“I’m certain that will be appreciated.” She bent over her console and keyed in something. After she straightened, she added, “I’ve forwarded the direct link to Belk Edo’s office to your console. His staff is usually very helpful.”
“Thank you … again. Might I impose for other contact suggestions?”
“Indeed you might. I’ll go through my lists and send them to you shortly.”
“Thank you,” I repeated.
“My pleasure.” Her tone was pleasant, and more than purely professional, with an undertone of amusement.
I paused. “You didn’t look very happy marching back here to your office.”
“I wasn’t. The Planetary Council is asking for an audit for the services we provided last year.”
“It’s an election year, then?”
“You understand that. Why don’t most people?”
“Because they don’t think in those terms. Any government restricts some freedoms. People don’t like restrictions. Ambitious politicians exploit those dislikes. The comparatively honest ones pick semilegitimate grievances. The less honest ones don’t bother with legitimacy; they just pick the things that make most people the maddest. Usually what makes people maddest are those things they don’t understand that get in the way of what they want to do. Few people understand the environment. So the Systems Survey Service is always a political target. That’s why I’m here. You know it, and I know it.”
Some of the anger dropped away, and a ruefully amused smile appeared. “I wish I could turn what you just said into a public linkspot.”
“It wouldn’t work. I’m just another techie-lobbyist hired to make the Survey look good. That’s what those who don’t like the Survey would say. Those who do would be angry that I wasn’t attacking the politicians directly.”
“You’re as cynical as Raasn.”
I was probably more so; I’d seen more. I didn’t admit it. “Cynicism is often the last refuge of the idealist.” That wasn’t original, either. It came from some early space-age writer whose name I’d forgotten.
“I wouldn’t think you’d claim to be an idealist.” Her eyes had a wicked twinkle, something I wouldn’t have expected.
“Just a pragmatist, ma’am. Just a pragmatist.”
She did laugh, if only for a moment.
I nodded and turned. On the way back to my spaces, I just hoped I wasn’t walking into more than I bargained for. Then I almost laughed. Since when had any assignment I’d ever had not been more than I’d anticipated in one way or another?
Belatedly, as I sat down in the swivel that had been templated so recently it still smelled of resin, I realized that I’d best get on with contacting Belk Edo’s office since RDAEX was a third of the way around Stittara, and it was already late afternoon there. I did do a quick check to see exactly who Edo was. He turned out to be the chief operating officer, in short, the highest placed RDAEX official on Stittara.
I took a deep breath and completed the link.
A very professional-looking young man, every hair perfectly in place, wearing a light blue singlesuit that complemented his fair and totally unblemished complexion, answered the link. “Executive Edo’s office.”
“Yes … I’m Dr. Paulo Verano, on assignment from the Systems Survey Service on Bachman. I’m at the Stittaran offices of the Survey in Passova conducting an ecological overview of Stittara, as directed by an Arm government oversight committee. I was hoping to have a few minutes with Executive Edo and whoever serves as the chief environmental director or ecologist for RDAEX on Stittara…” I smiled politely.
“Yes, ser. If you could hold for just a moment.”
“I will, thank you.”
The screen blanked, to be replaced with a stellar view, obviously shot outside a planetary atmosphere. I didn’t recognize it. Nor did I recognize the semiclassical music that had been chosen as neither a stimulant nor a soporific.
In less than three minutes, the smiling visage of the receptionist or aide reappeared. “Executive Edo would be happy to meet with you next twoday. Our shuttle will be leaving from the Passova dropport at six hundred hours on twoday, and that will allow you to meet with Ser Edo at sixteen hundred hours that afternoon. Local weather permitting.”
“Thank you very much. Is there anything I should bring?”
“You’ll be here for at least one night, ser, depending on Dr. Ermitag’s schedule. Our guest quarters are at your disposal, Doctor. Our shuttle will be traveling to Passova on both fourday and fiveday.”
“Thank you very much.”
“Good day, ser.”
As I leaned back in the resin-scented swivel, I realized that the entire communication with RDAEX had taken less than ten minutes … and had left me vaguely unsettled. Was it because it had been handled so smoothly that I felt like I’d been processed like a product?
That suggested that I needed to prepare for those meetings with great care.
In less than half a stan, Aloris’s contact list had appeared, and I spent the next hour checking her contacts against the public directories, where names were listed, and against submissions to the Survey Service, before I began to call the various multis, starting with Eterna.
By just before noon, I had appointments at Eterna for fourday, and a tentative appointment on fiveday, subject to confirmation, with Dyart, one of the small multis.
At that moment Zerlyna peered into my spaces. “Are you up for lunch?”
“Absolutely!” And I was, both because I was hungry and because I wanted to hear what she might have to say.
I let her lead the way through the maze of tunnel ways into a place I couldn’t have found on my own—but would again if I liked it, because I had my link note the route and the location.
The small sign on the outside read “Bellisimo.” There were less than twenty tables not quite crammed into a space that allowed a table against the wall on each side and a narrow aisle down the middle. The ceiling, thankfully, was high, and the walls a light and clean off-white decorated with pictures of ancient ruins, some of which were from Old Earth, and some that had to be alien ruins, including three deserted deep-space cities. What ruins had to do with the name of the café I had no idea.
