Tempo had had her suspicions earlier, but now she was certain that Colonel Jardin and his pilot had been carefully underperforming with their prowler's speed through slipspace. The journey out from the borders of the Tinza sector to the refugee fleet had taken nearly two nanapi… the journey back had taken less than one.

The good news was that there had been little further development in the war since her earlier departure. After their offensive shielded by the recovered human artifacts had been crushed, the Shells seemed to have been content to return to the earlier pattern of intermittent attrition assaults across the Steppes.

That said, Tempo did pick up the shielded half-thoughts that leaked occasionally from the minds of the loroi warriors that came aboard for inspection before the Plummet and her two escorting frigates could advance deeper into the Union. The Shells didn't need to change tactic; the Union was still on the back-foot, still forced onto the defensive. And now with the heavy casualties that they had suffered in beating back the Hierarchy's last offensive…

She would certainly not complain that the humans had gotten them back faster than she had expected.

The wide-eyed frontier garrison warriors had soon returned from their inspections of the alien craft, and the mizol parat who led their team formally granted Tempo permission to lead them on to Seren. The Azerein had returned to her forward base, as expected.

And so the orbital space above Seren, already a tolot-nest of activity at the best of times, now found itself abuzz with even more warship traffic than normal.

The Seren citadel itself had ample room in its capacious docks for the Did Ever Plummet Sound; the two human frigates could also have fit quite comfortably had they not chosen to instead remain in a parking orbit nearby and shuttle their representatives over. Whether this was done to keep prying loroi eyes that much more distant from the vessels or for some other reason, the result was that the entire Imperial Guard's First Squadron moved to join them in what was now a very crowded orbital slot.

The sight of so many Union capital ships looming over the alien craft would previously have filled Tempo's heart with the warm reassurance of loroi superiority; but the persistent memory of all those Infinity-class 'transports' marred the image. She had, over the last few transits of their journeys together, attempted several times to surreptitiously steer a conversation with Colonel Jardin onto the topic of the weapons systems mounted aboard the UNSC's remaining craft.

And he had just-as-deftly steered the conversation elsewhere, each time.

'Refugees' or no, these strange aliens were quite possibly now one of the major military powers in known space… to say nothing of the Legion loroi. Cousins or no, there was no reason to be entirely certain that when those two dreadstars eventually stirred from their hiding places in slipspace that they would move to the aid of the Union.

Regardless, the three-way talks between the Union, the UNSC, and the Legions opened smoothly enough. There was, from Tempo's perspective, only one problem:

The presence of much of the Diadem Council, the Imperial Guard, and several other very important military formations meant that the discussion chambers were downright overflowing with senior mizol… resulting in one Mizol Parat Sedel being quite apologetically yet firmly pushed aside by a veritable stampede of ruby-red rank tabs.

On the more fortunate side of things, that meant that for the first time in several years Tempo found herself with both free time — that rarest of things aboard the Strike Groups patrolling the Steppes — and a bustling station aboard which to spend that time.

That left only the question of just what to do with this unfamiliar concept of 'free time'...

{Was it down this corridor, or the next one?} Spiral sent.

{This one.} Talon responded, as she turned aside and led the small group in the indicated direction. {Does look different from last time, though.} Even though it had only been a few short years since the two tenoin had followed the rest of the High Tide Lowlives along to an observation dome that Waterfall had remembered from her early childhood on the station.

The last time that all fifty of their diral had ever gathered in one place.

The last time that they ever would.

She shook her head to clear away the sad thought, and looked aside at the last member of their three-person group. The sight of Alex walking along, curiosity writ large on his visage as he took in the sights of the Seren Citadel, could not fail to bring a smile to her own face.

A smile which deepened as she imagined how the rest of the Lowlifes would have reacted, had she brought this alien warrior — male warrior, as she could happily vouch for! — to that final rendezvous.

"This is a battle station?" the human asked. "It looks more like a, uh, luxury resort. I keep expecting to round a corner and see an ice-cream shop or something."

Even the reminder of some of the Perrein-grade human culinary preferences was not enough to bring down Talon's mood.

"It seems to be a second capital of the Union." she said. "Perhaps maybe third capital, after Cry of the Wind."

"That's the, uh, big ship we passed on the flight in?"

"Indeed so." And hadn't that been a sight, to stare up through the prowler's cockpit windows and see the mightiest ship in the Union floating serenely above them! The Legion's dreadstars and the human transports had size, but the Union easily had them beat for elegance when it came to warships.

"Huh. Still, nice station."

The two tenoin exchanged a burst of sanzai amusement at their human's words.

Talon sent {He is easy to please, isn't he?}

{You would know!} replied her diral-sister with a wink.

Where once the teasing would have brought an eye-roll from Talon, now she only glanced aside at Alex. {Yes I do, don't I?} A warm smile spread across her face.

