Ecolitan Prime (Ecolitan Matter) (6 page)

N
ATHANIEL SET HIS
mental alarms for 0700. The switch to Terran standards hadn’t affected his own internal timing. He was awake at 0659.

Once in his office, he tapped several studs on the massive desk console. He hadn’t figured out all the possible button combinations yet, but with the aid of the local directory he’d called up into the console memory, he was managing to make direct calls without having Mydra or someone else place them.

“Sergel, come on over, would you?”

“Envoy Whaler, with the other Accord staff gone, matters are somewhat involved…”

Nathaniel knew he was lying. The entire Legation staff was grossly underworked.

“I can understand that. This won’t take long. I’ll be expecting you in fifteen minutes.”

Sergel Weintre arrived on time. Nathaniel couldn’t miss the dampness on his forehead.

He pointed the younger Information Specialist at one of the deep chairs. Perching on the edge of the desk, the Ecolitan stared down at the man and began in the Old American of Accord.

“First, the situation stinks. I know it stinks. You know it stinks. Second, I don’t have time to play games with you. Third, everything we say is being monitored by at least two different groups. Fourth, it doesn’t matter. Is all that clear?”

Weintre screwed up his face into a puzzled look.

“No, Envoy Whaler. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Nathaniel ignored him.

“I realize the position you’re in, but that’s between you and them. I have several questions I expect you to answer.”

Weintre shifted his weight, expression blank.

“Who stirred up the question of revision of Accord’s trade terms with the Empire?”

“It was the Emperor’s decision.”

“As I recall, my official presentation of credentials to the Emperor was largely ceremonial. And somehow I doubt that the Emperor could be greatly concerned about the terms of trade with a small third-rate system, even a former colony.”

The Ecolitan smiled pleasantly at Weintre.

“So…someone had to push. Who?”

“The order was signed by the Emperor.”

Nathaniel repressed a sigh. He pulled a compucalendar from the console drawer.

“Weintre, I really don’t have time for polite evasions. This is a lie detector, new and improved model. Now…why is the Imperial Ministry of Commerce—or is it the military crew—supplementing your already too-generous stipend?”

The Information Specialist swallowed, just once.

“This is totally out of hand, Whaler, totally. You think you can just walk in and threaten? You may have some authority, but you can’t do that!”

Nathaniel let the all-wooden dart gun slide into his hand. The weapon would not register on any known detector.

“You know, Weintre, it’s too bad you sold us out.”

“You wouldn’t…”

“I not only would, but will…. Have you ever studied the Articles of Ecological Warfare of Accord? They’ve never been suspended, you know. In matters of State, they may be called into force by any Legate or accredited representative of Accord outside the Coordinate…and executed by any Ecolitan. Not that they ever expected one to be both.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Nathaniel cocked the dart thrower and fired in one fluid motion. The dart buried itself in the chair less than a centimeter from Sergel’s left ear.

“The next one will be closer…a lot closer.”

“The Empire—”

“Can’t do a thing, except declare me persona non grata and deport me to stand trial in Harmony, where I’d be acquitted.”

Sergel needed more of a push.

“Weintre, I’m truly sorry…”

“No! Reilly-Shiroka contacted me. Aide to Lord Mersen. Helmsworth wants to throw a slide-strip into the talks, hold them up to get better terms for the Empire.”

It was the Ecolitan’s turn to frown.

“You’re making no sense at all, Sergel.”

“Look…Corwin-Smathers, staff director for Helmsworth, is out to get Commerce. We’re just a pawn to force Commerce to deal with Helmsworth’s problems.”

Nathaniel waved a halt to the flow of words.

“So why involve you? Why pay you off?”

“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 as 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.”