The Elysium Commission

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  "Oh? Like the one offered by Seigniora Reynarda?"

  "That was an example of what that technology can do."

  "You're making an offer I can't refuse, I see."

  "We needed to get your attention in a fashion that indi­cated the severity of the situation. Legaar Eloi and Judeon Maraniss are about to activate a certain technology that will have adverse impacts on all Devanta. The example you wit­nessed was nothing."

  "A Hawking field and a modified jumpship generator?" I suggested.

  "A very modified field and generator. From what we can tell, they intend to wipe out Thurene and most life on De­vanta. Obviously, we would prefer that they don't."

  "Where do I fit in?" I had a very good idea where that was. But I could be wrong. I'd been wrong before.

  "There are two ways in which Legaar can be handled. Lo­cally, or by the Assembly of Worlds. If we call for Assembly assistance, that is a de facto admission of inadequacy."

  "Reformulation and a loss of your power."

  "Yes." The admission was without equivocation.

  "Interstellar protection is the duty of the Assembly. Why

  can't the Assembly space service stop the Frankan forces bringing the Hawking field?" That was a guess on my part, but it was the only thing that made sense.

  "They are occupied elsewhere at the moment. They are likely to remain so."

  "Oh... TABS and the Eloi connections have bought enough Assembly politicians so that it becomes a test of whether you can get out of the mess?"

  "Essentially."

  "So why don't you just send in a Garda team and take out Classic Research?"

  "Whom would you suggest? Officer Javerr? Patroller Donahew? Do you think they could? Or that they would obey Captain Shannon?"

  Sister Tertia had a point. I didn't like it. "So you want someone not in the Garda organization."

  "A team not in the Garda organization."

  "Where will you get the rest of the team, then? From the streets of Thurene?"

  "Sarcasm doesn't become the shadow knight. We have the rest of the team."

  "I still don't understand ..."

  "You will."

  "If I might ask ... why should I?"

  "You mean ... exactly what benefit accrues to you?" The light sardonic laugh followed. "Survival, for one. Second, if you become part of the effort, the authentication will be retroactive to your engagement by Seigniora Reynarda. That effectively means, if the effort is successful, you will be fully indemnified for the loss of your nightflitter, as well as the other damages incurred from the Eloi operation. Third, you will receive a paid consultancy of five thousand credits monthly, plus a five-hundred-credit-per-stan fee for all services in excess of ten stans per month. The minimum term of that consultancy would be ten years."

  Matters were worse than I'd ever thought. "How soon before things heat up?"

  "Five to seven days."

  "I'm not exactly in the best shape."

  "We know. That is secondary." Both the Sister Tertia and I knew neither of us had much room to maneuver. "Who else is on the team?"

  "Do you agree?"

  "I agree." What real choice did I have?

  "Colonel Shannon developed the plan. He and you, and a highly trained pilot with unique specialization, will execute it. You will all be briefed by the best intelligence specialist on Devanta. The timetable is very precise."

  "What exacdy am I supposed to do?"

  "Enter a facility more secure than an Assembly opera­tions center, disable or kill anyone there, and single-handedly operate a console and equipment you have never seen before to neutralize a system that could conceivably rip apart a section of our universe."

  Her description made Pournelle II seem like a walk down the South Bank. It was also absurd and impossible.

  "It is not quite so impossible as it sounds," the sister added.

  "You don't want the Assembly to learn about the technol­ogy Eloi and Maraniss have developed, do you?" I couldn't resist asking.

  "Would you?"

  "What is it?"

  "That will be covered in your briefing. Captain Shannon is waiting for you." With the last of her words, the screens cut off all light from her end of the chamber.

  It was an effective dismissal.

  I turned and walked back to the maglev.

  The capsule hatch closed behind me, and Shannon nodded.

  "Where to now?" I asked.

  "A special medical facility. Where else? You need some remedial work."

  I had the feeling I'd need a lot more than that, and I wasn't looking forward to any of it.

