Ecolitan Prime (Ecolitan Matter) (27 page)

N
ATHANIEL
F
IRSTBORNE
W
HALER
bowed as he stepped inside the door, ignoring the twinges that intermittently traveled the nerves of his left side. “Prime?”

“Come on in, Nathaniel.” The silver-haired Prime Ecolitan stood by the wide table with the single drawer that served as his desk. As usual, the office was free of clutter. Two hard-copy files lay on the corner of the immaculate blond Ecolog-style desk-table. The louvered shutters were open, and a cool breeze wafted through the office.

Nathaniel paused between the two carved and high-backed wooden chairs.

“Sit down.” Gairloch Pittsway’s green eyes twinkled. “After your ordeal, I wouldn’t keep you standing—not yet, anyway.”

Nathaniel took the chair on the left side of the table and waited, his eyes on the older man.

“Solid work you did on Old Earth.” The Prime took the other carved chair in front of the desk. “Your return proved that.”

“Thank you.” When the Prime began with a compliment, trouble lay on the course ahead. Nathaniel also didn’t like the idea that an attempt on his own life proved his value. That was almost like saying he wouldn’t be appreciated until he was dead. That kind of appreciation he could do without.

“Your unvarnished description of Imperial politics was refreshing, if not unexpected. In view of your earlier efforts, you might be interested to know we took steps with regard to the elections on Hernando. The Popular Front had some setbacks in the balloting, and the Conservative Democrats have consolidated their government. They no longer need the Socialist Republicans.” The Prime Ecolitan leaned back in his chair. “Would that our own citizens were as perceptive. Or our own honorable representatives.”

“What did the House of Delegates do?” Two compliments, reflected Nathaniel, meant real trouble.

“At our prompting, indirectly, of course, they sent a communique to the Imperial Senate strongly suggesting it was in everyone’s best interests if Hernando remained independent. The Imperial Secretary of External Affairs sent a reassuring response, and the Elders are patting themselves on the back, conveniently forgetting that the Institute carried everyone’s oil. It works better that way.” Pittsway grinned. “You did manage to terrify a few of the Imperials. That was obvious.” The Prime glanced toward the green hills framed in the window. “I am not referring to the needle-gun attack.”

“I hadn’t thought so.”

“We’ll get to that in a moment. Even on Old Earth, you were obviously overtly formidable.”

“The synde bean plague on Heraculon helped.” Nathaniel raised his eyebrows and waited. “Probably a great deal.”

“Nasty business, there. I’ve started a team on that.” The Prime frowned momentarily. “I suppose you couldn’t afford to disclaim it.”

“I didn’t claim or disclaim it. I didn’t think so, but I didn’t know.”

“Matters would have to degrade considerably for us even to think about a return to ecological weapons with that broad an impact. You know how the Institute feels about ecologic warfare except as a last resort. One of the lesser benefits of the Secession. Besides, we’d have the entire galaxy up in arms if we did. It’s perfectly all right to wage wars, manipulate trade and agriculture, and starve or kill millions, but ecological warfare…horror of horrors. That’s another reason why the Charter and the Iron Rules were codified by the first Whaler. You’re some sort of relation, aren’t you?”

“You know the answer to that,” said Nathaniel with a smile. “About as distant as one can get.”

“You ought to read his papers, if you haven’t. They’re sealed, but the access is in your debrief file. I’d appreciate it if you would at least read through the entries I coded. You might also consider some of his exploits as a basis for revising your contingency plans. You managed the trade negotiations with minimal use of force. You may not have that option on your next assignment. I’m afraid the Fuards or the Federated Hegemony, or both, are setting up trouble.”

Nathaniel refrained from swallowing. References to force and the first Whaler? The one who had a reputation for drastic action? For the Prime to suggest such was definitely a bad sign. “Could I ask why you think so?”

“There are three reasons, or perhaps they’re the same. The next request for your services, the attack, and your friend. Or is she more than a friend?”

“I have hopes, but that has to be up to Sylvia. I think she’ll be an asset, one way or another.”

“I’m sure of that.” Pittsway offered a wry grin. “After the way you bent both our system and the Imperials’ to get her here, she must be quite a person.”

“She is. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without her.”

“Is that true or a justification?”

“True,” Nathaniel admitted. “She provided access and insight.” He didn’t want to admit out loud that Sylvia’s ability to get him inside the Defense Tower on New Augusta had made possible his distribution of the Institute-modified Gerson’s disease that had forced Admiral Ku-Smythe to accept the trade negotiations. Besides, the details in his report should have told the Prime what he needed to know.

