M. Severn?
Yes.
Thank you for coming. Her voice was familiar from a thousand All Thing debates, its timbre rough with age and its tone as smooth as an expensive liqueur. Her accent was famousblending precise syntax with an almost forgotten lilt of pre-Hegira English, evidently now found only in the river-delta regions other home world of Patawpha. Gentlemen and ladies, let me introduce M. Joseph Severn, she said.
Several of the group nodded, obviously at a loss as to why I was there.
Gladstone made no further introductions, but I touched the datasphere to identify everyone: three cabinet members, including the Minister of Defense; two FORCE chiefs of staff; two aides to Gladstone; four senators, including the influential Senator Kolchev; and a projection of a TechnoCore Councilor known as Albedo.
M. Severn has been invited here to bring an artists perspective to the proceedings, said CEO Gladstone.
FORCE:ground General Morpurgo snorted a laugh. An artists perspective? With all due respect, CEO, what the hell does that mean?
Gladstone smiled. Instead of answering the General, she turned back to me. What do you think of the passing of the armada, M. Severn?
Its pretty, I said.
General Morpurgo made a noise again. Pretty? He looks at the greatest concentration of space-force firepower
in the history of the galaxy and calls it pretty? He turned toward another military man and shook his head.
Gladstones smile had not wavered. And what of the war? she asked me. Do you have an opinion on our attempt to rescue Hyperion from the Ouster barbarians?
Its stupid, I said.
The room became very silent. Current real-time polling in the All Thing showed 98 percent approval of CEO Gladstones decision to fight rather than cede the colonial world of Hyperion to the Ousters. Gladstones political future rested on a positive outcome of the conflict. The men and women in that room had been instrumental in formulating the policy, making the decision to invade, and carrying out the logistics.
The silence stretched.
Why is it stupid? Gladstone asked softly.
I made a gesture with my right hand. The Hegemonys not been at war since its founding seven centuries ago, I said. It is foolish to test its basic stability this way.
Not at war! shouted General Morpurgo. He gripped his knees with massive hands. What the hell do you call the Glennon-Height Rebellion?
A rebellion, I said. A mutiny. A police action.
Senator Kolchev showed his teeth in a smile that held no amusement.
He was from Lusus and seemed more muscle than man. Fleet actions, he said, half a million dead, two FORCE divisions locked in combat for more than a year. Some police action, son.
I said nothing.
Leigh Hunt, an older, consumptive-looking man reported to be Gladstones closest aide, cleared his throat. But what M. Severn says is interesting. Where do you see the difference between this ah conflict and the Glennon-Height wars, sir?
Glennon-Height was a former FORCE officer, I said, aware that I was stating the obvious. The Ousters have been an unknown quantity for centuries. The rebels forces were known, their potential easily gauged; the Ouster Swarms have been outside the Web since the Hegira. Glennon-Height stayed within the Protectorate, raiding worlds no farther than two months time-debt from the Web; Hyperion is three years from Parvati, the closest Web staging area.
You think we havent thought of all this? asked General Morpurgo. What about the Battle of Bressia? Weve already fought the Ousters there. That was no rebellion.
Quiet, please, said Leigh Hunt. Come on, M. Severn.
I shrugged again. The primary difference is that in this case we are dealing with Hyperion, I said.
Senator Richeau, one of the women present, nodded as if I had explained myself in full. Youre afraid of the Shrike, she said. Do you belong to the Church of the Final Atonement?
No, I said, Im not a member of the Shrike Cult.
What are you? demanded Morpurgo.
An artist, I lied.
Leigh Hunt smiled and turned to Gladstone. I agree that we needed this perspective to sober us, CEO, he said, gesturing toward the window and the holo images showing the still-applauding crowds, but while our artist friend has brought up necessary points, they have all been reviewed and weighed in full.
Senator Kolchev cleared his throat. I hate to mention the obvious when it seems we are all intent on ignoring it, but does this gentleman have the proper security clearance to be present at such a discussion?
Gladstone nodded and showed the slight smile so many caricaturists had tried to capture. M. Severn has been commissioned by the Arts Ministry to do a series of drawings of me during the next few days or weeks. The theory is, I believe, that these will have some historical significance and may lead to a formal portrait. At any rate, M. Severn has been granted a T-level gold security clearance, and we may speak freely in front of him. Also, I appreciate his candor. Perhaps his arrival serves to suggest that our meeting has reached its conclusion. I will join you all in the War Room at 0800 hours tomorrow morning, just before the fleet translates to Hyperion space.