Adiamante (21 page)

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Authors: Jr. L. E. Modesitt

BOOK: Adiamante
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A
fter another shower—to wash off the sweat of a too-long run and take away the chill of snow and soul—I looked in the mirror, wondering if I'd find a thatch of silver hair, bloodshot watery eyes with bags beneath, sunken cheeks, and yellowed teeth. I didn't. The short hair was still black, the eyes green, the cheeks red from the weather, and all my teeth were still there. The circles under my bloodshot eyes hadn't been there a year earlier, and neither had the lines in my forehead. I rubbed my fingers along the jawline, but the muscles seemed firm. I'd opted against a beard and never regretted it, even when Diogen had made them the fashion for a time a decade or so back.
I showered and dressed in black trousers and shirt—more suitable for appearing behind the wide desk of the
Coordinator than were the running clothes—then poured a last cup of lukewarm tea from the green pot.
Outside the wind was rising, and the snow had stopped falling. The sky showed patches of cold china blue to the north, with clouds swift-scudding southward. I peered out the western window. The piñons remained snow-covered, and Swift-Fall-Hunter perched or circled skies elsewhere.
Finally, I sat at the table and tried the longlink.
Surprisingly, Yslena was available. Often she was out of link range, working with her team on reef restoration.
“Father! Are you all right?” I could picture the quizzical frown above the flashing green eyes. The eyes were mine; almost every other physical feature had come from Morgen—the sandy hair, the higher than average cheekbones, the almost elfin jawline, the wiry figure.
“Relatively.”
“You're tired. You always say ‘relatively' when you don't want to admit things aren't going well.”
I could sense the concern, some concern anyway, and pulsed back the answer. “It is tiring, especially when you're dealing with people who see nothing and don't want to. I understand the Construct, and I know it works, but at times I just want to tell the cybs that what they're doing will end up killing a whole lot of us and just about all of them. But if I do that, then they'll get even nastier, and so will the results.” I shook my head, even though she couldn't see that. “So I keep showing them Old Earth and hoping they'll learn something.”
“And they don't do they?” my daughter responded softly. “It must be bad, if they asked you to be Coordinator.”
“Any time we need a Coordinator, it's bad,” I admitted, then asked, “How are you doing?”
“Tired, but it's a good kind of tired, from hard work and lots of exercise. It's rewarding and frustrating. The ecochain of the sea was bent, but not totally wiped out the
way it happened on land. We don't have anything developing like vorpals. Of course, sharks were already like that, but they're not as bright.”
“Not nearly, from what you've said,” I interjected, half-amazed at the calm competence that had once been a laughing child, who had dodged behind trees and rocks while one of us had scanned the undergrowth and hillsides.
“The cetaceans treat them like stunted children, but they don't tease them, and they do have a function.”
“So do the vorpals,” I said dryly.
“It's not the same.” She laughed. “You know all that already. Why am I telling you?”
“I like to hear you talk,” I answered, and I did like to hear from her, but she was also sticking to the facts because it was easier. Talking to Yslena was hard, always had been, and that was probably because she took after me, without a deep emote sense. Non-emote intuits always have trouble that way, unless they're linked to someone like her mother, who linked us both. Then, suddenly, we'd lost that link.
“The reef work is so tedious. I won't live to see whether what we've done really works, and it won't even be obvious to my great-grandchildren. That assumes I ever find anyone and that we get around to children.”
“You will,” I assured her. “You will.” Yslena had always had trouble reaching out, just as I had, but now that Morgen was gone, what choice did I have? “It takes time.”
“And luck. You practically ran into mother with a flitter before you two noticed each other.”
“I wouldn't suggest anything quite so drastic.” My fingers stroked the chunk of adiamante. Sometimes I felt as distant as the untouchable niellen darkness it held.
“I'm glad you linked,” she offered. “But it worries me. You never do it unless there's something important.”
“I was thinking about you.”
After a silence, she asked, “Do you think I ought to come home? I've got more than enough of a balance. I'd never use what I have in years.”
“No,” I said quickly, too quickly. “I'd rather … I mean, you …” What could I say? She was safer there, far safer, yet I didn't want to act the over-protective parent.
