The Elysium Commission

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  I had a question. I hesitated, but finally asked, "Don't the Frankans see that? Why would they risk an interstellar war just to meddle in one system?"

  Carle's smile was cold. "We believe that they are nowhere as weak as the Assembly space service believes. Certain analysts have noted that a small but significant fraction of total Frankan energy usage for more than a decade cannot be accounted for. In addition, there are certain energy fields in the third sector. We believe, but cannot prove, that Devanta is a trap. It is likely that the Assembly sector fleet will be destroyed, as will the fleets being sent against Pretoria."

  The more I heard, the less I liked what I'd learned. "And the Assembly cannot deduce what you have?"

  "They do not wish to speculate upon what they cannot prove. That is always the weakness of those who control vast bureaucracies. Now ..." Carle's voice turned brisk and cool. "The mission is simple in concept. Major Albryt will take a modified corvette, accelerate to the highest in-system velocity possible, and release an equally modified armed combat flitter. That will be piloted by Captain Donne and will be targeted at the Frankan Hawking Assembly. Captain Donne will have two special torps. Either should be suffi­cient to deal with the Frankans at the comparatively high velocity involved. Major Albryt will recover Captain Donne and proceed to Devanta. There she will accomplish a high­speed insertion that will release Captain Donne on target for Time's End."

  I hadn't volunteered for a suicide mission. My face must have showed that because the intelligence colonel smiled. "We're not making you a suicide missile, Captain. One of the features of the technology being employed by the Elois is that there is a temporal component associated with trans­port, especially transport attempted within a planetary grav­ity well—or a relational relativity field, if you prefer. We also possess this obsolete technology, and it will be used to project your flitter temporally behind the Frankan defenses. You will be required to bit two checkpoints, Captain. One to get behind the defenses, and one to escape the ensuing catastrophic explosion. In a capsule, that is Phase I of the op­eration."

  Obsolete technology? Was Phase LI, presumably Time's End, even worse?

  "You're suggesting that this ... Elysium technology isn't particularly new," I said.

  "It's not." Carle's voice was somewhere between clipped and resigned. "The technology that Classic Research has rediscovered dates back half a millennium. It was aban­doned for several reasons. It's highly unstable. The back­lash when it's confronted with powerful shields will wipe out the entire operating system. The damage to the space-time fabric in the surrounding area will often create swirling singularities of an unpredictable nature for cen­turies, if not longer. Residual singularities in sections of the former Naquyl Confederacy still claim ships that ignore the warnings."

  I was supposed to transit that madness of space, knowing its less-than-jocular procreations?

  "The Assembly's IS high command knew Eloi and Maraniss were planning this, then?" asked Siendra. "It's a power play to remove the Civitas Sorores?"

  "We're not privy to their motivations," replied Carle, "but that is the most likely probability. Devanta has the greatest degree of local autonomy of any system in the Gal-lian sector."

  "Particularly economic independence and autonomy?" I asked.

  Carle nodded. "We need to get on with what you need to know about the mission." She cleared her throat. "Even without a link to the Hawking field, the Elois have enough power at Time's End to use the projection field to level all of Thurene. Phase II is more complicated, unfortunately, and will require a greater use of Captain Donne's and Major Albryt's considerable skills." She nodded to Shannon.

  "Phase II requires a targeted attack on the master controls to the technology. These are located at Time's End," Shan­non began. "In the Classic Research laboratory there ..."

  The first holo projection was a satellite view of Time's End. Colonel Carle zoomed it in, not on the Classic Re­search laboratory, but on the low hill less than half a klick to the northwest of the lab.

  "There is a class-one fusactor under this hill. Rather, the hill was built around it. Classic Research obtained the per­mits for an old-style class-three fusactor. That was actually built and is currendy operating. What was not known at the time was that Legaar Eloi had already built a shielded class-one facility beneath the class-three facility. It was not brought up to operating levels until the legally permitted power fa­cility was already operating. The existence of the class-one facility was not determined definitively until Captain Donne accomplished an instrumental sweep of the area sev­eral weeks ago." Carle nodded at me.

