Empress of Eternity (6 page)

20 Ninemonth 1351, Unity of Caelaarn

When he stepped off the canal-runner outside the tube-train station in Daelmar, Maertyn scarcely glanced back at the vehicle that was little more than a steamer powered by a solar flash boiler and a biofuel boost, with a single long car attached to the antique engine. The front half of that car served for freight and the rear for passengers, both freight and passengers almost entirely destined from or to the various Reserve posts along the canal. How much longer the Unity could afford to maintain those posts was open to question.

Maertyn carried but a shoulder bag, since he had a full wardrobe at the town house in Caelaarn, in fact a far greater wardrobe there than at the station. He hitched the strap higher as he crossed the street and walked toward Haarlan’s Victualary, the third narrow front to the east opposite the tube-station arch. The first front he passed was the Outfittery—closed, as it usually was. Maertyn wondered how long the owner would even keep up the pretense of the business.

The girl sitting before the screen and behind the counter at Harlaan’s looked up as Maertyn entered.

He recognized her as Harlaan’s niece, although she was a white-blonde, so unlike her grizzled uncle. “Eylana…I’d like to order a side of lamb and a half score of fowl to be sent to the canal weather station on twoday, along with an assortment of whatever greenery and vegetables are the freshest.”

“Yes, Lord Maertyn.” While it was clear from her initial glance that Eylana hadn’t immediately recognized him, she was bright enough to deduce his identity from the order and destination, as well as his maroon and silver-gray travelsuit. “Would you like anything else?”

Maertyn considered, then nodded politely. “The same order two weeks from next twoday.”

“For the two, sir, it will be one hundred thirty-seven, including the delivery charge.”

“That will be satisfactory. Thank you.” Maertyn pressed his personal credpass against the old-style recorder. A faint chime sounded.

“Thank you, sir. We do appreciate your patronage.”

“You’re more than welcome.” He smiled politely, but warmly, before turning and leaving the victualary.

The street was nearly empty, as always, except for a steamcart headed eastward in the direction of the methane extraction works, and the associated power-generation facility. He strode across the broad expanse of composite, once necessary to handle a long-vanished rush of vehicles, to the wide sidewalk on the south side and then through the entry archway and down the ramp toward the single platform under the station, carpeted in what amounted to a form of hard-surfaced, and slow-growing, self-repairing, deep gray lichen. From the top of the ramp he could see that the left-hand side of the platform was vacant, while the three linked shimmering sleek gray cylindrical cars on the right awaited passengers.

For all that he knew Maarlyna was far safer at the canal station with Shaenya and Svorak, and the nearby Reserve guards, than in the capital, he still worried about leaving her for so long—and the fact that once he was in Caelaarn, even more unforeseen circumstances were likely to arise and delay his return. Yet he couldn’t have ignored the summons of Minister Hlaansk, pretext as it mostly likely was, not when he needed the additional equipment to have even a chance of discovering anything meaningful about the canal.

Just short of the entry kiosk and the gates that blocked unpaid entry to the trains, on the side of the platform awaiting the late-afternoon inbound train, Maertyn saw a figure in a scarlet singlesuit. He couldn’t recall when he’d seen brilliant scarlet as the sole color of apparel. The wearer looked to be a woman with short-cropped hair, either silver or white-blond, and an angular face that still appeared close to androgynous. Was she an ice-sport who’d crossed the canal to tempt some unfortunate from the dwindling population of Daelmar?

He shook his head. Despite the lore, the Unity had proven long ago that there were no ice-sports, rumors and reports to the contrary. Yet the unfounded rumors persisted.

Still…his eyes lingered on her slim figure, with only the hint of curves, just enough to suggest femininity.

In her hands was a metallic rectangle that caught light from some source he could not see…or generated its own. Her head lifted from the metallic gleam, and her eyes focused on him. For the briefest moment, her eyes seemed to linger on him before she turned and retreated back into the shadows to the north of the ramp and kiosk.

What was that about?
It was almost as though he were the ice-sport…or the oddity, rather than the lord of a distinguished, if financially diminished, line.

Maertyn hurried to the kiosk and swiped his credpass through the beam beside the gate.

“Car two, third compartment,” the kiosk announced as the deep green gate-bars recessed.

He quickly stepped through, but he couldn’t help looking back to make certain that the gate had closed behind him. There was no sign of the woman—or ice-sport—in red.

Walking deliberately, he made his way along the empty platform toward the second car.

“The train will be leaving in fifteen minutes, sir,” came the words from overhead as he stepped from the platform through the open portal into the car, a conveyance whose interior walls were brushed pewter with silvered fixtures and a piled carpet of sea green. The faintest scent of evergreen infused the air.

He moved forward until he reached his compartment and slid the recessed pewter-finished door open. The high-backed couch, upholstered in a green two shades darker than the carpet, could have seated two comfortably and three less so. The small corner desk held a built in wall screen capable of interfacing with any dataport. There was a faux-window, displaying a view of the Reserve as seen from the west side of Daelmar. The view would shift once the train got under way, showing what passengers would have seen had they been conveyed on the surface.

Maertyn set his shoulder bag on the end of the couch farthest from the compartment door, then sat down. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he had the only occupied private compartment on the train—at least until Brathym, the first stop of five on the way to the capital. There would be a handful of Reserve workers or officers in the seats of the first compartment, although most of them would depart at Brathym, where most of them had dwellings.

He turned back to the compartment door, then slid it shut. After a moment, he pressed the lock bar. He glanced to the corner desk. That could wait, although he did need to go over his presentation to the internal ministry council. Instead, he sat down in the middle of the couch, trying not to think about Maarlyna as he waited for the train to depart.

