The One-Eyed Man

by Modesitt,, L. E. Jr.

  In an attempt to tie up yet another loose end, I walked over to Zerlyna’s cramped office. She looked up as I entered.

  “You must have a special need,” she said.

  “Why? Because I’m here, rather than linking you?”

  “It’s a good guess, I’d say.”

  “Better than good. Do you remember when I told you about seeing someone outside … and you told me about Ilsabet?”

  Zerlyna frowned. “Both Aloris and I told you about her.”

  “That’s right. How would I arrange to be able to talk to her? You did say that she could be interviewed.”

  “Hmmm … I don’t know, but I can find out. What reason should I give?”

  “I’d like her impressions of the environment. So far as you told me, she’s one of the oldest people on Stittara, for whatever reason. Part of my assignment is to see if there have been changes. It couldn’t hurt her to see if she recalls anything.”

  “No … probably not.”

  “You don’t sound convinced.”

  “How will that help with the factual side of your report? Hearsay doesn’t count for much in official documents.”

  “It won’t, but it could point me to where I might look. Or it might not tell me anything.”

  She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  When I got back to my office, I took out the listing of outie settlements that Geneil had provided—with their directions—and began to plot their locations on the continental maps. That took almost an hour. Then I added the topographic maps. Then I overlaid the official town, city, and settlement maps. More than three-quarters of the outie settlements from Geneil’s listing weren’t on the “official maps.” That was definitely a cause for worry. I did print out a hard copy of the combined and overlaid maps.

  From there I selected the outie settlements within three hours ground travel that looked promising. All that map work, and my eyes began to blur. So I sat back for a moment and tried to think about what I might have missed. With all that flooded into my mind, I decided that wasn’t a good idea.

  At that moment Aloris walked into my office. “You’re looking a lot more rested today,” she observed. “How are the refurbished quarters?”

  “Quite nice, and the new bed is very comfortable. The color scheme is … more unified. Did you have something to do with that?”

  She gave a short laugh. “My talents don’t lie in that area. I asked Amarios to help. She has good taste.”

  “It’s a great improvement. Give her my thanks.”

  “You can yourself, if you’d like. I’m having a little get-together at my place on sevenday evening. Would you like to join us?”

  “I would indeed.” If not necessarily for the normal reasons. But then, I doubted that she was asking for the normal reasons, either, skeptical man that I was.

  “Around half past six. I’ll link you the address.” She paused. “You’d mentioned that you might be traveling to some of the outie settlements…”

  “I did.”

  “You might want to check with Jorl about which ones might be … suitable.”

  “You mean safe?”

  “Some are not.”

  “I haven’t seen any news stories suggesting that.”

  “It’s difficult to cover places that officially don’t exist.”

  “I’ve noticed that more than a few settlements aren’t on the official maps. How does the Planetary Council justify that?”

  “They’re patrolled, and Survey enforcement assures that they don’t have negative impacts, but the government doesn’t provide any services, and the outies have to provide the links infrastructure there.”

  “Not legal ones?”

  “They’re legal. The Council’s comm enforcers are effective, but the addresses aren’t in the databases.”

  “They’re almost off the map, then?”

  “Off the official maps.” She paused. “The Planetary Council might not be terribly pleased about references to settlements that aren’t supposed to be there.”

  I couldn’t help but frown. “Is there anything in the Planetary Charter that forbids such settlements?” I hadn’t seen anything, but there might have been an amendment or a later requirement.

  “No.”

  I thought for a moment. “They’re concerned about the representation provisions.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  If I were the Council, I’d definitely have been concerned. “How do the outlanders feel?”

  “To date, they haven’t insisted on representation beyond voting for the Council.”

  “But the only outlanders voting are those in the recognized settlements?”

  “As of the last election.”

  From the various news reports, and from what I’d overheard, I knew there was an election scheduled at the end of the current planetary year. “You seem to know a great deal about this.”

  “Amarios is half outlander. She has an interest. That means Haaran does.”

  And that means you do. “Given all that, I think I need to visit the outie settlements sooner rather than later.”

  Aloris nodded.

  “Thank you.”

  When she left, I linked Jorl Algeld. He wasn’t available, and I left a request that he return my call. Then I went to work on trying to determine what other outland communities from Geneil’s list might provide more geographic and ecological diversity.

  I was still working on that when Algeld returned my link, and I accepted the call.

  “What can I do for you, Doctor?” On the link screen, Algeld looked even more like an ancient Terran bulldog, his round face intent and joined to his body by a neck so short his head and torso seemed almost one piece.

  “The next phase of my assignment requires evaluating outland settlements to determine what impact they may have on the ecology. Director Raasn suggested I contact you before firming up my itineraries.”

  “I’m glad you did. Some of them … Well, I’d be happier if some of my people accompanied you to those particular places.”

  I didn’t ask which ones those were, instead saying, “The first three I’d planned to visit were Doones, Hobbes, and Thoreau.” They had good classical names for what I suspected were rather rustic outposts, but I saw no point in mentioning that.