  The maglev's next stop was farther away, and shielded. I

  had no access to Max, the villa, or even to any common net. Shannon ushered me straight to a med-chamber whose energy and equipment made my villa medcenter look several centuries out of date. A doctor was waiting.

  "You're the remarkable Seignior Donne." Those were the first words out of the doctor's mouth. Her manner and tone made both Krij and Siendra seem maternal by comparison. Yet I doubted she was more than 150 centimeters tall and slender to match. Slender with the strength of a nanite-steel rod. "Off with your clothes above your waist. We need every minute. We're doing a full arm regression-rebuild, with reinforcement backup."

  I didn't care for the "reinforcement backup." I pulled off my shirt and jacket.

  Shannon vanished without a word or a glance, leaving me with the doctor.

  "On the table there. This shouldn't be too bad. You've al­ready got a week of nanite-boosted regrowth."

  Not too bad? I could hardly wait.

  39

  Proud city, vagrant muse and whore, seduced your builders years before.

  Legaar paced around the penthouse study, with its hidden and remote links to the Classic Research operations center at Time's End. His movements were like that of a graceless cougar, each of his tailored Drelaan shoes hitting the high-impact carpet as hard as a sledge falling onto it.

  "The schedule for delivery is almost a week. Why so long? The sisters are nosing around, and somehow Shannon or someone has gotten Special Operations interested. Only TABS is keeping the Assembly at a distance." His words were like awkward dark-voweled birds clattering down on a slate roof. His eyes turned away from the single console.

  "I told you the approach would be slow." I'd told him far more than once, but he always wanted to believe that tech­nical limitations were obstacles that could be removed as abrupdy and thoroughly as he'd removed people. "They'll have to make a slow and shielded approach coming in-system. The energy of a high-speed approach would alert both the IS monitors, the PDF, and possibly even the Garda. The Assembly couldn't overlook anything that blatant, much as they might wish to."

  "A polar approach?" His eyes flicked as though his atten­tion were elsewhere, and that was less than optimal because even when his attention was fully present, his concentration focused all too often upon the trivial or upon the short-term acquisition of greater power.

  "High ecliptic. There's more debris there."

  "It's taken forever to set this up." He rocked back and forth from one foot to the other, and the hideous and expen­sive shoes creaked under the stress. "Forever..."

  "It's unique, and unique technology that conveys that kind of power takes time to assemble and coordinate. But it won't take that long once they're in position. We'll have roughly ten hours after the Hawking complex comes online before the first brane-flex break occurs. That should provide enough time for the last transfers."

  "That's easy enough for you to say, Judeon. All you have to transfer is yourself and a few personal items. You haven't had an entire corpentity to consider."

  "That's because I moved most of the heavy objects early on," I pointed out. "I might also observe that you have, upon more than one occasion, noted that there are few indeed in your various organizations that merit either rescue or resti­tution." Or anywhere in Thurene or on all of Devanta.

  "I've had to
relocate my family and my very best people."

  "There is a cost to everything, especially for a new knowledge of reality, but when it's all over, you'll be able to dictate to the Assembly. In effect, you'll be running the As­sembly. With the complex fully active, you can remove en­tire fleets. The space service will think you've destroyed them." Hurled hundreds of light-years and who knew how far forward or back in time, the warships would certainly be neutralized. Some would be destroyed, but none would be around to cause trouble.

  But then, shortly after that, neither would Legaar.

  40

  All healing is painful.

  Infinitely small needles of white-hot agony twisted through my arm and shoulder. From what I'd undergone in SpecOps regen, I was prepared for that. I wasn't ready for the nanoscale blue ice frozen hydrogen explosions that warred in the same area. I passed out.

  When I woke, I was in another chamber. My entire left . hand, arm, and shoulder were encased in a medunit. A sec­ond unit encased my right hand, arm, and shoulder. The only difference was that the right side throbbed slightly. I felt nothing on the left. My head ached as well, and my brain felt as though it had been squeezed. That had to have been a side effect of something else. Humans don't have the nerves for direct pain reception inside the skull.

