his. He'd been teased about it, not seriously; he'd proven himself
often enough that nobody grudged him what they thought would be easy
duty.

Tarlac watched the Traiti stow the suit before turning to the commando
squad with a claw-extending gesture, to say something in a tonal
language that told the Ranger where the lilting Traiti version of
Imperial English came from. If these people were singers, he thought,
they'd be good. Singing didn't seem to fit in with what the Empire
knew of the Traiti as ruthless, bloodthirsty killers, and language was
hardly a reliable indicator of such things, of course--but still, it
seemed incongruous. Tarlac hadn't thought about it much, but he
supposed he would have expected their language to be as sharp as their
teeth and claws.

The commandos fell in around the Ranger, and at another extended-claw
gesture from Hovan, the whole group moved toward the Hermnaen's control
central. Tarlac rather wished the Team-Leader would leave his claws
retracted. He'd seen Traiti claws in action once, and didn't enjoy
being reminded of the incident.

That had been on Ra after a ferocious ground battle, when the search
team he was with found a seriously wounded Traiti. He'd looked so
badly hurt that he couldn't move, so the team's medics didn't bother
stunning him before beginning first aid. When the Ranger heard screams
it was already too late; both medics were dead, one's throat torn out,
the other's belly opened, and three Marines were down. By that time
the Traiti was going for Tarlac, claws raking air toward the man's
face.

Trained reflexes had taken over then. Rangers might not be experts in
one-on-one combat, but they could make a creditable showing; Tarlac had
done a tuck-and-roll, bringing his blaster out to save his own life by
a fraction of a second as he fired pointblank, killing the Traiti.

Now here he was, aboard a Traiti warship, surrounded by a squad of the
fearsome warriors and going voluntarily, if with no great enthusiasm,
to an Ordeal that he suspected, despite Fleet-Captain Arjen's
assurances, would cost him his life. Brooding on it would do no good,
though, so Tarlac turned his attention to his surroundings.

The ship was surprisingly unwarlike, by Terran standards. Sky blue, as
far as Tarlac was concerned, wasn't exactly a military color. And not
even Sovereign-class cruisers, used during peacetime for such things as
long-distance exploration and disaster