Empress of Eternity

by L. E. Modesitt

  “Olason’s been here longer, much longer.”

  “You’re a lord, remember. The charter gives lords seniority—”

  “That hasn’t been invoked in decades.”

  “It’s never been repealed.”

  “So I make the draft reallocations, presumably to every other subministry but Military Research…”

  “It is called Protective Services Research, Maertyn.”

  “…and Minister Tauzn arranges an accident for me, and then Hlaansk and the EA reaffirm what I do, and block Tauzn to some degree, and Maarlyna has to return to Caelaarn for my state funeral. I can’t say that I find that terribly appealing.”

  “You’re less likely to have an accident than anyone else. People look harder when things happen to lords, especially after they’ve happened to other officials.”

  Maertyn didn’t find her words reassuring in the slightest, particularly the mention of accidents to other officials. Still…he smiled. “This will bear some thought. It may take me a while to address the draft redirection of funds.” He paused, then mused, “Protective Services Research…I’ve never seen their expense ledgers.”

  “You wouldn’t have. Even Josef hasn’t. He only sees the environmental research for Protective Services. The other Protective Services research is eyes only for the Executive Administrator, the Minister of Science, and the Minister of Protective Services. Three months ago, the Unity’s comptroller inspector had a fatal vehicle crash. That was right after he began looking into the use of funds by the Minister of Protective Services…”

  Maertyn thought of Ashauer. “Which ministries are behind the EA, and which support Tauzn?”

  A faint smile crossed Amirella’s lips. “You always have a surprise or two, Maertyn.”

  He waited.

  “No one knows. It’s getting too dangerous to express opinions publicly. The Assistant Minister for Weapons Improvement suffered a fatal allergenic reaction to shellfish two weeks ago, and an assistant minister in Finance will be hospitalized for months while they regrow most of his lower body.”

  “Why does Tauzn think he needs better security weapons? The reports I’ve seen don’t show that much of an advance of the ice. Or is it the shorter growing season and the lost of high-and low-latitude fertile land? Things can’t have gotten that bad in a year.”

  “There’s an election coming up in a year. Tauzn is likely to be the candidate to succeed the EA.” She paused. “You tell me how bad things will be in ten years. Crop yields are falling, and biofoods production is more expensive. The numbers of those resettled from the ice-lands keep growing, and they’re less and less happy with the Unity. Tauzn is trying to strengthen Protective Services, especially the Gaerda, to deal with civic unrest. Saenblaed is always a problem, and there are already demonstrations on the out-continents.”

  “Galawon and Occidenta? I do hope something doesn’t happen to dear Josef.”

  “That kind of sarcasm doesn’t become you…” Amirella broke off. “You were serious, weren’t you?”

  “Indeed. With what you’ve described, if anything did happen, I’d likely be acting assistant minister for far longer than I’d prefer. I might never get to finish my research project.”

  “Is it a real research project?”

  What she was asking was whether it was merely an excuse for him to help Maarlyna recover. “Actually, it is.”

  “That does make matters more interesting. It might make your position stronger.”

  “With Tauzn, perhaps, or Hlaansk, but not necessarily with others.”

  “I’m confident you can deal with the others, Maertyn.” She eased her chair back, as if preparing to rise and depart.

  “Does the Comptroller of the Ministry of Science have any recommendations for reallocations for this subministry?”

  “Comptrollers are only interested in making sure that proper procedures are followed, Maertyn.” Amirella stood.

  So did Maertyn. “It was good to see you again.”

  “It was good to be here.” There was the slightest emphasis on the word “here,” and her eyes flicked in the direction of Marcent.

  Maertyn smiled. “You do deliver messages well, dear lady.”

  “Only one of my many talents, Maertyn.”

  After the door closed behind her, he walked to the window and looked out at the gray sky that threatened snow. Ashauer and the EA certainly opposed any more funding or power—or even anything that Maertyn might discover about the canal—going to Tauzn…or his tacit minions. So did whoever Amirella was acting for, as did Hlaansk.

  Even so, Maertyn didn’t see that being a lord or even an acting assistant minister was likely to dissuade Tauzn and the Gaerda if he gave any indication of blocking their access to anything they wanted.

  “Assistant Minister Tidok, sir.”

  Tidok Bienn, physician and Assistant Minister for Medical Research, was close to the last person in the Ministry that Maertyn wanted to see, especially at the moment. He walked over and stood behind the desk that was his only temporarily. “Have him come in.”

  The angular physician stepped into the office. Behind him, Marcent closed the door.

  “What can I do for you, Tidok?” With a smile, Maertyn gestured toward the chairs in front of the desk and seated himself.

  The angular physician laughed ironically as he took the center chair. “Not much of anything. I just stopped by to pay a friendly visit. In your position, there’s not too much you can do, even if you were inclined to do so. I’m sure you know how I feel. It’s too bad that we’re wasting such vast sums on environmental research, especially on climate. For all the rhetoric, there’s no such thing as an anthropocentric impact on global climate. It’s all a scientific illusion.”

  “Those are rather strong words. What about all the geologic evidence…the ice core samples…the seabed samples…the measured drop in heat-retaining atmospheric gases?”

