There were exclamations of surprise and awe. n.o.body asked questions, but Tarlac could feel their intense curiosity, and decided it would do no harm to satisfy it. "This dimension is to hypers.p.a.ce as that is to norms.p.a.ce; it allows speeds roughly two hundred times as fast as hyperflight."

"Leyar's Dimension?" Arjen asked.

"Yes. He has the beginnings of the theory worked out, but it'll be awhile yet before it'll be of any practical use." Tarlac did not say that it would be a long while. Unlike Nannstein's theory of gravitics, which had led directly to hyperdrive, ultras.p.a.ce theory held no clues to its practical applications; it would be several centuries before those were worked out. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to brief the First Speaker and Supreme."

"Of course, Lord. They and Team-Leader Hovan are in Ship-Captain Exvani's quarters, and mine have been prepared for you."

And you don't regret the loss of privacy a bit, Tarlac thought, amused.

"Thanks, Fleet-Captain. I'll be back here for out-transition; even with the cease-fire, I don't think the defense satellites would be willing to let you by without my authorization."

"As they should not," Arjen said approvingly. "Individually, Lord, human fighters leave much to be desired--but in groups they equal us, and they are far more numerous."

"That's why those who went before moved you instead of us, remember?"

Tarlac was delighted to be able to speak so openly, even jokingly, of facts the Traiti race now accepted.

"Yes, Lord." Arjen couldn't help smiling. There was something about this Lord who had been a Ranger, something that put him at ease rather than keeping him at the distance the other Lords inspired. Perhaps it was the man's youth, or his small size, but whatever it was, Arjen liked Lord Esteban.

Tarlac sensed that and smiled as he left the control central. If the Traiti saw Kranath as a father figure, and the other ten Lords as n'ruchaya, sharing that parenthood with the Supreme Lord, but saw Tarlac as the "youngling" of the Circle, that was fine with him. He'd had all the isolation and deference his Imperial rank demanded for fifteen years, and he thought he'd prefer to spend the next few millennia with the easy warmth he sensed from Arjen, from Ch'kara--and in fact from all the Traiti.

When the Hermnaen out-transitioned, it was a cautious hundred and fifty thousand kilometers from Terra, and Tarlac was satisfied that he'd briefed the three who would accompany him to the Palace as well as he could without actually telling them what to do.

He was in the control central again, at the communications console.

Activating the screen, he tuned to the Imperial guard channel. "Fleet Headquarters, this is Ranger Tarlac."

The reply was prompt. "This is Headquarters, Ranger. You are cleared to land at the Palace field at your convenience. All other traffic has been diverted, since your pilot can't be familiar with our landing conventions. The landing beacon is on, and please report pa.s.sing Defsat Five. Do you copy?"

"Roger, I copy, and thank you. Tarlac out."

"Headquarters out."

Tarlac looked over at the Master Pilot. "It's all yours. Take us down."

"Aye, Lord."

Watching critically, Tarlac had to admit there was very little difference in efficiency between the crews at the Hermnaen's control central and on the Empress Lindner's bridge. If the Hermnaen's seemed to have a bit of an edge at present, it was understandable; the Lindner's would have made as good a showing, taking a Traiti VIP to Homeworld.

They pa.s.sed Defsat Five half a dozen kilometers out, Tarlac making the necessary call to confirm their landing clearance. Then the pilot took them down, slowly and precisely, following the beacon.

Tarlac took nostalgic pleasure in what he knew would be his last ship-descent. This view had always been a favorite of his: the clear, windless sight of the sun reflecting off Antarctic snowfields. A dark speck appeared at the foot of the Sentinel Mountains, the modified defense screen that protected the Imperial Palace and a circle fifty kilometers around it from the harsh environment. The speck grew, beginning to show detail. The Palace itself was a good four kilometers square, the largest single building ever constructed by humans, combining elements from all of Terra's cultures in a feat of engineering made possible by Nannstein's genius. Tarlac thought it was magnificent, and it was virtually a self-contained city. Gardens and parkland surrounded it for ten kilometers, with administrative and residential areas beyond that, also carefully landscaped.

Once those details became visible, it was only moments until the Hermnaen set down on the Palace's landing field, which was big enough to serve a system capital and as well fortified as a planetary defense base. Even the Emperor's private landing pad near the Palace wall could be covered by a heavy disruptor cannon. The Hermnaen, here, was as vulnerable as the Lindner had been when she was englobed by Arjen's fleet.

As he had arranged, Tarlac met the other three at the main entry ramp.

