"Yes. He has the beginnings of the theory worked out, but it'll be awhile yet before it'll be of any practical use." Tarlac did not say that it would be a long while. Unlike Nannstein's theory of gravitics, which had led directly to hyperdrive, ultraspace theory held no clues to its practical applications; it would be several centuries before those were worked out. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to brief the First Speaker and Supreme."
"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?"