Authors: Tanya Huff
The captain nodded. “I’m surprised you remember.”
Torin grinned, careful not to show too much tooth. “You skipped a battle cruiser into the atmosphere and fried a fighting wedge of Other ships, saving at least a dozen of your pilots. From where I stood, it was an impressive light show.”
“My captain had been killed in the attack, and this was the first battle where the Others had used the new cluster technology,” Carveg explained to the listening officers. “I took a gamble that paid off, although considering the mess it made of the hull, I don’t think the engineers ever forgave me. Meanwhile, dirtside, Sergeant Kerr and her squad pulled three of my downed pilots out of the wreckage of their escape pods and kept them alive at some risk to her squad until we cleared the system for med-evac.”
“What’s so dangerous about carrying stretchers?” a di’Taykan naval officer wondered.
Lieutenant Jarret answered before Torin had a chance. “When you’re carrying stretchers,” he said, in a tone so pleasant the other di’Taykan’s eyes lightened, “you can’t use your weapon. Three stretchers meant a minimum of six Marines were defenseless and the strength of the squad almost halved. But we don’t leave
anyone
behind to die.” The emphasis was a gentle, aristocratic chastisement.
Bet that’s a di’Taykan with more than two letters in her name,
Torin thought hiding a smile. The most junior officer in the room had been born into a family who’d been holding power from the beginning of their civilization.
He might be starting from scratch with the rest of us, but he can handle his own species just fine.
“And never think we don’t appreciate that,” Captain Carveg told him, not bothering to mask her approval. “Come, let me make you known to the people you’ll be accompanying.”
* * *
“What’s happening now?”
“More introductions.”
On the screen, one of the Dornagain unfolded to his full height and bowed gravely.
“Fuk, those guys are big.”
“That’s likely why they’re sending them, in case there’s trouble.”
“Nah, that’s why they’re sending us. The Dornagain don’t fight.”
“And even if they did, you ever seen one move fast enough to scratch his butt before the itch moved?”
“If they don’t fight, whadda they use them fukking claws for?”
“Shellfish.” The squad turned toward Hollice, who shrugged, “Don’t you guys remember those ‘Founders of the Confederation’ vids we got in school?”
“All I remember is that the H’san sing every morning at sunrise. No matter what sun.”
“No kidding. All I remember is that the H’san like cheese.”
“Everyone remembers
that.”
* * *
“Lieutenant Jarret, Sergeant Kerr, this is Ambassador Krik’vir.” Captain Carveg replaced the mandible clash in the middle of the name with a snap of her teeth Torin couldn’t help but envy. Krai tooth enamel was so tough, bioengineers kept trying to replicate it as atmospheric shielding on the Confederation’s vacuum-to-atmosphere vehicles.
The Mictok ambassador dipped her antennae in greeting. “We are very pleased to meet you both. We appreciate so many of you being able to accommodate us on such short notice.”
Lieutenant Jarret inclined his head. “General Morris’ orders, ma’am.”
“Yes, of course.” Amused, her outer mandibles clattered softly against the inner. “We forget you had no need to achieve consensus. We sometimes wish we had the same freedom. Allow us to introduce you to our staff; those you will also be guarding.”
Get it off me! Get it off me!
Torin had little success in putting Glicksohn’s words out of her head as the next level of introductions were made. Although the beauty of Mictok art touched almost every known species and their diplomatic skills had been instrumental in creating the Confederation, Humans looked at them and saw giant spiders. Fortunately for Human/ Mictok relations, the latter were almost impossible to insult.
Ambassador Krik’vir’s staff consisted of only three other Mictok, a surprisingly small number for a communal species, although one more than the minimum. Under the right conditions, three Mictok could begin a new nest, one becoming Queen, one a breeding male, and the third providing for the happy couple until the first eggs could hatch. If necessary, the male also became the incubator. Torin had often wondered how they chose but had never quite had the nerve to ask.
Introductions to the Dornagain ambassador and his staff followed with much mutual bowing and exchanging of meaningless pleasantries. Dornagain names sounded strange to Human ears since they referred to personality traits or physical descriptions and changed several times over the course of a long life. The ambassador currently bore the apt although unwieldy name of Listens Wisely And Considers All.
