"Ranger Susan M. Lindner, ident code RSR-0651-0173."
"Ident confirmed. To whom do you wish to speak?"
"Castellan Gordon, please."
"One moment, sir."
Within seconds, the Seal disappeared, to be replaced by the face of a gray-haired, tired-looking man. "What can I do for you … ah …" He hesitated, frowning. "You haven't heard— No, Comm Central said you weren't answering—"
"Heard what, Robert? My plane went down three or four hours ago, and these people have spent the last hour drying me off and warming me with hot cocoa." But from the Castellan's expression, she was afraid she knew. The Emperor's health hadn't been good of late, and she really shouldn't have been half a world away … "When did it happen?"
"Apparently about the time you crashed," Gordon said. "I believe he heard the New Year in. I hope he did …" The Castellan was silent for a moment, then he went on. "He didn't seem to be in any pain, and Doctor Warren says it was simple heart failure. I've delayed making the public announcement until I could speak to you, get authorization to call a Conclave at the same time." He bowed as deeply as he could and still remain on-screen. "By Your Majesty's leave?"
"You have authorization," Ranger—now Empress—Susan Lindner said. She had known this was inevitable since her own election as Crown Princess at the first Conclave; establishing a precedent of peaceful, orderly transfer of Imperial power was absolutely vital. "I'll need transport, and from the terrain I crossed, it'd better be something on the order of a lander. I'm at the MacGregor farmstead, Isle of Skye; you should be able to pinpoint me from this call."
"Done, Majesty," Gordon said after a couple of seconds. "A lander will be on its way as soon as I'm dismissed, with Ranger Grissom and a squad of Palace Guards. Naturally, I'll give them a head start before I inform the news media. Is there anything else?"
The Empress glanced around at the people near her, the ones who'd shared her surprise—and, in varying degrees, shock—at the news of Emperor Chang's death. "I think so. A squad—no, better make it a platoon—of Security Division Marines. The MacGregors can't be used to publicity, especially the kind my accession is going to bring."