They rounded one more corner, and—

{See?} Talon sent. {This is the place.}

The compartment they entered had the entire opposite bulkhead replaced by a transparent wall, thick see-through plating curving around to meet the side-walls. Empty but for one bench facing the window, it seemed to be as unused as it had been when the fifty members of the Lowlives had crowded into it long ago and jockeyed for position nearest the far wall.

Just as then, outside the window Seren spread out in all of its silver-blue majesty. If Waterfall had been here, she could have pointed out and named the geographical features hundreds of thousands of mannal below them.

Although without that, the mystery of the sight only added to its beauty.

"You weren't kidding." Alex said after a few solons, stepping up and resting his hands on Talon's and Spiral's shoulders. Standing between the two tenoin, his eyes played back and forth across the scene in front of them, mouth slightly agape. "That is a beautiful sight."

"Yes." Talon said, meeting Spiral's knowing eyes before each of them returned their gaze to Alex's face. "Yes it is."

She eventually dragged her eyes over to the vision outside. And Alex was right: the sunlight from the distant system primary glinting off of the metallic fields dotting Seren's landscape, clouds swirling peacefully across the oceans, the few lights of settlements distorted by the planet's famous perpetual natural fog… the sight was enough to take one's breath away.

Even Spiral didn't have some playful quip ready.

Then a surprise-tinged bolt of sanzai broke the peace. {What is that?} Above the single observation bench there was suddenly a loroi head, staring at the group with wide eyes. Staring at Alex, specifically. {One of these strange new aliens?}

Knee-length green hair spilled aside as the stranger stood, stepping around the corner of the bench that had hidden her presence — she must have been meditating or concentrating strongly on something; Talon had not detected her mind-signature until she sent.

Light-purple armor dotted with red rank tabs: a listel, and a very senior one.

{He is a 'human.'} Spiral sent, sanzai carefully emphasizing the pronunciation of the alien word.

{And they truly look so much like us? Are you certain it is an alien?} came the listel's distracted thought, her eyes darting back and forth as they analyzed the sight before her.

Talon raised one eyebrow. Perhaps Beryl had colored her impressions — being the only listel that Talon had ever interacted with, before — but the tenoin expected less… inane questions from one of this caste.

She sent the first thing that came to mind, not bothering to hide her clarifying side-channels. {No, he's the Soia Emperor.}

The listel stepped up to the group, uncomfortably close to Alex.

Ever-friendly, he did not step back but instead said "Hello. I am Ensign Alexander Jardin of the UNSC."

Ignoring his words, the newcomer raised one hand, reaching out with one finger as if to poke Alex to see if he was some sort of illusion. {It has been examined before being allowed onto the station, yes?}

Spiral sent privately to Talon {Examined most closely, yes!} Yet her heart wasn't in it, sub-channels carrying as much discomfort with this stranger's rudeness as Talon herself felt.

Talon stepped in, moving to bat aside the rude gesture. {He has been cleared to enter the station, yes. And he is here as a warrior, part of his people's diplomatic team.}

Yet Talon paused her movement just before contact, as the listel's shifting posture revealed her armor's right shoulder plate.

And the thick, black stripe which ran diagonally across it.

Imperial Guard.

Now, by this stranger's red rank tabs she was at the very top of seniority for her caste. Much further along than Talon was, or Spiral. That alone would not normally have stopped the tenoin — either of them — from telling the rude listel to take a step back, or preferably several. Yes, listel were warriors — anyone who tried to say that Beryl was anything else would answer to one angry red-haired teidar — but they were a support branch. By contrast, tenoin were to be found where the fighting was heaviest, and so were obviously the senior caste.

But the Imperial Guard went by their own rules.

{Fascinating.} the Guardswoman sent. {It appears so like us… you are certain that it has not been altered in form for diplomatic purposes?}

Talon bristled. {He has engaged in no such trickery!}

{Indeed?} For all her brusqueness, the listel's sub-channels contained no malice. Her side-channels revealed only single-minded curiosity. {Where did it come from?}

{You may ask him yourself.} Spiral sent.

{It can talk?}

Talon stared at her, brow furrowing. {He just did.}

{Oh?} Finally, a pause in the listel's questions. Her side-channels ran mechanistically through recent memories, replaying Alex's polite greeting as if it were a video recording. {So it can. Verbally, at least, if not true communication. How did—}

A fourth mind joined the conversation, flaring into detectability behind them. {It would be best to leave the task of speaking with aliens to the correct caste, yes?}

Talon twisted to face the entrance, as the mizol from their own expedition sauntered into the compartment. The remote compartment, which was supposed to be unlikely for anyone else to stumble into it.

If Tempo received any of the suspicion leaking out from Talon's sanzai, the mizol didn't show it. {Interactions with the members of this alien's expedition fall under my authority.} Her bright-red eyes briefly flicked past the listel, towards the bench beyond. {Does your… 'presence' here merit interrupting his scheduled tour of the station?}

For several beats, the two stared at each other. Talon could barely detect the rapid flow of extremely-tight private sanzai rushing between each of them. Then {Negative, mizol parat. I will leave your team to their work.}

The listel took a step back, spinning on her heel and bending low over the bench. Now with a tall handful of datapads, she straightened up and walked past the four of them without a word.