  My nose and cheek itched. I could turn my head enough to rub the cheek against the medunit. But not my nose. It was hard to ignore the itching.

  I lay there, thinking. Trying not to envision the purplish gray mass that had engulfed my hands, wrists, arms, and shoulders. I could almost imagine the white-hot needles burning the length of my arms. The nerve blocks stopped the actual pain, but I knew that without them, I'd be convulsed in agony.

  Why my right arm? Or had the doctor discovered some­thing there as well?

  I did my best to push that away and concentrate on what little additional information I'd obtained from the Third Sister. Shannon had known about Eloi and Maraniss for a time, yet he'd let Javerr bully me. That made sense now. So did the sisters' indirect methods. I still didn't like either. The sisters also knew at least something about the technol­ogy Legaar Eloi was using. Yet they'd apparently done nothing. That was what I didn't understand.

  "Seignior Donne." The doctor appeared. She was smiling.

  I waited.

  "You're in remarkable shape for an ex-operative. In fact, you're in better shape than most operatives on duty." I hoped so. I'd worked at it. "What time is it?"

  "It's only five hour."

  "What day?"

  "Marten, of course. The way your rebuilding and rein­forcing is going, you'll be out of the right unit late tonight and the left one sometime around noon tomorrow."

  "What are you doing to me?"

  "Accelerated healing of the fractured radius, and some repair and strengthening of your arms, forearms, shoulders, and fingers. Oh... and upgrading your implants and comm faculties. You'll need those as well."

  "Why the strengthening?"

  The doctor smiled, faintly, almost sadly. "I don't know. I was only told that your mission profile required it."

  "What about my head?"

  "In addition to the implants? A little nanite clean-out, making sure there were no lesions in critical areas." She was hedging on that. "What else?"

  "You'll have faster reactions in certain situations. We strengthened certain linkages."

  "What will that cost me elsewhere?"

  She laughed. "You're skeptical. The only thing it will cost you is patience. Over time, unless you're careful, you'll wonder why people take so long to react to situations."

  I'd already had that feeling. I didn't say so.

  "Your reactions in those areas are already well above normal. That's true of all special operatives. I was assured that you'll need to be faster for your mission."

  The absolute certainty in her words chilled me.

  "You're doing well. We're going to enhance your sleep—"

  "No slumbereze!"

  She shook her head. "You shouldn't ever use one. They're not designed for people with brains like yours. We'll be using something else..."

  I took some consolation in the fact that my own feelings about the slumbereze had been right—before a genfle vel­vet darkness enfolded me.

  41

  To listen, even to hear, is not to know.

  Barely after I'd eaten breakfast on Miercen, one-handed, Shannon appeared in my personal rehab room, carrying a black case and pushing a high, wheeled table. He set down the case and moved the table until it was a meter from the one medunit to which I remained attached. Then he walked out and returned with two chairs. He placed them next to the one already in the room.

  "Are you 'Captain' or 'Colonel' today, ser?" I asked.

  "From you, Donne, it doesn't matter. You can make any title sound like an expletive." He did grin. In fact, he was beaming. He opened the case and put a small device on the table. "You're not mobile yet, and we need to begin briefing you and the pilot. After the morning briefing, the doctor should be able to disengage the medunit, and you'll be able to get dressed. We'll have a pleasant lunch, and then every­one will go into separate afternoon simulation sessions."

  "You're briefing us?"

  He shook his head. "I'm just the ops designer. The intel­ligence head will do the briefing."

  "Who's that?" He gestured.

  A tall woman in RT royal green entered the room. I'd met her before. Fiorina Carle. That definitely explained why it had taken so long for RT to send a flitter after me and why RT had made no fuss about my "crash" on the corpentity's lands.

  "Captain Donne." Her words were clipped.

  I should have felt that my former military rank was a good sign. I didn't. Especially not in my present situation. "Are you a former Assembly intel type?"

  "Colonel, third sector, retired." She smiled politely.

