The sight of his dress uniform had disturbed Aileen, too. As the doors of the transit dock opened and the little buggy ventured out on to the black ocean of space, Garamond remembered the way his wife had kissed him before he left. She had been abstracted, almost cold, and had turned away quickly. It was as though she were suppressing all emotion, but in his final glimpse of her she had been holding their golden snail against her cheek. He stood behind the pilot of the buggy for the whole of the short trip, watching the flagship expand until it filled the forward screens. When the docking manoeuvre had been completed he stepped watchfully but confidently into the transit bay where a group of Starflight officials were waiting. Behind the officials were a number of men in civilian dress and carrying scene recorders. With a minimum of ceremony Garamond was escorted to the Presidential suite and ushered into the principal stateroom. Elizabeth must have given previous instructions, because his escorts withdrew immediately and in silence. The President was standing with her back to the door. She was wearing a long close-fitting gown of white satin — her favourite style of dress — and three white spaniels floated drowsily in the air close to her feet. Garamond was shocked to see that Elizabeth had lost most of her hair. The thinning black strands clung to her scalp in patches, making her look old and diseased. She continued to stand with her back to him although she must have been aware of his presence.
“My Lady…” Garamond scuffed the floor with his magnetic-soled boots, and the President slowly turned around. The skin of her small-chinned face was pale and glistening.
“Why did you do it, Captain?” Her voice was low. “Why did you run from me?”
“My Lady, I…” Garamond, unprepared for a direct question, was lost for words.
“Why were you afraid of me?”
“I panicked. What happened to your son was a pure accident — he fell when I wasn’t even near him — but I panicked. And I ran.” It occurred to Garamond that Elizabeth might have sound political and tactical reasons for choosing to meet him as a mother who had lost a child rather than as an empress in danger of being usurped, but it did not lessen her advantage.
Incredibly, Elizabeth smiled her asymmetrical, knowing smile. “You thought I wouldn’t understand, that I might lash out at you.”
“It would have been a natural reaction.”
“You shouldn’t have been afraid of me. Captain.”
“I… I’m glad.” This is fantastic, Garamond thought numbly. She doesn’t believe any of it. I don’t believe any of it. So why go on with the charade?
“…suffered, and you’ve suffered,” Elizabeth was saying. “I think we always will, but I want you to know that I bear you no grudge.” She came closer to him, still smiling, and her soft satiny abdomen brushed his knuckles. Garamond thought of spiders.
“There isn’t any way I can express how sorry I am that the accident occurred.”
“I know.” Elizabeth’s voice was gentle, but suddenly the room was filled with her sweet, soupy odour and Garamond knew that, just for an instant, she had thought of killing him.
“My Lady, if this is too much for you…”
Her face hardened instantly. “What makes you think so?”
“Nothing.”
“Very well, then. We have important business matters to discuss, Captain. Did you know that the Council, with my consent, has authorized the payment to you of ten million monits?”
Garamond shook his head. “Ten million?”
“Yes. Does that seem a lot of money to you?”
“It seems all the money there is.”
Elizabeth laughed and turned away from him, disturbing the spaniels in their airborne slumbers. “It’s nothing, Captain. Nothing ! You will, of course, be appointed to the council I’m setting up to advise on the development and exploitation of Lindstromland, and your salary from that alone will be two million monits a year. Then there’s…” Elizabeth paused.
“What’s the matter, Captain? You look surprised.”
“I am.”
“At the size of your salary? Or the fact that the sphere has been officially named after my family?”
“The name of the sphere is unimportant,” Garamond said stonily, too disturbed by what Elizabeth had said to think about exhibiting the proper degree of deference. “What is important is that it can’t be controlled and exploited. You sounded as if you were planning to parcel up the land and sell it in the same way that Terranova is handled.”
“We don’t sell plots on Terranova — they are given freely, through Government-controlled agencies.”
“To anybody who can pay the Starflight transportation charge. It’s the same thing.”
“Really?” Elizabeth examined Garamond through narrowed eyes. “You’re an expert on such matters, are you?”
“I don’t need to be. The facts are easily understood.” Garamond felt he was rushing towards a dangerous precipice, but he had no desire to hold back.
“In that case you’ll make an excellent council member — all the others regard the Starflight operation as being extremely complex.”
“In practice,” Garamond said doggedly. “But not in principle.”
Elizabeth gave her second unexpected smile of the interview. “In principle, then, why can’t Lindstromland be developed in the normal way?”
“For the same reason that water-sellers can make a living only in the desert.”
“You mean where there’s a lot of water freely available nobody will pay for it.”
“No doubt that sounds childishly simple to you, My Lady, but it’s what I meant.”
“I’m intrigued by your thought processes, Captain.” Elizabeth was giving no sign of being angered by Garamond’s attitude. “How can you compare selling water and opening up a new world?”
Garamond gave a short laugh. “Yours are the intriguing thought processes if you’re comparing Orbitsville to an ordinary planet.”
“Orbitsville?”
“Lindstromland. It isn’t like an ordinary planet.”
“I’m aware of the difference in size.”
“You aren’t.”
Elizabeth’s tolerance began to fade. “Be careful about what you say, Captain.”
“With respect, My Lady, you aren’t aware of the difference in size. Nobody is, and nobody ever will be. I’m not aware of it, and I’ve flown right round Orbitsville.”
“Surely the fact that you were able to…”
“I was travelling at a hundred thousand kilometres an hour,” Garamond said in a steady voice. “At that speed I could have orbited Earth in twenty-five minutes. Do you know how long it took to get round Orbitsville? Forty-two days!”
“I grant you we’re dealing with a new order of magnitude.”
“And that’s only a linear comparison. Don’t you see there’s just no way you can handle the amount of living space involved?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “I’ve already told you that Starflight doesn’t concern itself with the apportionment of land, so the exact area of Lindstromland is of no concern to us. We will, of course, continue to make a fair profit from our transportation services.”
“But that’s the whole point,” Garamond said angrily. “Even if it wasn’t a disguised land charge, the transportation fee should be abolished.”
“Why?”
“Because we now have all the land we can use. In those circumstances it is intolerable that there should be any kind of economic brake on the natural and instinctive flow of people towards the new land.”
“You, of all people, should know that there’s nothing natural or instinctive about building and sailing a flickerwing ship.” A rare tinge of colour was appearing in Elizabeth’s waxy cheeks. “It can’t be done without money.”