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We may have to argue a broken contract out before the Board. But first we have to get off the Posted hook with the Patrol. Have you any idea about how we are going to handle that?" "Hovan's on our side. In fact if we let him have the bugs to play with he'll back us all the way. He can swear us a clean bill of health before the Medic Control Center."
The tape simply confirmed Hovan's account of the first human/Traiti meeting, adding little to Tarlac's knowledge except a sight of the guardship crew's intense horror when they saw women aboard an armed scout, being taken into danger only males should face. The human scouts had followed first-contact procedure, Tarlac found; the problem was the mixed crew, and there was no point in changing that.
Hovan's reply changed the medic's expression. He checked the wound, cleaned it, then held the edges together and sprayed it with something cool and gray. The Traiti version of synthiskin, probably, Tarlac thought. Afterwards the medic checked and cleaned Hovan's cut, but didn't bother with any further treatment. It looked half-healed, whether or not it was.
Apparently it was good style in Ch'kara, though, since Hovan's fit the same way. Tarlac's gun wasn't there, probably in storage with his uniform; instead, he'd been given a knife very similar to the one he'd used in the challenge match aboard the Hermnaen. "I gather you borrowed these from a youngling?" "Yes. And Sandre them tailored, you to fit. Now come.
Hovan's long strides didn't give Tarlac much time to study art on the way to the dining area, but he saw more than he had earlier, since he was no longer surrounded by bodies. The new data didn't change his initial impression, but he had already started to adapt to the Madonna pictures that'd disturbed him.
Then he lifted the car and pointed it toward the clanhome. Steve was on his own now, totally out of contact, and Hovan found himself suddenly apprehensive. N'derybach weren't the only dangers in Homeworld's wilderness. So this was Homeworld's wilderness. Tarlac watched Hovan's car disappear, then checked out his surroundings to see what he'd have to work with.
Hovan's voice was little more than a whisper, sounding awed. He turned away abruptly, toward the right-side-wall pigeon-holes. Tarlac followed, accepting the bundle he was handed, then he followed his guide back to unroll the bundle on the floor. It proved to be a Traiti-sized bedroll with a pillow and a flocked-foam blanket.
"How much will that count after we've broken all their regs?" Ali wanted to know. "If we surrender now we're not going to have much chance, no matter what Hovan does or does not swear to. Hovan's a frontier Medic I won't say that he's not a member in good standing of their association but he doesn't have top star rating.
Ka'ruchaya Yarra had told him to judge the Terran he would meet, and if he found the man worthy, to offer adoption into Ch'kara. It would be an unprecedented honor for Hovan, as well as the Terran, if that happened; adoption was a Clan Mother's privilege, delegated sometimes to another female, never in Hovan's knowledge to a male. He had told no one about his mission from Yarra.
That's the only honorable thing to do." "That is the Decision you have made?" Hovan asked formally. "It is." "Then as your sponsor, I may say that you have decided correctly." "Thanks, ruhar." Tarlac was still worried, but Hovan's acceptance of his story eased his fear. He felt relieved, almost refreshed. "But how to do it best is another question. I'd feel safe enough telling a Speaker about it "
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