Empire & Ecolitan (8 page)

“H
E'S ADDRESSED AS
‘Prime,'” noted Mera, as Jimjoy reached for the groundcar's door latch.

“Prime what?”

“Just ‘Prime.' He's the Prime Ecolitan.”

The Imperial Major shrugged, then opened the door.

“Don't worry about your bags. We'll get them to your quarters. Besides, you don't need to drag them out.”

Jimjoy released his grip. “All right…Thank you.”

“No problem, Major. No problem.”

He looked at the approaching Ecolitan, then back at the driver. “And thank you for the scenic tour.”

“Anytime, Major.” She was already looking at the driveway before her.

Jimjoy closed the door and straightened, absently deciding that, even had he been in uniform, a salute would have somehow been improper.

“Honored to meet you,” he stated, with what might have passed for a slight bow to the slender man who stood waiting.

The Ecolitan seemed several centimeters taller than Jimjoy, but whether the differential was created by an effortlessly perfect carriage or by actual physical dimensions, Jimjoy wasn't immediately certain.

“The honor is mine, Major Wright. It is not often we receive Imperial officers here at our isolated and rather provincial outpost of erudition.”

The statement was delivered by the lightly tanned man without even the hint of a smile, although Jimjoy thought he caught the hint of a twinkle in the dark green eyes as the Prime extended his hand. “Welcome to the Institute.”

“Pleased to be here. Not certain I had all that much choice, under the circumstances, but look forward to learning all about the Institute.”

“We would be more than pleased to offer what we have, although what you find may not be what you seek.”

“Mysteries within mysteries,” noted Jimjoy with a shrug.

The Prime smiled. “No mysteries. My name is Samuel. Samuel Lastborne Hall. I am called Ecolitan Hall, Prime, Supreme Obfuscator, and other terms less endearing. Also Sam, mostly by dear friends and enemies.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sam.” Jimjoy nodded again. “I've also been called by a number of names.”

“Currently…Jimjoy Earle Wright, Major, Imperial Service, or Hale Vale White, unemployed pilot?”

“Whichever you prefer. I'd prefer not to acknowledge anything.”

“I trust you will not object if we use your real name, Major Wright.”

Jimjoy felt as though he were fencing on the edge of a cliff, rather than standing on a gray stone walkway lined with a flowered hedge, and bathed in a weak sunshine that struggled through the high, thin clouds.

“Can't control what you acknowledge,” he finally admitted with a smile.

Jimjoy realized that the groundcar had not left, even though he had shut the door.

“We need to continue our talk, Major, but it's rather impolite to keep you standing here. My office is not far.”

The Prime Ecolitan turned.

Jimjoy followed.

As the two men headed back toward the low two-storied, stonewalled building, the electrocar began to whine as it rolled away toward its storage spot or next assignment. Jimjoy wondered when he would run across Mera again, or if he would.

The main doors to the Institute building, simply carved, were the old-fashioned manual type. No automatic portals for the Ecolitans.

Holding one open for Jimjoy, the Prime used just his fingertips, indicating the apparently well-designed counterbalancing of the heavy wood.

Jimjoy stepped through, then slowed to wait for his escort.

“My spaces are at the head of those stairs.”

The air was as fresh as that outdoors, if slightly cooler, and the stone underfoot was identical to that of the outdoor walkway except for the wax or plastic film that protected the interior stone and imparted a faint sheen.

Heavy, open wooden slabs, smoothed to a satin finish and protected with a transparent coating that neither was slick nor showed any signs of wear, composed the stairs.

Despite his intentionally heavy tread, Jimjoy could feel absolutely no give in the three-meter-wide staircase. He did not nod to himself at the craftsmanship, but added that assessment to those of the doors and the stonework.

Double doors to the Prime's office stood open, and the Prime made no move to close them after he and Jimjoy entered the simply furnished room.

Jimjoy had seen no one else except Samuel Lastborne Hall since leaving the groundcar.