“It’s a bit eclectic,” said Zerlyna as we sat down.
“I got that impression.” I also had the sense that the space had once been an underground lane or alley at one time. “What’s good here?”
“Almost anything. That’s why I like it. Not expensive and not a place where you have to worry about what to order. Except the ouzo. It burns like hydraulic fluid and tastes like template resin.”
I was thinking about pointing out how many types of template resins there were when she added, “Whatever the worst tasting resin might be.” She offered that warm smile that was almost inviting.
“That’s enough for me to avoid the ouzo.” I settled for a five-cheese ravioli, the local salad, and a lager, feeling that combination was as eclectic as the café.
The lager and her red wine arrived almost immediately, and Zerlyna let me have several swallows of the lager, good but not great, before she said anything. “You’ve been spending all your time here in headquarters.”
“That’s about to change. I’m working to meet with ecological personnel at all of the Stittaran multis.”
“And then what?”
If that wasn’t a leading question and suggestion all rolled into one, I’d never seen such. “Then I thought it would be a good time to meet with some of the Survey field personnel. Do you have any suggestions?”
“I’m sure Aloris must have mentioned Benart Albrot at Field Two…”
“That name did come up. Whom else would you suggest?”
“Reeki Liam might have a different perspective. She heads the bio-survey teams out of Field One.” Zerlyna sipped her wine, which looked to be a shade more like a blackish maroon, before adding, “You might also want to visit some of the better managed outie communities.”
“
I wouldn’t have the faintest idea which qualify as ‘better managed,’” I pointed out. “Could you help with that?”
“I could, but you might want to talk to Geneil Paak in GeoSurv.”
“Is she here in headquarters?”
Zerlyna nodded. “Down on level two. In the depths.”
At that moment my salad and ravioli and her calamari sandwich and truffled fried onions arrived. The salad was acceptable, the ravioli good, perhaps better than that, as were the onions. “Have you ever met an advocate named Darlian…?”
“Oh … Raasn’s friend. I’ve talked to her a few times.”
“I wouldn’t have thought that there’d be that much demand for advocates here in Passova.”
Zerlyna laughed. “Where every square centimeter of space is valuable? Where martial arts contests have to be noncontact because the rate of injuries and fatalities was astronomically high before they were? Where the average permanent civil union lasts ten years, if that? Where politeness and manners are a societal necessity … and are underlain with venom? Where paranoia is a survival trait?”
I had to say I hadn’t noticed what she was suggesting. Was that because I was an outsider, and much of it wasn’t targeted in my direction? Or was she exaggerating and the overly paranoid one? I’d only talked to her twice … and she didn’t strike me that way … but …
“And why everyone in an office has his or her own private spaces?” I frowned. “The outside windows in the Survey guest quarters … do they serve a dual purpose?”
Zerlyna smiled. “Yes.”
“They have more space, but no one says anything because most people wouldn’t want to live that exposed to the skytube storms?”
“You have three times the space of most people in Passova, if not more. Having your quarters where most people would feel uncomfortable helps.”
I took another bite of ravioli, then of salad, nodding at her to see if she’d say more.
“I’m exaggerating a little, but Darlian and the other advocates have plenty of clients.”
“You said she was Raasn’s friend.”
“They’re more than friends, likely lovers, but both are too analytical to keep company too closely for any length of time.”
That did make sense, sadly.
“Did Aloris ever have a partner?”
“She did. He was a contractor from Adlayd who thought he’d stay. He didn’t. He took a ley-liner all the way out of the Arm. He couldn’t deal with her relationship with Raasn. That was when Haraan was one.”
“The brother-sister thing that isn’t quite that? Or more than that?”
Zerlyna nodded. “What about you?”
“Permanent union dissolved. She and our daughter got most everything. Seemed like a good time for me to take an out-system contract.”
“The farther away from Bachman, the better?”
“Something like that. What about you? Your status?”
“Permanent union for seventeen years. Two daughters.” There was a slight emphasis on the word “two.”
“Can I ask about your partner?”
“You can ask. He’d prefer I say little about him. I respect that preference.”
“So will I.”
She laughed and for an instant her eyes met mine. They were golden green. “It’s clear you’re a consultant and not an investigator.”
“The only thing I know how to investigate is ecological interactions, and probably not all of those. Can you tell me anything interesting that the Survey’s discovered along those lines that might not be in the files?”
“It’s all in the records, whether it makes sense or not.”
That was how I left that, by asking her, “Would you mind telling me about life in Passova?”
“It’s like life in any other small city, but there’s not that much greenery except in the arboretum and the gardens … more cafés, restaurants, and clubs, I’d judge…”
I mostly listened.
When I got back to my spaces, there was still no response or confirmation from Dyart … and I needed to keep making contacts and, along the way, try to figure out exactly what game Zerlyna was playing … and why.
