The Elysium Commission (33 page)

Even with the powerboosts of the space armor, it took me more than a few minutes to get out of the scout and up the ramps to the operations center from the rubble-strewn west end of the facility. Once there, I recognized the operations screens and boards immediately—even from the end of the corridor into which my last torp had provided an entry. Climbing over chunks of stone and brick and composite had me sweating heavily inside the armor. I wasn't about to take off the nanite-coated protection it provided.

A single figure remained at the console. It was Maraniss. I saw no sign of Legaar Eloi or of anyone else. Maraniss's hands moved deftly across the dials, levers, and rheostats.

Almost directly between us appeared a shimmering arch, nearly three meters high and two in width. Golden white light poured from it. Maraniss turned in my direction, but I kept moving toward him. For an instant, he stared at me. Abruptly, his hands went back to the console, where he twisted a dial. Then he jumped from the seat and took three quick steps. He vanished through the archway.

I ran toward it, then stopped. Ahead of me, veiled in a misty golden white light, stretched a city of white towers. Not a single concentric circle of shadows, but, instead, a whiteness as soft and as bright as new snow under a golden rising sun. I thought I saw a deep green sea to the right of one of the towers, but before I could be certain, the arch vanished, and I was looking at a greenish wall, splotched with dust and dirt.

Had that city been Elysium? Had he used the projection field to reach it? How? Where was it?

I shook my head. Those questions would have to wait. I turned back to the boards. At the very least I had to make sure that the projection fields were inoperative. Quickly, I dropped into the center seat, looking at the board. From what I could tell, the dial that Maraniss had turned had been a timer of some sort. I twisted it back on. Nothing happened. I reset it to zero, then noted the toggle beneath it. I flipped the toggle. The boards came alive.

Power was still available, then.

I began the diagnostics that Carle and Shannon had effectively programmed into me. After close to ten minutes, I had managed to manipulate the main projection field controls enough to create a small field just outside the damaged research facility. Moving it was clumsy, given the armor, and the delay between what I was doing and what appeared on the screens above the console boards. For all that, I wasn't about to remove the armor. It was the only protection I had. While I didn't sense anyone near, that could change any moment.

Supposedly, I was to use the field to disable the power links, but that didn't seem like a good idea with the roughness of my control. I could just as easily end up doing something that would blow up the fusactors or divert the power where it shouldn't be.

The best idea I had was to use the field to destroy the boards themselves. That would be delicate as well, especially since I was still in armor and sitting at the boards. I spent a few more minutes practicing, then took a deep breath.

I stopped. The external sensors were relaying a sound I knew all too well, the unique vibrations of a Garda flitter. There weren't supposed to be any that close.

The first rocket exploded near the west end of the building. The second was on the east end. My guts told me it had to be Javerr, either in person or by remote. I didn't have time to verify that, and no comm link. My chances of getting out against a concerted rocket attack were slim and none.

I had no idea how long the attack might continue or when other flitters might arrive and what they might do. My only practical option was to get rid of the flitter. I just hoped it was on remote rather than personally piloted, but, in a way, I didn't care. Frigging Garda idiots—or they had orders to get rid of me.

I concentrated on the projection field, just sweeping it through the sky where I thought the flitter would be. The vibrations stopped.

Reddish light flared everywhere, Then beams and masonry began to rain down around me, and the entire board before me went dead. The lights went out as well.

Before I could move from the console, something large and dark and heavy slammed into my armor.

When I finally could see and think again, I was in a medcrib. Someone stood and looked at me. The blurry vision wore an earth-toned jacket. She stood out in the dimness.

“Siendra?”

“Yes. I'm here.”

“Good.” I concentrated on looking up at her. After a moment, my vision cleared. Siendra wore a cream blouse and a warm brown jacket. Her scarf was multicolored, with a hint of brilliant greens and blues. She had circles under her eyes.

“How long?”

“You've been in the medcrib for almost a week. It's evening on Jueven.”

I didn't want to deal with that. I was alive, and so was she. “You made it back.” I fumbled and found the controls that elevated me into a half-sitting position. At that point, I realized that only monitors were connected to me. That was a good sign. I kept looking at her, taking in the line of her chin, the hazel eyes, the honest brown hair.

