L. E. Modesitt - The Ecolitian Enigma.pdf - L. E. Modesitt - margozap

PROLOGUE

Secession, Ecologic (3647-48)

The war leading to the independence of the Coordinate of Accord [See also

Ecologic Rebellion, Accord, Ecolitian Institute] .

During the years 3645-46, Imperial relations with the Fuardian Conglomerate

became increasingly strained, and a number of colony systems protested the ad

valorem and ad personam taxes levied by the Empire to support the

infrastructure necessary to restrain the Conglomerate. Among the discontented

colony systems were chose of Accord (Imperial Sector Five) and Sligo (Imperial

Sector Seven).

Accord used high-technology sabotage and commando tactics to destroy key

military fueling and staging bases (Haversol, Cubera, Fonderol) at a time when

the majority of Imperial forces were deployed in Sector Two to counter the

perceived Fuardian threat. The Accord sabotage limited to an even greater

extent the ability of Imperial warcraft to reach Accord's isolated location on

the Parthanian Rift.

Unable to deal with potentially extended conflicts on three fronts, the Empire

reduced Sligo, where casualties exceeded fifteen million, despite an initially

published estimate of only three million [See Lies for the Popular Good].

Following the Empire's destruction of Sligo and all installations in its

system, the provisional government of Accord launched a successful ecologic

attack on Old Earth in 3647, primarily using the resources of the Ecolitan

Institute [See The Black Institute]. The resulting Ecollapse eventually

fragmented the terran ecology. The Empire retaliated by sending a full fleet

to the Accord system. Innovative and suicidal tactics developed and

spearheaded by Ecolitan [later Prime] James Joyson Whaler [See WrightWhaler

Controversy] resulted in the total destruction of that Imperial fleet in late

3647.

The Fuardian Conglomerate then unveiled a new series of warships of

performance and armament vastly superior to existing Imperial craft [See CX

Affair] and seized former Imperial systems in Sector Two (the Three System

Bulge).

With the Empire weakened by the increasingly unstable political climate and

mounting death toll from the Ecollapse on Old Earth, the potential of further

ecological devastation from the Ecolitan Institute, and the clear

technological superiority of the Conglomerate, Emperor Jynstin II recognized

the independence of Accord and shifted all Imperial forces and battle groups

to Sector Two, leading to the Truce of Tierna. Under the Truce, the

Conglomerate retained the Three System Bulge, except that the then-undeveloped

system of Artos was ceded to New Avalon, and the Empire ceded the undeveloped

system of D'Sanya to Chezchos, later the Federated Hegemony.

The perceived failure of the monarchy led to the Senatorial Reformation [See

N'Trosia Catalyst] and the political restructuring of the Empire . . .

Dictionary of Imperial History K. J, Peynon

New Augusta 4102

Filled with the faint odors of oil, hot metal, and recycled air, the down-

shuttle from Accord orbit control to Harmony was less than half full. In the

left front couch sat a tall sandyhaired man wearing the formal greens of an

Ecolitan. On his left uniform collar was a black-and-green lustral pin-a gift

from the Emperor of the Hegemony of Light, more commonly known as the Terran

Empire. The pin was a contradiction in terms because the substance of the

lustral represented a small fortune and the form was a miniature of the crest

of the Ecolitan Institute. Beside the Ecolitan sat a dark-haired woman in a

blue jumpsuit.

Sylvia glanced sideways at Nathaniel as the Ecolitan fidgetedin the hard

passenger seat of the Coordinate shuttle."Iffy approach," he said.

"And yours haven't been?" The slender and dark-haired woman offered a smile.

"Mine?"

"Yours." The smile broadened.

"Which kind are you referring to?" he countered, trying not to grin in return.

"Any kind, most honorable envoy."

"I'd hope mine, especially in shuttles and needle-boats, were less rocky," he

finally said, squelching a frown as the buffering shuttle tossed him against

his harness. "Do all pilots find other pilots' approaches questionable?"

"Probably. We hate being passengers."

"It sounds like you're all control addicts." She offered a softer smile.

"That's probably true, too."

"I still wonder." She shook her head. "This is so sudden. I hadn't planned to

emigrate so soon. And certainly not to Accord. Your clearance officers on the

orbit control station-they barely looked at me. Do all Ecolitans have that

kind of power?"

