The Lotus Eaters

Rome, Province of Italy, Old Earth

Almost, almost, Marguerite felt confident enough of her position to skip proskynesis before the SecGen. But, no, this is too important to both the Earth and myself to let pique and arrogance get in the way.

Moore stood beside her at the grand door to the former Papal apartment. The two waited while the major domo announced, "Captain and Admiral pro tem Marguerite Wallenstein, Class Two, for an audience with the Secretary General."

Moore said, "I'll be waiting when you've finished, Marguerite."

Clutching a valise in one hand, Marguerite nodded and advanced alone. She showed more confidence than she truly felt. The soft, plush rug underfoot muffled the sound of her high, black uniform boots. At a spot on the carpet about a dozen meters from the SecGen's large and ornate desk, Wallenstein placed the valise down and dropped to her knees. Leaning forward, she then placed both hands on the carpet ahead of her. Keeping eye contact until the last second, Wallenstein then bent and kissed the carpet three times, on the last kiss leaving her forehead to the floor. She straightened out until her breasts and belly were flush to the carpet and stayed that way.

"Arise, my child," the SecGen called. As gracefully as possible, under the circumstances, Wallenstein did. When she did, she was able to note certain things about the SecGen. He was young in appearance, very young. Well, you would expect that from the very best anti-agathics, she thought. Such as are available to Class Ones, she added, with bitterness in her mind. She thought he must have had extensive plastic surgery, too. No man could be that . . . pretty. Not naturally. Lastly, and most oddly, the SecGen shimmered, as if his skin had been freshly dusted with gold. Which it probably has been, she thought.

"Come closer, Captain," the SecGen said. Marguerite felt her stomach sink.

If he's using my permanent rank then maybe I won't be prorogued into the Admiralty. Shit.

The SecGen made a subtle but imperious gesture with his left hand. Marguerite thought she heard the door closing behind her and suddenly felt as if the major domo had left her alone with the SecGen.

"My dear friend, the Marchioness of Amnesty, wrote to me of what wonderful command of your tongue you had," the SecGen said, twisting his chair to one side. "Before we discuss weightier matters, show me."