Rather to his surprise, he found the room empty except for Hovan, whose uniform shirt was folded open to expose his Honor scars. That, the Ranger already knew, wasn't standard. Gesturing, he asked, "What's up?"

Hovan motioned him to follow and led the way silently until they were on their way to the meal hall. At last, he decided how to phrase what he had to say. "After first-meal, I clan business have." He indicated the open shirt. "This shows that I with my clan status act, not with this rank." He tapped the white tabs on his collar. "This you concerns, Steve. Some clan must you adopt, and I Ch'kara offer. It not the biggest clan is, or richest, but never has it dishonored been.

You will as one of us treated be, if you Ch'kara choose, and I will as your Ordeal sponsor stand."

Tarlac stopped, looking up at the serious gray face. He had the same feeling of sudden unreality he'd had when Linda extended His Majesty's invitation to join the Rangers. Adoption was a necessary prelude to the Ordeal, he knew that, but he hadn't expected it until they reached Homeworld. Yet he had no doubt that Hovan's offer was serious, and that it was as deeply significant to Hovan as it was to himself.

Looking directly into the Traiti's clear green eyes, Tarlac said, "If it won't require me to violate my oath to the Empire, I'll join Ch'kara gladly. And I'd be proud to have you as my sponsor."

"The adoption you to the clan binds, not to the military. None would you ask, your oath to break." Hovan touched the man's shoulder. "But now come. It not good is, first-meal to miss." They moved on toward the meal hall.

As before, Tarlac didn't recognize any of the plentiful food. There were different kinds of meat and two kinds of fruit, one pink and one a brilliant scarlet, all of it good. When they finished, Hovan guided Tarlac to the bridge.

One of the deck officers noticed them as they entered, and called Arjen's and Exvani's attention to the human and the open-shirted Traiti. Both Captains stood, bowing.

Tarlac was astonished at the sudden apparent reversal of rank.

Granted, the Imperial military had officers whose civil rank was far higher than their military one--Life Duke/Marine Captain David Scanlon, for example--but in the Empire, it wasn't possible to go from one system to the other at will. Things had to be different here, if clan business and clan status took priority over defense and on-duty military rank. Watch and learn . . .

Hovan returned the two officers' bows, speaking English for Steve's benefit. "I word from Ch'kara's Mother bear, Honored Ones."

"Your Mother's words we hear, Honored One," Arjen replied formally.

"Ka'ruchaya Yarra's words to me: That I this man should judge. If he in honor came, and I him worthy found, Ch'kara's shelter was I to offer. He armed and freely came, as fighter, not captive, and I have him observed. I say she will him as clan-son accept, and I may for her his blood-oath take."

There were a few exclamations of disbelief from those of the bridge crew who understood enough English to know what had been said, but they were quickly silenced by Arjen's glare.

"Ch'kara's Ka'ruchaya generous is," the Fleet-Captain said. "But this a.s.signment secret was. How knew she?"

"Our Speaker her informed. No breach there was."

When Arjen nodded as though that explained everything, Tarlac had to resist an impulse to shake his head violently. It felt as if it were full of cobwebs. Hovan needing his Clan Mother's permission to perform an adoption wasn't too hard to accept; at least nominally, women ran families in quite a few cultures. But a "Speaker" being able to give out cla.s.sified information was d.a.m.n near incredible--and having it accepted so matter-of-factly made it even worse. Still, he couldn't object; he was a guest here, and Hovan was going on. "He should a proper ceremony have, or as close as may under war conditions done be.

Will you have any n'Cor'naya who free are, in the exercise hall a.s.semble?"

"Of course, Cor'naya. In half a tenth-day?"

"Fine," Hovan said. "Afterwards, I must a message to Ch'kara's clanhome on Norvis send, clan priority."

"You will it have," Arjen replied.

"My thanks."

With that, Hovan and Tarlac left the bridge, going to the meal hall to wait the hour or so that was "half a tenth-day." Once they were settled with mugs of hot chovas, Tarlac said, "You must have one h.e.l.l of a lot of clan status."

"Enough," Hovan said with a smile. "I have six younglings shared, and I have an officer been for almost a year. That does status bring, near what Ch'kara's oldest male enjoys, close to Ka'ruchaya Yarra and she who for the Lords speaks, Daria."

Well, Tarlac thought with amused chagrin, there went his last night's speculation about females being property. He must have been tireder than he'd thought--he should never have gotten that idea after Hovan had referred to a Clan Mother administering the death penalty! Oh, well. "If it's not prying, how old are you?"

