Read Online Adiamante by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online

decision illogical. But life wasn’t yes-no, on-off. Life was shades of gray, and rainbows not in the order of
the spectrum. Our bodies have always known more than our minds have acknowledged they knew.
    For a few moments, I walked around the enormous office, past the low chairs and matching green upholstered couches, before eyeing the leather swivel.
    A long black cloak was draped carefully on the coatrack in the corner by the door. I stepped back and asked aloud, although I could have used the net, “What’s this?”
    â€œIt’s a cloak. Arielle left it for you. She said you needed something dramatic.” There was a slight hint of laughter in the smooth voice.
    Dramatic? The cybs probably thought we were all too dramatic, dark villains of the evil past. I lifted the heavy fabric, my fingers sliding over the smooth red lining. It was dramatic all right—red and black. Fresh blood and cold dead ashes. The cybs would love that symbolism.
    After resettling the cloak on the rack, I tried the swivel chair behind the desk. It squeaked as I sat down, and the odor of well-kept old leather rose around me, bringing back the sense of earlier times. I got up and tried it again. It still squeaked.
    â€œKeiko.”
    â€œI’ve already asked for some oil from maintenance.” She had: I’d caught the energy pulse of the request that she’d flicked off at the second squeak.
    The desk had drawers, two on each side, and they were empty. They’d stay that way. Accumulating paper was hard on the ecology and hard on whoever had to maintain and read it. Besides, the growth of documents generally reflects the lack of trust in a society. No paper trail can make someone accountable. Only self-assumption can. Too many societies had used paper as a substitute for accountability. So far, we’d avoided that mistake. We’d made lots of others, though, and I wasn’t certain that naming me Coordinator hadn’t been yet another mistake.

    Outside the wide windows, snow flurries swirled for a few minutes, then subsided.
    With a sigh, I stood and looked toward the east side of the park, in the general direction of the residential bloc that the cybs would be occupying shortly.
    â€œDon’t forget the cloak,” Keiko prompted. “Arielle said …”
    â€œShe probably said that the imagery was important, didn’t she?” I retorted. Crucelle thought the straight demonstration of power was the key. They were both right, which was probably why they’d pushed my name through the Consensus as Coordinator. There have only been eleven Coordinators, and that’s if you count the mythical Wayneclint. Maybe he existed, but we’d have had to invent him if he hadn’t.
    â€œYes, ser.” Again, there was the hint of laughter concealed behind the smooth modulated tone.
    I took off my jacket and used the straps to fasten the cloak in place, not as heavy as it seemed. I hung the jacket on the wooden rack and headed for the residential bloc.
    Keiko gave me a mock-militaristic salute as I left.
    â€œYou better be careful. I’ll institute conscription, and send you after the cybs.”
    â€œI’ll be right behind you, ser.”
    â€œSuch confidence.”
    â€œWe all have great confidence in our leader.” The white teeth flashed in another smile.
    I got the emphasis on “leader.” That’s the problem with being Coordinator. You’re expected to lead from the front. “I appreciate it.”
    By then I was downstairs, but I could feel her grin over the net.
    When I stepped outside the admin building, the wind was gusting and swirled the cloak away from my body, and it carried the odors of distant meleysen and not-so-distant snow. I resettled the cloak around me and walked toward
the southern residence bloc and the cyb troopers. Despite the chill and the wind, I didn’t even need to jump my metabolic rate; the cloak was warmer than I