“Oh, father …” Her words were soft. “I think I understand, and I won't embarrass you, and I'm glad you care. Are you sure?”
“I'm sure. I'd like to see you, but now's not the time. Being Coordinator is going to keep me busy for the next few days, maybe longer. After that … well … then we can see. Maybe I can come see your reef.”
“There's not that much to see. I mean, there's plenty to see, but you can't really tell what we've been doing.”
“I understand. That's like most solid accomplishments.” What I said was true, and I meant it, but even as I said the banal words, I wanted to say more, and didn't.
“It doesn't feel all that solid. Designing and planting coral to replace those that the hothousers' tides destroyed feels like trying to build a house with sand on sand.”
“I know. I know. At times, everything feels that way.” I paused. “That sounds patronizing, and I don't mean it that way.” My fingers tightened around the small chunk of adiamante.
“I understand, father. I know what you mean. That's only sometimes. Other times, like when I glide after the orcas, everything feels so … so interconnected and right.”
“Those are times to hold on to.” I hadn't had many of those lately, but I remembered them, like the last words of Morgan's soulsong: …
our joys will last the endless years.
“I try to,” pulsed back Yslena.
“Good.” I tried to convey the sense of a smile.
“Father … I'm supposed to be at the dock before long, and I'm not like you. I can't hold netlinks in my mind and
do three other things.” There was a pause. “I could come home any time.”
“I know, and I'm glad to know that. I'd feel a lot better if we held off on that, sweetheart.”
“I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you. Take care of yourself in that big deep ocean.” That big deep ocean and its ancient god that erased all of the land that it could.
“Oh, father, I will. You take care of yourself.”
After I dropped the link, I took a sip of the tea, but it was cold and flat. Cold and unsatisfying, like a lot of things recently. Like the Construct, the Power Paradigms, and links with my daughter that weren't quite what either of us needed or wanted.
With a look at the adiamante that lay wrapped in its niellen depths on the table, I stood and walked to the sink where I dumped out the cold tea and washed both pot and cup and racked them. Then I stepped back to the wide window and studied the view to the west.
In the clearing air over the valley immediately west of the house soared a winged shape. I studied the eagle until I was sure it was Swift-Fall-Hunter, and a smile came to my lips.
Then I headed out to start up the flitter and to fly north to the chaos that awaited.
T
he sun was struggling through the parting clouds, and with the snow, had turned the flitter trip up the valley to Parwon into a flight over sparkling white, white so fresh that I could see no tracks, not even in the valleys. The only
signs of motion were the hot mists simmering up off the scattered meleysen groves like silver fog rising into the light.
A light layer of fog rose from the locial landing strip as I turned the flitter onto its final approach. I got a couple of warning blips from the traffic control system, and that showed how distracted I was. Most of the time, I could set the flitter down without even a flicker.
“Coordinator?”
Keiko's netcall meant more trouble, but that wasn't unexpected. It was close to mid-morning, and I'd run and linked with Yslena, and all that time the cybs and the Construct had been battling each other.
“Yes, Keiko?” I began to button up the flitter.
“There's a ground shuttle awaiting you.”
“Why?”
“Kaluna is out here, and he's angry.”
Kaluna? Who was Kaluna?
“The draff—his mate was the one the cyb attacked,” Keiko prompted.
“And he saw the same cyb, right?”
“How did you guess?” My assistant's question was barely that, more of a dark acknowledgment.
“I'm naturally brilliant.”
That brought a snort from my aide.
I walked across the damp permacrete toward the waiting groundshuttle. Dvorrak gestured through the open door, and I waved back. “What else has happened?” I asked Keiko on the net. “I'm not here at the crack of dawn—”
“You are never here at the crack of dawn. I am. That's so you don't have to be. That's also why you already owe a lifetime of compensatory service.”
“Don't remind me.” I stepped into the shuttle and sat down. “I'm in the groundshuttle, and we're headed your way.”
Dvorrak closed the door, and we whined toward the admin building.
I hadn't even reached Keiko when Kaluna bounded across the carpet toward me.
“That same cyb—he still is here.”
I forced a smile. “Then we will have to remove him.” I paused. “Did Nislaki ever receive any apology?”
“Apology? We heard nothing.”
