I nodded toward my companion.
M. Hunt, said the overweight young Commander, Admiral Nashita will see you now.
The commander of all Hegemony forces in the Hyperion system was a small man with short white hair, skin far smoother than his age suggested, and a fierce scowl that seemed carved in place. Admiral Nashita wore high-necked dress black with no rank insignia except for the single red-dwarf sun on his collar. His hands were blunt and quite powerful-looking, but the nails were recently manicured. The Admiral sat on a small dais surrounded by equipment and quiescent callups.
The bustle and efficient madness seemed to flow around him like a fast stream around an impervious rock.
Youre the messenger from Gladstone, he said to Hunt. Whos this?
My aide, said Leigh Hunt.
I resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow.
What do you want? asked Nashita. As you see, were busy.
Leigh Hunt nodded and glanced around. I have some materials for you, Admiral. Is there anyplace we can go for privacy?
Admiral Nashita grunted, passed his palm over a rheosense, and the air behind me grew denser, coalescing into a semisolid mist as the containment field reined. The noise of the combat control center disappeared.
The three of us were in a small igloo of quiet.
Hurry it up, said Admiral Nashita.
Hunt unlocked the valise and removed a small envelope with a Government House symbol on the back. A private communication from the Chief Executive, said Hunt. To be read at your leisure, Admiral.
Nashita grunted and set the envelope aside.
Hunt set a larger envelope on the desk. And this is a hard copy of the motion of the Senate regarding the prosecution of this ah military action. As you know, the will of the Senate is for this to be a speedy exercise of force to achieve limited objectives, with as little loss of life as possible, followed by the standard offer of help and protection to our new colonial asset.
Nashitas scowl twitched slightly. He made no move to touch or read the communication containing the will of the Senate. Is that all?
Hunt took his time responding. That is all, unless you wish to relay a personal message to the CEO through me, Admiral.
Nashita stared. There was no active hostility in his small, black eyes, only an impatience that I guessed would not be quenched until those eyes were dimmed by death. I have private fatline access to the Chief Executive, said the Admiral. Thank you very much, M. Hunt. No return messages at this time. Now if you will kindly return to the midships farcaster nexus and let me get on with prosecuting this military action.
The containment field collapsed around us, and noise flowed in like water over a melting ice dam.
There is one other thing, said Leigh Hunt, his soft voice almost lost under the technobabble of the combat center.
Admiral Nashita swiveled his chair and waited.
Wed like transport down to the planet, said Hunt. Down to Hyperion.
The Admirals scowl seemed to deepen. CEO Gladstones people said nothing about arranging a dropship.
Hunt did not blink. Governor-General Lane knows that we might be coming.
Nashita glanced at one of his callups, snapped his fingers, and barked something at a Marine major who hurried over. Youll have to hurry, the Admiral said to Hunt. There is a courier just ready to leave from port twenty. Major Inverness will show you the way. You will be brought back up to the primary JumpShip. The Hebrides will be departing this position in twenty-three minutes.
Hunt nodded and turned to follow the Major. I tagged along. The Admirals voice stopped us.
M. Hunt, he called, please tell CEO Gladstone that the flagship will be too busy from this point on for any more political visits. Nashita turned away to flickering callups and a line of waiting subordinates.
I followed Hunt and the Major back into the maze.
There should be windows.
What? I had been thinking about something, not paying attention.
Leigh Hunt turned his head toward me. Ive never been in a dropship without windows or viewscreens. Its strange.
I nodded and looked around, noticing the cramped and crowded interior for the first time. It was true that there were only blank bulkheads, and heaps of supplies and one young lieutenant
in the passenger hold of the dropship with us. It seemed to conform to the claustrophobic ambience of the command ship.
I looked away, returning to the thoughts that had preoccupied me since we left Nashita. Following the other two to port twenty, it had suddenly occurred to me that I was not missing something I had expected to miss. Part of my anxiety toward this trip had lain in the thought of leaving the datasphere; I was rather like a fish contemplating leaving the sea. Part of my Consciousness lay submerged somewhere in that sea, the ocean of data and commlinks from two hundred worlds and the Core, all linked by the invisible medium once called datumplane, now known only as the megasphere.
It struck me as we left Nashita that I could still hear the pulse of that particular seadistant but constant, like the sound of the surf half a mile from the shoreand I had been trying to understand it all during the rush to the dropship, the buckling in and separation, and the ten-minute cislunar sprint to the fringes of Hyperions atmosphere.