Simona looked exactly as she did when he had left: conservative skirt, conservative blouse, flat functional shoes. She was not one for fashion. She usually found the latest trends insulting and ridiculous. Lem agreed with her, but that didn't raise her in his esteem. She was not particularly pretty either. Not plain, but not the kind of woman that would earn a second look. Her hair was arranged to keep it out of her face, and that was the extent of attention she gave it. Her nose was small, her cheeks freckled, her chest flat. She was like an awkward twelve-year-old girl who had made a wish to stay that way her whole life.
"Father left in a hurry," said Lem.
"He won't be coming," said Simona. "He has meetings."
"Coming where?"
"Didn't he tell you?" She looked down at the schedule on her holopad and started walking away from him down the corridor. "No, of course he didn't. He has too much on his mind." She snapped her fingers. "Come."
He hurried and fell into step beside her. "I'm not a dog, you know."
She didn't look up from her pad. "I snap. I give quick commands. That's how we move things along."
"Yes, well, it's not very polite."
"Your father doesn't mind it."
"I'm not my father. I'm nothing like my father."
She shot him a glance and a wry smile. "No, you're not."
He stopped. "What's that supposed to mean?"
She faced him. "It means what I said. I was agreeing with you."
"Yes, but when you say it, it sounds like an insult."
She folded her arms. "Agreeing with statements you make is insulting. Noted. I'll argue and disagree more." She motioned down the hall. "Now, shall we move on?"
They got walking again. Lem grit his teeth. Same old Simona. Ten seconds, and you wanted to strangle her.
"Why the rush?" he asked. He practically had to jog to keep up with her.
"We keep a tight schedule, Lem. Your father is managing the largest corporation in the world and trying to stop a war. It's a full plate. I'm glad you're home, by the way."
"Thanks."
"Your father is glad as wel
l. He's been concerned about you."
"So he said."
She cast him a look. "You don't believe him?"
He didn't want to answer. Whatever he said to Simona would doubtless be echoed to Father. "Where are we going?" he asked, changing the subject.
"We're not going anywhere anymore," she said. "We're here." She stopped and opened a door to her left. Lem followed her in. They stood inside a small anteroom where there was a director's chair, a mirror, and a woman with several boxes of cosmetics. Beyond the anteroom was a much bigger space, where production lights and cameras were set up. A crew of five people was moving about, fussing with various equipment.
Simona pointed to the director's chair. "Sit."
Lem sat, gesturing to the cameras in the other room. "What is this?"
The woman with the cosmetics draped a paper bib around Lem's neck and began dusting his face with powder.
"This," said Simona, "is your first interview. Gun Chen. He's Chinese. He has an early-morning program. Very popular. Here are your talking points." She ticked them off on her fingers. "One, you were in the Kuiper Belt testing a Juke Limited proprietary device. You learned of the Formics, and you made plans to stop them--"
"It wasn't my idea to stop them," Lem interrupted. "It was someone else's."