Empyrion I: The Search for Fierra Read Online Free Page B

school was closed due to failing enrollment… have spent the last thirty-two years traveling and writing—mostly about history.”
    Here the Chairman paused and looked up. “Our information, as you can see, is quite extensive. I could go on, but you get the idea.”
    Treet nodded, although such information was readily available from any of several sources if someone cared to spend the time assembling it—which apparently they did. It still did not answer his question, but he let it go.
    “In short, you are the man for this special assignment. I want you to go to Empyrion, Mr. Treet. I want you to study the place and write about it. I want you to find out all about it—how it's developing economically, culturally, philosophically. And I want you to send back reports, Mr. Treet.”
    Although stated quite reasonably, the idea struck Treet as preposterous. He had to suppress an astonished laugh. “You want me to
write
for you?” he asked incredulously. “That's why you have had me followed, drugged, and brought here?”
    The Chairman made a deprecatory gesture. “Varro has informed me of the unfortunate incident at the airport—an overzealous agent who will no doubt think twice before exceeding himself next time. He was to have simply contacted you and persuaded you to accompany him here. I gather he had considerable trouble locating you and lost his patience.”
    “He thought I was some kind of criminal,” scoffed Treet softly.
    The Chairman glanced quickly at Varro, who shifted his eyes uneasily. “He was mistaken. A misunderstanding, as I said.” The Chairman coughed suddenly, a deep, wracking cough that rumbled in his chest with a hollow sound. This brought on a fit of coughing which doubled the Chairman in his seat. Varro stood and started forward, but his boss held up a hand. “No, I'm all right; but I must rest now. Please, Mr. Treet, you are to be my guest this evening. I have requested a private apartment to be prepared for you. The building service will supply you with anything you need, and there is a very good restaurant on the nineteenth floor.”
    Varro got up from his chair and gave Treet a look which indicated that he was to follow. Treet rose reluctantly, still vaguely unsatisfied by the answers he had received to his questions. “Thank you, Chairman Neviss, I'm sure I will be quite comfortable.”
    “And think about my proposition. I've instructed Varro to answer any other questions you may have. He will also attend to any contractual arrangements which you may agree on.” He smiled briefly, and Treet saw that his eyes had gone a little glassy—from pain?
    “I will give it most careful consideration, Chairman. Thank you.”
    Treet was hustled from the old man's presence so quickly he felt as if the coughing spasm had been staged—a prearranged signal to bring the meeting to a close. But he said nothing as they left the domed room and walked back through the gallery.
    Once outside, when both sets of doors had closed securely behind them, Treet turned, put a hand on Varro's arm, and spun the round-headed man around to face him. “Okay, Varro, what's this all about?”
THREE
    Feet propped on a handsome and no doubt costly antique walnut table, hands atop his head, reclining in a comfortable, well-made, and also excruciatingly expensive leather couch. Treet ignored the holovision before him and instead replayed his conversation with Varro a few hours earlier. It played no better this time than it had originally. “Something is not right,” he said aloud. He often spoke to himself; some of his best thinking was done aloud.
    What he was thinking now was not some of his best. Try as he might, he could not come to any substantial conclusion about what it was that Cynetics was up to and why it should involve him.
    “The Chairman has read your work; he respects your talent and ability. He'd like to see you on our team,” Varro had told him when they had settled in the round-headed man's