The Ecologic Envoy

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Helmsworth is supported by the Noram Micronics Association and Corwin-Smathers used to be liaison for External Affairs.”

  “Look, Weintre,” snapped the Ecolitan, leveling the dart gun, “ignorant I may be, but not stupid. Not one word you have said makes any sense. Try again.”

  “Power struggle between Commerce and External Affairs, but Witherspoon didn’t believe me. He’s just here for ceremony. Marlaan told me to stay out, do nothing. I’ve just tried to stay out of trouble.” Nathaniel sighed deeply.

  “You still haven’t answered anything. Why have you sold out to the Defense crowd? Why do you keep avoiding the military aspects? Which Admiral bought you?”

  Sergel looked down, twitched his ear brushed against the dart.

  “The Ministry of Defense… uh… obviously has some interest… and their… uh… pride… their defeat by the Ecologic Coalition…”

  “Pride?”

  “The Ministry of Defense has always felt the responsibility for the loss of Accord and the Outer Rift.”

  The Ecolitan shook his head. He didn’t want to start with a corpse. Not when corpses only led in one direction. Sergel’s death would only complicate matters. Besides, the Institute taught that murder out of frustration was clearly futile, and Sergel was definitely frustrating.

  “All right, Sergel. You obviously haven’t thought this out. I want a written report on the situation, including a listing of all the contacts you’re so cleverly avoiding.”

  “I didn’t realize—”

  “You didn’t think! I want that report in my office here by tomorrow, and it better have those details.” He lifted the lethal dart gun. “Yes, sir.”

  “Get!” snapped Nathaniel. Weintre got.

  The Ecolitan stood and turned to stare out the expanse of permaglass. What next?

  Should he have Mydra try to reach Lord Rotoller? Or the Special Assistant?

  He tapped the console plate. Mydra’s face appeared. “Would you get me Marcella Ku-Smythe? She’s the Special Assistant to Lord Rotoller.”

  “I’ll see if she’s available. Lord Whaler.” Mydra’s image disappeared, and the screen blanked. From the depths of the swivel, Nathaniel tried to figure out why Mydra’s mannerisms bothered him. “Cling!” chimed the console. Nathaniel tapped the acknowledgment. “Lord Whaler, Ms. Ku-Smythe’s staff indicates that she is unavailable.”

  “Fine. Get me the staffer who told you so.”

  “Lord Whaler?”

  “The staff member who said thus. To that person would I speak.”

  Perhaps inverted syntax would make the point that a simple command hadn’t.

  Mydra tightened her lips before finally answering, “Yes, Lord Whaler.”

  The screen returned to its slate gray color. “Cling!”

  The Ecolitan tapped the plate. Another face appeared; that of a tanned and blond young man.

  “Nathaniel Whaler, Trade Envoy for Accord, I am. For Ms. Ku-Smythe.”

  “Lord Whaler, I am so sorry. She is not available, but I know she will be so pleased that you called.” The receptionist smiled engagingly, showing even white teeth that seemed to sparkle even through the screen.

  “So sorry am I, also. For if she should think to talk trade, available she should be. I had wanted to talk with her first, but since available she is not, perhaps with the honorable Corwin-Smathers I will start.”

  “I do know she would like to talk with you. Maybe she could break free for just a moment. Please let me check.”

  The screen went blank for an instant before the image of the blond receptionist was replaced with the visage of Marcella Ku-Smythe. “Marcella Ku-Smythe.”

  “Nathaniel Whaler.”

  “I’m rather flattered, Lord Whaler, that you would call personally. Flattered, and surprised that you would be so insistent.”

  “Are you alone at the moment?”

  “Why, yes, but why do you ask?”

  “Because, Ms. Ku-Smythe, I really don’t have time for fencing, even if that is the normal mode of negotiating. Now, if you want that, fine; Lord Rotoller, Lord Mersen, and I can mumble polite phrases to everyone’s heart’s content, and I’ll see what I can work out elsewhere.” He could see her stiffen, even on the console screen. “Aren’t you being a bit precipitous?”

