“I wouldn’t know, Doctor. That’s outside my area of expertise.”
When the shuttle came to a halt and settled, the cradle restraints released, but the cradles remained facing rearward.
“Feel free to reclaim your gear, Doctor.”
“Thank you, Director.”
She did offer a brief smile, but once I had my case and kit, the hatch was open, the ramp extended, and she gestured for me to proceed first. I nodded and headed out. I wasn’t about to argue.
The first thing I noticed as I stepped out of the shuttle and onto the ramp was that the underground hangar was enormous—and that there was not only another magfield shuttle, but also a small drop shuttle, of a design that indicated a magfield-plasmajet hybrid. The hangar arrangements, and Artema’s comments about sonic impacts, suggested that the RDAEX installation was even more underground than Passova itself, although that was just an initial impression. Also, the walls and overheads were a pleasant blue, not the institutional gray that pervaded Passova, while the floor surfaces were deeper and darker blue.
The same impeccably dressed and groomed young man who had made my appointments stood waiting, most likely for me, with a small open vehicle. Today, though, he wore a light gray singlesuit, but every single golden blond hair of his coiffure remained perfectly in place, and a pleasant smile was fixed on his face.
As I approached him and stopped, Kali Artema eased up beside me. “Fabio … this is Dr. Verano. I’d appreciate it very much if everything went smoothly.”
For just an instant, the young man blanched and stiffened. If I hadn’t been studying him, I wouldn’t have noticed.
“Yes, Director Artema. I’ll do everything I can.”
Artema looked to me. “I enjoyed talking to you. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know.” She slipped a card into my hand, then turned and strode toward another waiting tunnel vehicle, with a gray-clad security type at the controls.
I turned to the young aide. “Paulo Verano.”
“Fabio Marghina.” He looked at my case and kit.
“Where do I put them?”
“Oh … in the back.” He moved swiftly and lifted the rear bench seat.
There was barely enough space for both items, but I managed to position them so that they fit.
“We have enough time to drop your personal gear at the guest quarters.”
“I may need the equipment. I’d like to keep that with me.”
“Whatever you wish, ser.”
The tunnel from the underground hangar to what appeared to be the main part of the installation was a good kay in length, if not longer, and as we passed through a set of open pressure doors, above which the name and logo of RDAEX were emblazoned, I asked, “Were we passing through the base, or is there a separation between the dropport and the main facility?”
“There’s a separation, ser. One point six kays, I believe. The designer of the original facility was a bit of an antiquarian, I understand.”
Several minutes later, when Marghina eased the tunnelcar to a stop at an archway with an eagle at the top, I couldn’t help but comment. “This was designed by the same person?”
“I wouldn’t know, ser.” He left the vehicle as gracefully as a dancer and opened the storage compartment.
I took the kit bag and left the case. “Where next?”
“Through the archway, ser. This way.”
I followed him through the eagle arch, which held concealed pressure doors, and then into a sitting area of sorts, from which three corridors diverged. We took the right corridor, and he stopped at the second door, where he handed me a placard. “That opens the door. Once inside, you can use it to set the door to open to your handprint. If you take this corridor down the other way, there’s a dining room. They serve from six hundred to nine hundred in the morning and from seventeen hundred to nineteen hundred in the evening.” He paused. “I’ll be waiting with the tunnelcar, ser. That’s if you won’t be long.”
“I won’t be.”
Marghina retreated as I opened the door and stepped inside. The “guest” quarters at RDAEX consisted of a study, bedchamber, and bath, all moderately good-sized, if Spartan. It only took me a few minutes to reset the door, clean up, and make my way back to the tunnelcar.
The trip to wherever I was meeting Executive Edo took less than three minutes, even climbing one ramp up a level. Marghina eased the tunnelcar into a space beside another archway, this one with closed pressure doors, and with the RDAEX logo on top.
“These are the executive offices.”
I thought we were less than a half kay west of the guest quarters, but my geographic senses didn’t do as well in tunnels, and I didn’t check my link. I reclaimed my equipment case, although I doubted I’d need it in meeting with Edo.
Marghina offered his hand to the scanner and the door slid open. We walked less than ten meters and through a regular door into a reception area with several dark blue chairs, once more of templated Spartan design, and a console desk. He slipped into the swivel behind the console, and manipulated the projected display before announcing, “Dr. Verano is here.”
I didn’t hear any response, but the good Fabio nodded and said, “You can go in.” He gestured to the door.
I left my equipment case beside his console and walked to the door, which irised open as I approached. The iris pattern suggested that the door was almost ancient, as did Fabio Marghina’s remarks about the separation between the landing area and the main installation, and the eagle over the guest quarters entrance but … from what I’d heard and the records I’d perused, RDAEX had only been on Stittara slightly more than 150 years.
The door closed behind me, and I stood in a slightly vaulted chamber close to fifteen meters long and eight wide. The overhead was a stellar view, likely projected in real time, that I didn’t recognize, and that meant it was unlikely to have been a view from Bachman, unless it was a polar perspective.
