Read Online Empire & Ecolitan by L. E. Modesitt Jr. - Free Book Online Page A

right.”
    This time the purser smiled more than faintly, pursed her lips, and cleared her throat. “It’s really very simple, so simple that anyone could use the technique, not that we had to in your case. First is the question of identity.” She paused. “I’m getting there, Major. Believe me, I am. But there are a lot of pieces of information you need, and it’s not exactly easy to blurt out these things, even though it’s necessary now.” Her smile was broad, but somehow forced.
    While he appreciated the effort, and the smile, Jimjoy was leaning forward, wondering what came next, a cold chill settling inside him, reinforced by the hot throbbing of his still-unhealed arm.
    â€œEvery Imperial Special Operative falls within certain clearly defined parameters—male, with an optimum muscle, fat, and bone ratio that never varies by more than five percent; never less than one hundred eighty-one centimeters nor more than one hundred ninety-five centimeters; primarily Caucasian genetic background; strong technical education and mechanical skills; generally between twenty-eight and forty-five standard years; and always with a surface carriage index of between seven and eight.”
    Jimjoy looked at the purser blankly.
    She said nothing more.
    Finally, he spoke. “I understood everything until you got to the last item.”
    â€œI thought everyone knew about surface carriage indices.” He could see the steel in her eyes and repressed a shudder, not quite sure how he had thought she might be friendly. Or was she just being mischievous?
    â€œAfraid I’m rather uninformed.”
    â€œSurface carriage index is a measure of underlying muscular tension and emotional stability. It was originally developed by Alregord’s psychiatrists as an attempt to provide a long-range visual indication of intentions. For that, it was a failure, because the only thing the index is really good for is showing the unconscious attitude of the individual toward humanity in general. The higher the number, the less socially oriented the individual. This gets complicated because the index varies with some individuals depending on their surroundings. For our purposes it doesn’t make much difference, because the variations are generally less toward either end of the scale. Above ten, and a person is sociopathic or psychopathic. Below two, and there’s almost no individual identity. The seven-to-eight range indicates a loner with little or no interest in permanent attachments to people.”
    â€œSounds like psychosocial mumbo jumbo.”
    â€œThink about it, Major. Compare my description to any Special Operatives you may know before you condemn the analysis.”
    Jimjoy felt cold. If Accord had discovered such a readily apparent pattern, who else knew? His thoughts returned to the meeting with the retired spacer. Arto, had that been his name? Had he been an Accord operative? Or had he seen part of the pattern?
    Jimjoy was brought back to the present by Cerla’s next question.
    â€œNow…do we continue the charade, or do you want to give me some idea of what you happen to be looking for?”
    Jimjoy nodded. He’d been set up, at least to some degree, because his actions were a problem to the Empire…or the Service. It almost seemed as though no one wanted him to be successful. Every time he’d pulled off the difficult, they’d given him something tougher. The apparent ease of the Accord assignment should have been a signal, especially now, after the incident on Haversol.
    The quiet of the cabin was punctuated only by the hissing of the ventilators, and by a dull thunk that echoed through the ship, indicating that the ship had unlocked from the Haversol orbit control station.
    â€œWhile you’re still deciding, would you like a drink?”
    â€œI’ll pass on the drink for now. How about a piece of information? I know your name. Period. You seem to