“I'm not a shadow.”

“I wanted to make sure.” How could I explain? “You were so set on taking me down too far. I couldn't let you do that.”

“You were incredibly arrogant, Captain. You threatened to rip holes in the corvette.”

“No captains, no majors.” I couldn't help smiling. Just seeing her face exhilarated me beyond anything I'd felt in years. “You're stubborn. You wouldn't have listened otherwise. Success would have been nothing without you.” My throat was so dry. I looked for water, or something.

Siendra handed me a beaker.

“Thank you.” The water tasted so good, but I didn't take my eyes off her.

“You would have risked Thurene?” Her voice held a mixture of something. Anger and amusement?

“I never risked Thurene.” I hadn't. On the vector I'd taken, if I hadn't made it, the scout would have obliterated the Classic Research facility and a goodly chunk of real estate around it, but that wouldn't have risked Thurene. The risks had come after I'd set down. “You know that.”

“You risked Thurene and yourself.”

Had I? Really? Probably. What could I say to that? “Better me than you.” I tried to keep the tone light.

“Oh?”

“Not a thousand ships, but a few topless towers did come down.”

“You'd risk yourself but not allow me that choice?”

“I was selfish.” I was. I would have found it hard to live if I'd survived and she hadn't. Now…I could admit that was why I'd had to rescue Brooke. Except my feelings for Siendra were far stronger.

“You'd better never call me Helena…or even Marguerite.”

“Never.”

“The scout was absolutely drained of power. You cut matters close.”

“Not as close as you would have.” I couldn't help smiling as I looked at her.

Her face remained pleasantly noncommittal.

“Did it work? I mean, to keep the Assembly and the Frankans out of the system?”

“There were complaints about all the power blackouts, but both the space service and the Frankans are treading gently. The space service discovered just how large the massed Frankan fleets were and decided against attacking. The Frankans withdrew quietly. No one's saying why, but I imagine it has to do with the removal of a certain installation without a trace.”

Her smile turned sardonic. I even liked that.

“The official explanation is that a large section of a private estate was destroyed by an asteroid fragment in an untracked orbit that intersected the ecliptic almost vertically. The publicly available satellite tracking scans aren't precise enough for anyone to dispute that, and since Legaar Eloi isn't exactly popular, the destruction of his estate didn't exactly raise public outrage.”

“Was he there?”

“No.” The enigmatic smile returned. “He and his brother Simeon were on Firenza. Both of them died of a virulent form of food poisoning. Either that or a Frankan assassination for default on a significant commercial loan. Such occurrences are less than unusual on Firenza. No one is terribly upset.”

I couldn't help but wonder if Odilia had played a role in that. I doubted I'd ever know and wasn't sure I wanted to.

“What about Maraniss?” she asked. “Do you know what happened to him? The Garda couldn't find any trace of him. Or of Officer Javerr. He was the one who led the follow-up.”

“Javerr was the one who put all the rockets into the ops center while I was inside. He got caught in the backlash of the projection field.” That was as good a way to put it as any and better than Javerr deserved. “Maraniss fled through the field. Somehow, he'd found or created a city with white towers. I think that was his Elysium. When I reached the ops center, he was alone at the boards. There was an archway…and golden white light was coming from it. He ran through the archway. I started to follow. Something told me to stop. I could see the city and a deep green sea. Then the archway vanished.”

Siendra nodded. She didn't even look skeptical.

“What was it?” I asked.

“Colonel Carle thinks he created a pocket universe. He would have used the Hawking field to inflate it to a full parallel universe.”

“And now?”

“Without that kind of power, it will slowly deflate. No one knows how long that would take. Years, decades…centuries.” She shrugged.

“They can't locate it?”

“The rockets destroyed enough of the center that the power links were severed. There were no coordinates stored anywhere. Besides, if the Hawking link had been completed, there was a good chance it might have started a deflation of our universe. No one wants to risk that by searching for it.”

“Universe savers…that's us.”

“I'd rather we skipped the delusions of grandeur. Too many people have them as it is.”