Besides the wide one-drawered table that served as a desk, the all-wooden armchair behind it, and the three wooden straight-backed armchairs for visitors, the only other furniture in the modest room consisted of built-in bookcases, which lined all the wall space, except for three wide windows reaching floor to ceiling. The half-open tinted glass windows were flanked by simple-working inside wooden shutters. Although the woods in the room's furnishings showed differing grains, all were light, nearly blond.

The Prime gestured to the chairs before the table.

“You'll pardon me if I take the most comfortable, but these days I am not quite as limber as I once was.”

Jimjoy sat in the chair on the far right, closest to the middle window.

Smiling as he seated himself in his own chair, the Prime slowly let the smile fade.

In turn, saying nothing, Jimjoy deliberately scanned the rows and rows of bookshelves, picking up the eclectic flavor of the titles arrayed there. Most he did not recognize, but the titles showed an impressive range. At last he returned his glance to the head Ecolitan, waiting.

“Did you wonder why I met you myself? Why there were no subordinates? Or have you thought about those implications?”

“Didn't think about it one way or another.”

Ecolitan Hall smiled faintly again. “The behavior of those in power is reflected in their actions. So…perhaps I have no power.

“In any case, I would like you to consider several points while you remain here at the Institute. First, while we do believe you should stay for at least a few days, we hope you will remain longer. How long you stay is entirely up to you.”

“Not entirely,” interjected Jimjoy wryly, his attention directed at the Prime even though he could hear a flitter approaching and wanted to turn to check it out.

“True. You do owe some allegiance to a higher authority, such as it is, but you do have some leeway. It is in your interest, and in ours, for you to understand the Institute as fully as possible.

“Second, we would like you to talk to as many people as possible, as often and as deeply as you feel comfortable.

“Third, any and all classes here at the Institute are open to you, and the entire staff has been instructed to answer all your questions. Completely, I might add.”

Jimjoy continued looking past the Prime toward the bookshelves behind the man, wishing he had chosen the chair farthest from the window to be able to see the incoming flitter while still looking at the Prime.

“Completely? Doubt that. Should be at least a few secrets around here.”

The whine of the incoming flitter sounded military, with the fuller sound and overtones of maximum-performance turbines.

“There are quite a number of secrets here, Major. If you can find them, you are welcome to inform the Imperial Service of them all, should you choose to do so.”

“Assuming I were an Imperial officer…not seriously suggesting I would be able to hide anything from any superiors I might have?”

“I am not suggesting anything, Major. Your report is your report. We are providing some incentive for you to stay, and I personally feel that any additional information you obtain will be of benefit both to you and to the Institute. We should both end up profiting from the experience.”

Jimjoy returned his full attention to the Ecolitan as the flitter landed, and its turbines whispered away into silence.

“Why would such a peaceful organization as the Institute require military-style flitters? Would you care to answer questions like that?”

“Might I first inquire if that is theoretical or based upon your own observations? Or upon rumor?”

“Observation.”

“You have actually seen a military-style flitter? Here? I don't see how.” The Prime shook his head rather dubiously.

“If we're splitting neutrons, honored Prime Ecolitan, I should state that my observations have not noted an actual military flitter, but only one flitter with full military engine and lift capabilities.”

The Prime nodded. “You are well above average in your observations, as well as basically honest. It may be too bad for you that you were not born on Accord. Then again, it may be better for all of us that you were not.”

“Do I get an answer? For all the supposed openness?”

The older man shifted in the wooden armchair, smiled easily, and nodded.

“We do not operate any armed flitters at the Institute, but all our flitters are built with full armor-composite fuselages and are powered with the highest-powered turbines possible for each class. We manufacture our own fuel through a modified biological process which, although time-consuming, is based on renewable feedstocks and is relatively less expensive than synthetic fuel engineering. That process is also much cleaner in environmental terms.”

“Armor implies defense, and defense implies attacks. There are no reports of attacks.”

“Defense…true. But defense against what? Against more severe weather, against a wilder ecology in some ways, and against early breakdown. Also, there has been some sabotage, and you yourself were the subject of an armed attack.”