Her rank, or rather lack of rank, exempting her from much of the social ritual, Torin was able to stand back and appreciate the way Lieutenant Jarret handled the situation. His hair had stilled as his apprehension had dissipated and he seemed to be enjoying himself. As a member of an ancient house, his background made him perfectly suited to do the pretty with their civilian charges, and she had to admit that, green though he might be in combat experience, he was the perfect choice to command this mission.
And he won’t be quite so green by the time someone starts shooting at us.
An officer who’d had command experience of any kind before going into combat created a win/win situation as far as Torin was concerned, and it helped her to think more kindly of General Morris—in spite of the stranglehold her dress uniform had achieved.
Parity with the Mictok necessitated that there be four Dornagain. Well aware that their size made them intimidating to smaller species—which, from their perspective, was just about everyone else in the Confederation—they moved slowly apart when the introductions were over.
The four Marines in tow, Captain Carveg interrupted an argument on cellular plasticity to make them known to Dr. Planton Leor...
“...the environmental physician who’ll be ensuring that you’ll all remain healthy during your stay on Silsvah. He’s predominantly a research physician,” she added sotto voce as they moved away. “I’ll be sending a couple of corpsmen down as well, just in case.”
The rest of the civilian party consisted of the Charge d’Affaires and her two assistants, all three Rakva like the doctor.
* * *
“There was a Rakva who had a canteen on station back when I was with the 9th,” Ressk mused. “Great cook.”
“Why would you care?” Binti wondered, looking up from her slate. “You’ll eat anything you can wrestle down your throat two falls out of three.”
“There’s a difference between eat and enjoy,” the Krai reminded her. “This guy could make a
juklae
so light you were convinced you were eating it in zero gee.”
“Yeah? Too bad he’s not here instead of this environmental physician guy.” She snorted. “Like we never made a strange planetfall before.” Shaking a finger in the air, she raised her voice into an approximation of a Rakva whistle. “Now don’t touch that, we don’t know where it’s been.”
“I, for one, am not looking a gift physician in the mouth.”
Grinning, Binti glanced toward the dark rectangle of Corporal Hollice’s bunk. “I don’t think you
can
look a Rakva in the mouth, Hol. Those beaky things aren’t set up that way.”
A hand appeared long enough to flash a very Human response. “Shortsighted. That’s why you’re still a private.”
“You won’t die. That’s why I’m still a private.”
“You’re my reason to live.”
“I’m honored.”
“You should be. Now, shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”
Still grinning, Binti turned her attention back to her slate.
The rest of the squad had gotten bored with watching diplomacy in action—even illegally obtained. Most had wandered off to the mess, but Ressk had stayed by the screen. As the introductions ended and Captain Carveg left the Marines by the refreshment table, he hastily reset the security vid parameters to follow the
Berganitan’s
captain.
“Now that’s what I call a set of
amalork,”
he murmured, settling back in his chair.
He could watch Staff Sergeant Kerr any time; female Krai in the infantry were few and far between.
* * *
Chewing on something vaguely kelplike, Torin watched Lieutenant Jarret work the crowd and wondered why he’d opted for combat when he was so good at... she supposed diplomacy was the politest thing to call it, although the phrase “kissing butt” kept coming to mind. And why wasn’t
he
being strangled by
his
dress uniform? She ran a finger under her collar, then reached for another kelp thing.
“We are pleased to welcome another reptilian species into the Confederation.”
Torin hadn’t heard the Mictok come up behind her, but there could be no mistaking the accent—mandibles were just not made to deal with the softer consonants. Forcing herself to turn slowly, she found herself face-to-essentially-face with the ambassador.
“The first contact team indicated that the Silsviss have a very vibrant and vital culture. We are looking forward to exploring it.”
There didn’t seem to be much to say to that, so Torin merely smiled and nodded. As it was a little disconcerting to see her reflection in the nearer of the ambassador’s eyestalks, she dropped her gaze to the brilliant design painted onto the exoskeleton.
The eyestalk turned to follow her line of sight. “Do you like it, Staff Sergeant?”