“Hmmm.” The Prime nodded. “You have her in the intensive indoctrination courses already.”

“We thought that advisable.”

“More than advisable, as I’m sure you’re beginning to understand, after the past few weeks.”

Nathaniel waited.

“You know that the needles used on you were military Empire-issue, spiked with a nerve toxin used only by the Empire, and nastier than anything anyone else uses. It was touch and go for a bit, for both of you, and for the trainee.”

“Sylvia didn’t tell me that.”

“That increases my considerable respect for her—and for your choice of her.” The Prime steepled his fingers briefly. “What do you think about the attack on you being backed by the Imperial military?”

“It couldn’t have been. They have to know that, if we revealed the details, that would put the Defense Ministry at direct odds with at least two Imperial Ministries and the Emperor.” Nathaniel paused. “That would be an embarrassing situation. It could have theoretically been the work of a lower-level commander who was angry at Admiral Ku-Smythe…a set-up to embarrass her and get her removed so that in the future, the next Defense chief would be ready to attack the Coordinate. But I don’t see anyone senior enough to order it being that stupid.” The sandy-haired Ecolitan cleared his throat. “Or it could be designed to provoke us—or you. Or it could be an Halstani ploy…”

“Or an Orknarlian or Fuardian or Federated Hegemony effort—or one by New Avalon,” pointed out the Prime. “Or even a subtle move by the Frankan Union. I’d discount that, but not dismiss it.”

“New Avalon?”

Pittsway nodded. “While you were recovering, our friend Werlin Restinal paid a visit. You have been requested to visit Artos—in your academic capacity.”

“The Delegate Minister of Interstellar Commerce?”

“The same. He requested that you do a study on Artos. It’s a recently planoformed colony planet, and he provided some fanciful story about your expertise on infrastructure economics and the possibility of agricultural-technology trade. He also provided some odd shipping manifests, and he looked worried.”

That had been where the Prime was leading. Nathaniel wanted to groan.

“You may recall that he’s also the shadow minister for Coordinate intelligence, such as it is.”

The Ecolitan professor managed not to groan or sigh—barely. “Do we know what the problem is?”

“Torine hasn’t told him what the problem is. And Torine isn’t about to tell us, if he even knows the details.” The Prime shrugged. “Restinal doesn’t have any way to get anyone onto Artos. Not anyone he can trust. Everyone
knows
the Institute can’t be bought by the Coordinate government—anyone else from Accord would be automatically suspect, and Artos is three sectors away. Who from here would ever travel that far to a planet barely out of planoforming? Except an Institute economist or a Coordinate intelligence operative?

“So why Artos?”

“We don’t
know
, but it’s on the edge of the Three System Bulge, and we do know that both the Federated Hegemony and the Fuards, and lately the Frankans, have all been increasing their arsenals, although not there. I find the absence of military activity around the Bulge more disturbing than its presence.” The Prime smiled wryly. “We also have a very nervous politician on our hands, and he—or someone—has dummied up a study to get you to Artos. The study has to be real—and first class. And he’s got a deal with Camelot, one he won’t reveal.”

“But it’s an obvious cover—even to the Avalonians.”

The Prime nodded.

“How obvious and how nervous was Restinal?”

“Obvious enough that more than a few will know everything about you before you leave. Restinal was nervous enough to mention that Ferro-Maine might be considered an Imperial agent by some, and an embarrassment to the Institute. I told him to take his portfolio and place it somewhere very private and very dark.” The Prime smiled.

“I’ll have to tell her.”

“I thought you would. I also thought she might like to accompany you to Artos, but that has to be her choice. She is welcome at the Institute in your absence, and would be accorded full staff privileges.”

“I’ll have to ask her.” Nathaniel paused. “How does the assassination effort tie into New Avalon?”

“I have this feeling that the Avalonian Commerce Ministry was pressured into requesting the study. Someone doesn’t want it done, and Werlin was sent out here to make sure it was…and that you were assigned to do it. Someone knew that before Restinal did.”

“An infrastructure study? They don’t kill people over the allocation of energy and transportation resources.” Nathaniel shook his head.

“Unless that allocation ties into something else rather nasty. Then again,” said the Prime, “it may all be an elaborate scheme to get you isolated away from Accord.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“So do I, but—” the Prime shrugged “—some people take defeats as very, very personal, and you made some very powerful people look very stupid. Right now, we don’t know, and by the time we do…”

“It could be rather late.”

