Free Empire & Ecolitan by L. E. Modesitt Jr. Page B

alternative is wide-scale death and destruction.
    Patterns of Politics
    Exton Land
    Halston, 3123 N.E.

XII
    J IMJOY STEPPED THROUGH the shuttle portal and onto the open ramp that led down to the white tarmac below.
    No impenetrable plastarmac, no lines of shuttles, and no throngs, either of officials or of welcomers. Just a handful of men and women. And, also unlike the central systems of the Empire, there was no baggage handling. Jimjoy carried both his hanging bag and the heavier and bulkier bag which contained equipment, folded clothes, and personal items.
    â€œExcuse me…”
    He looked back as he realized that his hesitation was blocking the other passengers.
    The woman who had spoken was the silver-haired one, the one he suspected of lofting the water pitcher onto the Fuards to help him.
    â€œYou did a very nice job,” he said, trying not to let the sarcasm creep into his voice. “Thank you.”
    â€œJust my job, Major. Now…if you will excuse me…”
    â€œSorry.” He stepped aside, gestured broadly for her to proceed, following quickly. By now the upper right arm only ached, although it would be days before the bruise disappeared.
    â€œâ€¦about time…” Jimjoy ignored the whispered complaint from the heavyset man who had been standing behind the Accord agent. Except, he wondered, how could she be an agent? As an Imperial colony, Accord could not operate an intelligence service, nor any armed forces other than the domestic police forces.
    Jimjoy had been operating outside the Empire too long and had totally missed that simple fact. Yet the woman, as well as the ship’s purser and the other ship’s officers, had acted as though she were representing something . Did the Ecologic Institute, or whatever it was called, actually run the colony? Was that what worried Hersnik?
    He filed the thought and hurried to keep close to the silver-haired woman.
    From the scattered group of people waiting a woman stepped forward, her tanned face and short-cropped blond hair giving her the appearance of an outdoor professional of some sort. “Thelina!”
    â€œMeryl!”
    The two women exchanged hugs, and Jimjoy fixed both faces in his mind as he skirted them and headed for the transportation terminal ahead. He could hear them talking as they followed in the same general direction, but he could not make out anything beyond pleasantries.
    Thelina—that had been what the blond woman had called the Accord/Institute agent. He mentally noted the name. Then he took a deep breath and lengthened his stride, trying to ignore the tired feeling in his right arm.
    The air was crisp, with a tang, not salty like the sea, but like a mountaintop above a fir forest. The shuttleport was west of Harmony, on a plateau of sorts, but certainly not one high enough to qualify as a mountain. Jimjoy looked up in front of him toward the west, where he could see a hint of clouds above the peaks on the horizon.
    The gravity was a shade stronger than Terra-norm, but not enough to bother him, certainly not the way it would have on Mara or on the Fuard heavy planets.
    He entered the transport terminal, glanced up at the high ceilings supported by arched wooden beams, and realized that the open area was both dimmer and cooler than he would have expected without climate control.
    â€œSer Wright?”
    Jimjoy looked at the young man, scarcely more than a schoolboy, who wore a forest-green tunic and matching trousers.
    â€œYes.” His voice was noncommittal.
    â€œI am apprentice Dorfman, from the Institute. Your flitter is waiting to take you either to your hotel or to quarters at the Institute, if you prefer.”
    â€œThe Ecologic or Ecolitan Institute?”
    â€œYes, ser.”
    â€œI plan to visit the Institute later, but I think I will take commercial transport to my hotel.”
    â€œVery good, ser. I hope we will see you later. The commercial transport sector is to your