It was not a popular assignment. A voice, electronically distorted until it sounded like muted, chilled brass, rang down from the dais, filling the room. The imperial tribunal of Emperor Halib is in session. Its word is the emperor's word, and the Homeric galaxy will hear and conform. To all who hear these judgments, this tribunal is beyond appeal.
Decisions are final.
The seven officers sat down. When the spectators on the benches and trial participants did the same, the sound of their combined action made a noise like wind-worried leaves. Lannat, his gaze locked on the black figures, repressed a shiver. Pushing on the tabletop with the knuckles of clenched fists, Lannat stood. This was the way every day started in the tribunal.