ishonor to the
Terran Empire I have also sworn to protect."

The qualification drew an unspoken sense of approval from the gathered
n'Cor'naya, perhaps not surprisingly among these people. Hovan
replied, "For Mother Yarra and Clan Ch'kara, I your pledge accept.
Ch'kara you claims, as kin in blood and honor. The clan you guards, as
you it defend."

The brief ceremony over, Hovan released his new ruhar's wrist. Tarlac
grabbed it and applied pressure to stop the bleeding, noting that
Hovan's wound was already closing, as he considered his new and unique
position. He was a Ranger of the Empire, yet at the same time he was a
member of a Traiti--until now, an enemy--clan. He had carefully
qualified his oath, and he'd done everything he could for the Empire
before boarding the Hermnaen. Still, the idea of owing allegiance to
both sides in a war was . . . disquieting. He had to resolve the war
now. He didn't expect to have to decide between the sides in battle;
he was out of the war as an active agent. But he was going to be
damned active at peacemaking!

In the meantime, most of the n'Cor'naya had closed their shirts,
signifying a return to Fleet duty, and were quietly leaving the
exercise hall. Only four remained, Arjen and three that Hovan
introduced as members of Ch'kara; they greeted Tarlac as well as their
scanty English and his non-existent Language would allow.

It was proper now for them to show concern over their ruhar's
still-bleeding wrist, and they did. Tarlac understood, without quite
knowing how, and appreciated it. 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. The Ranger was willing to bet cloudcats'
antiseptics would have smelled the same, if they'd had any.

The cleanliness was as characteristic as the odor, and when a Traiti in
pale blue came up to Tarlac and took his arm, he didn't resist. The
bleeding still hadn't stopped completely, and the medic turned to Hovan
with what sounded, to the Ranger's limited experience, like an angry
question. Hovan's reply changed the medic's expression. He checked
the wound, cleaned it, then held the edges together and spr