The One-Eyed Man

by Modesitt,, L. E. Jr.

  “So there’s essentially no security on any comm channel?”

  “Only the dubious security of being buried in a welter of comm traffic,” answered Melarez.

  Abruptly Morghan rose. “Thank you very much, Dr. Verano. I look forward to seeing your final report.”

  And that was that. Melarez thanked me and said good-bye in the main corridor, leaving me to find my way back to the tunneltram.

  I was in the Survey Service offices just after ten. I didn’t bother with even stopping in my spaces but made my way to see Aloris.

  She was waiting, but said nothing as I took a seat across from her. So I waited.

  Finally, she asked, “How did it go?”

  “I met with Councilor Morghan and her assistant Melarez. Just the two of them. The councilor asked questions for almost a stan. Then she thanked me and said she looked forward to my final report.”

  “Will you provide it?”

  I nodded, then grinned. “It might be after it’s been dispatched to the Ministry.”

  “What did she ask about, if I might ask?”

  I told Aloris … mostly.

  After I was done, she frowned. “That doesn’t sound like her. Usually, she browbeats people more.”

  “She tried. I don’t browbeat easily.” Before she could say more, I asked, “Do you know how the repairs on the quarters are coming?”

  “They should be done by this evening, but they’ll have to wait a day and then test the seals on the window before they’ll renew the occupancy certification. How are things coming otherwise?”

  “I still need to visit GenArt, Valior, and ABP, before I start visiting the Survey field sites.” I didn’t mention that I intended to do some more digging into the enforcement files. “And I have to go back to Syntex on threeday for a bit. We ran out of time on fiveday.”

  “Are there any problems there?”

  “Nothing besides it being an older and sprawling facility.”

  “It is one of the oldest.” Aloris didn’t sound convinced.

  I just smiled, then stood and went back to my office.

  Before I started reminding the three laggard multis that they did need to meet with me, I wanted to follow up on something else that had been nagging at me all along. So I began to scan through the Systems Survey personnel records. Before long, I began to see that there had been very few new hires, no more than a handful every year, for the past several years. That seemed low, for an organization that had close to a thousand people in all categories. I skipped farther back, but the pattern was still the same. The number of new hires generally matched the number of deaths and resignations. That was as it should have been. But what I didn’t find was many retirements, less than one or two a year.

  At that point, a young woman whose name I didn’t catch and the screen didn’t identify, except for originating from Valior, called me to inform me that Kimon Tibou would be happy to meet with me at ten on twoday morning. I assured her that I would be there, and then went back to searching, looking for specific people. Almost two stans later I still hadn’t found out when Systems Survey had hired Aloris Raasn. Either that record was missing, or she’d been hired more than a century and a half earlier.

  Anagathics or not, she didn’t look that old, and Haaran certainly wasn’t very old, either.

  I was leaning back in my swivel, puzzling through that, when Zerlyna peered in.

  “Do you want to join me for lunch? I’m going to Bellisimo.”

  “Oh … the narrow hole in the wall.”

  “I’m not a high-paid consultant.”

  “Neither am I,” I quipped back, standing, “but I’d love to join you.”

  We walked to Bellisimo and snared one of the last two empty tables, near the back of the narrow space. Since the lager I’d ordered before had been passable, I ordered another along with the ravioli, and a cup of potato truffle soup Zerlyna recommended. She ordered a white wine and a large soup.

  Once I had a sip of the lager, I pointed to the wall above us. “I’ve wondered this ever since the last time we were here. Why do they have pictures of ruins on the walls?”

  She laughed. “They’re a hangover from the previous place. It was called Ruination. Karsen liked the pictures and kept them. He says they’re bellisimo ruins.”

  “How long has he had it?”

  “Twenty years, or thereabouts.”

  That brought me up short. Twenty years, and he hadn’t changed the wall decor? “Did you ever go to Ruination?”

  “Only once. The food was as bad as the name. I never understood how it lasted as long as it did.”

  “How long was that?”

  “Not quite ten years. That’s what I remember anyway.” Zerlyna smiled brightly, almost as if challenging me.

  Then I swallowed. Of course … you idiot. Still … I wanted to press things just a bit. “You mentioned before that Aloris had a partner. Was she actually married?”

  “She was. Technically, she still is, although she could petition for a time/distance dissolution, and the justiciary would grant it automatically.”

  “How long was her former husband here on Stittara?’

  Zerlyna frowned. “Two years. It might have been less.”

  I thought carefully before I asked the next question. “Is it my imagination or do outsiders either come and leave quickly or stay forever?”

  “If they don’t leave within a few years, they’re here forever,” said Zerlyna blandly. “There are some exceptions, usually high-level multi executives.”

  I glanced around, noting that most of the tables, all eighteen of them, from what I’d counted, were filled. That was to be expected during lunchtime, but I had the feeling that everyone was looking at me, although it was clear that no one was looking at me, except Zerlyna.

  “How are you coming on your work? Have you had a chance to visit any of the outland settlements?”