I nodded and pulsed Keiko on the net. “Keiko … I'll need a restraint squad. Say ten. Black uniforms with stunners and slugthrowers. Have them meet me at the statue in a quarter stan. Then a magshuttle. Is Lieza available? If not, someone else with that level of experience.”
“Is that all?”
“The shuttle should be float-tied right above the open space south of the residential bloc. That way, the marcyb is stunned, webbed—”
“You want a web-restraint unit, too?”
“Sorry. Yes. Anyway, I want that poor construct webbed and enroute straight to their flagship. I'll have to do it.”
Kaluna's eyes flicked back and forth between us—between two silent demis in black.
“Next, we'll need to know which marcyb and where he is.” I turned to Kaluna. “Would you recognize this marcyb? They all look similar.”
“Yes.” Kaluna's voice was hard and certain.
I went back on the net. “Crucelle?”
“He's out, Ecktor,” answered Arielle.
“Do you have images of the marcybs in the residence bloc? Ones you can put on the mechcyb system?”
“Of course. When do you need them? Is this about that assault?”
“How did you guess? You calculated?”
“It wasn't hard,” she pulsed back dryly, the storm currents swirling around her even over the net. “We've tentatively
identified him, and I'll put that image first. Give us a few minutes.”
“Keiko,” I said aloud. “In a few minutes, Arielle will have the images on the console system. Have Kaluna identify him, and then make up a profile, such as you can, for me.”
I looked directly at Kaluna. “I promised I would take care of this, and I will. It will take a few minutes to organize.”
“A few minutes?” he asked.
“You have to identify the cyb, and I have to gather the restraint squad and the necessary equipment.” I also had to put on the silly black cloak and dig out some armament—a stunner and a knife. The cybs knew I could use the knife. I gestured for Kaluna to join Keiko before her console while I went back into my office to change my heavy jacket for the damned cloak.
“Ecktor!” Locatio whined in on the uppernet before I even reached my desk.
I needed not to talk to him in the worst way, but when you're caught on net, there's not much escape.
“You'll have to make it quick. I'm in the middle of another mess here.”
“You were right. They sent two agents—one into the power complex, the other into admin.”
“Did you get them?”
“Without a casualty—except them, of course.”
“Good. Make sure no one else knows. Destroy
everything,
and act as if nothing happened. They'll try again within twenty-four hours, probably with much larger teams. Be ready.”
“Is that all?”
“I'll link with you later and explain this mess. You might also have an incident where a cyb assaults a draff, unless it's happened already.”
“Not yet.”
“If it does, let me or Keiko know. Request an apology from the cyb officer in charge and request immediate evacuation of the guilty cyb. Then wait until you link with me. All right? I've got to move.”
I broke the connection, pulled on the cloak, and checked the knife and stunner that had been laid out on the desk for me.
The net wavered as the magshuttle arrived, and I took a deep breath and stepped out of the office.
“When the ice falls …” Keiko suggested verbally, dark eyes even more somber, but that was the way I felt as well.
“Exactly,” I answered.
“Here's the profile … and his probable location, based on his present ENF I.D.” She gave me a hard copy, and then opened the net file.
I closed my eyes and let it infeed. It's less distracting if you aren't looking at something.
“All the cybs are in the bloc now,” Keiko added. “There's one squad exercising on the east lawn.”
“That will make things interesting.”
Kaluna didn't even move as I walked down the steps.
There were ten draffs and a squad leader waiting at the foot of the stairs, all in the black uniforms. The blond draff on the end carried a web-restraint thrower. Another dozen admin types peered from various doors, waiting and watching.
“I'm Lictaer, Coordinator,” announced the wiry restraint squad leader with a smile.
“Ecktor will do. We're headed for the south residential bloc.”
“What do you want from us?” she asked.
“Just to be there, and look impressive, I hope. I'll need a marcyb trussed and webbed for effect, and delivery to the Vereal Fleet.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“I'm doing the delivery.”
“Yes, ser.”
They followed, and, once outside, I tried the net. “Magshuttle, this is Ecktor.” The shuttle floated on its field lines just south of the admin building, above the park to the west of the statue of the unknown draff.
“Coordinator, this is Borin. Interrogative instructions.”
