The ethos effect, p.25
The Ethos Effect, page 25
“What are the Revs really like? Do you know what Orum is like?”
“You can meet Revs anywhere these days, and they all act in similar patterns.” Desoll shrugged. “The Jerush system is closed to outsiders. You have to be a believer, and pass a gene scan in order to set foot on Orum.”
“Oh... I didn’t...”
“They try to keep that quiet. It’s not unprecedented. Other faiths throughout history have imposed similar restrictions.”
“What can you tell me about Orum? Isn’t that where they have their grand temple.”
Desoll laughed. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen holos... they broadcast them everywhere, with the eight towers soaring into the sky, gleaming white symbols of purity and faith.”
“You don’t sound terribly impressed.”
“I’m not I’m Eco-Tech, remember, and we lost millions of people fighting off their military missions. A gleaming symbol of purity and faith built on millions of bodies over centuries ... that doesn’t exactly impress me.”
“I assume they didn’t literally build...”
“Oh, no. Wystuh is a very clean and beautiful city, with white stone walls, and well-dressed and polite people.” Desoll stopped. “At least, that’s what those who’ve been there say, and what the holos show.”
For a moment, Van had been convinced that Trystin had spoken from personal experience.
“Just the sort of symbol and city for a people convinced that God has appointed them stewards of the Galaxy, righteous in their beliefs of such.”
“Don’t we all like to think we’re right?” Van pointed out.
“You’re correct about that. The Coalition, just to illustrate your point, is trying to convince itself that the problem of the Revenants will go away—or that it’s someone else’s problem. So far, thankfully, most people don’t believe that as an article of faith, but I do worry that will happen. There’s a significant difference between thinking we’re right, or trying to rationalize what we do as right, and believing without hesitation or question that what we do is right.”
Van thought about that. Here he was discussing ethics with a man who was piloting an expensive ship, who personally ran a foundation larger than many multis, and who seemed to know more about his background than did the RSF. And the man had had Van’s implant repaired and upgraded by an alien who also had wanted to discuss ethics. There was a clear connection, but Van didn’t see where it led. “Both you and Dr. Fhale seem quite into ethics.”
“It’s very important to the Farhkans. It ought to be important to humans, but it’s something observed more in the breaking than in the supporting.”
“Why do you think so?”
“Because, in the long run, there’s nothing more important than understanding ethics. Can you think of anything else?”
Van stopped to think. Anything more important than ethics?
Desoll stood. “When you’re finished, we’ll delock and head out for Kush. We could have left earlier, but I wanted you to feel the departure, because the next time you come back here will be in your own ship.”
Van hurried through the omelet, a biscuit, and another cup of café. He figured out the sanitary setup in the galley, did his own dishes, then washed up before heading forward.
Desoll’s stateroom door was open, and Van glanced inside, then stopped, taking in the space. The commander’s cabin was more than twice the size of Van’s, with an even wider bed, a double closet, and bookshelves over the couch—with restrainers for the antique volumes. Through another door was a large bathroom-fresher. One corner of the main stateroom was an office with comm and console equipment that would have been appropriate to either a flag officer or a managing director of one of the largest multilateral—but then, Van realized, Desoll was the managing director of what amounted to a good-sized multi.
He just looked for a moment before moving ahead to the cockpit and strapping himself in.
Here are the protocols for the Elsin, Desoll offered, across the link. They can only be used by me or you or Nynca. There’s a limited key for Eri and the techs, in case of an emergency, but under all but those circumstances, the IIS ships are totally implant-controlled Van locked in the keys, both through his improved implant, and into his memory the hard and concentrated way.
Desoll leaned back in the left seat Go ahead. Spend some time exploring the systems before we notify control.
Thank you. Van did. First he traced all the command lines, then the power system. That was the first surprise. The Elsin’s had photon nets with more projection than the Fergus had, not that much greater, but considering that the IIS ship massed considerably less... Then Van discovered that the converters and accumulators were oversize, and that the fusactors were as well. That was nothing compared to the shock when he discovered that the Elsin was armed—with twin torp bays.
How many torps?
Desoll grinned. Don’t have weapons on this vessel, Commander. We have enhanced message torps. How many enhanced message torps? Just twenty.
Twenty torps—as many as a corvette carried.
Van studied the screens as well, then turned to Desoll. “Effectively, you’ve got a light cruiser here. Does anyone know?”
“Outside of the IIS crews, and the builder, there’s not a living soul who does. The torp bays are standard message torp bays. Most ships only have one, but two wouldn’t be considered that strange for what we do, since we could need a backup bay. Our torps do fit message torp configurations. They come from an armaments’ outfit in Keshmara who thinks that we’re a black Coalition outfit,” Desoll added. “The screens are equivalent to a battle cruiser’s for about ten minutes. Then, they’ll shred at that intensity.”
“You have three ships like this?”
“The Salya’s not quite as powerful. Your ship has slightly larger fusactors and more powerful drives.”
“What’s it called?”
Desoll looked at him. “I thought I’d leave the name to you. We can’t register until we take possession.”