“What do you think of it?” The speaker was a burly man with a warm smile and bright green eyes.
“Quite spectacular.” I inclined my head. “Paulo Verano. I appreciate your making the time to see me.”
“Any time a Unity government oversight committee requests a survey, the least I can do is to find out what I can, and there’s no better way to do that here on Stittara than to meet with you. For the record, I am Belk Edo.” He turned to the second man, who had risen from one of the chairs in front of the console. “Haans, here, is our chief of environment and ecology.”
“I’m pleased to meet you both.”
Edo gestured to the chairs. “Little sense in standing.”
I took the end chair of the three, leaving a vacant seat between me and the other man, whom I presumed to be Dr. Ermitag.
“Dr. Verano,” continued Edo, “precisely why does your assignment concern RDAEX?”
“Because it concerns every possibility of adverse ecological impact on Stittara. RDAEX is operating here. So it concerns RDAEX.”
“That is a rather … ambitious project for one ecologist, even one as distinguished as you.”
“It is an interesting assignment,” I replied.
“I can’t imagine anything here that would be that interesting to the man who successfully eco-engineered the restructuring of the subarctic ecology of Nuarfelk on his very first assignment off Bachman.”
“That was years ago,” I said dryly. That Edo knew my early work was disturbing, and suggested he also had received some warning or information carried on the Persephonya. “But I have always liked challenges.”
“Stittara’s not a challenge,” said Haans, a short but angular figure, even seated. “An enigma, perhaps.”
“Is there a difference?” I laughed softly.
“Perhaps not,” replied Edo. “What can we do for you? I do presume this visit is for more than courtesy.”
“I asked to see you for courtesy and to let you know, as I’ve indicated, that I’ve been sent to conduct a survey of the eco
logical implications of the work you and others are conducting on the native ecology … and to review what in the way of environmental implications you’ve discovered.” I paused and watched Edo nod, but went on before he could reply. “What have you discovered?”
“Surely you must know. We have made all our information available to the Survey.”
“Or did you come out here before reviewing that?” asked Ermitag.
I smiled politely, ignoring Ermitag for the moment. When people keep telling me that I must know something, it tends to irritate me, because they’re either being condescending or trying to hide something behind a façade of compliance. “Ah, yes, the investigation of self-organizing microorganic structures under variable atmospheric conditions. That doesn’t say much about your objective … or about the environmental implications.”
“You’re assuming that we have a concrete objective, Doctor.”
I didn’t know a multilateral that didn’t require a research objective, and I doubted if he did either. I smiled. “I’m not assuming anything.” I just knew that an organization like RDAEX didn’t spend hundreds of billions on absolutely pure research.
Edo smiled in return. “Given your reputation, I’m certain you aren’t.”
“By the way, there’s no mention of your drilling project in any of the reports. Could you tell me what that has to do with microorganic structures?”
“Of course. We’re also investigating the response and survival of those organisms under a range of geologic and pressure conditions.”
The way he’d fielded that left me feeling cold. He’d not only anticipated the question, but had rehearsed a perfectly plausible explanation. Plausible as it might superficially be, I had my doubts … and then some.
“I’m sure you understand,” added Ermitag, “that the parameters of that research are proprietary.”
Translated loosely, I’d learned about all I was going to learn, directly. “I understand absolutely, but I assume you’ll be conducting me around the area of the research and any sources of emission so that I can verify that the project has no adverse environmental impacts?”
“Definitely,” agreed Edo. “It’s always a pleasure to deal with a professional who knows his field and what’s required and what’s not.” He paused, just slightly. “I am curious as to why you took this assignment … if you’d care to enlighten me.”
“Let’s just say that I welcomed a professionally challenging and remunerative out-system contract at this time for intensely personal reasons.”
Edo nodded again. “Unfortunately, there are times when personal circumstances do impact one’s profession.”
That statement did surprise me, because there was a personally ironic tone to it that suggested a certain sincerity, not that I trusted him in anything. “Unfortunately,” I agreed.
“Even with the time differential involved in coming from and returning to Bachman, I don’t envy you, Doctor,” Edo went on. “If you find anything of significance, it will be embarrassing to whoever is in power when you return. If you don’t, you’ll likely face an investigation for misuse of funds, because no politician wants to admit that the government spent millions of duhlars for nothing. And, if you remain here, you’ve effectively become an exile.”
“And that’s feasible only if I discover nothing major,” I finished.
“Quite so, I fear. And if you do find something…”
“It’s better if I leave,” I finished with a tone that was light and ironic, “because the Stittaran Survey couldn’t afford to give me a permanent position, and none of the multis would be interested.”
“You don’t have any illusions, I can see.”
“Better that way,” added Ermitag. “Anyway, good thing we don’t have any environmental disasters to hide.”
“I’m glad to hear that … but I’ll still have to go through all the tests.”
“Expected that,” added Ermitag.
“I am curious, though,” I said after several moments of silence. “What is a deep space energy and resource multi doing on a planet like Stittara?”