“Exactly. But I feel, as you’ll see in the briefing materials, that it’s much worse than that. Far worse. Possibly far worse than what you just concluded with the Empire.”

Nathaniel pursed his lips. He’d hoped for a respite—and the chance to get to know Sylvia better—when he’d returned home.

“You don’t have to go to Artos.”

“I don’t know that I’d be any safer here—not if the assassin could penetrate Coordinate security.”

“They won’t penetrate the Institute.”

“And I’m supposed to remain under Institute restraint for months or years? No, thank you. I’d rather go to Artos.”

Pittsway smiled wryly. “I thought you might. There’s a full briefing package on file for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. This is doubtless another one of those insurmountable opportunities that Strongarm’s memoirs cites.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“And I think you’d better review your contingency portfolio. I’ve also granted you the full credit and authority of the Institute.”

“The
full
credit?” The younger Ecolitan wanted to whistle. He hadn’t even gotten that on his trade mission to New Augusta.

The Prime nodded. “I’ve also instructed our representative in Camelot that your authority is as mine, not to be questioned or obstructed.”

“You suspect…?”

“I suspect everything, and if my suspicions are correct, this will be even nastier than your last effort. And you may not have much time to act if it comes to that. I hope not, but I’m already half-convinced that we’re past hoping. As I indicated, the details are under seal in your briefing packet.” The Prime rose. “After you review that, if you have further questions, we can talk. I would also suggest that you inform new Ecolitan professor Ferro-Maine that the situation is uncertain, but that it could be quite hazardous, for reasons we can only suspect, and that you would prefer to limit her briefing to the facts in order to get her unvarnished judgment.”

“Yes, Prime.” Nathaniel stood, belatedly.

T
HE TWO FIGURES
in field greens sat on the bench in the middle of the Institute’s formal garden.

“You know,” offered Whaler, “this garden dates back to the founding of the Institute. And this bench was where the first Whaler fell in love.” The sandy-haired Ecolitan grinned, simultaneously being fully aware of the faint orange-trilia fragrance that seemed to emanate from Sylvia. It was already hard to believe that he’d met her over a dose of fidelitrol, trying not to tell the truth, or not too much of it, while she was doing the same.

“This very bench?” she asked with a smile.

“One like it, I imagine. Even our benches don’t last four hundred years. There are other parallels. He was an Imperial Special Operative. She was an Ecolitan field agent, and probably a far better operative than he was. His specialty, according to the material the Prime gave me, was destruction on a large scale.”

“You haven’t done that badly.”

Nathaniel suppressed a wince, thinking about fifty deaths from a mutated virus that was supposed to have a minimal fatal impact. “I wish I hadn’t had to do what I did.”

“That makes two of us.” Sylvia paused. “Sometimes, our choices are only between the lesser of evils.”

“That’s one thing that worries me about this Artos assignment,” the Ecolitan said quickly. “I have a feeling that nothing good is going to come of it, no matter how we handle it. So does the Prime, and he’s granted me a lot of authority. Too much. But we’re all just speculating.”

“Is it real?” she asked thoughtfully.

“The Prime thinks it is. I don’t know. But I worry about your coming.” He glanced at her, then added, “On your own, you’re probably better than I am at avoiding difficulties. You showed me that on Old Earth.”

“Don’t humor me.”

“I’m not. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

She shook her head, her slate gray eyes momentarily ocean cold. “Fifty-one deaths. Over three hundred people with permanent nerve damage, and you couldn’t have done it without me.”

“That’s not what I meant. I was talking about Artos. If you went somewhere alone…you’d be better off than with me. But they’ve requested an economist, and a study that has to be good, even if it’s a cover. And that means one Nathaniel Whaler. I want to spend time with you, but I don’t want to make you a target. I told you that this could be very hazardous.”

“You’re perfectly willing to be a target, dear Nathaniel. And it appears as though we both already are—again.”

“I knew that came with the territory. Has for a long time.”

“You don’t think I didn’t know it came with the territory when I left everything to come to Accord—even before that mess at the port? I think I love you, Nathaniel, but I still won’t be a kept woman.” Sylvia’s slate gray eyes caught Whaler’s, held them. “I know I can help.” She offered a faint smile.

“You
think
you love me? You came all this way…and you think…” The sandy-haired Ecolitan shook his head.

“You didn’t ask me for a contract. You didn’t even say you loved me. You provided everything, and I know that…I know you care. I had to choose, then. There wasn’t a second chance. Was there?” Her lips quirked upward. “There almost wasn’t a first chance.”