  “Doones shouldn’t be a problem.” Algeld paused, as if uncertain how to phrase his next words. “Hobbes and Thoreau … they’re a bit different.”

  “That may be, but I’ll need a large sample of outland communities, and they need to include the good, the bad, and the indifferent, so to speak.”

  “You should be safe enough in those three communities. I would appreciate it if you’d check with me before going into any others not listed officially.”

  Again … not listed officially. “I’ll still need to visit some of those that might not be as accessible.”

  “I understand, Doctor. We’ll work something out.” He paused. “I would caution you against traveling any of the unpaved ways after dark. There are places that can be treacherous in less than full light.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Good.” Then he was gone.

  I’d received a link from Zerlyna while I’d been talking to Algeld, and I immediately returned it.

  “You linked?”

  “You’re in luck.” Zerlyna smiled, an expression of success. “Ilsabet—she’s officially Elisabetta Vonacht—is a ward of the Stittaran Ministry of Health. At first, they weren’t pleased about granting an interview. When I explained the purpose, they agreed that a short interview would be acceptable, subject to conditions. I’ve sent the conditions to your console. You’ll have to certify compliance. You have a maximum of one standard hour on threeday at ten in the morning. Oh … the address is with the other material.”

  “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

  By then, people were beginning to leave for the day, but I wanted to finish up some things I hadn’t had a chance to do because I�
��d been effectively laid up for part of the weekend.

  I did another search on the new special assistant to the Ministry of Technology and Transport, and nothing came up on Torgan Brad, except his name and position. For comparison, I did a search on me. I was listed as a “special consultant” to the Systems Survey Service, but there was also a bio—and a publications listing. That was interesting, because the bio was longer and more inclusive than the one I’d provided Aloris, and I’d never provided a pubs listing.

  I also did a search on patroller reports, to see if arrests and detentions by the patrollers of the Planetary Council were listed. They were. Then I searched for Sinjon Reksba, but found only two mentions, one in a legal matter, naming him as the heir-apparent to a land holding on Conuno. I couldn’t tell where from the description, although I could have searched it out, I supposed. The second was the landing list from the Persephonya. I did a search for the name of a man arrested for assault … and his name came up on the patroller report. That was highly suggestive, but not conclusive.

  I knew that there were several connections that I was missing, and that was one of the most frustrating results of my run-in with “Reksba” and his nerver. I knew I knew things, or had known them, and I couldn’t recall what I was missing. I could only hope that as my body and nerves healed I’d remember.

  For some reason, I was in the mood for meat, and I finally closed down the console and decided to have dinner at Rancho Rustico.

  42

  On twoday morning, I was just finishing my tea while preparing to shower and then dress when something on the local news caught both my ears and eyes.

  “Late yesterday afternoon, after reviewing satscans of a vehicle apparently stalled or damaged in an uninhabited grassland area over three hundred kays southeast of Passova, authorities sent a team to investigate. When the outland patrol team arrived, they found a body near an abandoned personal landcrawler … Initial identification found on the body, and the vehicle registration, suggested the dead man was Sinjon Reksba, an heir to a Stittaran land trust who had recently returned to Stittara. Authorities have determined that skin DNA matches that on file for Reksba, but tissue DNA does not. There is no record on Stittara of the dead man’s genetic profile.”

  I kept watching and listening.

  “… the dead man had been caught trespassing on the private lands of the Syntex forerunner archaeological reserve and briefly detained before being released … StittaranNews has verified that more than a dozen Syntex employees and a freelance documentarian all saw the man escorted to his landcrawler and watched him drive away … preliminary cause of death is thought to be extreme dehydration … Trust authorities in Passova are now reviewing the inheritance claimed by the apparently false heir…”

  I winced as I considered what had obviously happened while I had been unconscious. Since “Sinjon’s” capture had triggered amnesia, I suspected that Aimee and someone had essentially programmed a series of compulsions into the would-be killer, enough to have him drive well out of sight … and then paralyze him or something else … and let him die of natural causes. Even if he’d been found while alive, there would have been no way to refute what had been staged.

  I couldn’t help but smile, if ironically, at how Aimee had used Rob Gybl. She’d likely denied him access, but allowed him to see, but doubtless not to record, the incident with “Sinjon,” so that he could have a story on how the ruthless bureaucrats at Syntex were denying all access to the forerunner site.

  At the same time, it was just a bit too coincidental that they both arrived almost simultaneously, and I could see that my arrival—even though that had been Aimee’s doing—also dovetailed, yet I didn’t see how she could have forecast or maneuvered that. Still, if Gybl had been part of a team, he’d certainly been given a rather stiff warning. I certainly wasn’t involved in whatever plot involved Aimee, her mother, and Syntex or VLE, and considering how coldly and effectively Aimee had operated, I had no desire to go back. None at all.

  Once I got to my office, I immediately made arrangements for use of a Survey van for threeday—after I had my interview with Ilsabet—and then went to work on setting up a matrix format suitable for use with my link, and one from which I could upload or download field data as necessary.