Van remained half-dazed. He was being handed command of a vessel that almost could have taken over the entire system of Scandya by a man he scarcely knew.
“You scarcely know me,” Desoll said softly. “I know you somewhat better.”
Van stiffened.
“Coalition implant,” Desoll said. “You’ve already guessed. I was in intelligence at the end of my time in Service. Enhanced hearing. I can pick up some subvocalization. It’s too tiring to do for long. You could, too, if you work at it.”
What have I gotten myself into? Van looked blankly ahead, at the holo projection of the stars, presumably as seen from where they were docked to the Farhkan station.
Ready?
I’m ready, Van affirmed. As ready as he’d ever be. Eri, strap in and stand by for departure. “Yes, ser. Ready for departure.”
The ship grav dropped to nil, and the fusactors went from standby into power-up mode. Van could sense all that, now, as the commander ran through the checklist.
Farhka Station Two, Coalition ship Elsin, standing by for departure.
Ship Elsin, we are releasing locking. You are clear for departure.
Desoll offered just the faintest touch to the steering thrusters, and the Elsin eased away from the Farhkan station.
Through his implant, Van used the scanners and monitors to study the alien station—a creation that hung in orbit around the moon of a gas giant, well away from the star’s habitable zone. The station was trapezoidal—effectively a four-sided truncated pyramid—whose surface blended into the visual background and which radiated no energy. By the time the Elsin was only a handful of klicks away, even the ship’s instruments were having a hard time discerning the station.
Are their ships like that? Nonradiating?
Yes. You can’t find them unless they’re using projected screens or drives. I understand they have internal screens inside the outer hull as well.
Van watched until they were well clear of the station.
You have the conn, Commander, Desoll said. You need a little practice. Just move her up to full nets and full acceleration. You need to have a feel for full power —
I have the conn, ser.
As he linked more deeply with the Elsin, Van felt the shock drop away as he began to enjoy the responsiveness and the sheer power of the ship, a vessel with the grace and maneuverability of a corvette, but with the power of a light cruiser, if not more.
Even though Desoll had used piracy as a rationale, the Elsin had far more than it needed to escape renegades. Van did not want to ask why the Elsin—or the ship that would be his—would need such power. Not yet.
But, sooner or later, he would have to. That he also knew.
Chapter 42
Van and Desoll stepped through the golden exit doors of the shuttle terminal and out into blazing white light. Van squinted. The midsummer sun of Sulyn was bright but the light falling across Kurti, capital of Meroe, was even more brilliant—and it was only midmorning, and they were under a roofed portico of pale greenish white stone.
“Bright,” Van murmured, realizing the inanity of the comment as he spoke.
“At midday, it’s hard to see anything without bioadjustment or dark goggles,” Desoll said.
As they walked, Van looked ahead for groundcars or shut-ties or some form of transport. He could feel the slightly heavier gravity of Meroe, and the thicker and more humid atmosphere. He wondered how Emily was taking the heavier gravity. He hoped he’d have time to stop and see her, perhaps after they took care of the financial necessities.
“No groundcars?”
“They don’t use them in the cities. There’s a guideway induction rail plaza ahead.”
A series of small domed cars, each able to take ten people, waited through an archway.
Desoll flashed a card past the scanner—twice. “I’ve paid for you as well. We’ll get you a card account here, and then you can add systems to it as you go. I’d have preferred to do that first but Miryam is meeting with a potential client this afternoon, and I did want you to meet her.”
“You’re the managing director.” As he entered the lead car behind the older man, Van glanced around, but no one was near them. When the door closed and the guideway car began to move, he asked, “How many systems are on your card?”
“Over a hundred. The cards are linked to your implant I have yours, but it’s not activated. They just look like a standard datacard, but the advantage is that no one else can use it. Your ship will have the records of your card, and you can create a duplicate if yours gets lost”
“I see.” Van was half-stunned by the thought that IIS datacards were casually accepted in hundreds of systems. He glanced out the windows of the small car. Even with the polarized shielding, everything was bright. The guideway was flanked with neatly shaped bushes with needlelike leaves. Beyond the bushes was a space of grass, and then a park on either side of the guideway, with winding walks composed of white stones. Beyond the guideway park were buildings, structures set in clusters. Both the number of buildings in each cluster and their spacing, height, and size varied greatly, although none looked to be more than ten stories in height. A number, here and there, resembled step pyramids, but others were just featureless shapes. None had projections. From what he saw, Kurti was certainly unlike any other city Van had visited.
The guideway car curved off the main guideway and along a much narrower strip of parkway, westward toward a set of three step pyramids, one of a pale golden stone, another of a deep green, and the third of green-tinged white. The car stopped, and the doors opened. Van followed Desoll along a walkway bordered by low spiny plants with blazing yellow flowers. The walkway led to a square arch at the base of the greenish white step pyramid. As he walked closer, Van could see that the building did have windows, but they were disguised by holo projections that created the image of solid stone walls.