  "And RT is working with the sisters?"

  "Not all of RT. Just those who count. We call it enlight­ened self-interest."

  "Isn't all intelligent self-interest enlightened?"

  "Donne... we need to get on with the briefing," inter­jected Shannon.

  "I thought there was going to be a pilot here."

  "Oh... there is." Shannon's words were dry.

  "When am I going to meet this mysterious pilot?"

  "In a moment." He grinned again. "I'm going to enjoy this."

  "Don't tell me that our pilot is Officer Javerr." That would have been hard to accept.

  "He's qualified. He's a one-term space service pilot, but he's far from the best. You know that he's not acceptable for other reasons. Besides, we have one far better qualified. Far better."

  From Shannon's grin, I should have guessed. I should have. I didn't.

  I couldn't say anything when Siendra walked into the room. She wore the same unmarked dark gray shipsuit she had worn on Senen evening when she'd vidlinked. I thought I saw the faintest hint of an embarrassed smile on her lips and face, but it vanished so quickly I wasn't sure. Again, I could have been wrong. "Colonel Carle, Colonel Shannon, Captain Donne." Her voice was pleasant but professional.

  Shannon motioned to the empty chairs. Siendra took the one closest to me.

  Colonel Carle had remained standing. A quick link flashed somewhere, then the chamber closed in on us. The walls re­mained in place, but a top-level security screen dropped around the space, and the door locked.

  Carle began to speak. That allowed me to swallow and regain a bit of composure. "Major Albryt has extensive ex­perience in high-speed space and atmospheric insertion ma­neuvers. She was rated as the top ship-handler in third sector the year before she completed her Assembly obliga­tion." Fiorina Carle turned to Siendra. "Captain Donne was awarded the Assembly Star of Honor for neutralizing an en­tire planetary defense system as well as rescuing another SpecOps officer. He managed most of the recovery with one arm while paralyzed from the waist down."

  From Siendra's reaction, muted and concealed as it was
, I could tell that was news to her. It should have been. The service had never given out the details—for obvious reasons—and I'd never told anyone. I'd been stupid and for­tunate enough to survive and redeem most of my mistakes, but I hadn't cared to have Krij or anyone else pointing out all the stupidity I'd exhibited dealing with the Frankans on Pournelle II.

  "Now that everyone is here, I'd like Colonel Carle to be­gin," Shannon announced.

  "The mission objective is simple," Carle stated. 'To ren­der the technology and equipment being assembled at Time's End permanendy inoperable and incapable of being repaired or understood by anyone. The conditions under which the mission must be undertaken are what make its accomplishment difficult. First, there is already an Assem­bly politico-socio-monitoring team in place on Devanta with observers and snoops widely placed. While we think we have located most of them, we know we do not have all of them under observation. Second, an Assembly fleet is on standby should the monitoring team determine the political situation on Devanta requires prereformulation assistance."

  None of us could have missed the cynical dryness of Carle's words there.

  "Third, a Frankan combat-engineering team is maneu­vering what appears to be a Hawking field generator in-system. Fourth, the Assembly space service knows this and is permitting it to occur. This is most probably being al­lowed so that the space service will have a documented and definitive reason to launch a full-scale attack on Pretoria. Successful deployment of the Hawking field will also neu­tralize Devanta's influence in the Assembly of Worlds for the foreseeable future."

  "The space service views the situation as without a down­side to them, regardless of outcomes," suggested Siendra.

  "Exactly," replied Carle. "If the Civitas Sorores manage the situation so that nothing overt occurs, the Frankans lose a combat-engineering team and some cosdy equipment, and it costs the space service nothing. In addition, Eloi En­terprises will be neutralized, and the Assembly will quietly claim that the sisters acted in response to Assembly pres­sure. This will reduce perceived Devantan influence. If Legaar Eloi and Judeon Maraniss succeed in destroying Thurene and escaping, blame will fall on the sisters and the Frankans, and the space service and the Assembly will have the provocation to do what they've wanted to do for de­cades."