breeze that met us didn't assuage the heat. Perhaps I was coming down with something.
We handed over our vid-screens and personal items - including our earpieces - and then walked through the x-ray machine feeling naked, all the while memories of the drone factory stormed through my mind. I occupied my thoughts with more pleasant imagery, but the look Lena threw my way put an abrupt stop to that enticing pastime.
"You're clear," a Cardinal advised. "Please wait for an escort."
I wanted to growl that we knew the damn way, but Lena replied with all the calmness of a bored Elite, "Of course." Then promptly sat down in a cluster of over stuffed, supremely luxurious looking chairs.
I hesitated, but knew the power appropriate appearances held, so followed suit, making Alan and Paul feel obliged to do the same. I flicked my gaze over my companions; Lena dressed in a figure hugging, delicately embroidered, linen shift, which she somehow managed to keep crease free; Alan in black combat boots, black combat pants, black combat vest; Paul toned down a bit, matching me in casual warfare chic.
Had we expected a battle?
I let a slow breath of air out and scanned the over-height waiting area we'd been ushered to. White columns held fifty foot high domed ceilings aloft, large palms waved at us from super-sized brass pots, polished marble tiles glinted with sunlight as it poured through the floor to ceiling stained-glass windows along one wall. Artwork, sculptures, mesmerizing water features. This was where the National Museum's more generic prizes had been stored when Wánměi turned its back on its past.
A Cardinal appeared before I could make a comment to the others; probably for the best, we'd undoubtedly been under watch. Tan might consider Lena his sibling, but he had no such fantasies about the rest of us.
I stood and held a hand out to Lena; showtime . She accepted it gracefully, her smile one I almost believed myself. The clip of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the hall we walked down, bouncing off priceless artefacts and ubiquitous potted plants. The slow, rhythmic sway of the wing-shaped rattan fans dangling from the ceiling sent trickles of air-con cooled air across our backs. They were all for show, an homage to our history. A strange reminder of where we'd come from for a nation who'd chosen to forget.
I wondered briefly if Lee Tan was trying to remind us, but these fans had been here since General Chew-wen. Tan had inherited a legacy half realised. And half forgotten.
Lena walked first into the President's office, long white hair cascading down her back in Elite perfect presentation. She'd taken to wearing it up lately; a rebellion of her own against the old regime. But old habits die hard, it seemed. Faced with Tan - or it could have been Parliament House itself - she'd reverted to form.
At least, the form she used to be.
We hadn't had a chance to talk, to air our grievances. To compromise. We were both off centre and walking into the lion's den. But then, for Lena, Lee Tan was not such a beast.
He crossed to her immediately, not even offering a welcome to the group as a whole. Simply wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her cheek, setting my teeth grinding again and making my hands bunch into tight fists. Taking longer than necessary to let her go, he finally looked up at the rest of us. First me, and then Alan. A cursory glance at Paul completed the sweep.
People underestimated Paul. Just the way I liked it.
"Tan," I greeted, never one to be the last to step up to the plate.
" President Tan," a Cardinal clipped from the edge of the room where he stood statue still; almost a part of the furniture, save for that blood red cape.
I inclined my head in acceptance and tried again. "Interim President Tan."
Tan's eyes narrowed fractionally, but the soft caramel skin was soon smooth again across his forehead. Giving nothing of his anger away. The game had begun, then.
"Masters." He nodded to my men,
We handed over our vid-screens and personal items - including our earpieces - and then walked through the x-ray machine feeling naked, all the while memories of the drone factory stormed through my mind. I occupied my thoughts with more pleasant imagery, but the look Lena threw my way put an abrupt stop to that enticing pastime.
"You're clear," a Cardinal advised. "Please wait for an escort."
I wanted to growl that we knew the damn way, but Lena replied with all the calmness of a bored Elite, "Of course." Then promptly sat down in a cluster of over stuffed, supremely luxurious looking chairs.
I hesitated, but knew the power appropriate appearances held, so followed suit, making Alan and Paul feel obliged to do the same. I flicked my gaze over my companions; Lena dressed in a figure hugging, delicately embroidered, linen shift, which she somehow managed to keep crease free; Alan in black combat boots, black combat pants, black combat vest; Paul toned down a bit, matching me in casual warfare chic.
Had we expected a battle?
I let a slow breath of air out and scanned the over-height waiting area we'd been ushered to. White columns held fifty foot high domed ceilings aloft, large palms waved at us from super-sized brass pots, polished marble tiles glinted with sunlight as it poured through the floor to ceiling stained-glass windows along one wall. Artwork, sculptures, mesmerizing water features. This was where the National Museum's more generic prizes had been stored when Wánměi turned its back on its past.
A Cardinal appeared before I could make a comment to the others; probably for the best, we'd undoubtedly been under watch. Tan might consider Lena his sibling, but he had no such fantasies about the rest of us.
I stood and held a hand out to Lena; showtime . She accepted it gracefully, her smile one I almost believed myself. The clip of her heels on the marble floor echoed through the hall we walked down, bouncing off priceless artefacts and ubiquitous potted plants. The slow, rhythmic sway of the wing-shaped rattan fans dangling from the ceiling sent trickles of air-con cooled air across our backs. They were all for show, an homage to our history. A strange reminder of where we'd come from for a nation who'd chosen to forget.
I wondered briefly if Lee Tan was trying to remind us, but these fans had been here since General Chew-wen. Tan had inherited a legacy half realised. And half forgotten.
Lena walked first into the President's office, long white hair cascading down her back in Elite perfect presentation. She'd taken to wearing it up lately; a rebellion of her own against the old regime. But old habits die hard, it seemed. Faced with Tan - or it could have been Parliament House itself - she'd reverted to form.
At least, the form she used to be.
We hadn't had a chance to talk, to air our grievances. To compromise. We were both off centre and walking into the lion's den. But then, for Lena, Lee Tan was not such a beast.
He crossed to her immediately, not even offering a welcome to the group as a whole. Simply wrapping her up in his arms and kissing her cheek, setting my teeth grinding again and making my hands bunch into tight fists. Taking longer than necessary to let her go, he finally looked up at the rest of us. First me, and then Alan. A cursory glance at Paul completed the sweep.
People underestimated Paul. Just the way I liked it.
"Tan," I greeted, never one to be the last to step up to the plate.
" President Tan," a Cardinal clipped from the edge of the room where he stood statue still; almost a part of the furniture, save for that blood red cape.
I inclined my head in acceptance and tried again. "Interim President Tan."
Tan's eyes narrowed fractionally, but the soft caramel skin was soon smooth again across his forehead. Giving nothing of his anger away. The game had begun, then.
"Masters." He nodded to my men,
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