The Elysium Commission (23 page)

“I can do that,” replied my sister. “You both were certain about no invasion.” She picked up a knife and moved to the other prep table.

I decided to let Siendra explain. I had to nod to her before she spoke.

“The Assembly space service would love an attempted attack on an Assembly world—even in the Gallian sector. That would give them every excuse possible to try all sorts of new toys on the Frankans. Also, the Frankans don't have the troops to invade and hold a world.”

“You're both saying that the Frankans are backing Legaar's efforts to make a large mess here on Devanta, but you have no idea what it is.”

“That's right,” I replied.

“But you're also suggesting that there's something commercially valuable involved. So why would they want to make a mess of Devanta?” asked Krij.

“I don't know.” I certainly didn't. That was all too clear.

“So who engaged you?” asked Krij.

“I don't know. Not really. The hidden IDs checked, but the contact was a corpentity shell. It could be any one of a number of corpentities who can't afford to oppose the Elois openly.”

“What about Special Ops or the Sorores Civitas?”

“Special Ops doesn't ever use private contractors for investigations or arms sales. No colonel or marshal wants to face a court-martial. After the Oliver Affair, where—”

“The Sorores don't have any such prohibitions.” Siendra looked to Krij. “Are you finished with the beans?”

“Oh…yes.” Krij crossed the three meters between the two prep tables and set the bowl of beans on the side.

I hadn't even seen Krij slice them. She was like that. I'd been thinking about Elisabetta Reynarda. She could certainly have been a tool of the sisters. But I didn't see why they needed me to look into matters. “Why would the sisters approach me? They have far more in the way of resources than I could ever develop.”

“You don't crack nuts with a sledge,” Siendra said. “Nor with involuted legal regs and taxation policies. The sisters have a problem. Their power is either pervasively indirect or brutally direct. If they use much of the latter, the Elois and all their ilk would be petitioning the Assembly for a planetary reformation.”

“One of two things would happen then,” added Krij. “Either an Assembly observation team would arrive, and that would freeze everything, and nothing would get done, except whatever problem that was being addressed wouldn't be, and matters would just get worse. Or…a full-reformation team would arrive.”

That possibility was remote. It was also terrifying. My second assignment with SpecOps had been the cleanup after the reformation of Aksarben. Truly, the entire planet had seemed to be galloping around, as if it had gone to the dogs. And the foxes, coyotes, and wolves. “There is that new Assembly definition of a repressive planetary government…”

Krij and Siendra exchanged glances.

“What is it?”

“We don't know how that fits. Not yet.”

“But?” I pressed.

Krij shrugged. Siendra offered a faint smile.

I waited.

“TABS has been pushing for that change for almost thirty years,” Siendra finally said.

I'd never heard of TABS. It showed on my face.

“Trans-Assembly Banking Services,” Krij explained. “One of the subsections notes that regulations that restrict financial operations based on political factors and considerations, particularly market entry, are part of the integral definition of a repressive planetary government.”

“Is Devanta that closed to outside financiers?”

Siendra laughed softly. “Not a single financial institution on the planet has ties to or is a subsidiary of an out-system entity.”

“How did the sisters manage that?”

“The local citizenship rulings.” Siendra sliced the mushrooms into paper-thin sections, then laid them across the top of the beans, setting them aside. Her knife flashed over the fularans, turning the long nuts into small rough cubes. They went on top of the mushrooms. “I can't do much more for a few minutes, not until the hens cook. It's a simple dinner.”

That was fine with me. I stood and crossed the kitchen with the bottle of Aubenade. Siendra hadn't drunk that much, but I added a little to her glass.

“Thank you.”

“What about the citizenship rulings?”

“You have to be a declared citizen of Devanta to own any real property or a security interest in any corpentity or the equivalent. Personal dwellings and the property on which they are situated and personal transportation are the only exclusions. Institutions must be incorporated in Devanta under Devantan law.”

I still didn't get it.