  Tidok’s gesture waved away Maertyn’s words. “Most of it’s mere coincidence or largely irrelevant. Fluctuations in methane and CO2 have been around as long as there’s been a biosphere on Earth. Human beings just don’t have the ability to make the kind of impact all the theoreticians postulate. The ancients didn’t create global warming, and the reactions of later cultures didn’t create the cycles of global cooling and warming. We just have to adapt to it.”

  “You seem to be ignoring a fair amount of data…”

  “It’s all modeled data based on too few verified historical points. You know as well as I do that you can manipulate any data set to get the results or trends that you want.” Tidok smiled more broadly. “The midcontinent canal’s a bit of a fraud, too. You and I both know that it’s not what’s been claimed for it.”

  “How so?” asked Maertyn smoothly, wondering exactly where Tidok was headed. “The canal exists. It’s been examined. It’s been measured. How can that be a fraud?”

  “Oh…I’m not denying the canal’s existence. I’m just highly skeptical of the idea that it contains anything unusual or valuable. It’s clearly an artifact, but an anomalous one. Call it the great accident of the ancients. They did something. It didn’t turn out the way they expected, and the backlash hardened a massive but primitive waterway into the canal. After all, what civilization, what true civilization, would expend the resources for a highway for water-borne vessels? Totally anachronistic. Anachronisms don’t happen, not in high-tech cultures. Therefore, it was an accident, nothing more, that people have been reading more into for eons.” Tidok laughed.

  “I find a two-thousand-kay-long accident extraordinarily unlikely,” Maertyn replied.

  “Not any more unlikely than human manipulation of climate, certainly. Or the idea that human intelligence just evolved from microorganisms or the like.”

  “A physician who recognizes genetic coding and who has reviewed his share of recoding, but who denies evolution?”

  “Genetic codes of great complexity require a coder. They don’t happen by chance. Ma
nipulating and using those codes merely recognizes the codes.”

  Maertyn attempted a thoughtful nod.

  “Some manipulation, of course, verges on the attempted creation of life,” Tidok continued. “There are ancient legends about the dangers of that. We recognize the validity of what lies behind those legends, of course, in the legal structure. That is why the use of cloning is so restricted and why full-body cloning cannot be used for medical purposes, or for any purposes without the consent of both the Council and the Judiciary. But then, I’m certain you’re most aware of the legalities there.”

  “That’s a very interesting point.”

  “I thought you might find it so.”

  Maertyn managed a laugh. “I’m certain you didn’t trek over here merely to lecture me on the validity of ancient legends and their application to current law. What did you have in mind?” What indeed?

  “Actually, I had forgotten that Josef was on an extended tour of various universities. I was almost here when I recalled that. So I thought I’d say hello. I’d come to discuss the matter of transferring any funds that might be left in the Environment Research bud get at the end of the year to Medical Research. Such decisions do have to be made before long.”

  “You obviously know where there might be such funds…” Maertyn raised his eyebrows.

  “Climate research is one area. With the closure of the northern ice laboratory, it would appear unlikely that all those funds would be spent.”

  “No, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Josef had plans for transferring the funds elsewhere within the subministry.”

  “That is true. But the preliminary transfer recommendations are due this coming threeday. They’re not binding, needless to say, but…” Tidok shrugged.

  Maertyn understood fully. If he, as acting assistant minister, recommended a transfer of some of those “excess” funds to Medical Research, Josef would have to provide a detailed rationale for any subsequent change and argue to Minister Hlaansk for a change in reallocation already proposed by his own subministry because the latter change was a better use of funding. Given some of Josef’s priorities and his known association with Tauzn, doing so publicly would definitely create some difficulties.

  “I haven’t looked into it, I’d have to say. I’ve just received the current accounts with potential unspent funds. Those are on my schedule, but I will consider your advice when we go over accounts redirection then.”

  Tidok rose. “I couldn’t ask for more. Thank you, and do give my best to your wife.”

  “I will.” Maertyn held the smile until the door closed behind Tidok.

  Had Hlaansk any part in Tidok’s scheme? Maertyn shook his head. Hlaansk would have known what Tidok wanted. There wasn’t any reason for the Minister of Science to say anything to Tidok. If Maertyn wanted to thwart both Tauzn and Josef, he well might have to consider reallocating funds to Medical Research, if only to keep some funds from falling under Tauzn’s control, however indirectly.

  Was there some aspect of Medical Research that Maertyn could support that went against Tidok’s predilections? Anything at all?

  Maertyn hated the thought of providing Tidok with even the smallest increase in funding. More than anything, he needed to read what Hlaansk had sent him on the reallocation earlier that day, but, what with one thing and another, he hadn’t gotten to it. He sat down at the desk.

  He might as well start, interruptions or no interruptions.

  Once he returned home that evening, he needed to write Maarlyna again. The fact that there was no direct comm access to the station had been fine when the two of them had been there together, but with her there alone, he worried about her. A hundred years earlier, it wouldn’t have been a problem, because broadcast radios had still been common, but geosat frequencies were monitored and controlled…and comparatively scarce, by Unity design.