She was right about that as well.

“The rest of us are better off with them dead or gone.”

“Neither you nor I was the one who made those decisions; nor would it have been for the best had we done so.”

Neither you nor I. Neither you nor I. The words reverberated in my thoughts, the elegant words that were so hers. Finally, I understood what my subconscious had been trying to tell me for weeks. Either…or…Neither…nor. The same constructions in all three writers. I smiled even more broadly. “Do you prefer Terrie, Carey, Marley, or Siendra?”

“From you…Siendra.”

“I looked everywhere except where I should have.”

“I hid beside Krij.”

“She was the one who created Donacyr D'Azouza, wasn't she?”

“I was furious when I found that out.” For the first time, she actually looked angry. “I almost broke the partnership up over that. I told her I would if she did anything more. Regardless of
any
consequences. That was why you never heard from him again.” Siendra shook her head.

“Krij…she wanted the best for both of us. Will you keep on with the partnership…now?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On you.”

“Me? You're suggesting that I become part of…everything?”

She nodded again. She was trying to keep from smiling.

“What will the Soror Tertia say?”

“You already know. Who better to add?”

“Blackmail…on two levels.” But I understood. Krij was Krij, and Siendra was Siendra, and both had to have everything personal in the open. So did I. Anything other than a three-way professional partnership would leave someone out. “Do we all get registered legal identities?”

“We don't need them.” Siendra smiled. “Who would dare to steal yours?”

She waited.

“Sign me up…should have done it years ago.” I stifled a yawn and grinned. “Except I wouldn't have found you.” Or Krij wouldn't have. Or Fiorina Carle…or whoever.

“I found you. I just didn't do anything about it until you noticed me.”

I wasn't about to admit that I'd been so stupid and stubborn that it wouldn't have worked out any other way—or that my big sister had been wise enough to get me to look.

Despite my best intentions, I was yawning again.

“You're still tired.”

“All I've done is sleep.”

“You had to heal. You had massive bruises all over your body.” She reached out and covered my right hand with hers.

Heal? I'd had to heal in more ways than one.

I could feel my eyes closing, but it didn't matter. She'd be there.

Siendra looked at me across the breakfast table.

“I finally figured out who my actual client is.”

Her brow furrowed. “Your client? Which one? We were talking about changes to the master suite.”

“Oh…the Wayles inheritance. I mostly had it figured out while we were training. When you said that intelligence types had the same rights and restrictions as sisters. You'd already as much as admitted that Astrid Forte was an intelligence type. She had to be the one who stopped Legaar Eloi from infiltrating the TFA for access to body types and clone source tissue, or whatever. According to the inheritance code, she cannot inherit while she is an operative, but the bequest stays open for a minimum of 301 years if she can't be located. There were three heirs. Her half brother died in Assembly service, and if Vola Paulsky—”

“Vola Paulsky?”

“The other half sister named in the bequest. If she can get Stella/Astrid declared as a beneficiary while she's still an operative—”

“Vola gets it all,” Siendra pointed out. “So she commissioned you because it's a crime knowingly to name an intelligence operative, and she had to know. What will you do?”

“I'll just send a polite note to Vola saying that I'd been engaged in a search for her half sister before I discovered the true circumstances. When I did, I realized that pursuing the commission would be committing a felony, as would be any effort to bring her half sister's name into any legal proceeding designed to disenfranchise her, even by siblings with the best intent. And I thought she'd like to know that so that she wouldn't inadvertently run afoul of the law.”

“She'll disclaim it all.”

“I'm sure she will. I'm also certain that she won't pursue it, and that Astrid will have the option of claiming the inheritance if she ever leaves the service of the Soror Tertia.”

“You have a luncheon today?”

“Tomorrow. A new client…I think. A reference from the great-granddaughter of La Principessa Tozzi.”

“I'm glad I won't be there.”

“It will be fine.” And it would be, as it had been with the Tozzis, in the end, although that commission, as with everything in Thurene, had proved that nothing was ever quite what it seemed.

Incoming from Krij.

I looked to Siendra. She nodded. She could have accepted, because she was now linked to Max and the vidlink had been to either of us.

