the smooth rhythm of a band playing a march trio. He sat back.

The screen glowed and became a large rectangle of blue, dotted with
fleecy clouds. In the distance, the towers of Oreladar poked up from a
carpet of green trees.

Swiftly, the camera approached the city, to center for a moment on a
large sports stadium. Players dashed across the turf, then the camera
swung away. Briefly, it paused to record various city scenes, then it
crossed the walls of the Palace and came to ground level on the parade
grounds of the Royal Guards.

A review was underway. For a few seconds, the camera held on the massed
troops, then it centered on the reviewing stand. The band modulated
smoothly into a brilliant quickstep and a column of guards marched to
center screen, the colors of their dress uniforms contrasting with the
green of the perfectly kept field.

Now, the field of view narrowed, centering the view first on the color
guard, then on the colors alone. The camera moved down till the gold
and blue of Oredan's royal colors stood out against the blue sky.

The band music faded, to be over-ridden then replaced by a smooth
baritone voice.

"This is your news reporter," it said, "Merle Boyce, bringing you the
latest happenings of the day."

The colors receded, their background blurring then coming into focus
again. Now, they stood before a large window. Again, the camera receded
and a man appeared in the foreground. For a moment he sat at his plain
desk, gazing directly out of the screen and seeming to look searchingly
into Don's face. Then he smiled engagingly and nodded.

"As every citizen of Oredan knows," he said, "this nation has been
swept by a wave of terrorism during the few days past. Indeed, the now
notorious Waern affair became so serious that our Prime Minister found
it necessary to take personal command of the Enforcement Corps and
direct the search for the terrorists himself. Now, he is present, to
bring to you, the people, his report of the conclusion of this terrible
affair." He paused, drawing a breath.

"Citizen of Oredan," he declaimed slowly, "the Prime Minister, Daniel
Stern, Prince Regent."

He faced away from the camera and faded from view. Again, the gold and
blue of Oredan filled the screen.

There was a brief blare of trumpets. Then drums rolled and the heavy
banner swept aside to reveal a tall, slender man, who approached the
camera deliberately. He glanced aside for a moment, then pinned his