“Head for the south residence bloc, but stay above the open area to the east of the bloc until I tell you to land. You should have enough clearance.”
“That's affirmative, ser. I can put it in there. There's room for a couple of shuttles.”
“Good. I'm headed there now.”
The black-clad squad followed me, almost soundlessly, all the way to the south residence bloc. There were two squads going through an exercise routine on the now flattened and trampled grass as we walked up. A junior force leader, not any of the two I'd met, stepped forward to greet me.
“Ser?”
“I'm looking for a marcyb.” I stepped past him and scanned those in the loose ranks. None of the profiles matched.
“I'm sorry, ser, but I'll have to ask you—”
I turned and looked at him. “You can follow me if you wish.” I smiled, almost hoping he'd attack.
He didn't, instead fumbling a transmission through his net. “Majer, there's some local here, looking for a particular marcyb.”
I walked into the building and went up the central stairs and down the corridor to the left. A second officer, subforce leader, appeared. I stepped around him.
He grabbed my shoulder, and I went into step-up. I was sloppy, and it took three blows and a netboost to incapacitate him. I eased his unconscious form to the polished marble floor. A pounding headache would be his biggest problem when he woke.
Staying in step-up, I went through the fourth door on the left. There were three marcybs in the room. I pulled the middle one right off his bunk before the others could initially react, but some officer got a command line in, and the two started to move. Rather than fight, I yanked the one into the hall and shut the door, then moved down the hall to the stairs. The cyb thrashed, but I overrode the commands and put him out, and lugged him down the steps. I was going to hurt all over before I was done.
Majer Henslom, cold-eyed as ever, waited right outside at the main entrance. He held a slugthrower pointed at my midsection. “I see you don't respect privacy or hospitality, Coordinator.”
The ten restraint squad members and Lictaer had their stunner trained on the three officers on the lawn, and on the majer.
“Go step-up, and stun the majer if I signal,” I pulsed to Lictaer.
“Stet,” came the tight response.
“If I recall correctly,” I responded verbally to Henslom, forcing my words into the normal patterns that seemed so slow, “this cyb assaulted an innocent woman. He was to be removed, and that's exactly what I am doing, since you chose not to.”
Another command went skyward. “Bring the shuttle down.”
Henslom wavered at the whine of the shuttle, but his eyes didn't leave me. I was slightly hampered with one arm full of inert cyb, but my perceptions remained fixed on his arm and the hand that held the slugthrower. I did shift the cyb so I could drop him instantly.
“I am returning him to your fleet. That's all. He's unconscious.” I smiled. “Now … if you want to oppose that action, say so.”
“Could I stop you? Really?” asked Henslom. He was
trying to be polite, but the muscular tension bulged all over him. Still, he wasn't stupid.
“No.”
“Even with the slugger?”
“That's right.”
I could see the tightening in his arm and hand, but in step-up my free hand was faster, and the angle gave me leverage. Enough so that the single shot went into the ground beside the stone walk. Enough so that I broke two of Henslom's fingers and probably sprained his wrist. I'd have bruises on my hands later.
“Web the marcyb!” I snapped at Lictaer. Since we were both in step-up, no one else seemed to move before I'd tossed the slugthrower into the flower bed three meters to the right.
Henslom's mouth hung open as he staggered back, watching the web wrap around the marcyb.
“Don't move!” I snapped at the officers. “Not a millimeter!”
They didn't, not even Henslom.
“The fleet will fry your forsaken Old Earth,” he muttered under his breath, and I still couldn't answer him. Damn the Construct! Damn the neurogenetic genetic programming!
“I would suggest you think about that very strongly,” was the best I could do.
As the shuttle settled into one corner of the wide lawn, I picked up the webbed marcyb and turned to Henslom, who was trembling in rage. “I would suggest that you not attempt to take things out on any more innocents. I would also suggest you report to your superiors before you act on your rage.”
“You are so helpful, Coordinator. So very helpful.” Each word was bitten off in cold rage.
“I try, Majer. Just listen and watch, and you might learn something.”
All the cybs remained frozen as I lifted the webbed marine one-handed and walked to the shuttle. Even in boost and step-up those thirty meters were hard. After setting him inside on the floor, I pulsed to Lictaer.
“Let's load up.”

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