onstruction of a permanent naval base.
Notification of promotion to base-admiral, and blank commission as
line-commodore; that would be Patrique Morvill. And advice that one
transport-cruiser, _Algol_, with an Army contragravity brigade aboard,
and two engineering ships, would leave Odin for Aditya in fifteen days.
The last two words erased much of the new base-admiral's pleasure.

"Fifteen days, great Ghu! And those tubs won't make near the speed of
_Irma_, getting here. We'll be lucky to see them in twenty. And
Beelzebub only knows what'll be going on here then."

* * * * *

Four times, the big screen failed to respond. They were all crowded
into one of the executive conference-rooms at the Proconsular Palace,
the batteries of communication and recording equipment incongruously
functional among the gold-encrusted luxury of the original Masterly
furnishings. Shatrak swore.

"Andrey, I thought your people had planted those pickups where they
couldn't be found," he said to Commander Douvrin.

"There is no such place, sir," the intelligence officer replied. "Just
places where things are hard to find."

"Did you mention our pickups to Chmidd or Hozhet or any of the rest of
the shaveheads?" Shatrak asked Erskyll.

"No. I didn't even know where they were. And it was the freedmen who
found them," Erskyll said. "I don't know why they wouldn't want us
looking in."

Lanze Degbrend, at the screen, twisted the dial again, and this time the
screen flickered and cleared, and they were looking into the Convocation
Chamber from the extreme rear, above the double doors. Far away, in
front, Olvir Nikkolon was rising behind the gold and onyx bench, and
from the speaker the call bell tolled slowly, and the buzz of over two
thousand whispering voices diminished. Nikkolon began to speak:

"Seven and a half centuries ago, our fathers went forth from Morglay to
plant upon this planet a new banner...."

It was evidently a set speech, one he had recited year after year, and
every Lord Chairman of the Presidium before him. The splendid
traditions. The glories of the Masterly race. The all-conquering Space
Vikings. The proud heritage of the Sword-Worlds. Lanze was fiddling with
the control knobs, stepping up magnification and focusing on the
speaker's head and shoulders. Then everybody laughed; Nikkolon had a
small plug in one ear, with a fine wire running down to vanish under his
collar. Degbrend brough