“A declared citizen or Devantan corpentity must pay taxes on all income and all real property from all sources, and the rate is twice as high for income received from out-system sources.” Siendra pulled up one of the high stools next to the prep table, then seated herself.

That made it very clear. “Outside entities would have to pay a high premium.”

“They'd also be at a competitive disadvantage in other markets outside the Devantan system,” Siendra pointed out.

“Doesn't that work the other way?” I was thinking of Eloi Enterprises.

“No. Not exactly.” Siendra smiled. “You're thinking about Legaar Eloi?”

I nodded.

“The Elois have to be making a higher rate of return than their competitors in their out-system ventures because Devantan taxes are higher, and the sisters don't allow an offsetting credit for taxes paid in other systems.”

“Or they're underreporting their income from those ventures?”

“Both,” suggested Krij dryly.

“What will happen?”

“The Assembly is clearly sending a signal to the sisters,” replied Siendra. “The next move will be theirs. In the meantime, they'll have to be careful in not being heavy-handed. And either they offer a concession to the Assembly, or they'll suffer consequences.”

I definitely was getting the feeling that my coded message to Special Operations had been unwise. Once more, I'd probably been too impatient.

Krij frowned, then asked, “Have you gotten any new clients? Ones that are…more routine?”

The routine ones didn't pay as well. Krij knew that. “Just one. This afternoon, from Jay Smith.” I grinned. “A logo designer's being shafted on royalties by a former employer. Jay suggested that all I had to do was threaten a reg audit by you.”

“He sounds as sleazy as ever,” Krij replied. “You have to deal with the lesser of two sleazes.”

“Either the ethical sleaze or the unethical one,” added Siendra.

Krij sighed. “If you're going to do it, tell him you'll file a section three gamma on him.”

Siendra stifled a grin.

“I'll look it up, but what is it?”

“It's the religious extortion section of the Codex. Rather, it's the section of the Civil Code that notes that no use of religion, faith, or belief may be used as a justification for failure to pay lawfully incurred obligations or to abrogate any other civil rights and obligations. An audit under three gamma usually results in a felony conviction.”

I noted that to the system. “I hate it when the ends seem to justify the means.”

“You'd rather they didn't? You'd prefer ethical means leading to an unethical result?” riposted Krij.

“That wasn't quite what I meant, and you know it.”

Siendra's lips curled ever so slightly, but she said nothing.

“Recalling the service or corpentities?” I asked her.

“The corpentities are worse.” Siendra's words were matter-of-fact, but she didn't say more.

Krij took another small sip of the Rothschild. At gatherings, she always had a glass in her hand, yet I never saw her refill it. “That's why the financial institutions need government regulations and us. The corpentities define ethics in terms of self-preservation and law. Anything that isn't specifically illegal and increases profitability is considered ethical. That hasn't changed in the centuries since technological complexity necessitated a form of limited legal liability. What's most nauseating is that so many corpentity directors glory in ways to circumvent the law.”

“Like Antonio diVeau? How's that going?”

“The bank's advocate sent a message saying that she was looking into it.” Krij smiled. “That means that she's worried. Otherwise, she'd have said that it was a routine notification and well within the purview of the institution's policies and obligations. They'll most likely remove the notice and claim that it was a system error. That's the usual excuse.”

Everyone had a “usual” excuse. That hadn't changed much over the centuries, either. “I used to think Legaar Eloi was a good example of going around things legally, with those kinds of excuses and lots of advocates. Lately, I think he's gone beyond that. I'm pretty sure he's ordered at least one murder, and his commando team wanted to take me out.”

“That hasn't changed, either,” Siendra replied. “Governments generally only care about appearances. So long as they seem to follow the laws and regulations and pay their taxes, so long as they don't vanish government officials and Garda personnel, and so long as nothing can be traced to them…then government doesn't care.”

“Even the most honorable Civitas Sorores?” My irony was heavy.

