l do my best to avoid that, Your Majesty."

"I know you will," Davis said. "Still, for the first time, I'm
grateful that politics forced Chang to have the Palace built in
Antarctica. A strike like that almost anywhere else would kill a hell
of a lot more people."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't hesitate to call me if you have to. But unless there's anything
else, I'll sign off now and let you get back to work."

"I have nothing more, sir," Corina answered, and the screen went blue
momentarily before it shut off.

She was unfamiliar with Terran geography, but everyone knew about the
fabulous Imperial Palace. Isolated in the heart of a frozen continent,
it was the center of the Palace Complex, a hundred-kilometer-diameter
circle of parklike city. She didn't understand the physics of the
modified defense screen that allowed it to exist in spite of
Antarctica's climate, but the politics Davis had mentioned were clear
enough.

The Solar Federation's capital had been in Ceres, but when Nannstein's
discovery of hyperdrive had triggered the necessary change from
Federation to Empire, that had been abandoned. The Empire needed a
center on Terra itself as a symbol of unity, yet squabbling about its
location among the planetary powers had made that unity a mockery until
Emperor Chang stepped in.

It was his decision that, since the Empire was not concerned with local
politics--it couldn't be and still govern the Empire as a whole
properly--the Palace would not be located on any individual nation's
territory. That made Antarctica the only possible place. Covered by
multinational treaties and with no permanent inhabitants, it had no
national identity.

And she would be going there, going to the Palace itself . . . as a
Ranger. What would her parents think? Corina hoped they would be
proud--

Medart interrupted her musing. "How about breakfast? I don't know
about you, but I'm hungry."

"So am I," Corina agreed. "And we have plans to make."

"Correction," Medart said. "You have plans to make. All I'm going to
do is listen and critique."

They took an intraship shuttle to Mess One, intended for senior
officers and at this hour quite empty, unlike the always-busy Mess
Three. They got their meals and ate silently while Corina decided on
her plans.

"The first thing, I think," she finally said, "is to find anyone else
aboard with mind shields, to make a combat group. I have met
surprisingly many--four out of perha