Jimjoy pulled at his chin. “That wasn't exactly a complete answer.”

“Your follow-up question was not based on either fact or observation.”

“So I have to know at least part of the question before anyone will answer?”

“For me, that is true, but I am sure that the students and most of the instructors will answer most of your questions, whether or not you know what you are asking about, to the best of their knowledge.”

Jimjoy grinned. “Sounds like you really want me to learn what you're doing. Either that or you don't intend for me to ever leave.”

“Major, we cannot afford for you not to return. You, Major Jimjoy Earle Wright, will return able to report and discuss anything and everything about the Institute.”

The assurance sounded absolute.

Jimjoy tried not to frown.

The Prime stood, then walked around the desk table.

In return, Jimjoy stood. “Appreciate your hospitality. And the transport.”

“Let me know personally should you find any trace of inhospitality. And I do mean that.” The Prime's handshake was firm. “Now I will be taking you to meet Ecolitan Thorson, who will take care of your quarters and any other logistical and scheduling requirements you may have while you are here.”

Jimjoy followed the Prime back down the wide wooden stairs that should have been slippery and were not, trying to keep from shaking his head.

“G
AVIN
T
HORSON,” OFFERED
the painfully thin man in greens. His freckled face and smooth complexion gave the impression of a man younger than he had to be.

“Hale White or Jimjoy Wright, depending on whose word you take,” answered Jimjoy, extending his hand.

“Major Wright, a pleasure to see you. I must admit that you look less fearsome in person than on paper.” He took Jimjoy's hand and gave it a healthy squeeze, then stepped back. His smile, like that of the Prime Ecolitan, Samuel Lastborne Hall, was open and friendly.

“Careful, Gavin,” interjected the Prime from near the doorway. “That's part of his effectiveness. All the while he looks at you guilelessly, he listens, and more important, he understands. Then he analyzes what he hears.”

“Too much credit,” said Jimjoy with a laugh.

“There he goes again. Watch out for your secrets.”

“Thought you said there weren't any, or none that I couldn't ask about.”

“Gavin will tell you anything you want to know, provided you can ask the question to show you know what you're talking about.”

Jimjoy glanced back at Thorson, who had remained next to his comparatively cluttered desk.

“The Major should have one of the standard staff rooms in the short-term quarters.”

“That's no problem. Anything else, Sam?”

The familiarity caught Jimjoy off guard.

“We don't stand on ceremony around here. I do put up with the students and junior staff calling me Prime, and I reluctantly have to insist that all the staff be accorded some deference by the students, although that's never been a problem after the first two weeks anyway.” The Prime Ecolitan nodded as he returned his gaze to the thinner Ecolitan. “The Major is a visiting lecturer and staff member. He may observe, or he may choose to share some knowledge with us. That is entirely his decision.”

The older man glanced back at Jimjoy. “Now, if you will excuse me, there are a few things still pressing on me.”

Jimjoy inclined his head and waited until the Prime had left.

“Amazing man, Sam is. Hard to believe he's nearly ninety.”

“Ninety! He looks scarcely fifty.” Jimjoy paused, then added, “Is that a benefit of Accord biotechnology?”

“Probably, but not in the way you would suppose. Diet, physical condition, genetics, and mental outlook are still the best retardants of age. Sam just comes from good stock, and he's taken care of himself.”

The Imperial Major could not restrain a skeptical glance at the gangly Ecolitan.

“Ah, yes, the Empire is concerned about our great biotechnology secrets. I only wish we had them.”

“What I've read indicates you've already done plenty.”

Thorson brushed the remark aside with a gesture as he suddenly stepped away from the puddle of sunlight where he had been standing.