The coming encounters wouldn't be easy for them; they simply had no experience in coping with other cultures. He could sense their apprehension, their carefully-fostered self-confidence, as the hatch cycled open and the ramp extended. "Take it easy," he said softly.

"You'll do fine."

The Supreme smiled at him. "We will do our best, Lord."

"I know." Tarlac, accustomed to the imposingly ma.s.sive beings, still found them impressive. To anyone else on Terra, the effect would be even greater. And the Traiti were dressed for the occasion. Hovan was in uniform, armed with dagger, shortsword, and gun, everything but his blast-rifle; the First Speaker wore the bright green robe of her office; and the Supreme, in honor of the new Lord, wore Ch'kara-style blue trousers and silvery open shirt, with, naturally, his dagger.

They were impressive, Tarlac thought.

The scene outside the ship was no more than he'd expected. There was a huge crowd, mostly news reporters with everything from tiny still cameras to holo gear which was barely portable. They were being held back by Palace Guards, Imperial Marines in traditional dress blues.

Only the small honor guard Tarlac had recommended came forward to meet the four of them, ten Marines and a Ranger whose long black hair was held out of his face by a headband the same green as his uniform and dress cloak.

The two Rangers exchanged salutes before Tarlac accepted his own cloak from the Marine carrying it, swung it over his shoulders, and fastened the chain. It was a long time since he'd worn the heavy garment with its silver trim and embroidered Imperial Seal, and he took a moment to arrange it so it would hold his shirt open instead of closed over his scars.

Once he was satisfied, he made the introductions. "Crown Prince Rick Forrest, may I present the Traiti Supreme and First Speaker, and my sponsor, Team-Leader Hovan."

The three bowed; Forrest saluted again. "Welcome to Terra. I've been told that only Team-Leader Hovan speaks much English, but that you can all understand some."

"That is correct," Hovan said.

"Good enough. Now if you'll come with me, His Majesty is waiting to receive you."

"We you thank," the First Speaker said, using, Tarlac knew, most of her limited English.

Then, each flanked by two of the Marines, they moved toward the Palace's immense main entrance. As they neared it, the newsies crowded closer and began clamoring for information, shouting questions, brandishing cameras and microphones. The Rangers, long accustomed to network compet.i.tion, paid little attention to the aggressive mob scene; this was a big story, one of the biggest, and the newsies' behavior was expectable. They didn't mean any harm, but Tarlac sensed a growing concern from the two Traiti males for the First Speaker's safety.

Tarlac kept walking, outwardly impa.s.sive, as he sent them rea.s.surance.

"I know the newsies are a bit overwhelming, but there's no danger.

They're just doing their jobs, sending this story all over the Empire.

Traiti monitoring stations will pa.s.s it on to your worlds, too." That helped; the three Traiti relaxed a little.

Arjen, on the Hermnaen, was too busy to relax. There were vehicles approaching, white ones marked with the scarlet cross and crescent that distinguished human medical equipment. He called sickbay and reached Dr. Jason. "Vehicles are for your people coming, Doctor. Your patients will first off-loaded be, if they ready are."

"They're ready," a tired-looking Jason said. "Can you send the medics here--and keep the newsies out?"

"Of course," Arjen replied. "The Marines will that insure, Lord Esteban says, and the patients will be to the Palace medical unit taken."

"The Palace medcenter?" Jason sighed, looking less tired. "That's a relief; it's probably the best hospital in the Empire. Did he say anything about the rest of us?"

"You will be to regional facilities for checks taken, Bethesda and one I find hard to say."

"Akademgorod?" Dr. Jason asked, his expression suddenly eager.

"Yes. Your families are being there taken, and after you fully checked are, you will be with them reunited." Arjen smiled himself at that thought. "I hope you all of yours well find."

"Thanks. But if you'll excuse me, I've got to get back to work."

"As do I." Arjen cut the circuit.

In the Palace, the Throne Room doors began to swing open and a fanfare sounded. "Okay, here we go," Tarlac said. "Remember, don't kneel when you're presented, even if some of the courtiers do. You're not part of the n.o.bility."

"We will remember," the First Speaker said.

Tarlac didn't have time to say any more, as the fanfare was replaced by the first notes of Williams' Imperial Anthem, and they had to make their entrance.

It was a long, slow, ceremonious walk from the door to the Throne, since this was a full-scale Grand Audience. The courtiers, n.o.bles and their guests--those who had managed to make it to the Palace on such short notice--all had a chance to study the open-shirted, scarred Ranger and the ma.s.sive gray-skinned beings with him. They knew Traiti from pictures, but none of these had seen them in the flesh.