Almost immediately, a full-face reproduction of the features of General Spicer appeared on the screen in color. She checked the image against my face, her eyes flickering to the tiny scar under my left eye and to the old blaster burn across my right ear. When the image changed to a profile view, I turned my head to give her the same angle.
She nodded, pressing the button on her desk which darkened the screen.
She said, "You're early. Your appointment with Secretary Bartlett is—"
"For 1300 hours," I filled in automatically, when she hesitated in one last routine test. "I was in the building on another matter, however, and came here after I had finished my other business."
"Yes, of course," she said. "Please take a seat. Senator Chambers is ahead of you, but his business will not take long."
I fought back the sudden impulse to pivot and stare in the direction her eyes were indicating. Senator Carl Chambers. My briefing on him had been lengthy. For 60 Earth years, he had headed the un-Earth Activities Committee. As General Spicer, I was supposed to have a nodding acquaintance with him, but no more than that. During the years, our rivalry had become legend. His unanticipated presence in the waiting room could prove disastrous. Chambers would not be fooled easily.
Turning slowly, I nodded stiffly and curtly in Chambers' direction and then selected a chair across the room from him.
The senator's head merged directly into the shoulders of his grossly rotund body. Small, round eyes stared unblinkingly at me from the red pudginess of his face. They hesitated on the black swagger stick which I held loosely in my right hand, moved on, and then returned to it. The invisible scars, made by the electro-surgical knives in re-designing my body, began to tense slowly. I shifted the swagger stick in my hand.
Then the redheaded secretary stood up. She said, "Secretary Bartlett will see you now. Senator."