zens like these could live
freely and without fear. And she was one of those officers . . . Sue
smiled to herself, and kept listening as carefully as Bridget kept her
chocolate cup full and hot.

The MacGregor farm, she found, wasn't a particularly prosperous one
even by this island's standards. Donal's tractor was unreliable at
best, Geordie couldn't seem to find a sponsor who'd get him even as far
as being tested for the Military Academy--well. It had been a long
time since she'd had an opportunity to indulge herself.

About an hour after she'd been helped inside, Sue stood and attracted
Tara's attention. "Mrs. MacGregor, may I use your phone now?"

"Of course, lass. Back this way."

"Thank you." Sue looked around, gestured to Geordie and Donal. "Would
you come, too?"

The two men exchanged glances, then Donal shrugged and smiled. "If you
wish, lass."

The MacGregors did have a phone in the kitchen, Sue found, but it was
clear that they seldom used it; Tara had to move half a dozen jars of
canned tomatoes before she could take the phone out of the cabinet.
And it was basic: small 20-cm screen, push buttons instead of voice
activation--probably black and white, too, Sue thought as she
activated it.

No, it was color. The screen lit up in pale green, reading 'Dial.' As
Sue entered the various access codes, the readout changed.
Intercontinental . . . Antarctica . . . Imperial Palace. That got
murmurs of surprise, which grew louder as she punched in the last
numbers and the Imperial Seal appeared on the screen.

"Voiceprint ID required," a flat voice said. "Speak."

"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