Jackson had simply declared that there would be a conclave.
The Stellar Guard detachment would be in attendance. No irregularities would be tolerated.
And he'd even named the day—today. Then the two of them had walked out.
Stern twisted his chair around viciously and sat down. He punched at a button on his desk.
An aide came through the door. That was another thing. After that fiasco at the Michaels ranch, he'd had to get a new aide. He motioned the man forward impatiently.
"You have made final arrangements for the conclave?"
"Yes, sir. The Heraldric Branch has everything set up. The clans have already gathered in the Throne Room. The private conversation will be held in the Blue Palace. After the conversation, you will escort the claimant across the south lawn, to the Throne Room." The aide half turned.
"I can get you the plan and diagrams, sir."
Stern waved a hand. "Never mind. I've seen them." He paused.
"Now, has my space yacht been positioned back of the Blue Palace? Is it properly serviced?"