As the music throbbed, holographic lightning spelled the names of players above the virtual stage. Adele knew displays: they were the means by which she absorbed most of the information that was her life. The Palace's projection apparatus was aligned to provide 97% comprehension throughout the 180-degree arc of spectators, but the optimum viewing location was the center of the Speaker's Box.

A voice-normally documentaries were narrated by newsreaders, but here Adele recognized the tones of Michael Beasley, a leading player-said, "Though we who play the roles in this drama are civilians, the incidents which we portray are entirely true and are based on imagery collected by the heroic men and women of the Cinnabar Navy. It is with profound humility and respect that we offer to the citizens of this great Republic a lifelike account of-"

The music and Beasley's voice swelled together.

"-the conquest of Dunbar's World!"

Adele set her data unit on her knees. She didn't need it at present, but she'd found that gripping the control wands settled her mind. Cazelet divided his attention between her and the documentary.

"Port Dunbar!" boomed Beasley. "A city being crushed by the relentless brutality of Guarantor Porra's goons."

The image panned across a ruined urban landscape. It was early dusk, though the sky was bright enough to show buildings already shattered by explosives. The tracking flares of bombardment rockets gleamed all the way to the orange blasts at the end of their quick arcs.

"Now how did they…?" Adele whispered; her wands flickered, calling up data.

"Is that wrong, mistress?" Cazelet said, giving her a start. She'd forgotten that she wasn't alone.

"On the contrary," she said, adjusting her data unit so that he could view it's holographic display also. "It's right. They're using real images, imagesmy helmet gathered when we flew into Port Dunbar."