“I’m the assistant meteorologist and the administrative director.” A smile slightly more than polite crossed her lips. “I have a groundcar. A Survey Services van, actually. We’ll have to wait for your equipment.”
“Don’t we have to pick it up?” I gestured toward the blockhouse port building.
“It’s easier for everyone if they deliver it to the van. I told Tadao you’d likely have some equipment.”
“Two crates and a few templates.” More than a few, since I’d brought as many as I could beg, borrow, or steal.
“Not exclusive single use, I hope.”
I shook my head. “You’re welcome to all of them, so long as I have access to the first prods on any I might need for my work. Where do we go from here?”
“To the Survey compound. You’ll be staying in the guest quarters.”
“The first in how many years?”
“They’re used often by Survey personnel from the out-continents. You are the first off-planet visitor in several decades.”
That wasn’t exactly surprising. I would have bet that I was the first in longer than that.
There wasn’t any ground debriefing, nor any entry formalities and procedures. All those had been taken care of on the orbit station. That made sense, because there was only one ley-liner a year from Bachman. Perhaps another handful from elsewhere in the Arm ported at Stittara, bringing either bored trusters on tours to see the oddities of the galaxy or industrial science types arriving—or departing—from the handfuls of projects scattered around the globe that had been established to study and to attempt to replicate the internal structure and properties of the various natural anagathics in the local flora.
We walked past the single long and low stone blockhouse set back from the shuttle strip toward a large flat expanse of permacrete, on which were arrayed a variety of vehicles, mostly ground types of some sort. There were two flitters, both with fuselages finished with the smooth dark gray that suggested years of usage and more than a few refinishings and repairs. The Survey Service van was finished in a yellow that had doubtless been brilliant and designed to stand out against the gray of the sky and the purple-gray of the skytubes. Now, it was just yellow.
“What do you expect to find here on Stittara, Ser Verano?” She opened the rear of the van, and I put my duffel in on one side, leaving more than enough room for my small crates. “Or not to find, as the case may be?”
“Paulo, please.” I smiled. “I don’t expect to find anything. I’m here to determine whether there are environmental and ecological impacts arising from the various projects that have been established to further develop the immunological and anti-aging boosters gleaned from the local organisms … and, of course, those studying the skytubes.”
“There’s little of that these days.”
“Oh?”
“It’s proved futile and fatal too often. You can see that in the Survey records.”
That was interesting. Of course, neither of us had to mention the fact that Stittara likely would have long-since been abandoned without the intermittent flow of data and bio-discoveries. Those discoveries were another reason why I was standing there, since no one really wanted to abandon Stittara, for whatever reason, and my presence, at the very least, would buy enough time for a fickle electorate to forget and move on to the next sensational political revelation. My greatest danger was that I actually might find something that would change everything.
“If they were having such an impact, don’t you think we would have reported it?” Aloris’s voice was calm, but that didn’t disguise the edge behind it. “And who might care when you return in over a hundred and fifty years?”
“The Environmental Ministry might. It has lasted more than a while.” And I’d care, just out of professional pride, which might be all I had left by then.
“Ah, yes. The Ministry.” She smiled. “Tadao will be here in a few minutes with your equipment.”
I glanced to the west, where the skytubes were barely visible in the distance.
Aloris said nothing while we waited, and I didn’t feel like making small talk. That’s always been a problem for me. Chelesina complained that I was always pontificating or boring people with details. Somehow I never cared much for debating the latest linkpopper’s hair shades or private life that was really scripted for public consumption.
Before long an open ground lorry appeared, moving first to one of the flitters, where a uniformed patroller and another man in a silver-gray singlesuit waited while the loader transferred three cases, all covered in quantum-locked film, to the flitter.
“The latest microprint specs,” said Aloris.
That made sense. With molecular assemblers—microprinters—given an energy source and raw materials—tech transfer and updating was simply a matter of information. And since every ley-liner carried backup printers, if an out-system world had suffered some form of catastrophe, rebuilding was certainly possible, not that I was aware it had ever been necessary.
After the microprint templating specs had been off-loaded, the flitter lifted almost immediately and headed westward. What did strike me as odd was that the craft stayed low, no more than a hundred meters above the ground. Yet the sky was clear. Were the skytubes actually aware and sensitive to aircraft? The old reports I’d read had speculated on that, but had come to no conclusions. I hoped that the Stittaran Survey office had more recent and conclusive data, but that remained to be seen.
After a few minutes, the stocky young man with serious dark eyes guided the ground lorry over to the van. “Professor Doctor Verano?”
I nodded.
He extended a hand tablet. “Please authenticate receipt of your crates. Receipt does not invalidate any claims for damage, but you must make such claims before the Persephonya breaks orbit.”
“When will that be?”
He grinned. “Not for another two months. The systems have to be recalibrated.”
That only took a week or so. The rest of the wait time was to accommodate those who only needed a few weeks before departing.