  I'd never had instruments for that. How had the sisters ... ? "You added detectors to Lemel Jerome's detector, didn't you!'

  "That was Colonel Shannon's idea."

  "So you caused his death."

  "No. We didn't change anything," Carle replied. "We just added a few items. Legaar Eloi would have traced the tap back to Jerome even if we had done nothing. Like you, Cap­tain, we didn't anticipate Legaar's immediate and violent reaction. He's generally used credits to obtain his ends, in­directly and without tracks."

  "There were tracks in Lemmy's death?" I raised my eye­brows.

  No one said anything.

  "Can you explain why I got a disrupted signal on Domen, but Lemmy died on Senen?"

  "Why don't you just let the colonel brief us, Donne?" suggested Shannon. "You might get your answers more quickly, and the rest of us could learn something as well."

  Shannon was probably right, but I was feeling even more manipulated than ever, and I hadn't thought that possible. I should have. I nodded.

  "The time differential is a result of the temporal backlash channeling associated with the technology." Carle waited until the second holo projection appeared. It was a schematic floor plan. "This is the floor plan for the operations area of the Classic Research laboratory. The ramp from the maglev enters here ..." After that came a whole series of interior views of the facility, ending with one that displayed the operations center main controls. "These are controls you'll have to operate, Captain Donne. We've built a complete du­plicate of this board." Carle looked at me. "Some functions we know; others are probabilities; still others are un­known."

  I didn't doubt her. What I didn't understand was how they could have information in such detail and yet not know how some controls and systems worked or even need me to charge in and muck with things.

  "You might wonder how we can provide these views and know so little," the intelligence colonel went on. "That has to do with the projection technology itself. It creates a two-way, space-time conduit—if you happen to have the equip­ment to monitor it. We've been careful not to alert the Elois to our possession of this mirror-equipment. We've only used it when they've powered up. Their power usage and field projections overshadow our passive observation. Also, we can't draw the kind of power they have. Even the Civitas Sorores can't divert the power output of two full fusactors on demand. You will notice that the controls are far more manual than at most installations. That is not deliberate lower tech, but a necessity. Wireless and broadcast signals or inflected power controls have a tendency to create un­planned and unpredictable variations in the projection field. Virtually every control device in these boards is insulated and served by insulated conduits and leads. It is designed to be impervious to implant controls or other energy fields."

  At least that explained one reason why they needed a physical presence in the operations center.

  After the overview came two solid stans of detailed holos and information on the corvette's projected flight path to­ward the Hawking complex, the entry and exit points, the timing, and the recovery. Then came the same level of de­tails for the attack on Time's End. I had my doubts about the entire mission. It was far too complex. If anyone made a single mistake, nothing would work. At the same time, I didn't have any better ideas. Not ones that would give either Siendra or me a chance to get through it all in one piece.
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  I had the feeling that had been planned, too.

  Still, at the end of the morning briefing, I had to ask, "What if this doesn't work?"

  "Then the Devantan PDF will be forced to use far more direct and messy methods, and several million people will die. That's the minimum extrapolation."

  I hadn't expected anything different, but I'd had to ask. The question I didn't raise was how the sisters had let such a sorry situation arise. There wasn't any point in that.

  'That's it for now." Shannon stood. "Donne, join us in the private dining room as soon as you can. It's three doors down."

  Siendra let the colonels depart before her. "We need to talk before you draw any conclusions." We certainly did.

  42

  Faith is but a poor substitute for understanding.

  As Shannon had indicated, almost before the security screen had lifted, the doctor was standing in the doorway. She did wait until Siendra and the other two had left before walking toward me.

