I followed him back through the corridor to a high-ceilinged, sprawling lounge. "Is this the main lounge?"

"No, this is The Wine Cellar." To my confused look, he explained. "That's the name of this bar. It's sort of a joke. It's the only bar below the main deck. The main deck is one flight up, and the main lounge is impossible to miss, it's almost directly above us. But the forward lounge has the best view. The aft lounge is nice too. There's a slidewalk that runs the length of the ship: The cabin level is above that. This way, Captain-"

He led me up a wide flight of stairs to the most lavishly appointed deck of the airship. In the days when she was still the Fantasia, she had offered the finest accommodations in the world. Her cuisine was five star, and her service was unmatched anywhere. All the cabins were three-room suites, or larger. Space was not at a premium here.

Even though she had been legally requisitioned by the North American Operations Authority, and was now officially an Authority warship, she was still staffed and operated by the employees of Amazing, Inc. Lizard had explained it to me once. The corporation had over 650 million caseys invested in this airship and they were extremely reluctant to relinquish her to the Authority under any conditions. Aside from the fact that they would be losing millions of dollars of business, they didn't believe they'd ever get their airship back again. They found a friendly judge, one who stayed bought, and papered the walls with restraining orders, injunctions, and show-cause orders. None of them would have stopped the ultimate seizure of the vessel, but cumulatively, each and every piece of paper served to delay the takeover until it could be processed through the already-clogged judicial calendar.

Eventually, the Authority got the message. The paper-making machinery was not going to be turned off. They compromised by contracting to purchase a seven-year lease on the airship's services, at 85 percent of pre-Chtorran rates, payable in chocolate, gold, coffee, oil, or dollars. Hardly much of a compromise. More like highway robbery. But the Authority needed the ship for Operation Nightmare. So they paid.

In return, they got the largest, most luxurious flying hotel this side of Luna City. Amazing, Inc., kept control of their asset and maintained their operation, selling directly now to a single customer. The corporation supplied all crew and support services, consistent with their previously established standard, the Army picked up the bill, and Congress reexamined the tax code with ominous intent.

In sheer dollar outlay, the entire operation was a colossal expenditure, impossible to justify; but in terms of morale and manpower, it was the most cost-effective solution possible. It spared the North American Operations Authority the headache of learning how to support, maintain, and fly the airship; not to mention the additional headache of finding, training, and keeping qualified ground crew, flight crew, stewards, chefs, and ancillary staff. Eveni more important, it let the military and scientific teams concentrate more of their energies on the mission than on the maintenance of the transportation.

Flying aboard her, with her uncompromisingly good menu, was like having an on-site R-and-R. The boost to morale she provided to everyone who journeyed aboard her, or supported her, or even saw her float by overhead, was justification enough. It was like saying, "See, not everything worthwhile is gone. See, good things are still possible."

The accommodations, of course, remained first-rate. There was no need to cut up or subdivide her expansive suites to accommodate more passengers, because there weren't going to be more passengers. Weight was the determining factor here, not space; the limit was three hundred passengers, regardless of how much room each was assigned; and there was more than enough space aboard this airship for each and every one of them.

Everything inside the Hieronymus Bosch was big. How could it not be? The one thing an airship has is plenty of room. You can have as much as you want, as long as you don't fill it with anything. The Bosch, according to the brochures I'd seen, had some magnificent theaters, ballrooms, and gymnasiums. At one point, the designers had even considered a swimming pool, but the weight penalty had ultimately proven prohibitive. If her passenger load could have been reduced to 125, it might have been possible; but then the cost of a ticket would have been three times as much. Oh, well… I wasn't paying for it anyway. I could afford to complain.

Shaun led me down a long corridor on the starboard side of the main level to a door with a star on it. "I hope you don't mind, we had to put you with General Tirelli." He unlocked the door with a plastic card.

"Uh, I don't mind."

"She's in the big bedroom. I've already put your gear in here." He pointed toward the other bedroom on the opposite side of the suite's living room. I followed him in. If this was the small bedroom, I couldn't imagine how big the main bedroom was. The room was huge. The bed was big enough for six, eight if they were friendly; but you could probably lift it with one hand. All of the furniture was cast out of flexifoam; it had that bouncy-fluffy look.

I wondered what Lizard had intended by this arrangement. Which bedroom was I going to sleep in tonight? So far, she'd given me no clue at all.

"Do you want me to hang these up for you?" Shaun held up my duffel.

"Uh, no. It's all right. Just toss it in the closet." The closet alone was big enough to park a car in.

"Bathroom's in here. The tub is probably a little deeper than you're used to, so be careful. It's three meters long; this controls the water jets, this controls the bubbles; the spa is automatically timed. Don't worry about the water, the law only requires one trip through the recycler-we give it three before it's used again. This panel controls the tanning lights. This gives you steam, this gives you dry heat; please keep the glass door closed when you're using the sauna. This is the massage table. You know how to use one, don't you?"

I nodded, dumbly. "Are all the cabins outfitted like this?"

"We have only one class of accommodation."

"This is amazing."

"Yes, sir. That's our name. Out here's the balcony. See that light? When it's red, the windows are automatically locked. There'll be a chime and the light will turn green when it's okay to go out. Then it automatically unlocks. Over here's the bar. We restock it every morning. The Sober-Ups are down here. These are extra-strength; they'll give you quite a synaptic buzz while you're coming down, so you'll want to be careful with them. If you have any specific tastes in liquor or soft drinks, let me know, or punch it into the terminal here. The ship's library is one of the best in the world. Just punch here for index. You'll find videos, music, books, reference works-oh, yes, we've got a full military library too, including a connection with all three of the military and science networks. The phones are standard; it's a full video link."

He led me back into the living room. "There's a projection screen in here. This button lowers it, see? Don't worry about playing your music or your movies too loud. Every room has three feet of foam insulation. Here, this is the help button. It explains everything that's available in the cabin or anywhere on the ship." He smiled at me brightly, "If you have any other questions, I'd be happy to answer them."

I felt like I was out of breath. "Shaun," I said. "I have this feeling that it doesn't matter what I could think of. You've probably already found a way to provide it, right?"

"Well…" he began.

"What?"

"There was a passenger once who asked room service to send him up an elephant ear on a bun."

"And-?"

"Well, it was late, and the kitchen had been busy. We were out of buns."