Ecolitan Prime (Ecolitan Matter) Read Online Free Page B

of Accord, not known for its extravagance, had accepted quarters in the Diplomatic Tower and had sent only three people to New Augusta: the Legate, the Deputy Legate, and an Information Specialist.
    Just prior to his arrival at the circumlunar station, the copilot of the Muir had handed Nathaniel a stellarfax.
    W ITHERSPOON EN ROUTE ACCORD FOR CONSULTATIONS. W HALER CONFIRMED ACTING LEGATE DURATION, SGN . R ESTINAL , DM, IC.
    The rest had been confirmation codes.
    So now he was standing in the entry of a Legation he was in charge of, looking at a clerk/staffer/receptionist who had never seen him but who worked for him, theoretically, but who was paid by the Empire. And just before that, the message had been delivered by splinter gun that someone wanted him dead.
    Hardly the most encouraging beginning.
    Nathaniel drew out his credentials folder and presented it to the young woman.
    She took it, with a hint of a smile, studied it briefly, then greeted him more officially with a gesture that was nearly a half bow, half curtsy.
    “At your service, Lord Whaler.” Her greeting was in the old American of Accord, but with an accent and a stiffness that demonstrated practice, but not fluency.
    “And I at yours, in the service of the Forest Lord and the Balance of Time,” he returned in the archaic format that was no longer used, even in the deepest forests of Accord. While he spoke, he studied the woman’s face. She did not understand.
    “I don’t speak Old American as well as I should,” she admitted in Panglais, the standard tongue of the Empire. With her long red hair, freckles, and boyish figure, she might have reached his shoulder.
    “I understand. You are called?” asked Whaler in the accented Panglais he had decided to use.
    “Heather Tew-Hawkes, Lord Whaler. Would you like to see your quarters?”
    “Shortly.”
    He took another look around the entry hall. Small and crowded with the three hanging lamps, the long couch, an imitation strafe chair, the tea table with the faxmags on the lower shelf, and the entry desk itself before the closed interior portals which presumably opened onto the rest of the Legation.
    “The rest of the staff I would like to encounter,” he announced.
    “Yes, sir. You know that Legate Witherspoon has returned to Harmony. The Deputy Legate, Mr. Marlaan, had already taken leave. And Mr. Weintre is out for the day.”
    Forest Lord! What was going on? All the natives from Accord were fleeing like troks at his arrival.
    “I see. The rest here will I see…and my office…before I go to my quarters. Can you arrange for my…my…” Apparently struggling with the Panglais word, he pointed to the field packs.
    “Yes, sir. We can take care of them.”
    Heather gave him a questioning glance before speaking again, tossed her flowing red hair back over her shoulder with a flick of her head.
    “Will you be having any assistants coming from Accord?”
    Odd question right off the bat, reflected the Ecolitan.
    “Final arrangements will I announce shortly,” he temporized.
    Heather handed him a small folder.
    “You might want to look through that first, Lord Whaler.”
    The file was scripted in the Old American of Accord and outlined the names and functions of the staff. At the end was a map of the Legation spaces.
    He glanced through it quickly, storing the information for full recall later.
    “Read this later, I will. You may begin.”
    Heather touched a stud on the console at her desk, and one of the doors behind her opened.
    Nathaniel stepped through after memorizing the location of the panel stud that actuated the entry.
    The Accord Legation occupied half the three hundredth level of the Diplomatic Tower.
    Heather led the way through the spaces.
    The tower was divided into four wings joined by the central lift/drop shafts. The official working spaces of the Legation were in the west wing of the tower. Nathaniel’s office and the trade talks section had been placed at the right, almost into