“Because our being here seems so out of character with our other operations?” asked Edo. “I can’t tell you how many people have raised that question … including our oversight board.” He leaned back slightly in his swivel and steepled his fingers for a time before speaking. “One of the problems we face, one that we’ve always faced, is the energy cost of resource extraction and transportation. We discovered from earlier reports on Stittara that a number of the microorganisms in the upper atmosphere, well into the ionosphere, are capable of functioning across a wide range of pressures and temperatures.”
I had to comment, if only because he expected it. “We’ve known that some viruses and bacteria have survived hundreds of thousands of years—”
“Survived, yes. Functioned, no.”
I thought about the magfield shuttles.
“You have a certain look,” said Edo, with an amused smile.
“The magfield shuttles … they’re sampling vehicles as well.”
Edo looked to Ermitag. “I told you he’d figure it out.”
“I didn’t argue with you, Belk.”
“There’s another question,” I said. “Has anyone determined why the prevalence and intensity of storms is greater here?”
“As far as the continent’s concerned,” replied Ermitag, “it’s not. We did discover that, for various reasons, likely topographical, the facility is located along what might be called a storm corridor.”
“But that’s never been fully determined?”
“That’s a very different line of research and well outside our expertise,” replied Ermitag with a smile.
Edo eased forward in the swivel and stood. “I thought we might continue this discussion over an early dinner, if you’re agreeable, Doctor.”
“That would be much appreciated.” It would really be lunch for me, but I was hungry.
So Ermitag and I followed Edo down a side ramp from his office and into a small private dining area, where a circular table had been set for three, with a brilliant white linen that had a deep blue trim and the RDAEX logo worked into the cloth in the exact center of the table. The cutlery was silver, and the pale blue chargers at each place were a matching blue, with the RDAEX logo in white. A steward or server in a RDAEX blue jacket and trousers stood waiting.
Edo gestured to the table. “Any place you like.”
I sat to what I thought would be his left, and it turned out that I’d guessed correctly.
“Allyn,” said Edo, “I’d like the white grisio.” He turned to us. “Your beverage preference, Dr. Verano?”
“Pale lager, if you have it?”
“We have Zantos, sir.”
I nodded. “I’d like that, then.”
“The hill red,” added Ermitag.
“Haans likes the robust outie wines,” said Edo.
Ermitag laughed. “I like to taste what I’m drinking, not search for a faint bouquet and wonder if I’m drinking wine at all.” He turned to me. “Lager you can taste, not that pale white imitation Belk drinks.”
“We do have our differences over vintages,” said Edo.
“And other things,” said Ermitag.
The steward reappeared, deftly setting a goblet with a clear vintage before Edo, a dark red wine before Ermitag, and a crystal beaker before me.
“Give us a few minutes,” Edo murmured to him before turning and lifting his goblet. “To your safe arrival and a successful survey.”
I lifted my beaker. “With thanks for your hospitality.”
We all drank … or sipped. The Zantos was as good as I recalled it, although it had just the slightest taste of something I would have called heather, but far more pleasant, that gave it a unique edge, without being at all biting.
“Where were we…” offered Edo, almost musingly.
I could tell that was an affectation. He knew exactly where the conversation in his office had ended, but
I just smiled. “So you’re sampling the microorganisms in the upper atmosphere?”
“Into the lower reaches of near-planetary space.”
I laughed.
Ermitag frowned.
Edo smiled, knowingly. “I see you understand.”
“It’s not planetary ecology under any Unity statute.”
“Exactly. Even so, we’ve been careful to follow all the planetary protocols. Tomorrow, Haans will show you through everything. Do you have any questions not related to that?”
“Just curiosity. According to all the records RDAEX has been here something like a hundred and fifty years, but I’ve seen indications that the installation, at least in places, is much older than that…”
“It’s quite a bit older. It was actually sealed for several hundred years when we purchased it. It had been used as an outlying research facility by another multi.”
“Who was that?”
“Pentura.”
“The fusactor manufacturer? The one that lost a facility to a record storm?”
“You know about that?” asked Ermitag.
“It came up in the course of my briefing at the Survey.” Let Edo chew on that.
“When they lost their headquarters, they closed the outlying research facility. We purchased it, rather than build something from scratch, although we did have to undertake a great deal of rebuilding and modernizing. It turned out to suit us perfectly.”
“It’s quite impressive, from the little I’ve seen.”
“I hope you’ll feel that way when you leave.”
“I’m certain I will.” If not in the way you might wish.
After that, conversation stayed firmly on other topics, from the current entertainment trends on Bachman to recent deep-space archaeological finds, not that I knew much more than the Alliance Space Service had discovered a cache of so-far-undecipherable forerunner technology in a system slagged by what might have been an artificially created solar flare that came close to being a small nova.
It was close to eight in the evening by the time one of the RDAEX tunnelcars, driven by a security type in dark gray, dropped me off back in front of the guest quarters. I lugged the equipment case back inside and dropped into the swivel in the small study to think. I wasn’t that tired, and I did need to think.
The One-Eyed Man Page 15
