Ecolitan Prime (Ecolitan Matter) Read Online Free PDF Page A

the north wing of the tower. A spacious private suite adjoined his office, and both were on the outer edge of the tower, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the hills to the west.
    In turn, the trade talks staff suite adjoined his office. His private quarters could be entered from his office or through a separate door, since the private apartment was actually in the north wing.
    Because the tower was actually a square, the north, east, south and west designations really indicated onto which public corridor an office or private quarters opened. All the Accord natives from the Legation had their quarters on the three hundredth level, but the local staff lived elsewhere. Wherever they could or wherever they wanted? Which? wondered the Ecolitan without asking.
    “This is the travel/visa/quarantine/health section,” stated Heather without taking a breath.
    A man and a woman, obviously high-paid professionals, looked up from their consoles.
    “Harla, Derek, this is Lord Whaler, the Trade Envoy and Acting Legate in the absence of Legate Witherspoon. Lord Whaler, Harla Car-Hyten and Derek Per-Olav.”
    “Pleased am I to meet you,” announced Nathaniel in Panglais.
    “And I you,” the two chimed in ragged unison.
    “How long for Accord have you worked?”
    “Three standard years.”
    “Just over a year.”
    “Why for a foreign Legation do you work?”
    “The Empire itself has a limit to the number of, if you will, travel generalist professionals that it can use,” answered the woman, Harla Car-Hyten, “and takes only the most experienced. Working for Accord provides a solid foundation. We have to work somewhere.”
    “Accord is far enough out on the Rift,” added Derek, “that we get to learn more than with an inner system.”
    And, thought Nathaniel, with the small number of tourists and the restrictive policies of the Delegates and of the Empire itself, the work couldn’t be all that demanding.
    “I thank you,” he finished politely as he turned to continue the tour of the official spaces.
    “Lord Whaler, Ms. Da-Vios.”
    Mydra Da-Vios was the Empire-supplied and paid “office manager” who had been Witherspoon’s personal clerk and who would supervise the staff of his trade talks section, according to the briefing file which had been dictated by Witherspoon himself before he had left. That was the same folder Heather had handed Nathaniel right after he’d arrived.
    Mydra looked up at him from her console openly but did not attempt to stand. Brown eyes so dark they verged on black, short dark brown hair, and a plain brown tunic piped with yellow, cloaked her with an air of competence.
    “Any questions you might have?” he asked.
    While his question was partly a pleasantry, her answer might give him a lead. So far everyone was acting as if he were to be humored, not that he’d done much to discourage the impression.
    “Mr. Marlaan did not convey how the talks would be structured or staffed. While I have detailed another assistant, I do not know if this is the proper arrangement nor with whom I should coordinate further.”
    Nathaniel kept his mouth shut, while nodding gently.
    Heather’s question about staff made sense, too much sense. So did Marlaan’s position as Deputy Legate. The briefing officer at the Institute had concluded that Marlaan’s psy-profile wasn’t suited to being a mere executive officer type. Yet Marlaan had stayed in New Augusta through a second tour, against all odds.
    Mydra was asking politely who was going to do the real work, implying that it couldn’t be Nathaniel.
    “Lord Whaler?” prompted Mydra.
    “The current arrangement is proper.” He smiled again.
    “Would you like to see your office and quarters, Lord Whaler?” interrupted Heather softly.
    “That would be pleasing.”
    The corner office was bigger than he had expected from the plans in the folder Witherspoon had left, with a large reclining desk swivel surrounded by an impressive communications console.