20
“Zerlyna had lunch with Verano. Alone.” Aloris stood outside the door to the conapt.
“She didn’t tell you that, I take it?” Raasn glanced down the tunnel whose narrowness identified the area as one of the older in Passova.
“You’re being polite. No. She wouldn’t. She’s up to something, and it’s not just Verano’s obvious outworld appeal. What do you think it is this time?”
“It’s too early to say, but it’s likely designed to give her full director status. She wants Verano to find something that will show how her recommendations have been ignored and led to a problem that can only be remedied by giving the head of data systems equal power with the administrative director and the operations director. That way she can play you and Jorl to get what she wants.”
“Is Venessa behind this?” asked Aloris.
“I doubt she’s behind it. It would suit her purposes, though, and she wouldn’t have to do anything.”
“Sometimes, it just amazes me how blind Zeglar is to her machinations. It took Verano one look and about a sentence to figure it out.”
“And he’s not the most discerning when it comes to women? Is that what you meant?” Raasn offered a crooked smile. “You’re misreading Verano. He’s the kind who’s very astute at reading most women—just not the one he loves.”
“Or lusts after?” Aloris’s voice turned slightly acid.
“For him, those are likely the same. You might keep that in mind.”
“I’m not interested. Once was more than enough.”
“That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it. Give him time. Zerlyna isn’t available so far as Verano’s concerned. He won’t pursue the unavailable, for many reasons…”
“So he’ll see what she has in mind?”
“I’d be surprised if he already doesn’t suspect that her motives are less than completely altruistic. Remember, you told me that he was the one who made the off-color allusion to Venessa and Zeglar immediately after meeting them.”
“I don’t know…”
“Time is on our side,” Raasn said.
“Only when you consider the Unity government. The Planetary Council is another matter altogether.” Aloris pursed her lips tightly. “Especially Morghan and her bitch Melarez.”
“Then we need to find a way to use Verano … put the Council in a position where they can’t oppose him.”
“They might just try to remove him, then.”
“That wouldn’t hurt, especially if he caught them at it.” Raasn smiled.
“You honestly think he could get the multis to back us against the Council?”
“No. He doesn’t have to. All he has to do is to have them pressure the Council not to interfere with the way the Survey operates.”
“I don’t see that happening.”
“Zerlyna thinks he can do something. You might try to see why.”
Aloris frowned. “You know what I think…”
“Yes, I do. Get over it. Verano’s a gentleman.”
“I thought Gaeller was one.”
“I didn’t. Remember that.”
“Thank you so much for reminding me.”
Raasn smiled. “You’re welcome. Someone has to.” He nodded, then turned and headed down the pedestrian tunnel way.
21
Just before I was leaving my Survey office on threeday evening, I received a link from a professional-looking woman at Dyart, confirming my appointment with Pavlo Vanek, for fiveday at 1300. When I reached my “official” console on fourday morning, I was still waiting for responses from Syntex, Valior, GenArt, and ABP. I walked out at nine hundred hours to head up to the vehicle garage and take possession of a Survey van to drive some fifty-three kays to the northwest, and I was still waiting.
After loading the van with a case of equipm
ent, and a second case that held various printer templates, it wasn’t without a certain amount of trepidation that I eased the van up the long ramp and out into the surprisingly bright purple-gray light of Stittara, given that I didn’t have that much experience in personal physical control of a vehicle massing more than a metric ton. Even so, within a quarter stan of leaving the Survey, I was on my way, speeding westward on the permacrete strip that served as a highway, still bemused at the thought of having personal control of a vehicle at high speed, something unheard of on Bachman or any truly civilized world with any degree of population. Given that I drove almost another quarter stan before I saw another vehicle, a large lorry that shook the van as it passed me, I could see why Stittara didn’t think a planetary or even a local vehicle control system was necessary—and why an onboard vehicle guidance module was unnecessary.
What skytubes there were seemed to be located far to the north, the first time I’d seen them there, and the sky overhead seemed a brighter, if still purpled, pale gray. The permacrete road ran almost due west in a straight line, although the display indicated that in some forty kays I’d take a turn onto another road and head northwest. With the exception of rocky outcroppings here and there, all with rounded contours, the ground was totally covered by the same brown-green-purple grass I’d seen everywhere else, and the few bushes were the same domelike types I’d seen at the dropport. Again, I saw not a single tree, no animals of any size, and no people at all, except in the occasional vehicle that passed me coming from the opposite direction.
That gave me time to think more about what I might say when I talked to people at Eterna. Long, long before, the multi had made a splash on Bachman with its anagathic skin preparations of the same name, and was one of the oldest multis on Stittara, one of the reasons why I’d decided to start my “visits” with the Eterna research facility, located northwest of Passova. The reports I’d read on the facility indicated that it was almost totally self-contained, with no emissions to the atmosphere except … atmosphere … and absolutely chemically pure water released at a temperature some ten degrees higher than its intake temperature. But the effluent—if pure water could be called an effluent in the traditional sense—was carefully reinjected to an aquifer at multiple points and showed no adverse effects.
The One-Eyed Man Page 10