  “Not yet. I’d thought to begin later this week.”

  “That would be good. It will give you a much better feel for Stittara. You can’t get that, you know, just from the cities and installations.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. It’s just that there’s so much to cover.”

  After that, the conversation was technical and routine. The ravioli were as I remembered them, and the soup was better than either the lager or the ravioli.

  When we finished, I paid, saying, “Since I am a high-paid consultant,” and Zerlyna didn’t complain.

  Then we walked back to the Survey offices, and I settled back into my swivel.

  The question facing me as I stared blankly at the muted console screen wasn’t how I was going to complete getting my contract assignment done, but how I was going to survive getting it done. Or did I just bail out?

  For whatever reason, I had the feeling that wasn’t going to work, and that meant I needed to pick up the pace of my study. A lot.

  I made more contacts on oneday afternoon, finally managing to get a meeting to see the environmental director at GenArt early on fourday. I could sense that no one at ABP wanted to meet with me because I ended up with another promise that someone from environmental services would be contacting me shortly. Then, belatedly, I remembered to arrange for a Survey van on threeday to drive back to Syntex for my trip to the forerunner site, although I only listed the destination as Syntex on the reservation form.

  I was in early on twoday, and managed to contact Field Two, looking for Benart Albrot, only to discover that he was “on site” and would return my comm. Reeki Liam at Field One was on vacation visiting her daughter and not available. How could anyone be out of comm range with satlinks? Then I decided to follow up on one of Zerlyna’s earlier suggestions and went to find Geneil Paak down in GeoSurv. She was “in the depths,” as Zerlyna had said, and that was certainly true, I reflected, as I trudged down ramp after ramp.

  Geneil looked at me with a quizzical expression when I appeared in her doorway.

  “I’m Paulo Verano, and I’m he
re from Bachman to conduct an ecological survey. I thought you might be able to help me.”

  She was a slender and wiry woman with eyes of a hazel shade that seemed similar to the stem color of the native grass/lichen, and her space was about one-third the size of mine, filled with racks, cases, and a row of screens of a type I’d never seen before.

  “I’d be happy to help you, Doctor,” she replied in a soft voice, “but I’m a geologist. I’m one of the few in the Survey Service who doesn’t deal with the living environment. I look at the dead environment, or the record of past environments.”

  “That’s not exactly why I came to see you.”

  She looked even more puzzled.

  “I need to look at outland settlements, and I understand you might have some idea where some of those that are better managed are located.”

  Immediately a wariness infused her face. “I don’t see what this has to do with me.”

  “I’m here to study the environment of Stittara. Just as the multis impact it, so do the outies, but I haven’t been able to find much in the way of data. The enforcement records deal with specific environmental problems discovered at individual settlements. There’s no unified data on even one settlement … and yet the outies comprise at least half the population of Stittara.”

  For some reason, her expression, while still wary, was fractionally less tense, but she frowned and said, “I don’t know why you would think…”

  “Zerlyna Eblion said you might be able to help me.”

  “She would.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You don’t know?” Geneil shook her head. “There’s no way you would know.”

  I was still confused. So I just waited.

  “I come from an outland family. I wanted to do more than just be one with the land. Some of us did … do.”

  “Why geology?”

  “I wanted to know how things came to be here on Stittara. Not about how people did things…” She smiled shyly. “I guess in some ways we never escape our parents and our history.”

  “I suspect you’re right.” I wondered if Leysa felt that way … or ever would. “Could you at least give me some suggestions?”

  “I’ll send you a list of a number of settlements that aren’t too far away. That’s all I’d feel comfortable doing.”

  “Could you include basic directions? I can’t even find those in the Survey records.”

  Her gentle laugh held just the hint of an ironic bitterness. “I can do that. You’ll have something later today, unless I get buried. Then it will be in the morning.”

  “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

  “Just try to see more than one or two. Each one is different.”

  “I’ll see as many as I reasonably can.” Because I had to get to Valior, I excused myself and made my way back up ramp after ramp … or so it seemed.

  It had taken longer to find Geneil than I’d anticipated, but I’d had the feeling that trying to get what I needed was better accomplished in person … and I’d been right. That left me hurrying back to my spaces to grab my equipment bag and head out. Because Valior was the only multi located in Passova proper, I could take a tunneltram.

  I hurried too much, because, as I stepped into the tunneltram at the stop closest to the Survey offices, just before the doors closed, I brushed someone.

  “You! What the frig are you doing? Think you’re special or something?”

  As the tram pulled away, I turned to face a man who looked younger than I … and ready to fight. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bump you. I was just hurrying to make the tram.”

  “That’s no excuse. You got all the time in the world.”

  That was one thing I didn’t have, but I really didn’t need a fight. “It was an accident, and I am sorry.”

  “You offworlders…” He snorted and turned away.

  For a moment I just stood there, hanging on to the grab bar. One moment he’d been ready to fight, and the next he’d been truly disgusted … and not interested. Somehow … I didn’t think it had been what I’d said, but it might have been how I’d said it. Still … I’d had other locals want to attack me because I was from out-system, and this one wanted nothing to do with me.