Accept.

The holo projection appeared to one side of the breakfast table. Krij's cool green eyes went to Siendra, then to me. “I see you're both decent. That's almost a disappointment. You've only been married two weeks.”

“Don't push it, sister dear.” I managed not to laugh.

Siendra smiled, choking back laughter.

“I'd like to come over this afternoon, around four, to discuss a possible new client.”

“Who might that be?” asked Siendra.

“Banque de L'Ouest. Apparently…” Krij drew out the word ironically. “…the former vice director of entertainment and leisure created a number of irregularities…”

As Krij talked, I linked to Max.
Find out what happened to Antonio diVeau, vice director of entertainment and leisure at Banque de L'Ouest.

Max came back immediately, and I scanned the short obituary. About the time Siendra and I had begun our simulator training, Tony's groundcar had suffered a nanite shield malfunction that had crushed him to death when he'd been working late. His body hadn't been discovered until long after any resuscitation would have been possible.

“…The managing director is interested in how we might be able to get them back into compliance with a minimum of publicity and public notice…”

This time, I nodded to Siendra.

“Four would be fine,” Siendra confirmed.

“Good.” With that, Krij was gone.

“I thought you knew about that,” Siendra said.

“Tony? No. I must have missed it. Who did it, do you think?”

“It could have been ordered by either Eloi. When the Frankan shell corpentity pulled their funds after the death of both Elois, all their affiliated businesses collapsed. Matrix picked up some of the subsidiaries, but no one has touched the escort service.”

“What about the escorts?”

“They're all gone.”

Somehow, that was also like Thurene. Maybe all high-tech cultures were like that.

“And what about Maraniss?” asked Siendra, gently.

“He's locked away in Elysium. Forever.”

“That doesn't sound like such a terrible fate. Ruler of Elysium—wasn't that what he wanted?”

“Do you remember what the original Elysium was? A resting place for the heroes, a place where all had been done, and nothing more could be done, where every soul was a ghost of his or her previous self.”

Siendra waited, knowing I had more to say.

“Elysium is a miniature universe, birthed in a way from the dark energy of ours. So long as Maraniss and Classic Research held the portals open, Elysium was vital, perhaps even growing. With the links severed…” I shrugged.

“It's a living death.”

“Before that long, the brane will begin to reshape that part of itself—and there won't be any Elysium.”

“But can't Maraniss create another portal?”

“With what? He has power sources there, and he knows the theory and the equipment needed, but he doesn't have the technical infrastructure to build what he'd need—not in a lifetime, let alone in five or ten, or even twenty years. Before that, he'll be lost in the white shadows he's created.”

“How long, do you think?” Siendra mused.

“Who knows?”

Siendra reached out and squeezed my hand. I wrapped my fingers in hers for a moment. “Let's go down below.”

“You were down there last night and early this morning.”

I grinned again. “I know. Humor me.”

We walked from the breakfast room to the study and down the hidden circular staircase. I let Siendra go first.

Filling the underground hangar was the darkness and the angled stealth curves of the latest Special Operations–style nightflitter. I'd been surprised at the delivery late yesterday. A ferry pilot from Thurenan Arms had flown in and requested clearance to land. He'd handed me all the dataflats and manuals, saluted, and left as quickly as he could by the regular flitter that had trailed him. He had barely looked at me.

The new model was slightly over twenty-five meters in length, with more than a few features that I could never have afforded or obtained on my own—such as rockets and a gun that fired nanite-composite shells.

“It's larger,” I mused, hiding a grin.

“It has to be,” Siendra replied. “It's configured for two pilots.”

“Was that your contribution?”

“You didn't think I was about to let you go off alone, did you? Not in an armed nightflitter.”

After admiring the gift—or reparations—of Soror Tertia and the Civitas Sorores, we turned and walked back toward the hidden staircase and up to the study. It now had two table desks and chairs in opposite corners. They matched.

Siendra turned and put her arm around my waist. We looked toward the east, where the sun stood above the courtyard walls, casting shadows across the stones, shadows that changed with the light. As Siendra and I had.