lander settling to earth barely ten meters from the front door. When its hatch opened and a scarlet-tunicked man emerged, she caught her breath. This was an Imperial Messenger!

"Tara MacGregor?" the man asked.

She nodded silently, and the Messenger bowed to her, extending a large green envelope. "I am instructed to deliver this with Her Majesty's compliments, Mrs. MacGregor. She asks that you contact Castellan Gordon with your reply." He bowed again, and left as swiftly as he'd arrived.

Tara watched him go before she opened the envelope with hands that were shaking slightly. It held three items: a bill of sale for a new tractor, an authorization form for Geordie to take the Academy entrance examinations, and a smaller envelope with a handwritten note: "You gave a crashed pilot hospitality, and a grieving woman sympathy. I would like to return at least the hospitality; will you all be my guests for Coronation Week?" It was initialed S.M.L.

As Tara started to go back into the house, she heard shouted questions, and stopped to wait for Donal and Geordie, who were approaching at a run. She didn't bother saying anything; the papers she held out spoke for themselves.

Both men looked them over with the same mixture of amazement and pleasure Tara was sure she'd had. It was Donal who finally spoke, looking south toward the Antarctic palace none of them had ever thought to see. "Aye, lass," he said softly. "Aye, we'll accept your hospitality."

END