Finally, Rlinda sat back, enormously satisfied. The drowsy effect of the food was counteracted by the stimulants she had consumed. Dizzy with the possibilities, she heaved a long sigh and reached a beefy hand to pat Sarein’s wrist.
“I can’t wait to meet with Father Idriss and Mother Alexa so we can discuss trade. I think Theroc has a lot to offer Hansa customers.”
Content but ambitious herself, Sarein nodded. “Chairman Wenceslas and I understand each other very well. I’m certain
I can make the necessary arrangements, for both of us. Just leave everything to me.”
17
BASIL WENCESLAS
When Chairman Wenceslas met with representatives of a dozen colony planets in the Terran Hanseatic League, he eschewed boardrooms and formal reception chambers. More often than not, he brought the representatives to his private suite that covered the top floor of the Hansa headquarters building, where he could better conduct business.
An enormous trapezoidal pyramid, the headquarters was filled with thousands of offices staffed with important delegates, bureaucrats, and clerks. Angled planes of polished windows made the commercial building look like a Maya artifact. The architecture had been chosen to suggest permanence, playing upon deep memories of mighty empires from Earth’s past.
Serviceable rather than opulent, the headquarters sat back from the magnificence of the Whisper Palace, separated by a lush arboretum. Given tall enough trees, complex topiaries, and lovely statue gardens, ground-level spectators paid little attention to the squared-off business building in the background. The Palace dominated the skyline, but Hansa headquarters exerted the real power.
Basil contemplated his agenda for the discussion, avoiding the trivial premeeting chitchat. As the twelve well-dressed planetary envoys took their seats in comfortable lounges or at crystalline tables where they could take notes, silent assistants walked among them to distribute beverages and light snacks. They offered the envoys nothing too extravagant—certainly no mind-altering substances. Basil insisted that all of his envoys keep their thoughts clear when decisions needed to be made.
One of the Chairman’s predecessors, Miguel Byron, had imitated the hedonism of ancient Rome here in the administrative levels. Chairman Byron had chosen attractive young men and women as servants, dressing them in scanty togas to wait upon the planetary representatives. Byron’s “staff meetings” had been legendary, often conducted in steam baths.
Basil, on the other hand, had no patience for distractions when work needed to be done. And there was always work to be done. Back on their respective worlds, his envoys were powerful enough to have all the sex, drugs, or gourmet foods they might like. But not during one of his meetings.
He did make concessions to comfort, though, holding his discussions in a loose, relaxed setting. He hated tightly scheduled, stiffly formal groups; they reminded him of classes conducted by an unimaginative schoolteacher. Such situations resulted in little innovation, usually serving to reaffirm conservative nonprogress. He wanted to make the most of each person’s input.
Basil stood with his back to the balcony, looking into the meeting room so that he was silhouetted by the bright afternoon. Seeing everyone settled, he said, “Before I get to more frustrating business matters, let me congratulate everyone involved in the test of the Klikiss Torch. The new Oncier sun appears to be a resounding success. Dr. Serizawa has remained there with his observation team, and the first crew of terraforming engineers will be arriving within weeks to assess the geological state of the four moons.”