have always done so. Why would that change now?”

  Obvious as that was, Duhyle had nothing to say.

  “If we of the Vanir pervert the laws to stop them, then how are we any different from them? Where do we stop?” The deep blue of sadness suffused her hair and eyebrows. “With each crisis, it becomes easier and easier to justify the erosion of principles, until we have none, and, in the end, principles and a common belief in them are all that hold a civilization together.” After a brief pause, she said, “Excuse me, Kavn. There’s so much I need to do. I’ll see you later.” She turned.

  Duhyle walked back down the ramp.

  22

  26 Ninemonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn

  After not quite a week in Caelaarn, Maertyn hadn’t yet discovered what else Minister Hlaansk had in mind for him. He judged it wouldn’t be long before he did. Marcent, Josef’s long-time assistant, had been scrupulously polite, and so had everyone else. That worried him as much as Hlaansk’s decision to have him act as assistant minister.

  At just after ten on the twenty-sixth of Ninemonth, Maertyn finished reading the routine memoranda for the morning and turned to scan the news. The second story caught his eye.

  …crop yields, even with biologic stimulation, continue to decline on a worldwide basis…largely as a result of the shorter growing seasons in the northern hemi sphere…trend has historically been countered by expansion of croplands, but further expansion threatens the ecologic balance…

  As he finished reading, the message indicator chimed. He frowned. The chime indicated that the message was from Hlaansk and urgent. He touched the screen panel once more, and the first sheet of the message appeared in the surface of the desk.

  From:

  Minister of Science

  Unity of Caelaarn

  To:

  Maertyn S’Eidolon

  Assistant Minister [Acting]

  Environment Research Subministry

  Subject:

  Funds Redirection

  In the absence of Assistant Minister Cennen, you are charged with the preliminary draft of recommended redirection of all unallocated and undisbursed funds under the operative control of the subministry. The draft recommendations are due to me no later than the third of Tenmonth. Attached are the accounts and subaccounts currently showing those funds as of yet unspent or unallocated. Please correct the figures to reflect funds allocated since preparation of this document, and then submit planned disbursements and recommended reallocations.

  The screen indicator showed more than a hundred pages of supplemental documents. Those would have to wait until later that day, perhaps until evening, although that would require him to remain at the Ministry. He wasn’t about to study figures with people and messages coming and going, especially not with the political implications behind every account.

  He’d barely leaned back in the desk chair when Marcent spoke, his words projected from his console outside the office. “Assistant Comptroller Amirella, sir.”

  Maertyn couldn’t say that he was surprised. Amirella hadn’t stopped by the subministry to see him the week before just on a whim, and he’d been wondering just how long before he heard from her again.

  “Have her come in.” He stood and moved away from the desk toward the conference table. With Amirella, sitting behind the desk would only make matters harder.

  The dark-haired accountant stepped into the office. She closed the door herself.

  “It’s early for lunch,” he offered with a smile, gesturing toward the small conference table, where he seated himself at the same time as she did.

  “Two lunches in a week? Come now, Maertyn.” She shifted her weight and well-formed curves in the chair, then smiled. “Sorry. Habit. That doesn’t work with you. It never has.”

  Maertyn laughed softly. “And you know th
at, but still did it to make a point, and, yes, you are attractive, and, as always…no.” He paused for just an instant. “Are you here in your official capacity as a senior comptroller?”

  “Why else? You’ve been away for over a year. Times have changed.”

  “Don’t they always?”

  “The draft excess funds reallocations are due in a little more than a week.”

  “I’ve been informed that they’ll be my responsibility. You knew, didn’t you?”

  “No one told me, but it had to be that way.”

  “Why? Because Josef wouldn’t reallocate the way Hlaansk wants? What difference does that make? The minister always has the final say.” Maertyn had a good general idea why, but he wanted to see what Amirella would tell him.

  “Josef is very close to Minister Tauzn. Josef really wanted to work in Protective Services, but Tauzn persuaded him to accept the research position here.”

  “I’d heard that Josef wanted to head up Military Research, or at least be the principal deputy assistant minister.”

  Amirella nodded. “D’Onfrio stalled matters so that the other positions were filled first, and then had Hlaansk offer Josef the Environment Research Subministry, where he could do less damage.”

  Not for the first time, Maertyn considered that Amirella knew far too much to be just an assistant comptroller. “From Hlaansk’s point of view, then, it almost doesn’t matter what I do, so long as I don’t reallocate in the way Josef did?”

  “The minister appointed you because if any deputy assistant minister would have a different view from Minister Josef, it would be you.”

  “Exactly what’s his problem?”

  “It’s not his, Maertyn. He’s making it yours. If anything happens to you, the minister will either have to make the reallocations himself or appoint Olason Tedor. Olason’s the next senior deputy assistant minister. He’s also married to Tauzn’s youngest niece.”