  "You're ahead of schedule on the healing." She linked to the medunit. It fell away, leaving a light nanite-spun cast on my forearm. It was almost invisible. "I'd still be a bit care­ful there, Captain."

  "I'll try, Doctor."

  "There's a uniform in the fresher if you want to change. You need to come back here for another check after your afternoon activities. Before your evening meal."

  "Yes, Doctor." I smiled as I spoke.

  She did return the smile before she turned and left.

  After showering in the adjoining bath-fresher, I donned the shipsuit that had been provided. It was a match to the one Siendra wore. Like hers, it bore no insignia, but it was tai­lored to me. The integrated nanite protection and link system were better than what I'd had on the Pournelle II mission— and that had been the best available to SpecOps at the time.

  Shannon, Carle, and Siendra were seated around the single circular table in the small private dining room. The table­cloth was cream linen, and the cutlery was silver. The goblets and glasses were crystal. There was no wine. The remain­ing chair was between Colonel Carle and Siendra. I eased into it.

  "We didn't think ydu'd be long, Captain." Shannon of­fered a pleasant smile.

  "Thank you." I turned to the intelligence colonel.

  Before I could say anything, she said, "The installation here is considered secure, but the servers are not cleared for this mission."

  In short, don't talk about it except behind the full secu­rity screens. I hated taking anything on faith alone, but I wasn't being given enough information to do otherwise. At that point, a server appeared with a tray bearing four salads. Each held thinly sliced apples and pears over red leaf let­tuce, sprinkled with chopped toasted almonds.

  "Do you follow the work of Devantan dramaturges and writers?" I asked.

  "Not really," replied Shannon. "I've seen enough of what passes for drama."

  "You mean," interjected Siendra, "if it's real, it's either too upsetting or too boring, and if it's neither, it's not real?"

  "Something like that." Shannon took a bite of the salad.

  I looked to Carle.

  "I like a good drama, if it's exciting. It's a break from the fine detail of what I do most of the time." I could see that.

  "What about you?" countered the intelligence type.

  "I like a littie of everything, if it's good. Even opera."

  "It's often less exciting than what follows," suggested Carle, her voice pleasant. "That can be chilling, especially comparatively."

  I got the hint. I couldn't help but wonder how much she'd observed, particularly during the opera.

  That was about as interesting as the conversation got dur­ing the remainder of the meal. The main course was clearly less than exciting—competently prepared veal scaloppini with slightiy overcooked pasta.

  As I was taking a last sip of iced tea, Shannon rose. So did Fiorina Carle.

  "Colonel Carle and I need to work out a few details. I'll meet you both at the maglev platform in half a stan."

  "Yes, ser." Siendra just nodded.

  Once the door closed behind the departing colonels, she turned to me. "Blaine... there's something you should know. I didn't suggest, volunteer, or even hint that you should be the operative. I was told your name ten minutes before I walked into the briefing."

  I believed her. "Shannon's a sadist. He didn't tell me. He just said he'd enjoy my finding out."

  "I thought he hadn't said."

  "Was it that obvious?" I laughed.

  "It probably wouldn't have been to anyone else. I've been watching you for a while. Since I've been working with Krij."

  "Carle doesn't miss much."

  "No, she doesn't." Siendra smiled mischievously. "She doesn't like opera, either."

  "How much do you know about that?"

  "About opera? Very little. That you occasionally attend it for professional reasons with attractive women who have information. That you ended up swimming in a reservoir after your last opera."

  "You're an attractive woman with information," I pointed out.

  "I can't take you to a private box at the opera on opening night. Carle told me that," she added quickly. "She's very thorough."

  "Have you worked with her before?"

  "Professionally. She's briefed me on several recon mis­sions."

  "Recon? You've been watching the Frankans for years, then?"

  "And the Argenti and a few others. We can't afford to rely on the Assembly space service. That's been apparent for years."

  "We? The covert intelligence service of the Civitas Sorores?"

  "Who else?"

