"Quite, Ma'am."

"I'll see… him? Her?"

"Him, Ma'am."

"Him, later. Tell him ten minutes; remind me in twenty. West atrium." She glanced at the single platinum bracelet she wore. Recognising her retinae, a tiny projector disguised as an emerald briefly displayed a holo plan of the old power station in twin cones of light aimed straight at her eyes.

"Certainly, Ma'am," Maikril said.

She touched his arm and whispered, "We're heading over to the aboretum, all right?"

The major-domo's head barely moved to indicate he had heard. She turned regretfully to the people around her, her hands clasped as though in pleading. "I'm sorry. Will you all excuse me, just a moment?" She put her head to one side, smiling.

"Hi. Hello. Hi there. How are you." They walked quickly through the party, past the grey rainbows of drugstreams and the plashing pools of the wine fountains. She led, skirts rustling, while the major-domo struggled to keep up with her long-legged gait. She waved to those who greeted her; government ministers and their shadows, foreign dignitaries and attaches, media stars of all persuasions, revolutionaries and Navy brass, the captains of industry and commerce and their more extravagantly wealthy shareholders. The hralzs snapped perfunctorily at the heels of the major-domo, their claws skittering on the polished mica floor, all ungainly, then bounding forward when they encountered one of the many priceless rugs scattered throughout the turbine hall.

At the steps to the aboretum, hidden from the main hall by the easternmost dynamo housing, she paused, thanked the major-domo, shooed the hralzs away, patted her perfect hair, smoothed her already immaculately smooth gown and checked that the single white stone on the black choker was centered, which it was. She started down the steps towards the tall doors of the arboretum.