  “Presumptuous, perhaps, but not precipitous. The Empire is precipitous, which is why I’m presumptuous.”

  A trace of a smile flitted across the Special Assistant’s face.

  “This is the Empire, you know, and not exactly a back cluster planet.”

  “You’re deliberately missing the point. I know and you know that the official posturing and positioning may take months. But I’m no smooth-talking diplomat. Nor is Accord a rich system. So it’s to everyone’s interest to get an early resolution.”

  He was already in too deeply too quickly, but he had to get things moving before Weintre’s military friends sunflared the process.

  “Let me think about it.” She broke the connection. For a moment, he stared at the blank screen, puzzled at the abruptness of the sign-off. Then he chuckled. He tapped the screen stud to get Mydra. “Mydra, who is the Special Assistant for Lord Jansen at External Affairs.”

  “I’ll find out, Lord Whaler.”

  “Do that, and to that person would I speak.” Would any of it do any good? He shrugged and turned to take another look at the western hills in the morning light. The screen chimed.

  “Lord Whaler, Janis Du-Plessis is the Special Assistant to Lord Jansen. Her assistant says she is unavailable, but I have the assistant waiting.”

  “Talk with the assistant I will. Thank you.” The assistant to the Special Assistant was a young woman, dark haired and thin faced.

  Nathaniel went through his introduction and veiled threat. “I’m so sorry, Lord Whaler, but she is truly not available, and neither is Lord Jansen. I’ll pass along your message, and I am sure Ms. Du-Plessis or Lord Jansen will get back to you as soon as one of them possibly can.”

  “Most important this is,” pressed the Ecolitan. “It’s important to us as well. I’m sure, and I will let her know as soon as I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  As the screen blanked, Nathaniel frowned. External Affairs ought to be far more interested than Commerce, yet they showed little or no concern.

  He tapped the comm plate to get Mydra. This time he wanted the top assistant of Senator Helmsworth, one Corwin-Smathers.

  “Lord Whaler,” Mydra informed him, “Ms. Corwin-Smathers is not available, but the person who is handling the Accord sector is.”

  Nathaniel swallowed a gulp. He’d assumed that Corwin-Smathers was a man. “Who is such person?”

  “Sylvia Ferro-Maine, I believe, is the name.”

  “Talk to her I will.”

  “Lord Whaler?” Sylvia Ferro-Maine was dark haired, fine boned, and extremely competent looking on the fax screen. “The same. You are Ms. Ferro-Maine?”

  “I prefer Sylvia, Lord Whaler. The Senate is quite a bit less formal than the rest of the government.”

  “About formal matters I had called, such as trade…”

  “Courtney and the Senator are interested in everything that impacts trade.”

  “Because of such interest, with them, I had thought to talk…”

  “Well, Courtney would be the one to see about meeting with the Senator, although he’s scheduled for months in advance. As for seeing her, I think, if you didn’t mind coming over here, she could see you around 1040 tomorrow.” She waited for Nathaniel to answer. He didn’t like the setup. In essence, he would be packing off as an Envoy to see a mere staff director of one Imperial Senator. On the other hand, it was obvious that the assistants controlled the access. So…

  “Appreciate I your accommodation in such haste, and prevail further upon you could I.”

  “Upon me?”

  “So helpful you have been, and so little know I, would you consider lunching today with me? Such short notice it is, but
appreciate it I most certainly would.”

  “Lord Whaler, I don’t know what to say.”

  “Yes, I believe, is the proper word.”

  “I couldn’t possibly get there before 1300.”

  “That would be fine. At the Legation at 1300, and looking forward to it am I.” Why did she accept? Why had he asked? He shook his head and tapped the screen plate that stored all the pending messages, waiting for them to flash onto the screen. The wait was short, since he didn’t appear to have any messages.

  He thought about screening Mydra, decided against it, and walked to the portal, thumbed it, and waited as the heavy door irised open.

  Mydra and Hillary, who had been talking, jumped as he approached.

  “Lord Whaler, is anything wrong?” asked Mydra. “Nothing, I think, but a small lunch for two would you please order? For my office at 1300.”