  He took a slow deep breath and began to read through the accounts projected on the desk screen.

  23

  30 Quad 2471 R.E.

  Once she searched and buried the dead RF “inspectors,” Rhyana came up with a combination of netting and fabric that approximated the color of the canal stone and moved the RF wheeler so that it was next to the east side of the station. She reported to Eltyn what she had found on the bodies and in the wheeler. None of it was unique or even particularly useful, except for the additional stunners and their charge packs.

  A high-flying minidrone would show the apparent longer length of the station, but Eltyn doubted that the RF minions of The Twenty had immediate access to the image archives of MetCom for a comparison. That assumed the archives still existed. Since there was no one sending on broadcomm at all, there was a high probability that the MetCom records were currently inaccessible, if they hadn’t been destroyed as a result of The Twenty’s power grab.

  While Rhyana watched the trussed-up RF “inspector” and set up one of the station stunners to be recharged, both Eltyn and Faelyna went back to work on their efforts to discern the station’s shadow-comm structure and protocols.

  Eltyn couldn’t help but occasionally check the local system monitors for the approach of other agents of The Twenty, but neither he nor the system detected anything. MetCom remained silent, as did the emergency freqs. Had the RF forces or The Twenty shifted to another comm structure? How would he know?

  He kept working on solidifying the linkages in his conglomeration of makeshift controls.

  “Sir?” Rhyana’s voice broke into Eltyn’s concentration as he was slipping the last microsections of his makeshift control circuit.

  “Yes?”

  “The riffie is coming to.”

  Riffie? he pulsed to Faelyna. Heard that before?

  Null. Sounds like the nonlinkers don’t think much of the RF, either.

  You want me to interrogate?

  Yes2! The fewer interruptions the better.

  Eltyn turned. “I’ll be right there.”

  Right there turned out to be a good quarter hour later, because easing the microsections into place took longer than he’d thought. His sigh of relief died away as he realized that he’d spent hours cobbling together something that might not work—because he hadn’t had the right components.

  He stood and walked over to the side of the main level where the captive sat secured to a chair. Rhyana sat several yards back, a stunner aimed at the man, whose pale cream skin and washed-out gray eyes suggested a northern heritage.

  “Who sent you?” asked Eltyn conversationally.

  “I don’t have to answer you. You’re a murderer.”

  “I have to dispute that. Killing in self-defense isn’t murder.”

  “Killing servants of the Ruche who are only carrying out their duties is murder. You are murderers.”

  “You were observed destroying or greatly diminishing the mental capacities of everyone at the logistics center in Apialor. That’s murder, whether their bodies survive or not. Intelligent entities have the right to protect their existence.”

  “Anyone who opposes the Ruche threatens the health and welfare of all citizens. They need to be restrained and controlled.”

  “That’s an old, old argument, and it was an excuse for tyranny when it was first used. The logic behind it hasn’t improved with age.”

  “You can’t get away with this sort of individualistic and self-centered behavior.”

  “We already have,” pointed out Rhyana.

  “Only for the moment. The Ruche will return you to the Meld.”

  The Meld? Eltyn pulsed Faelyna.

  Another dubious4 attempt at shared consciousness?

  Eltyn continued. “Melding minds hasn’t ever worked in the past.”

  “The Meld is different. Dissidence is suppressed prior to juncture. All share the common goals and values of the Ruche.”

  “What about common communications?” asked Eltyn. “Is it brain-range concentration limited?”

  The would-be inspector looked blankly at the scientist.

&nbs
p; “Do you know what you’re thinking when you’re apart?”

  “There is no need of that. We all share the values of the Ruche.”

  “Do you report those thoughts on minicomms all the time?” asked Eltyn. None of those attacking the station had carried one. “Or didn’t they trust you with one?”

  “Private comms lead to private thoughts,” asserted the inspector. “Unsupervised private thoughts can lead to error.”

  “You can’t tell me that no one has a comm.”

  “Those of The Twenty do; they have been found worthy and beyond reproach. So have some of the regionals.”

  Eltyn nodded. That meant that the three of them had a little more time, since the two inspectors who escaped would have to either make their way to Apialor or be discovered or rescued. None of those alternatives would be quick. They’re maintaining control by restricting communications.

  Ironic4…keeping everyone isolated by declaring they all share the same values, and therefore need no private comm channels. Creates the impression that private comms equate to subversiveness. [disgust]

  Immediately after they’ve subverted The Fifty.

  Subverted? More like executed. Let me know if you discover anything of interest.

  Unlikely5. Eltyn returned his full concentration to the captive. “How many of you were sent to the south side of the canal?”

  The captive said nothing.

  “Refocus the stunner to a narrow beam, as tight as possible,” Eltyn said to Rhyana.

  Her brows knit, but she made the adjustments.

  “Aim it at his crotch.”

  “You can’t do that,” protested the riffie.

  “Oh?” Eltyn looked to Rhyana.

  “Twenty. That’s the optimal number.”

  “Symbolism yet.” Eltyn refrained from snorting. “How many stations or facilities were on your list to be visited?”

  “All of those on the south side.” After a glance at Rhyana, he added, “Seven.”