noted that the walkways, pods, and platforms were conspicuously empty
except for a few Templars and their diminutive crew clone counterparts.
The Consul could recall seeing no other passengers during his rushed
hour between rendezvous and fugue, but he had put that down to the
imminence of the treeship going quantum, assuming then that the
passengers were safe in their fugue couches. Now, however, the treeship
was traveling far below relativistic velocities and its branches should
be crowded with gawking passengers. He mentioned his observation to the
Templar.
'The six of you are our only passengers,' said Het Masteen. The basket
stopped in a maze of foliage and
the treeship captain led the way up a wooden escalator worn with age.
The Consul blinked in surprise. A Templar treeship normally carried
between two and five thousand passengers; it was easily the most
desirable way to travel between the stars. Treeships rarely accrued
more than a four- or five-month time-debt, making short, scenic
crossings where star systems were a very few light-years apart, thus
allowing their affluent passengers to spend as little time as necessary
in fugue. For the treeship to make the trip to Hyperion and back,
accumulating six years of Web time with no paying passengers would mean
a staggering financial loss to the Templars.
Then the Consul realized, belatedly, that the treeship would be ideal
for the upcoming evacuation, its expenses ultimately to be reimbursed by
the Hegemony.
Still, the Consul knew, to bring a ship as beautiful and vulnerable as
the Yggdrasill - one of only five of its kind - into a war zone was a
terrible risk for the Templar Brotherhood.
'Your fellow pilgrims,' announced Het Masteen as he and the Consul
emerged onto a broad platform where a small group waited at one end of a
long wooden table.
Above them the stars burned, rotating occasionally as the treeship
changed its pitch or yaw, while to either side a solid sphere of foliage
curved away like the green skin of some great fruit. The Consul
immediately recognized the setting as the Captain's dining platform,
even before the five other passengers rose to let Her Masteen take his
place at the head of the table. The Consul found an empty chair waiting
for him to the left of the Captain.
When everyone was seated and quiet, Het Masteen made formal
introductions. Although the Consul knew none of the others from
personal experience, several of the names were familiar and he used his
diplomat's long training to file away identities and impressions.
To the Consul's left sat Father Lenar Hoyt, a priest of the old-style