  I did get a link from Geneil Paak wanting to know if the geologic data she sent had been helpful, and I assured her that it had been. She even apologized for not being able to be more helpful. I did my best to reassure her.

  While I waited for a time, after doing more work on refining the parameters for my outland field studies, I eventually did a news search on Sinjon Reksba, but while there were a number of stories, and a great deal of speculation, none of them revealed anything new, except that the “original” Sinjon had left Stittara under what might have been called dubious circumstances … something to do with having promised to marry two women, each from a different and rival outland family. His departure had resulted in heavy damages being required of his family … but that had been two centuries earlier, and his brother had died young, leaving the lands in trust.

  In midafternoon, my screen registered “Incoming—Unknown.”

  I jabbed the accept stud, rather than say it, wondering who was linking me.

  The image that came up was that of Kali Artema—exactly the same as it had been the first time we’d met, black security suit, black hair, and dark gray eyes.

  “Hello, Paulo. I’m here in Passova for the evening. I know it’s short notice. Could I interest you in joining me for dinner?”

  I didn’t have to think twice. “I would. Where and when … or am I supposed to decide?”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but since you took me out the last time, I thought I’d return the favor. Boudica, at seven? It’s in the northeast.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  She smiled. “Good.” Then she was gone.

  Since I didn’t have the faintest idea exactly what Boudica was or where, I did a search and discovered that the name referred to a warrior queen of the distant past and a very upscale restaurant not all that far from Ojolian’s, which meant a moderate tunneltram ride, not that I minded.

  Then I went back to finishing off what I started with the outland parameters.

  After work I did clean up and changed into one of my new singlesuits, black with gray trim, since that color combination seemed to be her preference.

  I arrived at Boudica at ten before seven. As soon as I set foot inside, I discovered that while the name might have been ancient, the decor was not. The walls were draped in folds of an ivory fabric, with tasteful abstract designs in silver, edged in thin black lines. The chairs and presumably the tables were wood, dark cherry synthwood, but expensive synthetic, upholstered in black. Table linens matched the ivory of the walls, and the carpet was ivory, with swirling black loops.

  “May I help you?” asked the hostess, who wore a short black jacket over an ivory ankle-length dress.

  “I’m expecting someone. I don’t know if the reservations are under Verano or Artema.”

  “They’re under both, sir. Do you wish to wait here or at your table?”

  “Here … I think.”

  After looking around, just to make sure, I didn’t see Kali. So I stepped back, then saw her enter, by herself. For a moment I thought she’d changed to a black outfit similar to the one she’d worn at our last dinner, but then I realized she’d simply added a tailored black jacket over the security singlesuit, but on her, the black on black looked dressy.

  “Kali, I’m here.” Although my words sounded banal to me, I stepped forward.

  “I’m flattered,” were the first words that followed her smile.

  I shrugged in confusion. “I don’t know why.”

  “I said I was flattered because you obviously changed into a singlesuit that I said I liked.”

  Of course. She’d seen me in the gray when she linked that afternoon.

  “Are you ready?” asked the hostess.
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  I nodded.

  As we followed the hostess, I noted that the music came from an actual live string quartet, not that I recognized what they performed, only that it was what I’d have called classical semiromantic, just loud enough to mute and obscure conversations other than one’s own.

  We ended up at a table for two in a nook along the wall, but all the tables were in isolated nooks. Once the hostess had seated us, I looked across the table at Kali. I thought she looked a little tired, but I was glad she was there. I only asked, “How did you find this place?”

  “I cheated. One of the pilots on the ley-liner out from Teppera told me about it. Her cousin owns it.”

  “That sounds like a story. A restaurant named after a warrior queen owned by a Tepperan on Stittara. And I’ve been invited by a warrior queen … or the current equivalent.”

  “Not a queen.”

  “Close enough.”

  She almost blushed, I thought. Instead, she said, “Life is strange, and at its strangest, stranger than fiction.”

  “Such as an ecologist from Bachman sitting with a Tepperan officer on detached duty to a Unity multilateral on Stittara? You’re what, a light colonel, senior major?”

  “Senior major, but I’m not combat services.”

  “Don’t you all get combat training and rotation into combat billets?”

  “Just as junior officers. I also took basic flight training, both space and atmospheric.”

  Before I could pursue that, the server arrived. I deferred to Kali and followed her recommendations, settling on a mushroom bisque, and a mango curried fowl pasta, except I ordered a Zantos, rather than wine. Her wine and my lager arrived immediately.

  I lifted my beaker. “To a good dinner and better company.”

  She nodded and lifted her goblet.

  We didn’t touch glass. That would have been too familiar, but we both smiled before we sipped our drinks.

  “So … security is your specialty.”

  “Security, with logistics as a secondary. They go hand in hand.”

  “I can see that.” I could sense someone looking at me and took a quick glance to the side. The woman at the nearest table kept looking at me, staring in fact. She was blond, and attractive, and probably within a few years of my age. I looked back at Kali.