Admiral Hawarden set a small box on the desk and turned on a switch. "Just a portable spyray block," he apologized.
"I know, I know," came the exasperated voice. "Get on with it, man, I'm tired."
"Permit me to introduce George Hanlon, of the Corps. We have, first, a bit of sad news to give Your Majesty, and then some questions we most urgently request you to answer as fully as you can."
The emperor did not look pleased at this suggestion that he be questioned, but said nothing.
"Your Prime Minister, Gorth Bohr, was killed a few hours ago, Sire."
"What?" The emperor sat upright, his face showing the utmost incredulity, but Hanlon's mind-probing had prepared him for the reaction, so he was not surprised to note neither dismay nor regret.
For the monarch suddenly sank back into his chair, and a long, loud suspiration of relief came from him. He closed his eyes and his face finally relaxed a bit. Suddenly he sat bolt upright. "Are you sure?" he barked.
"Positive," the admiral assured him. "The body is at Base, and has been for several hours."
"How did he die?"
"He was stung to death by bees, Sire," Hanlon answered.