20 Quad 2471 R.E.

Eltyn virtie-scanned the MetSat images of the massive storm headed westward, well to the north and east of the MCC. Enhancements displayed points of violent weather across much of the midsection of Primia. He couldn’t do much about that, and he turned his attention to that area of the continent to the southeast and below the MCC. While the canal did have a moderating effect, the massive northern low pressure was still causing a wind shift to the south. All the indicators were that another sandstorm was already beginning to form and would sweep toward the canal station.

He thought to pulse Faelyna, but refrained. She was running the last set of tests on the equipment necessary for her approach(9). As she’d predicted, the polariton generator/imager had arrived on fourday, and the two of them had set to work reassembling and testing the equipment piece by piece. Even with both of them working, it had taken more than a week before the PG/I was ready to test, and another three days after that before the entire assembly was ready for its initialization.

He had the sense, backed by probability calculations, that they were running out of time before their TechOversight project came to the attention of someone at Ruche Meteorology, if the overseers at RucheControl didn’t ferret it out sooner. How long would that be? Days? Or a few weeks? The project was designed to discover ways to use the station to mitigate climate warming. It was something to benefit the entire Ruche. Yet it had been turned down ten years earlier as too “individualistic,” and it had taken TechOversight years to change the approach and wait for MetCom personnel to change before recrafting it.

He continued to scan the continental met-data, and the alternative weather projections ranked by probabilities, hoping that it wouldn’t be too long before Faelyna finished the last set of initialization checks.

Interrogative estimated formation of sandstorm, duration, and intensity?
The query came over the geosat monitor chief’s link, but without the petulant intensity of Laembah. The duty monitor was likely making the request for the chief.

Margin of error for estimates at this point in time exceeds half unity. Currently project Category 7, two days at full intensity, four days from now.

Report appreciated. Request updates.

Will comply.

Eltyn took another quick scan of the already fully developed northeastern storm. He shook his head. The sandstorm-to-come would be nothing compared to what was already happening across the northern midsection of the continent.

As if to punctuate his assessment, a white priority pulse seared across the command level.
URGENT NOTICE. Intense regional tornadoes across NRS have resulted in destruction of more than 28.5% of mid-continental atmospheric turbine stations. Cyclone Betar has disrupted Primia continental tidal bore stations. Nonessential energy usage is hereby declared an offense against the Ruche…

Emergency energy curtailment? That made sense in Hururia and other more populated areas, but except for comm-links, MCC MetStation (W) had no connections with any population centers either in Primia or, through the undersea links, to Secundia, and no links at all to the power grids. So how could the station’s failure to reduce energy usage be declared an offense? The local solar grids and tidal pump couldn’t be connected to anything else, and what was the point of cutting down monitoring when better observations might help?

All stations must certify compliance with RucheCom directive to appropriate authority…and list steps to eliminate nonessential uses…

Idiots
⁶
, pulsed Faelyna, irritated at being interrupted, since command-level links overrode all privacy barriers.

Frightened/worried idiots
⁶
, returned Eltyn.

Idiots, nonetheless.

Definition of nonessential??? [dry humor] To what, The Fifty’s sense of propriety and equalization?

Don’t even inquire
, replied Faelyna.
Especially on RucheNet.

She was right about that, too, although he was anything but that foolhardy.

MCC MetStation (W) certifying reductions
, Eltyn pulsed to Met-Control.
No power downloads from grid this time. None required in immediate future.

Report and certification received, MCC MetStation (W).

Eltyn waited for any further reply. There was none.

After several moments, he returned his attention to the meteorology screens. The station was still receiving satellite feeds. That made obvious sense, since shutting down orbital solar collectors wouldn’t help the planetary power grids in the slightest. At least someone in Meteorology had some intelligence and understanding of reality. So far.

He leaned back, for only for a moment.

Pulse anomaly detected and blocked
, the local system announced.

Supply specifics
, Eltyn immediately shifted full attention to the local-net defenses.

Pulse on GeoMet tertiary…

The single pulse had been a probe, not a snake or a full-spectrum assault, and it had not been followed by any other activity. Who even cared about an isolated MetStation system…unless they knew the true reason why Eltyn and Faelyna had been assigned? Only TechOversight knew that, or so Eltyn hoped.

Or had the pulse been one of many triggered by the announcement of power reductions across the RucheNet?

Eltyn pulsed Faelyna.
Local net intrusion probe…
He flashed the details to her and waited for her response.

Possible RF snoop?

Why would the fanatical and secretive RucheFirst want to probe an isolated MetStation?
You think they’ve infiltrated TechOversight?

Negative. They wouldn’t need a probe then
, she pointed out.

They must have found out something. Or RF is using power-down as opportunity.

[affirmation…regret/sadness] Shows fear level within commonality. Negative on reporting attempted intrusion.

Eltyn appreciated her quick understanding, both technically and politically. He did enjoy being with her, but in pulse-linked situation, the barriers against mental closeness were all too necessary. Lowering them…He pushed that thought aside.
[agreement…affirm regret…apprehension] Interrogative system tests for approach(9)?

Complete by 1540. All green so far.

Was there a wistfulness behind her pulse?
Time required to run initial protocol?

One point five hours. After that…????

Interrogative possible modifications?

Sufficient
²
for the eventualities foreseen to date.

Neither mentioned that there were always more eventualities, or that the most optimistic prognosis could only bear a low probability of success. None of that included the increasing climatic chaos that swirled around them and the station. Or the cracks and stresses in the Ruche Commonality, cracks that TechOversight was trying to patch with improved techniques and systems, and that fundamentalists like RucheFirst were trying to exploit in order to turn society toward a lower-tech, lower-environmental footprint…at least until the sand buried everything.