"Will you then confirm it for him?"
"He won't need it."
The Emperor nodded slowly. "You never could play poker, Steve. You've been holding out on me, and just now you were thinking of… something. And maybe you've made a couple of mistakes. Your transmission—or should I say illusion?—doesn't have a background. That might have a lot of causes, but could Kranath's Vision have been a reenactment? There were no mindprobes around five thousand years ago to record it." He glanced again at the comscreen control panel, its master switch turned off. "You, or part of you, is right here, Lord Esteban Tarlac—isn't it?"
"Yes, sir," Tarlac admitted, unable to repress a smile and a rueful headshake. "A moment ago Lord Kranath told me you were close to the truth and asked me what I intended to do about it. Absolutely nothing, except to ask you not to make it official. If I'm being so obvious, too many people may pick up on it anyway."
"It wasn't obvious, except to someone who knows you well. I don't think anyone but your… former… colleagues will catch it. And I won't make it official; you know the Empire doesn't promote any religion. But—will you give the Empire the same support your new colleagues give the Traiti?"
Tarlac laughed, relieved that the Emperor could see and grasp this opportunity as readily as ever, in spite of the circumstances. "Your Majesty, if this succeeds, all of us will be working for the interests of both races combined."
A driving surge of hope erased some of the Emperor's fatigue. "What do you want me to do?"
The next morning, as promised, the Supreme and First Speaker met Tarlac and Hovan at the Hermnaen's loading ramp. Fleet-Captain Arjen, in uniform again and obviously proud of this honor, was waiting to greet them. He bowed respectfully to the human in Ranger green. "Lord Esteban."
Tarlac touched his shoulder, to emphasize the fact that he was still using a physical body. "Not necessary for now, Fleet-Captain. Let's keep things looking as normal as possible."
Arjen straightened. "Yes, Lord."