“You could have…” He paused. Would the I.I.S. really have let her go, if they’d had time to find out and react? Would the Coordinate authorities have been so lenient if he hadn’t just delivered an agreement that staved off an interstellar war? He pursed his lips, then shook his head. “You’re right.”

“That’s one of the many things I can say I love about you.”

“What?”

“Behind that secret-agent-economist front…you actually listen.”

Nathaniel wondered. Did he?

“You do, and I’m going with you.”

“So long as you keep up your lessons on what you don’t know about Accord.”

“That’s another thing I like about this place.” She offered the tentative smile that he always found so enchanting.

“The lessons?”

“People take me at my word.”

“Not everyone on Accord does. Ecolitans try to. People in Harmony or on the Peninsula are pretty much the same as in the Empire. Maybe a little more open, but it makes sense to trust people at first. Most of the time, anyway.”

“That’s an odd way of putting it.”

“Not really. It’s something the Prime emphasizes. I guess every Prime has. It goes with the job. If you distrust people, they pick up on it, and that leads them to distrust you. Since human society is based on trust, and since the greater the reinforced trust, the freer a society can be, it makes sense to create a society where trust is reinforced. That’s one of the perpetual conflicts between the Institute and the politicians.”

Sylvia raised her eyebrows, gray eyes inquiring.

“Politicians want to nail everything down. If there’s a murder or a scandal, they immediately want to make another law, conduct another study, do
something
to prove it isn’t their fault. All those laws reduce freedom and trust.”

“How does the Institute handle it?”

“We tell the truth. If we don’t want to say more, we don’t. We try not to mislead.”

“That’s why you limited my briefing to the actual facts?”

“The Prime was insistent that you not have his speculations or mine. He’s worried enough that he wants you as an independent check, and that means that the stakes are high. He’s afraid our background may mislead us.”

“A definite backhanded compliment.” Sylvia’s lips quirked. “And what does the Institute do to its own members who violate such high principles?”

“Effectively, either exile or death, depending on the severity of the problem. We impose the same standard on the politicians.”

Sylvia winced.

“Look, if you want people to trust one another, you have to protect them from those who abuse their trust. Personal profiles indicate most people don’t change, and you have to base a society on the most probable patterns. Trying to create formalized exemptions only encourages people to find other ways to abuse trust legally. The Institute has to set and maintain a higher standard. That’s part of the reason why we don’t engage in politics. That’s why an economic study that’s a cover still has to be first rate.”

“The other parts?” she asked.

“No matter what anyone says, politics doesn’t work without compromise. Most people aren’t strong enough to not be affected by the continuing pressure of daily compromise. Politicians are generally worse than the average person because they need the adulation, and that makes them more susceptible to ethical compromise and abuse of the public trust. The Institute acts as a brake, partly by example, and partly because the politicians know we reserve the right to protect the public interest. That’s why we have to follow the Iron Rules. That’s the Ecolitan Enigma—the riddle of how to maintain enough power to ensure ethics, yet not to be corrupted by that power.”

“You reserve the perpetual right to overthrow the government? That’s worse—”

“No. Not the government. Not the form of government. We reserve the right to remove any politician who abuses public trust or who would narrow the institutional freedoms set forth by the Charter.”

“That’s worse meddling in politics than running for office.”

Nathaniel shook his head. “It’s happened five times in four centuries. The Institute doesn’t like to exercise that power, and every Prime who has done so resigned immediately. Two voluntarily exiled themselves.”

“The threat of such a power has to be chilling. I don’t know.”

“It is chilling,” Nathaniel admitted. “It’s intended to be. The first post-Secession Prime made the point that government must always serve all the people, not just a handful and not the other way around, and that the Institute would guarantee that balance.”

“I still don’t know.” Sylvia shook her head.

“You’re right to question. I did at first.” Nathaniel hesitated, wondering whether to hit her with the rest of it. He swallowed before he spoke. “There’s more.”

“More?”

“The Institute reserves the right to act first, as we did on Old Earth.” He rushed on, wanting to get it over with. “Look, historically, governments and people are reactive. They have to depend on popular consensus of some sort. That means that when a tyrant or a madman or a system looks evil, they have to wait. It’s been the same throughout history. There’s this feeling that you can’t use applied or deadly force to head off a disaster because you can’t absolutely prove there will be a disaster. So…Accord couldn’t act against the Empire in the Secession until the Empire destroyed the entire planet of Sligo and millions of people. In the Marundan rebellion, the Empire couldn’t act until after five million Mareks had been slaughtered in Marunda’s processing camps. Yet Marunda had published a manifesto detailing his plans. There was already documentation of over fifty thousand deaths. The Imperial Senate refused to act.” Nathaniel shrugged.

