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Updated: June 19, 2025
"Welcome, Ruhar," said the one Tarlac recognized as the presence which had brought him here. The voice was as clear and pure as the light. "And welcome to your place in the Circle of Lords." Tarlac recognized him from the statuettes and from his Vision. He took a deep breath of the sweet, vital air before he spoke. "My place, Lord Kranath? I'm human, not Traiti."
The uniform was spotless, the badge and leather items polished to a high gloss, the gun fully charged. His ruhar would go before the Lords as a Cor'naya of Ch'kara should. He picked up the body again and returned to the foot of the altar dais. The Supreme, the First Speaker, and Dr. Jason were no longer on the newly-cleaned dais.
I learned much of myself when I thought I was to die." Hovan looked down at Steve, into the man's troubled eyes. "I learned that I was stronger than I thought, ruhar, and I also learned the limits of my strength. I could not bear the burden of the Decision you must make. That it is asked of you shows you can bear it." Tarlac had to smile at that.
"It always seems that way, ruhar," Daria finally said, handing him bodily to Channath. That was how everyone welcomed him back, passing him from one to another. It wasn't at all dignified; it was totally unsuitable treatment for any Imperial officer, much less a Ranger; word of it would have caused scandalized talk; and Tarlac reveled unashamed in every glorious second of his family's greeting.
Hovan was silent long enough to worry the Ranger, and when he spoke at last, Tarlac was practically holding his breath. "It is not a pleasant feeling," Hovan said slowly. "I can understand your reservations, ruhar; in your place, I cannot say what I would do." He was silent again, for long enough to let Tarlac reflect that he might be troubled, but he was clearly neither insane nor dying.
"A story of the end times, ruhar, when all hinges on one man, for good or ill." "Me. I've known that since before I landed on Homeworld. So what? It looks like whatever I do, Traiti die." Tarlac was being rude and knew it, but he didn't particularly care. He was too caught up in an awful private vision of Ch'kara gone mad. Hovan spoke quietly, picking his words with care. "Yes.
"In body," Kranath agreed, smiling. "In mind you are both, and have been since your conception. We insured that. The human body on Ch'kara's altar means nothing. Here you and we can be either. Think of yourself as Traiti, Ruhar." Remembering his Vision of being Kranath, and before that the time at the altar when he'd felt as much Traiti as human, Tarlac did as he was told.
"What we do is less different from your earlier work than you can yet realize. And you have time to ease your mind before you absorb the knowledge and powers you are heir to. Sit and drink, Ruhar." When a tall, cold glass of green liquid appeared in his hand, Tarlac accepted it and sipped.
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.
Perhaps that meant the Ranger was tougher than he looked, and had a better chance in the Ordeal than was generally believed. Hovan hoped so, since he found himself beginning to like the frail-seeming human who would soon be his ruhar. He was glad, now, that he had never voiced his private doubts about Ka'ruchaya Yarra's decision to offer adoption to an alien and enemy.
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