“We have. We certainly have. But not with humans. We've accomplished a great deal in integrated ecologic studies, experimental plant genetic manipulation, and the development of Accord-specific plant crossbreeds. We've even managed some limited tissue clones and some success in suppressing the genetic reaction syndrome. But conquer the aging process? Hardly. Do you have any idea how complex that is?” The fussy-looking Thorson nodded his head. “Now, I need to get you to your quarters, and we need to get you some greens. Street clothes just won't do, and while we could probably find Imperial uniforms, I doubt that you really want to wear them, not after that nasty incident in Harmony.”

“Greens would be fine.”

“Come along, then. After that, I need to have you assigned an I.D. number and plugged into the information net for schedules, library access, and all the little details that you need to know about. Then there's an account to use your funds…”

“Details…?” But Jimjoy was talking to the Ecolitan's back. He turned to follow the thin man.

Thorson bounded down the wide stairs two at a time, his feet scarcely seeming to touch the wood.

Jimjoy felt like his steps shook the building.

“Where—”

“First, your quarters, where Mera should have put your bags.”

Jimjoy had wondered about that, but had let the young woman take his bags, particularly since there was nothing absolutely vital in them. While some material was convenient, it all could be replaced, with a little effort. What would be interesting was whether it was all there, and how deeply the Ecolitans had snooped.

He shook his head. It would all be there, with the seals intact.

Two doorways, two covered walkways, and what seemed a half a kay later, Thorson flapped down a corridor and flung open a doorway.

“Here you are.”

The sandy-haired man was not even breathing hard, despite the breakneck pace he had set. If an older administrator were in such good shape, what conditioning would he find in Ecolitans who could take the field? And would he find Ecolitans who were trained to take the field?

Jimjoy looked around the room, which had a single wide window and four-meter-square floor space.

“Not exactly a palace, but it should be sufficient for your stay. I am pleased to see Mera has delivered your two bags.”

Jimjoy looked down, convinced that they had not been touched. The two bags had been laid next to the narrow bed. The bed was unmade, but a set of linens and a heavy dark green quilt were folded at one end.

Beneath the window, which was closed off by blond wooden shutters, were a study table and chair. On the desk was a bronze lamp with a parchment shade. The chair was carved and straight-backed. Both table and chair were of matched bronze woods, slightly darker than the shutters.

White plaster walls lightened the room. From what Jimjoy could see, the exterior walls were solid stone, but whether the plaster had been applied directly to the stone or whether there was an extensive internal wooden support structure was another question. He wasn't immediately ready to start thumping or probing the room's walls to make that determination.

A rectangular gold rug, edged with a dark green border, covered most of the gray stone flooring. A second bronze lamp was attached to the wall beyond the foot of the bed. The bed itself was against the right, or north, wall, while a built-in closet and drawers were on the left-hand side.

Crossing the soft rug, Jimjoy walked toward the window, glancing down at the triangular design in the center of the gold central section.

“That's the Institute's emblem,” answered Thorson to the unspoken question.

Jimjoy stopped in front of the window and unhooked the shutter latch, folding the hinged shutters back against the casement. The sun light outside had begun to fade as the clouds from the west crept along the mountains.

The base of the window, more than a meter wide, stood about one and a half meters above the neatly clipped grass. The lawn sloped gently downhill toward a garden. On the far side of the garden, the ground again rose toward another single-story building, one which had the look of classrooms, or laboratories, with close-spaced and near continuous windows.

Turning back to Thorson, Jimjoy nodded. “Very pleasant. These are short-term quarters?”

“Short-term staff quarters. Provided for Ecolitans who are here for a few weeks, or at most a few months. The longer-term quarters range in size from two or three rooms with kitchen and bath facilities to separate houses in the family quarters section.”

Jimjoy nodded again.

Thorson smiled his awkward smile. “This is more central to all that's going on here, and Sam was most specific that he wanted you to be able to see everything.

“Now…I need to show you the dining area, and we need to get you over to the tailor to pick up your greens, and then to Data Central to provide you with an I.D. to use the datanet system.”

Jimjoy grinned as the tall, thin Ecolitan flew down the corridor like a giant stork. Then he shrugged, closed the door—which had no lock, he noted in passing—and followed the older man.