“Especially the sisters.” Siendra's voice was flat.

“Can we talk about something more cheerful?” asked Krij. “At least about one of your other commissions?”

“Which do you prefer? The honorable doctoral fortune seeker who isn't seeking a fortune, the strangely reticent heiress, or the mysterious and reclusive dramaturge?”

“How about the heiress?” Siendra grinned.

I liked her smiles and grins. I wondered why I hadn't noticed them before. “Her name is, variously, Stella Strong, Maureen Maude Gonne and perhaps Astrid Forte. She might be heir to something like ten million credits from a father who never married her mother, and yet she's never come forward. I was engaged to find her by someone who wants to remain anonymous. I'm supposed to certify her to the First Commerce Bank. All I've been able to discover is that she spent four years with the Thurenean Fashion Alliance and left suddenly.” I nodded to Siendra. “You discovered that, if she is Astrid Forte, she has a registered legal identity, but that is clearly separate from whatever identity she is currently using.”

“That's all you know?” asked Krij.

“She was extremely good at media relations when she was with TFA, and they were surprised when she left.”

“I wonder what else was happening at TFA at the time,” mused Siendra. “People usually don't leave positions where they're doing well unless there are other circumstances.”

I wished I'd looked into that more closely.

“We'll have to continue at the table.” Siendra left the stool with a swiftness so graceful that it appeared she had been sitting one moment and standing the next. “I'm going to be very busy for a few moments.”

So I carried the wine into the small private dining room. Krij quickly set the table, since I was effectively one-handed.

In less than ten minutes I was seated at one end of the table, Krij to my right and Siendra to my left. The Iskling crystal chandelier provided a certain ambiance, as did two attractive women. Even if one happened to be my sister.

Siendra had set a platter before each of us. She had carved each game hen into thin circular slices, laid out next to the other, and garnished with poached spiced apples, accompanied with the beans and mushrooms almondine. I'd filled fresh goblets with a Sauvignon Thierry, vintage 1341.

I raised my goblet. “To you, ladies, for a meal and company far better than I expected or deserved this evening.”

Krij laughed gently. “At times, you can be gracious.” She did take a sip of the wine. “This is good.”

I didn't tell her that I wouldn't have dared to serve her anything less.

“Sisters can be hard on their siblings,” murmured Siendra. Her fingers brushed the back of my left hand, so lightly that it was clear she knew it hurt.

“Do you have any to be hard on?” I replied, in an equally low voice.

“No. I was an only child.”

I smiled. I didn't quite know what to say. So I took refuge in the game hen. The meat was so tender I could cut it with a fork. That was good because I could barely use my left hand. The filling was tangy without being cloying.

“Delicious,” I finally said. “I've never had this before.”

“Siendra's a better cook than I am,” Krij said. “She doesn't like to let anyone know it.”

“Gender-typing?”

Siendra nodded.

I smiled. My expression was wry. Centuries before, so-called experts had predicted the demise of behaviors like gender-typing, direct person-to-person instruction, the demise of the family structure, and even the end of warfare. They'd been wrong on all counts, but then so vague is man's sight of himself, even from the heights.

“You have that expression,” Krij said.

“What expression?” I offered innocence.

Siendra laughed. The sound conveyed warm amusement.

“The one you get when you're thinking about the human capacity for rationalization,” Krij replied.

“Ah, yes—the delusion of rationality, the human belief that reason underlies our better actions, when in fact genetics, emotion, and somatic bias do—and reason merely is used to rationalize what we feel.”

“If that were true, would there have been any human progress?” asked Siendra.

“Has there been?” My words were delivered archly, but I immediately laughed. “No…you're right, but the progress comes earlier. When you teach small children kindness, expose them to all sorts of stimuli, give them a sense of rightness and wonder, teach them to love words and books and ideas…that's what develops their emotional balance. That's where progress comes from, the child in each of us. As we get older, we just use reason to justify that child's decisions.”