“It’s beautiful, ma’am.”
“We think so, too, but we were not sure how it would appear to a biocular species.” The foreleg with the least number of differentiated digits rose and tapped Torin’s ribbon bar. “These are more than decoration, yes?”
“Yes, ma’am. They represent where I’ve been and what I’ve done.” A barely remembered lecture on interspecies relations had suggested it was best to keep cultural explanations simple. She doubted she could make it much simpler than that.
“In reference to the fighting that you do?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The Mictok sighed—at least Torin assumed that’s what the sound meant. “We do not understand why the Others insist on pushing into Confederation space. We do not like to think of sentient species having to die, even if it is the few dying to protect the many.”
“We don’t exactly like to think of it either, ma’am.”
She made the noise again. “No, we don’t suppose you do. We have often wondered why a smart weapon could not be created...”
“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Torin interrupted stiffly, “but you’ve got forty-two smart weapons on board right now. Forty-five, including our air support,” she amended, hearing Captain Daniels’ voice rise across the room. “You couldn’t possibly program a computer to consider all the variables that can occur in combat.”
“And when there is finally the development of a true A-I?”
“You’d just be sending a different sentient species to die.”
Ambassador Krik’vir tapped Torin’s ribbon bar again. “If one of these is not for debate, Staff Sergeant Kerr, we think it should be. Lieutenant Jarret wears no colors,” she continued, not waiting for a response. “He is very new.”
It wasn’t a question, so Torin waited for the ambassador to make her point.
“He knows how important the Silsviss are to our defenses in this sector?”
“Yes, ma’am, he knows.”
“We understand the Silsviss to be impressed by warriors. General Morris has made an interesting choice.”
“General Morris knows what he’s doing, ma’am.” Personal opinion of the general aside, Torin wasn’t about to have him criticized by a non-Marine. Besides, this evening’s exercise had pretty much convinced her that Jarret had been chosen to deal with the diplomats, and the
rest
of them had been chosen to impress the Silsviss. When the ambassador repeated her thought aloud, she was startled enough to actually meet the Mictok’s eyes where eight reflections stared back at her in astonishment. Unable to avoid realizing that she looked like an idiot, she closed her mouth and the eight reflections closed theirs.
Ambassador Krik’vir’s outer mandibles clattered against the inner. “We do not read minds, Staff Sergeant, but it was not hard for us to guess your thoughts.” The sweep of a foreleg indicated the rest of the room. “Here tonight there are four Marines as well as four Mictok, four Dornagain, and in order to be equal, four Rakva. It is, as you Humans say, appallingly politically correct. We think you will have an easier time fulfilling your commission than your lieutenant will fulfilling his. You, after all, have only one species to impress.”
It might have been a warning. “And we will, ma’am.”
“Good. We apologize for interrupting you while you were feeding, but we are pleased we had this opportunity to talk.”
As the ambassador scuttled back into the crowd, Torin snagged a drink off a passing tray and took a long swallow.
Get it off me,
she sighed silently.
* * *
“I’m a little surprised you’re coming back with us.” Hand on the identity plate, Captain Daniels stood aside while the other three went through the lock, then followed and cycled it closed. “I’d have thought you’d have hooked up with another di’Taykan and spent the night away.”
“Actually, I was wondering what would happen if I unmasked around a Dornagain.”
“A Dornagain?”
“Most sentient carbon-based mammals react.”
“Are you out of your mind? The females have got to weigh close to two hundred kilos and the males aren’t much smaller. If you weren’t crashed, you’d be...” Then she caught sight of the expression on Jarret’s face. “I can’t believe I fell for that.”
The grin broadened. “Fell for what?”
Trouble is,
Torin mused, following along behind the three officers,
with a di’Taykan there’s no way to be sure they’re kidding.
Some of them, given the opportunity, would pop their maskers in front of a Dornagain just to see what would happen. Lieutenant Jarret didn’t seem to be the type, but their previous contact certainly proved he could pop it off fast enough when a willing partner appeared.
And you’re never going to think of that again,
she reminded herself, tonguing her implant for the duty report.