"Hardly." Nathaniel laughed. "It wasn't me, but the Prime Ecolitans access

codes."

"Just codes? Could any Ecolitan do that?"

"Not unless the Prime gave him the codes." The sandy-haired man swayed in the

seat as the shuttle banked onto what Nathaniel hoped was the final approach.

"They're held tightly."

"Does that happen often?"

Nathaniel shrugged. "Every few years, maybe. This was important to us."

Still, he had trouble believing his mission as an agent/official envoy was

over, and that he had actually managed to avert what could have been an

interstellar war between the Coordinate of Accord and the Empire. Although

he'd sweated and worried, especially when it had looked as though the Imperial

fleet had been ready to deploy, now it seemed almost too easy. . . and as if

he'd missed something. He refrained from shaking his head. At least he'd

gotten Sylvia off Old Earth. But did she want off?

"You'd already gotten the trade agreement before you left Old Earth," Sylvia

continued. "You didn't need me. Why was I important to your mission? Or

afterwards?"

"Because I think so." He grinned. "Because you made it all possible, and

because-"

"Please remain in your seats. Shuttle Beta is on final approach to Harmony.

Please remain in your seats."

"-you'd be an asset to the Institute."

"They'd take me on your recommendation?"

"Not automatically, but I can't recall when the recommendation of a senior

professor was last rejected." He cleared his throat and raised his voice above

the roar of the landing engines. "That's because we don't make many, and we're

held responsible."

"How many have you made?" Sylvia asked with a smile. "You're the first. I

don't know of any professor, or even the Prime, who's made more than three.

Some never have."

Her eyes dropped to the green of the bulkhead before them. "You make me sound

extraordinarily special, and I'm not."

"You're not? How many people would have had the background, the understanding,

and the willingness to help me-and to prevent the deaths of billions of human

beings?" And that was just where an interstellar war could have led. "I'm not

that special."

"We'll talk about that later, Ms. Ferro-Maine," Nathaniel said as the shuttles

tires screeched on the permacrete of Accord and he lurched against the

harness. "Way too rough . . ." he murmured more to himself than Sylvia.

Even before the shuttle lurched to a halt, prompting another sour look by

Nathaniel, the announcement hissed through the passenger compartment.

"Please pick up your bags or any luggage on the way out of the shuttle. You

are responsible for carrying your own luggage unless you have made prior

arrangements. Please pick up your luggage on the way out."

"Self-sufficiency begins from the moment you set foot on the planet, I see."

After the final lurch, Sylvia eased out other harness and stood, stretching.

Nathaniel watched for a moment, enjoying her grace, still half-amazed that she

had not been good enough for a professional dancing career on Old Earth.

"Dancing takes more than grace."

"How did you-"

"You've said it enough, especially every time I stretch." Another warm smile

crossed her lips. "Time to become pack animals."

"With what little you brought?"

"I had very little time to choose, as you may recall?"

"Sorry. I'll see that you get a stipend for that." And he would, even if it

came out of his pay. "You arent responsible for everything, dear envoy." No,

he thought, we Ecolitans only think we are. One of the uniformed crew members-

a woman in olive greens standing behind the baggage racks-looked sharply at

the two for a moment as they retrieved their bags, two field packs for

Nathaniel and two oblong black synfab cases for Sylvia.

Once they stepped out of the shuttle and into the shuttleway to the port

terminal, Nathaniel took a deep breath. "Smells better than ship air."

"It smells like burned hydrocarbons to me," confessed Sylvia. "Professor

Whaler?" asked the redheaded young woman in plain greens, waiting by the end

of the shuttleway.

"I'm Whaler," Nathaniel acknowledged. "And this is Ms. Ferro-Maine. She's

accompanying me to the Institute."

"Trainee Luren, sirs," offered the youngster, probably a fourth-year trainee,

Nathaniel suspected. "The Prime sent a flitter when he got your message." Her

rust-colored eyebrows lifted just slightly. "If you would follow me?"

"Thank you. " The Ecolitan did not answer the unasked question. Few Ecolitans

got private flitters on returning to Accord. Most carried their own luggage

and took the monorail.