  "Is it all women?"

  "No. Shannon isn't female. Neither are you. It's whoever they think will best handle the tasks they need done."

  "You and Krij, then." It all made sense. They'd had infor­mation I couldn't get anywhere else. "Another part of the reg compliance business."

  "Exacdy. If we seem to know more than the average cor­pentity type would, then, who else would? We see every­one's ops plans and finances."

  "So... is Astrid Forte another intel type?"

  "Blaine ... I can't tell you any more than I have."

  That meant yes. There was something about it that nagged me. I couldn't place it. Then it hit me, even though I certainly couldn't do anything about it at the moment. "Intelligence types for the sisters have the same legal standing as the sisters, don't they, both the restrictions and the bene­fits?"

  "They'd have to, wouldn't they?"

  That was another answer that wasn't technically an an­swer, but it explained a great deal. I thought I had my answers as to who my client in the Wayles inheritance really was— and why, even if I couldn't do anything about it at the mo­ment.

  For a moment, I just looked at Siendra. The dark gray shipsuit tended to wash her out. Even so, she was good to look at. I realized something else. She was the kind of woman who never quite looked the same from any different angle or in any light. She met my eyes, not challenging, but not flinching, just accepting.

  "We should start for the maglev," I finally said. Then I stood.

  "How is your arm?" Siendra rose with that quick and fluid grace that made it seem as though she were sitting one moment and standing the next.

  "It aches a little at times, but it's much better. The doctor told me not to overdo it for a while. Say ... one day." I laughed.

  So did she, sofdy, but warmly.

  I wondered why I hadn't seen the warmth behind the pro­fessionalism. Had it always been there? Had I failed to see it? Or had she become less guarded? If so, why? Just because she'd have to work with me?

  Shannon was waiting on the maglev platform. He ges­tured toward the open hatch of the maglev capsule.

  I let Siendra go first, then followed her. With only four couch-seats, the capsule felt crowded. The trip took almost a quarter stan. With Shannon there, I wasn't in the mood for talking to Siendra. Maybe I'd missed something, but there had been the slightest h
ardening of Siendra's voice when she'd mentioned Odilia. She'd referred to the princesse as an attractive woman who had information. The phrasing about not being able to take me to a private box on opening night was as close to a cadike remark as I'd ever heard from Siendra. Yet she'd wanted me to understand that she had not been the one to drag me into the mission.

  When the capsule door opened, I let Shannon and Sien­dra get out first She started toward the left-hand archway. Then Shannon did. I followed them both down the gray-walled and gray-carpeted corridor. Again, all my implants and access to anything beyond the facility were blocked.

  The third arch opened into a cavernous space. Once in­side, I could see full-cockpit simulators for several classes of spacecraft.

  "Is this where you've been training?" I asked in a low voice as I caught up with Siendra. She nodded.

  "Donne! Over here," called Shannon.

  "Here" was the cockpit of a high-speed in-system scout Beside it was a complete set of space armor, without any ID. My size.

  "You've got fifteen minutes to get into the armor and check out things and run through the checklist before we start the first sim run. The Phase I profile's in the system."

  I eased into the armor. Even with the assists, it was heavy in standard grav. But then, it was designed primarily for null gee. Once into the cockpit, I linked to the systems. The sim-links were solid. They felt "real." I began the scout check­list

  Seals and locks—tight. Power—standby. Habitability—green...

  I finished the checklist and began to run over the mission profile. In theory, it Was simple enough. Siendra would ac­celerate the Aquitaine to max in-system velocity and release my scout short of the Frankan defense fields and the point where the projection field lens would appear. I would continue to accelerate. Once through the projection field lens, I would fire two torps. The properties of the field and lens would energy-invert the torps, and I'd have to avoid the lens and its peripheral effects and angle toward the pickup point and the second field lens. That was if every­thing went right. It might but we had to be prepared for other eventualities as well.