“You’re telling me that you—the Institute—has the almighty wisdom to predict the future?” Her eyebrows rose.

“Not always. Sometimes. We…assassinated two dozen radical political operatives being supplied by the Empire on Hernando. It prevented a coup and bloody civil war. The system is regenerating.” He shrugged. “It seems to me that doing that was better than military action after thousands were killed.”

“That’s like playing god.”

“Is it? Is it worse to do nothing so that you can claim you are justified to act after thousands or millions die? When even more people die and suffer?”

Sylvia shook her head. “Delusions of grandeur.”

“Why do you think the standards are so high for Ecolitans? We don’t take it lightly. We’re willing to take responsibility for acting before the fact. Sometimes, we’re wrong. So is everybody. But if we’re wrong, a few people die. Following the traditional course ensures that thousands and millions die.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying this.” She glanced out across the flower beds. “Governments can’t do that. They’re designed with checks and balances.”

“The Institute isn’t a government, and we are a check on governments. The checks on governments are largely designed to preserve their institutional acceptability to the public. That means a government can do anything its people don’t actively oppose—like massacring millions of dissidents, taking over powerless adjoining systems, and killing any troops that oppose them.”

“You’re implying that people are responsible for the actions of their government, no matter how despotic and tyrannical.”

“Sylvia, has any government ever stood against a people where a majority were actively willing to fight against it? There isn’t an instance in recorded history.” He shrugged. “If a people has the means to stop a slaughter, warfare, or whatever…and doesn’t…if they allow the government to carry out atrocities, don’t they share in the responsibility?”

“How would they know?”

“There’s no legal system anywhere, that I know of, where participation in a crime is excused out of ignorance.”

“Either you’re crazy, or I am.” Sylvia shook her head. “I don’t know.”

Nathaniel forced a laugh. “Sorry. I’m too much of an ethical evangelist, and I’m throwing too much at you too quickly. Back to the Artos problem?”

His question got a nod from Sylvia…a very tentative nod. She was clearly stunned at his statements, but saying more wouldn’t help, not now.

“I can’t believe that the Avalonians want an Ecolitan economist, except as a cover, and we don’t know what the study is a cover for. Who uses economic studies, anyway?” Nathaniel shifted his weight on the bench, all too conscious of the mixed fragrances of orange and trilia.

“They don’t say
why
they need this study.”

“No, they don’t. There are several possibilities. First, the government needs an outside evaluation that will be impartial. The Institute’s impartiality is recognized, enough that almost fifteen percent of our income is derived from that sort of consulting.”

“That much?”

“It’s not widely talked about because those who use us don’t want to admit they can’t trust their own people to be objective and because if we advertised, that would destroy some of the basis of that impartiality.” He offered a wry smile. “Second, it’s a test for something bigger, to see how good we are and to give them a feel. The Institute hasn’t done any projects for New Avalon in more than a century, and there may be some hard feelings from the Trezenian mess.”

“Accord backed the rebels, rather successfully, I recall.”

“No, the Institute did. The Coordinate looked the other way.”

“How? Why?”

“The New Avalonian government had imposed an Imperial-style reeducation team on the planet. We don’t like that, and the local merchants offered to pay us and grant an open-trade agreement to the Institute and Accord. We insisted on a veto power over any provisions of their proposed constitutional charter we thought were too restrictive.”

“You do meddle in other people’s politics. All the time, it seems.”

“Not exactly. We don’t insist on copies of our system. Our price is always the same. Freedom of the people to choose their government, but with the unconditional freedom of people to leave.”

“That’s meddling.”

“I suppose so, but we make no secret about it. Those are our terms up front. Anyway, the fact that the New Avalon government would hire us—or even allow us on Artos right now—either means that they have a large economic problem or that they want somehow to use the study against the Institute or that there’s an even bigger problem lurking in the background. That’s what we suspect, something to do with all the systems bordering the Three System Bulge. But we don’t
know
. Or there’s something we haven’t figured out yet. Or some combination of the above—all of which pose serious external diseconomies.”

“You’re sounding like an economist again. But you keep skipping over the other more personally nasty options.”

“Such as?”

“Providing a way to get rid of you permanently. Or setting you up to prove how dangerous Accord really is to the entire human Galaxy. You’ve just admitted that the Institute is the most dangerous institution in the Galaxy to every single government.”