"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 passing 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 passed 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.