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"I, Hovan of Clan Ch'kara, do solemnly swear . . . to protect and defend the Terran Empire . . . from all enemies, foreign and domestic . . . and to bear true faith and allegiance to the same. This I pledge before the Lords, by my own honor and Ch'kara's." Tarlac lowered his hand and extended it. "Congratulations, First Lieutenant Hovan, and welcome to Imperial Service."
The three bowed; Forrest saluted again. "Welcome to Terra. I've been told that only Team-Leader Hovan speaks much English, but that you can all understand some." "That is correct," Hovan said. "Good enough. Now if you'll come with me, His Majesty is waiting to receive you." "We you thank," the First Speaker said, using, Tarlac knew, most of her limited English.
I'd like you to have the Hermnaen ready for takeoff tomorrow morning, with just the ship crew, no combat troops. You'll be carrying the human prisoners instead, plus the Supreme, the First Speaker, my sponsor Hovan, and myself." "You, Lord?" Arjen knew he shouldn't question a god, but why would one want to travel by ship? Tarlac understood Arjen's question.
Finally he stepped back and made obeisance to the figures on the upper level, a formal bow. A shimmering appeared around the body, hazing its outlines but not obscuring it, as Hovan moved to stand at the end of the altar near Steve's head. He would hold vigil there until, at this time the next day, the Lords would take the man to themselves in a flare of blue. Was he dead?
The primary criteria were mental: among other things were intelligence, imagination, an adaptable but stable mind, a generalist's variety of knowledge, intense loyalty to the Empire . . . and no close personal ties. Hovan returned the man's smile, pleased. From what he had heard of human prisoners, he'd guessed that sidetracking Steve's train of thought might help; it seemed to have worked.
After taking care of immediate necessities, the Ranger decided he could use a bath. He left his gun and equipment belt in the locker, picked out clean underwear, and started toward the bathing room door in the left wall. Hovan, turning from a nearby locker, stopped him. "Why need you those?" "To sleep in," Tarlac said, surprised.
They moved on toward the meal hall. As before, Tarlac didn't recognize any of the plentiful food. There were different kinds of meat and two kinds of fruit, one pink and one a brilliant scarlet, all of it good. When they finished, Hovan guided Tarlac to the bridge.
At least he didn't have to worry about the food; bio-studies had shown that Traiti and humans had the same basic nutritional requirements and limitations. No Traiti food should poison him. Finally Hovan pushed back his tray, his meal finished. "Ranger Esteban Tarlac. We will much together be; object you if we not formal are?
Once the greetings were over, Hovan led Steve out of the exercise hall and deeper into the ship. "Come, ruhar. You should medical help have." Tarlac didn't need any more than his nose, a few minutes later, to know they were nearing a medical facility. The smell of antiseptic had to be universal, at least for warm-blooded oxygen breathers like Terrans and Irschchans and Traiti.
"I meant what I said," Tarlac replied. "It may be a minor wound, but I know skill when I see it." He was sincere. The medic had been assured and gentle, clearly a trauma expert, and Tarlac had to assume the easing of pain in his arm could be credited to the synthiskin. That was a technique the humans had so far not developed. "He you thanks," Hovan said after a further exchange.
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