“Might I ask why an armorer?”
“There are several reasons,” Ibaio replied. “First, scrutiny of mid-and lower-level techs is somewhat less. Second, armorers have access to AG-driven message torps and regular armed torps. The torp drives have the components that can be converted to the necessary signaler.”
“Do we know anything about where this place is?”
“Distant enough to require several Gates to reach it. The details will be covered in your briefing and indoctrination, Senior Operative Goodman,” Truesdale said smoothly as he stood. “I wish you well, Goodman. You’re in Major Ibaio’s most capable hands now.”
Ibaio had risen as well. Unlike the colonel, he wasn’t smiling.
The Morning Star—the Hammer of Lucifer, or what the Sunnis called the Spear of Iblis? Why was the colonel sending an operative? Why not a crusader who was deep-programmed? I could see why he didn’t want to send a fleet directly against the Comity, especially when too many ships were tied up in finishing the pacification of the Libracracy, but a single operative?
3
Fitzhugh
After a long and frustrating battle with student preconceptions in the honors seminar about the reliability of standard historical methodologies, I stepped into my office in the History Annex and took a long deep breath. At times, I did indeed have difficulty in refraining from applying violence to those prone to incompetence.
Without thought I dropped into an alert stance as a slender man in a black singlesuit rose from the chair in front of my desk console. I had sealed my office when I’d left for class.
“Easy, Professor Fitzhugh. Jon Herrit. Comity Security. I’ve been waiting for you.”
For me? I didn’t even have to look puzzled. I hadn’t seen a Security type in years, if not decades, certainly not since I’d finished the two Service tours that had paid for my undergraduate and graduate degrees. But then, those years and what they had entailed were best left in the past. “For me? I’m afraid that I can’t be of much help to you—or Security.” I couldn’t help but wonder why so many security organizations wore black—or mostly black. Then, the black was doubtless only used when they wanted to be noticed.
“I’m certain you’ll be of great help.” Herrit smiled almost apologetically. “Before we go any further, though, I’d like to request that you check all your in-comms. That will make some matters clearer, Professor.”
I didn’t like his attitude, but I would have checked my in-comms anyway. So I settled behind the console.
The first message was from the dean, congratulating me on my success in obtaining a senior fellowship with the Comity Diplomatic Corps and granting me up to a three-year sabbatical, effective immediately at the end of the day—today. He also thanked me for obtaining the matching grant for my replacement, wished me well, and asked me to stop by for just a moment before I left. The next message was from the provost, both congratulating me and telling me how much the trustees would appreciate the outside validation of the expertise of the university faculty. The third message was from the Resources Office, noting that, during my sabbatical, my pay would continue to be posted to my designated financial institution and that all coverages would remain in full force, in addition to any coverages that I might obtain through the Comity fellowship.
I looked at Herrit. “Why don’t you explain?”
“You’ve been requested as a consultant on a high-level, extraordinarily secret Comity project.” He shook his head. “It’s so high-level that I don’t know what it is, or where it is.”
“I’m supposed to accept without knowing anything?”
“Actually, Professor, you really don’t have any choice. As you can see from those messages, the government has already made the arrangements with the university system. You will receive your university salary during this sabbatical. In addition, you’ll be paid at the rate of a Comity assistant underminister for the duration of the project, or a full academic year, whichever is longer.”
That was frightening. An assistant underminister made at least three times what I did, and anyone who wanted to pay me that much had either a difficult or dangerous task—or both. “You’re Security, but this fellowship is with the Diplomatic Corps. Why are you here?”
“You’re a very important man, Professor. Why, I don’t know. My job is to make sure you get to the project safely.”
“So… do you have any recommendations on what I should take?” My words came out sardonically.
“You’ll be traveling, and that means packing light. I’d suggest as much material as you can load into a couple of cubes. A mixture of entertainment and professional reading.”
“I’ll have console and equipment access? Or do I need to bring a portable console?”
“I’m quite sure that you’ll be provided with all the equipment you need, Professor. With your background, I’m certain you understand that.”
I ignored the reference to the Service. That had been long ago, even if I did continue the workouts and exercises. They were useful to keep me in shape despite my more sedentary academic lifestyle. They also provided a most necessary outlet for a genetically supported tendency to violence—so that I didn’t actually throttle dense students. “What now?”
“I’d suggest you say your good-byes to the dean, and then we go to your quarters and pack. We have a reservation on one of the late-evening elevator climbers to Orbit Station Beta.”
While I’d had the feeling that the assignment was off-planet, since Leinster wasn’t exactly the hub of the Comity, Herrit’s words still sent a chill through me. “Where am I headed after that?”
“I don’t know. There will be a Comity courier ship waiting for you. That’s all they told me.”
“What do I tell my family?”
“Your daughters are bom grown, and you never recontracted. You tell your daughters that you’re leaving on this splendid fellowship, and that it’s a well-paid, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I have a comm address through which they can reach you.”
“Carefully screened, no doubt.”
“Very carefully screened, I’m certain, Professor.” Herrit smiled. “You’d best cubeload whatever you want from your console here, and then I’ll accompany you to see the dean.”
As if I had much choice. I should have rejected the nomination that had appeared weeks before, except I had the feeling that no one would have listened. And I still had no idea why I was being drafted, or for what, only that the stakes had to be high. But why would anyone want an obscure professor of historical trends from the University of Gregory?
4
Chang
Headed back from Alpha Station, I felt the ice forming on the back of the space armor collar. Brushed it away twice. Wouldn’t want to have it jam the seal if I had to cram on the helmet Cockpit heaters weren’t working that well. Neither were the scrubbers. Frost was building on the bulkheads away from the boards. I triggered the comm links, tight-beam. “Flashpot, stacker two, on return. Cargo as manifested. No passengers.”
“Stacker two, have you inbound this time.”
“Affirmative.” Idiot! “On return” had to be inbound.
“Stacker two, shut down and report to ops upon return.”
“Flashpot, shift’s not over.”
“Operational requirements, stacker two.”
“Stet. Will report as ordered.” Operational requirements meant I got paid. Wasn’t about to let Graysham short me on a technicality. Didn’t get paid enough as it was. Never had.