  “Are you expecting a guest, or is it for a working lunch with someone from the Legation?”

  “A lunch for work, but with someone not of the Legation.” Mydra was all business as she entered whatever she thought necessary into her console. “Do you have any preferences?” Nathaniel almost laughed. After the years in the Ecolitan action forces, he could eat anything his system would take. “Something light, I would think.”

  “Will you notify the front desk, or should I?”

  “If you would be so kind… the name is Ferro-Maine.” He turned toward Hillary. Her blue eyes met his levelly. “How long for Accord have you worked?”

  “Five standard years.” Nathaniel nodded and turned away. Back in his office, he tried to take stock. But the answer was simple. He still didn’t know enough. “Cling.”

  “Nathaniel Whaler.” The caller was Marcella Ku-Smythe. “Lord Whaler, I’ve thought it over, and tonight would be fine.”

  “Tonight also would be fine, but for what is it fine?”

  “For dinner and for getting to know you better.”

  “Would you suggest somewhere?”

  “Why not in the Diplomatic Tower?”

  “Dear lady, so little I see of your city. Would you have me cooped into an even smaller orbit?”

  That created a smile from the sandy-haired Special Assistant. “Do you know the Plaza D’Artin?”

  “I can find it.”

  “How about 1930 at the Golden Nova?”

  “Twenty-thirty.”

  “Fine.” And that was that.

  Except… Nathaniel was ready to swallow hard at the aggressiveness of the woman. Not only the aggressiveness, but… he couldn’t place it, except that he was missing something so obvious he shouldn’t be.

  He had nearly two hours before Sylvia’s presumed arrival, not enough time to go anywhere, had he anywhere to go, and decided the time had come for some faxwork. “Mydra?”

  “If to be effective I am, I must know the people. Would you access the personnel records of all Legation employees to my screen?”

  “Now, Lord Whaler?”

  “Now is when I need them.”

  By the time he had reviewed all the records in the personnel files, he was convinced.

  Everything was too perfect, and because it was, he hadn’t the faintest idea which of the professional staff were planted. The safest assumption was that they all were.

  …XIV…

  “Martin,” asked the woman behind the desk, “anything new? “ She nipped a bite from a thin taper of cernadine, then another. With each chew, the room grew more redolent of the spice drug.

  “There’s a call from the Trade Envoy from Accord. Whaler, I think his name is. Nathaniel Whaler.”

  “What’s his problem?”

  “That’s the Rift thing.”

  “Oh… and they didn’t like our proposal and actually sent an Envoy. How charming.” Janis Du-Plessis swivelled her seat to view the western hills, turning her back on the aide. “Do we have a counterproposal from them yet?”

  “I suspect that’s why he wants to meet with Lord Jansen. Probably wants to present it.”

  “You know, Martin, I’m not terribly fond of provincials, especially from places like Accord. They even turned down my visa.” She turned back toward the console and tapped the lock panel.

  “We’re in conference, Martin, and that’s far more important than appointment scheduling for Lord Whaler. Far more important.” Her eyes were bright with the effect of the drug, and fixed on the wiry blond man. “Why don’t you demonstrate how important?”

  “Now?”

  “Why not now? Lord Jansen is skying, and Lord Envoy Whaler can certainly cool his provincial heels a bit longer.”

  She looked from Martin to the long couch next to her console and back to him. As she tilted her head, he stood to accept her invitation. The console panels continued to blink, unanswered.

  …XV…

  The private screen chimed, twice. The Special Assistant scanned the office out of habit, although she was alone. “Ku-Smythe.”

  “Marcella, is your dinner engagement wise?” The Admiral’s voice was level.

  “How much of the Accord Legation’s fax system do you have controlled? All of it?”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “Unless my techs are totally incompetent, everything here is blocked. That means it can’t be snooped until the reception point. Accord doesn’t have first-class equipment, I’ll admit, but it’s good enough to block anyone but your crew. Besides, you’ve got most of the plants on the staff. So even good equipment wouldn’t keep you from finding out… but not this quickly.”

