beverage that
looked like milk, were sized to fuel a body mass more than three times
his. Still, the food was good, if unfamiliar, and he surprised himself
by finishing almost half.

He leaned back with a sigh of repletion, returning Hovan's quick smile
as the other continued eating. There was little conversation to hear
over the sound of eating utensils, knives and short-tined spoons that
doubled as forks. Clearly, eating was serious business for these
people. 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?
Out-clan it not usual is, names to use instead of titles, but I think
it would fitting be."

Tarlac nodded; under the circumstances, it did seem appropriate. "I'm
called Steve, then, Hovan. That's the short form of my given name."

"Steve. A name that much of strength bears, from the sound." Steve of
Clan Ch'kara. Yes, Hovan thought, it did sound fitting, and it was
another good sign that the man allowed him that liberty. There was no
denying a Ranger's status among humans. It might take the Ordeal to
find out whether an individual Ranger was worthy of honor from the
Traiti, but prisoners had made it more than clear that Rangers were
direct representatives of the Terran Sovereign. They went anywhere
they were needed, to tackle crises nobody else was capable of handling.
Sometimes, it was said, the mere threat of a Ranger's intervention made
actual intervention unnecessary. And it was they, when the need arose,
who selected the Sovereigns--so far, always another Ranger. There was
more, stories that made Rangers seem like Lords. Hovan didn't believe
those, for Steve had used a spacesuit to transfer to the Hermnaen; he
hadn't breathed vacuum. But even so, to name-call such a one must be
as great a privilege as the task Yarra had given him. "Do many you so
call?"

"Hmm? Oh. No, not many." Tarlac seldom thought about it, and was
surprised at the brevity of the list. "The captain of my cruiser, the
Emperor, other Rangers, my mother . . . that's about it." He frowned
briefly. "It'd be nice to have more, but the job doesn't allow it. A
Ranger's as much a symbol as a person. It's mostly a damn good
life . . . but some