As they trailed Luren, Sylvia murmured, "I thought you said we'd have to take

the monorail."

"I couldn't count on a flitter . . . didn't want to disappoint you."

"You won't be disappointed that you aren't flying it?" She raised her

eyebrows.

"A little, but into each life some rain falls."

"Please..."

Luren paused by a narrow doorway. "We're down the steps and across the

permacrete."

Nathaniel squinted as they stepped out into the bright sunlight of Harmony, if

a shuttle port nearly twenty kilos south of Harmony could be considered part

of the Coordinate capital. "There it is, sirs," said Luren.

Nathaniel glanced toward the green flitter as he eased the field packs through

the doorway, then looked back toward Sylvia, whose mouth opened. Scritt!

Scritt!

Nathaniel scarcely felt the needles that slammed him around, not after Sylvia

threw him behind the slight cover afforded by their bags. For a moment, he

just lay there. On Accord? With an Institute flitter less than a hundred

meters away? How could an assassination attempt take place? And why? He'd

already done his job, and nothing would stop implementation of the trade

agreement.

Nathaniel squinted through his sudden dizziness at the sprawled form of the

trainee and then toward the flitter.

Thrummmm. . . thrummm. . . Almost as quickly as the stunner bolts flew from

the Institute craft, two figures in greens sprinted from the flitter toward

the three sprawled on the permacrete.

Eeeeeee . . . The sirens seemed to waver in and around Nathaniel from a

distance as he slowly eased himself into a sitting position.

His entire side was a mass of fire. "Are you all right?" Sylvia asked. "Will

be . . . need to get to the Institute." He struggled to stand, then found

himself being helped by both Sylvia and a young Ecolitan.

"Whoever it was is gone, professor. We've alerted the Prime, but we're to get

you home double speed." The young crewman turned to Sylvia. "You, too, Ms.

Ferro-Maine."

Nathaniel forced his legs to carry him toward the still waiting flitter,

although it was more of a stagger than a walk. Still, he knew every pace was

worth more than antique gold, especially if the needles had carried nerve

collapse toxins. He blocked the pain and kept walking, but the permacrete and

the flitter began to swirl around him. "Catch him."

The Fuardian officer wearing crimson-trimmed formal grays and a silver hawk on

his shoulder tabs stepped inside the spacious office. "Ser?"

"I don't have time to read forty-page reports, colonel. Answer me simply. Are

your operations going as planned?" asked the gray-clad officer behind the

desk.

"Ah, sub-marshal . . . yes. We had not foreseen the Accord trade negotiations,

but the Coordinate's conduct there has sharpened the Grand Admirals concerns.

The use of an Ecolitan as a trade negotiator has definitely put the laser on

the Rift. The devastation of the synde bean plague on Heraculon has reinforced

those Imperial concerns . . ."

"How strongly?"

"The death toll is over four million so far. The Empire has had to divert most

of its spare cargo capacity for food concentrates. They've even sent in

military power systems from reserve units."

"Good. And?"

"There are still murmurs about Accord. We don't have the analysis yet, but

those could be pushed by the trideo initiative. Either way, the laser points

directly at Harmony. We've taken some additional steps there as well to point

back at the Admiral . , or others. We had to divert a fast courier, but . . ."

"That's secondary, though, for now. Do we have enough .seed stock for the next

phase?"

"Yes, ser, and the next phase will target both the anchovies and the algae.

Anarra, the Matriarchy, then Imperial Sector Four. We've established the

probable secondary vectors if it were a natural plague, and those will be

planted over the next few weeks, using the commercial trade system." The sub-

marshal nodded curtly.

"What about the transfer arrangements?" asked the colonel. "Our contacts have

asked about that,"

"We do not have to deliver anything-especially warcraft until the Ninth and

Eleventh fleets are transferred to the Rift, or two other fleets in the

sectors bordering the Three System Bulge are shifted along the Limber line."

The senior officer smiled. "When that occurs, the general staff will be more

than happy to approve the transfer. More than happy. After we occupy the

systems, particularly . . . shall we say . . . those of the priggish

Avalonians."

Yes, ser.

"And colonel?"

"Ser?"

"Next time, send a summary with the report. It will save us both time."

L. E. Modesitt - The Ecolitian Enigma.pdf

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