  I did get to Valior just before ten, and the same young woman who hadn’t introduced herself before failed to do so again, but led me politely into an office about the size of mine at the Survey Service. She was definitely young, definitely from Stittara, and definitely not interested in an older consultant.

  At first glance, Kimon Tibou looked to be older than I was, how much I couldn’t say, because on Stittara, perhaps because of the somewhat physically protected lifestyle, at least among city and facility dwellers, or perhaps because of the availability of anagathics. He didn’t bother to ask me to have a seat, but immediately spoke. “I really don’t understand why you need to see us. The Survey Service has our reports. We’re not located away from a city. We’re tied into the full environmental services of Passova, and our discharges are minimal…”

  I’d wondered about the very things Tibou was saying, but Valior was listed as a multi, and I’d wanted to be thorough.

  “… We’re barely a multi. We’re an equipment designer and manufacturer for all the other multis. We provide special tools. Sometimes, we only design and test a template for them. They all can do their own standard templating.” Tibou shrugged boyishly, but some men are boys their entire life, even if they live for close to two centuries. “It’s just easier and cheaper for them to have us do it.”

  “What kind of tools do you provide?”

  “Anything they want.”

  “But … for a multi like RDAEX…?”

  “We did something special for them … it’s always special…”

  “What? A device for cleaning laser photonics used at high pressure?”

  “Oh … you can’t clean those. We made special brackets that simplified replacing focusing heads under high ambient pressures.” He paused. “I really shouldn’t…”

  “I understand.” I nodded. “Was Valior around way back when Pentura was operating here … before they lost the one facility?”

  “Oh … yes. We’ve been here almost since the first multis began to operate here.”

  “What did you do for Pentura?”

  “I’m sure it was whatever they wanted, but I couldn’t tell you what it was.”

  “Confidentiality?”

  Tibou shook his head. “The storms that destroyed Pentura were so bad that we lost all our records—magnetic fluxes and surges, and then power outages, and then more fluxes. I think everyone did. That was what prompted the Council to insist on power isolation during storms.”

  “Everyone? Did storms ravage the entire planet?”

  “I don’t know. I just heard that the storms were bad then.” He offered a boyish grin. “That was well before my time, Doctor.” The grin vanished. “What do you need from us?”

  I told him.

  Even though Valior was small as multis went, going through the facility and making and checking measurements and asking questions still took the rest of the morning and half the afternoon. It was almost four when I returned to my office at the Survey Service.

  I hadn’t checked messages while I’d been at Valior, and I didn’t want to check them on the tunneltram. That meant more than a few were waiting by the time I reached my Survey console. One was from Aloris, informing me that the repairs on the guest quarters had been completed, that testing was under way, and that it was likely I’d be able to return by fourday or fiveday. A second was from Erik Engola at ABP, suggesting a meeting fiveday morning. Another was from Paem Meralez, requesting a return call, and the last was an outie settlement listing from Geneil Paak.

  I confirmed the time and appointment with ABP, sent a quick message of thanks to Geneil, and then settled behind the console and made the call to Meralez, wondering exactly what she wanted.

  She was in, and she smiled one of those w
arm political smiles that meant nothing. “Dr. Verano … I was just linking to thank you for briefing Councilor Morghan. She was pleased with both the detail of your answers to her questions and your candor.”

  “I did my best.” And that was true.

  “She did have one more question. How long do you anticipate that your study will take?”

  “The short answer is that I don’t know. The longer answer is that I’ve never done a study of this scope”—Ever—“that didn’t require at least months of work. It might take less because there initially appear to be fewer points of human impact on the ecology and because air pollutants and greenhouse gases have been tightly controlled from the first days of colonization. But … the study won’t be done until it’s done.”

  “I’ll let the councilor know. I’m sure she’ll think that you’ve outlined a fair estimation.”

  Perhaps not helpful to you both, but fair. I didn’t say that, just nodded.

  “Thank you again, Doctor. As always, you’ve been most helpful.”

  When she blanked the screen, I thought there was far more to her call than a mere thank-you, but I couldn’t figure out what. I also didn’t like the idea of having been most helpful, because it suggested my words would be used out of context and in ways not necessarily to my benefit. There wasn’t much I could do about either.

  Something that Tibou had said piqued my curiosity, and that was about the number and ferocity of storms in the past. Was the number consistent? Or were they truly random?

  In the end, as often seemed to be the case for me, I ended up looking into all the storm data, as far back as they had been charted, which was three and a half centuries. That was consistent, in terms of timing, with what Tibou had said about the destruction of records, but there was no way of telling if there had once been older records that had survived and been removed later. According to the historical records, pretty much every square kay of Stittara was scoured clean every five to ten years—with the exception of the mountains and a few rocky areas. There were a number of studies and hypotheses about why the higher areas were exempt, but none of the studies could support with data any of the hypotheses … and there had been no new attempts—or studies—in the last eighty years.