"You will soon of Ch'kara be; no prying is. I thirty-five Homeworld years have, almost forty-six Imperial Standard. You?"

"Thirty-five too, but Standard."

Hovan made a quick calculation. "Twenty-seven, Homeworld. And you already a Ranger are? That hard to believe is. How?"

"It's not really a matter of age," Tarlac said. "They grab all of us young, on purpose. They got me when I applied for the Naval Academy and took that unG.o.dly battery of tests. Those ran for a solid week, and by the time they were over I was beat--so tired it didn't even register when, late afternoon of the last day, someone knocked on the door of my room. But when the door opened anyway and I rolled over to see who the intruder was, I d.a.m.n near fainted. Linda Ellman was standing in the doorway grinning at me, and I thought for a while I was dreaming. Rangers do have better things to do than show up in cadet-candidates' rooms, after all. It just doesn't happen.

"But she was there, and she invited me into the group. I'm not too sure what I said, because the next day I'd decided all over again that it was a dream. It wasn't until later in the morning, when she showed up again as we were getting ready for the swearing-in ceremony, that I started believing. Until then, I'd had every intention of staying in the Navy. When she asked if I'd reconsidered, though, I realized I couldn't pa.s.s up the chance, and I said yes.

"When I did, she smiled and said, 'We thought you would,' then pinned a badge on my cadet tunic and took me to the Palace to meet Emperor Yasunon. We were together for most of the next two years, with her giving me on-the-job training." Tarlac smiled, reminiscent. "That was a good time. But I gather things were different for you?"

"Different, yes," Hovan said. "My life for a fighter routine has been.

I this life early chose, and at fourteen I was to fighter school sent.

At eighteen I the final tests pa.s.sed, then the Ordeal took and the ground combat service joined. From there I rank made, and last year won I these." He indicated his collar tabs again.

"Um. You all come up through the ranks, then? No direct commissions?"

"That right is. And all officers must n'Cor'naya be."

"So what's the average age for someone to make Team-Leader?"

"Between sixty and sixty-five Homeworld years."

Tarlac whistled admiringly. "And you're half that. d.a.m.n good! I can see why that'd gain you status." He hesitated, then decided to ask; Hovan had said there was no prying involved. "What about the young you shared? They gave you status too,"--Hovan had mentioned them even before his rank--"okay. But what're they like? How--"

Hovan cut the man off with a gesture, noted the expression of distaste at his extended claws, and carefully didn't smile. "The younglings you should for yourself see. They will us on Homeworld meet. Can you until then your curiosity restrain?"

"If you want me to," Tarlac said. He'd had little experience with proud parents, but was quite familiar with people wanting to show off; it was one aspect of a Ranger's job, usually boring, occasionally pleasant.

"I think you will not disappointed be." Hovan knew he was smiling. It would be good to introduce Steve to the clan, especially to Sharya and Casti. He was sure the man would find acceptance and, Lords willing, the closeness he had sacrificed for his Empire. The man could not truly miss what he had never known, growing up with only his two parents, but it was something he should have. Now, though, he had to explain what Steve was to do at the ceremony.

When they arrived at the exercise hall, half a tenth-day almost to the second after they'd left the bridge, the hall was crowded with open-shirted officers and men from the entire combined Fleet, waiting silent and expectant. Tarlac was aware of what this ceremony meant, and was determined to carry out the role Hovan had explained to him in a way that would do credit to his new family.

As soon as they had taken their places in the open area in the center of the floor, Hovan raised his arms and began a songlike chanting similar to the previous night's. This time, Tarlac knew that it was a prayer asking the Lords' blessing on his adoption. Unable to join in, knowing neither words nor music, the Ranger stood at parade rest, his head bowed. As a relaxed agnostic, he was quite willing to honor others' beliefs as far as he could.

The adoption ceremony itself was simple, an exchange of blood and oaths. When Hovan had explained it, Tarlac had wondered briefly, surprised that it was so close a parallel to some of Terra's ceremonies. He'd finally decided it was almost inevitable; an exchange of vital fluid was an obvious symbol of kinship, and the wrist was an equally obvious place to draw blood, on a humanoid.

So, when Hovan extended a claw and dug into his left arm, Tarlac used the dagger he'd borrowed from his sponsor to follow suit. They took token sips of each other's blood, and then Hovan held the cuts together while the Ranger gave his oath, including his own modification of it.

"I pledge to Clan Ch'kara that I will bring no dishonor to its name, and will defend that name and the clan's property and people to the best of my ability, so long as that involves no harm or dishonor 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 d.a.m.ned 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'