The shade of the entry was a relief to Van. Beyond the vaulted entry was an inside colonnade, flanked with greenery. Desoll followed the bricked walkway for another twenty meters before turning left and approaching a trapezoidal door that slid open into a recess as the two approached.
A dark-skinned, muscular woman almost as tall as Van turned as the two men entered. Her broad and welcoming smile showed brilliant white teeth. “Trystin, as punctual as ever.” Her eyes went to Van. “You must be Commodore Albert.”
“Retired,” Van replied.
“I’m Miryam Adullah.” She continued to study Van.
“Miryam is one of the best planetary directors in IIS,” Desoll said. “And the most imposing.”
“You’re always filled with compliments,” Miryam responded. “I love it when you show up.” Her laugh was deep and rich and full.
“She tells me what I need to know, whether I want to hear it or not.” Desoll smiled.
“That’s what planetary directors are supposed to do.” Miryam gestured toward another trapezoidal doorway, beyond which was a circular conference table with five chairs.
After the three had seated themselves, Desoll spoke. “We won’t be here long, and I wanted you to meet Commodore Albert because I don’t know when he’ll be back here. He’ll probably be covering the more spinward planetary offices.”
“Making him take the long jumps?”
“Not all of them.”
Miryam turned to Van. “Trystin is very serious. I always tell him that it wouldn’t hurt him to laugh more.” She paused. “You’re the serious type, too. I can tell.”
Van grinned. “Sometimes. I have a sister like you.”
“Was she in the RSF, too?”
“Hardly. She’s a university professor. Her partner’s a doctor.”
“Parmer? You look like you came from a regular orbit.” Van shook his head. “That’s me. My fathers... one’s an advocate, and the other’s a singer and opera director.” Miryam looked to Desoll. “I see why you wanted me to meet him. First time you’ve brought in anyone that has real blood in their veins.”
Desoll lifted his hands in a helpless shrug before grinning. “It wouldn’t matter who I brought in. You’d still find a way to abuse me.”
“I have to. No one else will.” But Miryam was smiling as broadly as Trystin.
Desoll’s smile faded. “Is there anything I need to know or you need me to do?”
“Not this time. You know I’m meeting with Serangao in an hour—less than an hour. They like the idea of outside resources behind the office, but they want those resources well behind and out of sight. They play on the idea of using local sources and talent.”
“That’s fine,” Trystin replied. “Play it the way you think best”
Miryam looked to Van, then Desoll. “How long will you be here?”
“We’re leaving late this afternoon. We’ve got an urgent deliverable on Keshmara.”
“Too bad.” Miryam smiled at Van. “If I could take the commodore to G’zai’s, it wouldn’t hurt IIS at all.”
“Next time,” Desoll said.
Miryam looked to Van. “You heard it. That’s a promise.”
“She never forgets,” Desoll said with a laugh.
“And aren’t you glad?” Miryam rose from the table. “I’m sorry about the timing.”
“Things happen that way,” Desoll acknowledged, also standing.
“She’s rather impressive,” Van said, once they were out of the office and walking back along the colonnade.
“Formidable,” Desoll corrected. “She’s personally responsible for bringing in every major client we have here. Meroe is one of our most successful and profitable operations, and that’s despite the fact that the Kushite systems need our services less than most independent systems do.”
“What...” Van didn’t complete the sentence.
“IIS supplied the capital she couldn’t have gotten otherwise. She was from the Pharsi clan, and historically they’ve been looked down on as poor risks. I didn’t think so. She was a skinny little girl, but she always had that drive. She’s never forgotten.” Desoll stopped at the guideway gate, which opened shortly.
“Now where?” asked Van, as they boarded the small car.
“The Nabatan Trust, to take care of those financial matters.”
The guideway car ride was but a few minutes, and the car came to a halt at a covered concourse outside another of the white step pyramid structures.
Van followed Desoll along a covered but open portico that led to the main entrance of the building. Once inside, Desoll turned to his left, away from an open lobby with various public consoles, and down a narrower corridor to a console that stood before the closed gate blocking the ramp beyond. He entered a code and spoke. “Trystin Desoll for Daidae Mubarca. Accompanied by Commander Van Albert.”
After a moment, the gate opened, and Van followed Desoll past the single guard, who stood behind a second screen and nodded politely at the pair. The two men walked up the stone ramp, a surface that looked perfectly smooth, yet provided traction for their dress boots. At the top of the ramp, they turned right, passing through an unseen security screen.
The woman who stepped from the arched doorway at the end of the corridor had dark smooth skin, short shimmering silver hair, deep gray eyes, and a welcoming smile.
“Trystin! I hadn’t expected to see you so soon again.” She gestured toward the expansive office beyond the archway, one filled with carved wooden furniture, none of it upholstered, but curved in a way that reminded Van of the Eco-Tech style, yet was clearly different.
Once inside the office, Desoll inclined his head to the woman. “Van, this is Daidae Mubarca, Nabatan Trust’s managing partner for investments.” He nodded to Van. “Daidae, this is Van Albert. He’s our new senior director, and he’ll be taking command of our newest ship.”
