“Or that.”
Drummer sighed. “I suppose I should make myself presentable. How much time do I have?”
The conference room was the same one she’d been in when TSL-5 had opened for business. The vaulted ceiling seemed grander now than it had. The wait staff circulated with flutes of champagne and hors d’oeuvres—tank-grown shrimp, real cheddar, dates wrapped in bacon that had once actually been a pig. The wall screens with their views of Earth and Luna, People’s Home and the
The secretary-general was in a pale suit with a collarless shirt and a golden pin in his lapel. He was smiling and shaking hands with the people around him. She’d expected him to be more somber, but in fairness, the transfer station had always been something of a humiliation for him. A place in the universe that defined the limits of his authority. Before, it had been her on the other side of that membrane. Now it was Laconia. So in a way, he’d already had more of a chance to get used to this.
The man he was laughing with, hand on his shoulder, was unmistakable. Admiral Trejo was smaller than she’d expected. Thicker about the chest and belly in a way that didn’t speak as much to muscle or fat as genetics and age. His hair was thinning, and not styled to disguise the fact. His eyes were a bright green that would have seemed affected if they’d been fake.
Trejo noticed her, broke off his conversation with the secretary-general, and trundled over toward her. He was just the slightest bit bowlegged. Drummer felt an irrational twitch of betrayal. The man who’d destroyed and humiliated her should at least have been a bronzed Adonis, not a normal human being. It would have made it easier to swallow if she’d been beaten by a god.
“President Drummer,” he said, putting out his hand. “I’m glad we could finally meet in more settled circumstances.”
“Just Drummer,” she said, and found herself shaking his hand. “I think we can dispense with the ‘president’ part.”
“Oh, I hope not,” Trejo said. “Transitions like this are delicate times. And the more profound the changes that are coming, the more important that it appear to have continuity. Don’t you think?”
“If you say so,” she said.
A waiter slid by, and she took a glass. She didn’t need the alcohol as much as the idea of it. But, Lord, she needed something.
“I’m sorry your husband couldn’t be here,” Trejo said. There was nothing in his voice that couldn’t just be a pleasantry, except that Saba’s name had been linked to the embarrassment on Medina. She’d heard that much before her detainment. She felt a thrill of fear now. Did Trejo know something? Was he about to tell her Saba had been caught? Been killed?
“I’m sorry too,” she said. “I miss him very much. But we have always had different careers.”
“I hope to meet him one day,” Trejo said, and she relaxed a notch. He wasn’t dead. Trejo saw her response and smiled a soft, rueful smile. “It would be useful, I think, if you could help to resolve things with him. Chaos is bad for everyone.”
“I don’t have any way to reach him,” Drummer said. She didn’t go on with
“Fair enough,” Trejo said. “We’ll have that conversation another time, yes? Right now, there’s something else I wanted to speak with you about. High Consul Duarte wants to convene the important people in humanity’s new endeavors on Laconia. A kind of permanent convocation of the best minds and most influential people. He’s asked me to extend an invitation to you.”
The politeness of it was foul. The pretense that she was still autonomous, the master of her own fate. Oh, she could probably refuse. Duarte seemed smart enough not to welcome people into his projects who were willing to openly oppose him. But there would be consequences. That they weren’t even spelled out made them more ominous.
“This is like the colonies, isn’t it?” she said.
Trejo lifted his eyebrows, answering her question with a wordless one of his own.
“You’re shifting everything to Laconia,” she said. “Not just ships or money. The culture.”
Trejo smiled. “Earth will always be the home from which humanity sprang, but yes. The high consul thinks that … fetishizing Earth is bad for the long-term future of the species. We will also put in place an accelerated repopulation scheme. Try to adjust the balance so that Sol system isn’t such an overwhelming majority of the population either.”
“You can’t put billions of people through the ring gates,” Drummer said. “It won’t work.”
“Not in our lifetimes,” Trejo said. “We’re talking about the work of generations. But … well, I was Martian before I was Laconian. Thinking for the long term doesn’t intimidate me.”
