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Updated: May 13, 2025
Were you persuasive enough to convince two star-spanning civilizations to cease ten years of hostility just with words? Is any mortal?" Tarlac shook his head. "I'm an operator, not much of a diplomat Linda's the expert at that, and I don't think even she could bring that one off." He looked at them speculatively, then nodded. "I guess I do understand, at that.
If Tarlac had been beaten all over with the poisoned whip, he probably wouldn't have survived the night. This way, he had a chance of lasting until he could get real medical help. Not much of a chance, Dave thought grimly as he began cleaning his patient's eyes, but a chance. "There," he said at last. "You should be able to open them now." Tarlac did manage, though it took most of his strength.
The Rangers, long accustomed to network competition, paid little attention to the aggressive mob scene; this was a big story, one of the biggest, and the newsies' behavior was expectable. They didn't mean any harm, but Tarlac sensed a growing concern from the two Traiti males for the First Speaker's safety. Tarlac kept walking, outwardly impassive, as he sent them reassurance.
The speck grew, beginning to show detail. The Palace itself was a good four kilometers square, the largest single building ever constructed by humans, combining elements from all of Terra's cultures in a feat of engineering made possible by Nannstein's genius. Tarlac thought it was magnificent, and it was virtually a self-contained city.
She was no fighter, couldn't possibly be if all he'd learned about the Traiti was correct, but she gave the impression of a warrior maiden. Seated between the driver and Hovan, Tarlac had a sudden feeling of belonging here; despite his misgivings, he liked it. He'd already decided, since there was no way to ignore his apprehension, to refuse to let himself be distracted by his fear.
A youngling Steve couldn't remember meeting tugged at his shirt, and when he looked around, said, "Hey, ruchaya Steve, you don't talk funny any more." Tarlac laughed. "Thanks! Think you could do any better, in English?" The youngling grinned engagingly at him. "Sure I could, if you teach me." "We'll see. If I have time, it's a deal."
She turned to Olorun. "Execute transition." Arjen showed no reaction to the Lindner's departure before he gave Tarlac his full attention. "To this ship welcome be, Ranger. You have Team-Leader Hovan met; he has said, he will you escort and teach. If you to him object, I will another assign." Tarlac glanced up at the apparently impassive commando beside him, then looked back at Arjen.
"Yes, of " Hovan broke off as he glanced upward, inhaling with a hiss through surprise-thinned nostrils. "Yarra! She here came?" Tarlac recalled one of the fine points of custom he'd learned, that the Clan Mother very rarely left the main clanhome, and then only if it was important to the clan's survival or honor.
And he cared for Ranger Tarlac in a cave, was in the middle of a gun battle with the rebels when the Marines arrived. I have wondered if that part was the holo director's dramatic license, or if it actually happened that way.* *That was how it happened,* Medart assured her. *Scanlon wasn't about to give up, either, according to the Marines' testimony.
Tarlac had a sudden mental picture of a Traiti trading war stories and combat techniques with one of the small dark-skinned blonds and it seemed more an inevitable picture than an odd one. "I wouldn't be a bit surprised if you did," he agreed. "But you still haven't told me why I'm being so well treated." "That simple is.
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