  The Admiral smiled. “It’s a pity you wouldn’t go the Service route. You’re wasted at Commerce.”

  “Could I have gotten as high at Defense?”

  “The man is dangerous, Marcella. Dangerous. Don’t forget it.”

  “You’re exaggerating again. No man is that dangerous.”

  “I wish I could show you how dangerous.”

  “Why do you care? If you’re right, that would give you all the pretexts you need, not that you seem to mind the lack of political concern you’ve demonstrated so far.”

  The Admiral frowned. “You continue to believe that politics is more important than military capability?”

  “No. Your kind of military capabilities are irrelevant, I suspect. That’s more the kind of judgment the I.I.S. should make. But you don’t trust them either.”

  “Marcella…”

  “Why don’t you ask yourself why Accord wants to negotiate?”

  “I have. They don’t want to fight. Neither do we, but we need the trade routes to the Outer Rift.”

  “Nonsense. You’re still trying to prove that you can undo the Secession with pure military applications. Besides, Accord has never blocked the trade routes. It just happens that we can’t compete, not unless Accord is no longer a factor.”

  “As I said, Marcella, it’s a pity you’re wasted at Commerce.”

  The Special Assistant just looked through the screen at the Defense Chief. Finally, the Admiral looked away, and the screen blanked.

  …XVI…

  “Cling!”

  “Whaler.”

  “A Sylvia Ferro-Maine for lunch, Lord Whaler.”

  “Yes. Please send her in.” He paused. “And how soon will the food be ready?”

  “Shortly, Lord Whaler. I just checked on it.” He stood and moved toward the entry portal, which was opening as he approached.

  The woman, who at first glance might have passed for a girl, was dark haired, a brown nearly black, almost as tall as he was, well muscled, but fine boned, with the look of a dancer. Her fair complexion added to the chinalike impression. “Lord Whaler?”

  “One and the very same, Lady dear,” he replied with a broad accent. “And you are fine?”

  “A little rushed, Lord Whaler, but fine.” He gestured toward the deep office couch. “You have very spacious quarters here.”

  “Spacious? I had not thought about the matter, but would such as this be considered spacious here? In New Aug
usta?”

  “Quite comfortable.” Sylvia looked around the office, her eyes lingering at the vista of the western hills. “Quite comfortable.”

  As she sat down, he plopped himself into the chair across from her.

  “Know you much about Accord?”

  “Only the standard. What should I know?” Nathaniel shrugged. “So much there is to say. Where would one start? Not at the beginning, for too long that would take. Not in the middle, for too confusing that would be. And at the end, nothing would I be saying. So …” he dragged it out, “at the beginning will I start, but more quickly.”

  “Before start I, hospitality should I offer. Alas, however, my resources here limited are. I have ordered lunch, and arriving in a while it will be. Now I offer you liftea, cafe, or the wine white. You would like which?”

  “If you don’t mind,” the woman responded, carefully crossing her trousered legs, “I think I’ll wait until lunch arrives. But do go on with your story… I mean, your history.” The Ecolitan cleared his throat. “In the start, Accord settled was by those fleeing after the fall of the first Federation, and with special skills. The Ecolitan Institute founded shortly thereafter to further and to hand down those skills. All citizens must take Institute training to some degree. Fortunate enough was I to be selected for full training and later to teach there.”

  He paused to clear his throat again and study Sylvia Ferro-Maine. Odd combination, with the slate gray eyes, dark hair swept up like a dancer’s, and the light complexion. She conveyed an impression of fragility.

  “Institute does not play now so large a part in our history as once it did, though this time, at crossroads in trade talks, the Institute was indeed consulted. For that I should be most grateful, for that has allowed me the opportunity to see New Augusta.”

  “Was the Institute the same as the ‘Black College’ that trained the ecological terrorists of the Ecologic Rebellion?” Her tone was casual, curious, almost uninterested.

  “All citizens of Accord did rally together at that time, but the question you have asked, dear Lady, presupposes the Empire was right and Accord wrong. If I answer at all, then I justify your assessment of us all.” He shrugged as if puzzled.