Then he swung down and lowered the lorry’s drop gate until it was level with the rear of the Survey van. In quick movements, he slid both crates into the van.
“Our thanks, Tadao.” Aloris nodded.
“Summer calm, and my best to Raasn,” he replied.
I assumed that he referred to some relative of hers, but since I didn’t know the relationship nomenclature on Stittara, I just mentally filed the comment.
“Summer calm?” I asked as the lorry glided back toward the single structure serving the dropport. “Are the skytubes or the local winds less violent in the summer?”
“Not really. The early colonists thought so. By the time they found out, the expression had stuck, and now it’s as much ironic as custom.”
“By the way, what is the local season here?”
“Spring. The seasons don’t vary much here. There’s almost no axial tilt.”
“And there’s life here?” My question was rhetorically sardonic, designed to provoke a reaction.
“Stittara wasn’t always this calm, the geologists say.” She turned and walked to the driver’s side of the van.
I walked to the other door, opened it, and slid into the seat. I actually had to manually fasten the safety straps. When I looked over, after fumbling them on, and nodded to Aloris, she pressed a stud on the flat surface before her and then put both hands on a steering wheel. I didn’t say a word as she guided the van from the parking area onto a narrow permacrete highway. I hadn’t expected a planetary or even a local VCS, but it was still a slight jolt to ride in a wheeled conveyance traveling a highway at high speed that was actually controlled by a person and not a system. I knew it wouldn’t be the last surprise I should have anticipated and didn’t.
“What have you found most intriguing about meteorology here on Stittara?” I asked as an opening question.
“That it’s comparatively predictable and seldom intriguing.”
“Even with the skytubes?”
“They seem to coexist with the weather. There’s no data and no documentation on any instances where they could have changed or influenced meteorological conditions. You could make a rough analogy that they’re an airborne cross between plankton and jellyfish. Ocean jellyfish merely ride the currents. They don’t create them.”
More than a stan passed as the van continued westward, and as Aloris Raasn expanded on her theory. During that time, we passed exactly two other vehicles, and I saw not a single structure once we left the dropport. Nor did I see any trees, only gently rolling hills covered with the thick low grass with its undershades of brown and purple, and low bushes of various types, whose leaves held close to the same shades as the grass. I’d read about the ecology and studied the reports, with the notations that only the mountains held any flora or fauna of significant height, but there’s always a difference between reading and experiencing.
Finally, Aloris pulled off the highway and guided the van along a narrow way, over a rise, and down a slope into a wide grassy vale that held an array of hundreds, if not thousands, of structures, all but a few less than ten yards on a side, and none of them more than a story in height, if that. While there was a clear plan to the community, what it was escaped me, because all the streets were the same narrow width and all curved. There wasn’t a straight stretch of permacrete anywhere, not from what I could tell, and not a single one of the tiny structures had any sharp corners, not even gently smoothed right-angled ones.
“Welcome to Passova.”
“This is civilization, then?”
“There’s more here than meets the eye, as you must know.”
My eyes didn’t see more, which confirmed that there was a lot underground, given that supposedly close to a hundred thousand people lived in Passova, the administrative center for the geographic area centered on the dropport.
The only indication of the nature of the structure into which she guided the van was the Service logo beside the vehicle doorway. Once the door had closed, and we had driven down the ramp behind it and into a vehicle bay, she seemed slightly less tense, but I wasn’t certain why, unless she didn’t care for driving a van more than a stan each way to the dropport.
“Why is the dropport so far from Passova?” I asked as I unstrapped and opened the door.
“It’s located midway between Passova, several research communities, and eight other towns. It’s also in the area with the best weather—and the greatest visibility.”
“Have the skytubes ever destroyed a drop shuttle?”
“Once. That was over two hundred years ago. That’s another reason why the dropport is where it is.”
“And why everything on the surface is aerodynamically smooth and why important installations are underground?”
“It makes sense. You can leave your duffel in the van for now. You can meet some of the others, but the executive director won’t be back until late tonight, and then we’ll get your equipment transferred to the vacant lab space and your personal gear to the guest quarters.”
I followed Aloris Raasn down the ramps to the open receiving area on the main level, lit by piped light. The diffused atmospheric light was close to T-standard, but far from identical. There another Survey member stood. He could have been her brother, or regendered clone. He probably wasn’t either.
“Ecologist Verano, this is Meteorogist Raasn Defaux.”
I managed not to gape. I’d obviously been wrong, in more ways than one. “I’m pleased to meet you.”
“And surprised. You shouldn’t be. It’s in the Charter. Without imprint cloning, Stittara couldn’t maintain critical expertise.”
“He’s also a far better meteorologist than I,” added Aloris.
That might be true, but it was irrelevant. What was relevant was that Raasn was effectively her twin brother. Even if I reviewed the Stittaran Charter, I’d find that such a provision existed, and Raasn knew it, which was why he’d offered the statement, I suspected.
“Raasn and Demotte will take care of your gear while I show you the guest quarters,” said Aloris smoothly. “This way, if you will.”
