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 massive 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.