I followed her to the end of the open area through what was clearly a pressure-seal door and out into a corridor a good six meters wide and three high, effectively an underground highway, emphasized by the fact that Aloris immediately moved to the right side of the tunnel corridor. Given that the top of the corridor had to be at least two meters below ground level, I had to ask, “Why the pressure-seal doors?”
“At times the storms can be so violent that there’s a significant pressure drop in the center. If there’s a break in any aboveground structure, the pressure differentials could wreak havoc with the equipment.”
That made sense. I didn’t think it was a complete answer, either, since wreaking havoc with equipment suggested even worse impacts on those operating the equipment.
We walked past another open pressure-seal door.
“Those are the quarters for some local Survey staff. The visiting quarters are accessed through the next door.”
After walking another hundred yards, and being passed by a silent small conveyance I would have called a tunnel lorry, we reached that door, also equipped with pressure seals. Beyond the door, the much narrower corridor sloped gently upward until we came to a simple iris-door. Aloris palmed it, and it opened. “You can add your print to the setting before you leave the next time.”
I nodded, following her into a foyer of sorts, with a narrow closet. Beyond the foyer was a modest-sized receiving chamber.
“Receiving chamber, dining, kitchen, and spare bedroom and bath down here, sleeping quarters, study, and bath/fresher on the upper level.”
“Are all the quarters like that?”
“No. We’ve just discovered that outworlders feel confined without an outside view.”
“You don’t need it?”
She shook her head. “Most of us prefer the lower levels. Dermotte from maintenance should have your personal gear here shortly. If you’ll enter your prints on the door, that will confirm your biometrics and cancel other access. Then I’ll show you your spaces in the Survey complex.”
I did just that, a little chilled, but not totally surprised that she had my biometrics. Then I followed her on what was likely to be a comparatively long walk through endless tunnels.
11
“What do you think?” Aloris asked. “First impressions.”
“He’s a man who thinks he’s simple. He’s not. The gray singlesuit trimmed in black is a pretty good indicator. He’s also trim and muscular. He probably works out a lot, but never where anyone notices. I’ll bet everything he brought is conservative and tasteful.” Raasn smiled. “Tell me what you think. You spent several hours with him.”
“He mostly asked questions and listened. He sees things without making you aware that he does.”
“He made you aware.”
“Only because I was watching for it.”
“That alone says that he needs to be watched. He’s the kind that Zeglar will underestimate. Even Venessa will.”
“You know how—”
“I understand, but we have to work with who and what we have.”
“That means less obvious observation,” she replied. “Check him out with a van, and let him go where and when he wants as he wishes. When Rahn gets back tomorrow, I’ll tell him that’s the norm for consultants sent by the Ministry at the direction of an oversight committee.”
“Since that is the norm.”
“Rahn wouldn’t know it. He’s a political appointee. Because he got Willisen elected to the Council.”
“He’s been here over three years.”
“And what has he learned?”
Raasn shrugged. “More than you think, but it won’t hurt to tell him that it’s the norm so that he can tell the Council just that.”
“You’re right, but I’d be surprised if Verano goes anywhere immediately. He
did ask for the chief ecologist in the Survey.”
“What did you tell him?”
“The truth. That we don’t have one, but that Benart Albrot at Field Two is the closest approximation to that.”
“Was that…?”
“He’ll find out about Albrot sooner or later. Verano will distrust anything we push on him. He strikes me as very methodical. He’ll review the records first. Then he’ll make visits to the multis and field stations.” She pursed her lips, if momentarily. “Once he has that information, he’ll come back to those of us in headquarters and ask more questions.”
“That approach won’t hurt us. No one will be able to claim that he was rushed into anything.” He paused. “You don’t think he intends to hurry through his work and try to leave on the Persephonya, do you?”
“What difference does it make? If that were to happen, and we both know how likely that is, he and his report would still reach Bachman more than a hundred and forty-six years after he departed, a lot more since the ley-liners don’t take straight return trips. He stays five or six months and digs in, or even a full year, and it’s a hundred and forty-seven years, and he’ll get back earlier. That’s if he even wants to return. It’s not as though he has a lot to return to.”
“He can’t claim that bonus unless he returns … unless he brought some of it, or the equivalent, with him. That might be worth checking. Indirectly, of course. It might bear on our options.”
“It might indeed.”
“You won’t co-opt him, Aloris dear. We might not need to do anything, but he’s not the type to fall for wiles, feminine or otherwise.”
“He did once.”
“I think he’s the kind that only gets burned one time … on anything.”
“We’ll see.”
Raasn nodded.
“You’ll take care of that … looking into accounts?”
“You already know about his expenses, don’t you?”
“We can’t touch them. He’s got a year’s per diem, keyed only to him, with Stittaran Planetary. Anything happens to him, it reverts to the Survey on Bachman. They really don’t care, except that it’s a way to discourage local stations from creative local fund-raising.”
The One-Eyed Man Page 5