Alex's head pivoted to watch her go, a confused frown on his face. As the door slid closed behind her he asked Tempo "What was that about?"

Evidently, enough of the discomfort of the standoff had been perceptible, even without sanzai.

Tempo waved one hand "Many sorts of warriors end up assigned to Seren Citadel. Some are fierce fighters, others convivial diplomats… while a few are single-minded archivists. Even by listel standards."

"Ah. Nerds."

"'Nerds...'" Tempo rolled the alien word around her mouth. "Yes, let us go with that. I hope that this has not interrupted your enjoyment of this observation dome?"

"No, uh, not at all." Alex stepped forward, resting both hands on the back of the bench and evidently drinking in the vista beyond.

Talon was not feeling quite so friendly. {Why are you here?}

Tempo raised one eyebrow. {I am enjoying my first downtime in far too long.} She tapped with one finger at her dull-red rank tabs, their light emitters entirely powered down. {And I am off-duty, if that makes you feel more comfortable.}

It did not. {Are mizol ever really 'off-duty'?}

A long sigh. {Sometimes I wonder that, myself.} Surprisingly, her sub-channels were wide-open… and entirely devoid of trickery.

{Yet you followed us.} Talon sent the obvious. {What do you want?}

{Is that not obvious?} Tempo looked over at her, and then at Alex.

A stray impulse bubbled to the front of Talon's mind. Well, if the mizol said she was off-duty… {There's a waiting list for that. You'll have to get in line behind Spiral and Beryl.}

Tempo's eyes visibly widened — if only slightly — as she stared at Talon for a solon or two. Then the mizol tilted her head back and laughed, wrapping one hand around her abdomen as she shook with mirth. {Moio sagit! I should have known better than to leave an opening for a gibe like that, not when conversing with a tenoin of the Fifty-First!}

Alex turned at the sound, one eyebrow raised in a silent question.

While Tempo fought her laughter under control, Spiral explained "A joke of sanzai. Talon is defending my claim!"

"Your 'claim'?" the human asked, eyes sliding to fix Talon with their questioning gaze. By the faint pink growing brighter on his cheeks, the alien may have understood more of what Spiral had meant than she had perhaps expected. "Oh."

"Also of Beryl!" added Spiral, 'helpfully.' Her ear-to-ear grin betrayed that she knew exactly what she was doing.

At least it meant that now Talon wasn't the only victim of the teasing Maiad.

Alex turned his head aside and coughed into one hand. "Right. Well, uh, back to the view?" He stepped around to the front of the bench. "There's room for four, if, uh—" he cut himself off.

Spiral sprang forward as the human sat back in the middle of the bench. She took a seat to his left, and Talon quickly claimed her spot on Alex's right. Leaving just enough room for a fourth to perch on the end of the seat. If, of course—

{Will you be joining us?} Talon sent.

It was an honest invitation. Tricky mizol or no, Tempo was a fellow member both of Strike Group 51 — no matter how long long they'd been detached from Stillstorm's direct command — and of the small team of loroi who now had been working alongside the humans for many transits.

And it helped that Tempo did seem to be honest enough about being off-duty, even if her motives for following the two tenoin remained suspect.

{Thank you for the offer, but I have seen what I came to see.} Tempo sent, with a nod towards the back of Alex's head. {I did not lie when I said that interactions with these aliens do still fall under my purview, and I intend to ensure that their experience meeting other Union loroi will remain positive.} A faint thread of playfulness worked its way into her sanzai. {I see that you two have that well in hand.}

Talon turned now to see Spiral practically pressing herself into Alex's left side, reaching up to pull his left arm around her shoulders. Even knowing that humans did not view such physical contact in quite the same way loroi did, it was still rather… bold.

{What?} sent Spiral amidst a bubble of self-satisfaction. {I'm 'off-duty'!}

{So you are.} agreed Tempo. Then she added aloud "I thank you for your offer, Alexander Jardin, but I am needed elsewhere. Please enjoy your further wanderings aboard this station."

She left the compartment. Just as her receding mind-signature was about to pass from sanzai range, Tempo sent {I have arranged so that you will not be bothered in this compartment for the next half-cycle. Do not do anything 'tiring;' Alexander Jardin — and you, of course — may be called upon at short notice to participate in the diplomatic talks.}

Talon settled in on Alex's right side, the two diral-sisters sandwiching their alien between them. And they had the room to themselves for a half-cycle? Perhaps mizol weren't so bad after all.

It would only have been better if Alex had opened his mind to them, but now that he had shown her the full truth of their 'lotai-machines' she could not blame him. To imagine that his species held a natural lotai, and that the machine implanted in his mind actually suppressed it... at the cost of headaches after each use of more than a solon or so. She could not really blame him and the rest of the aliens even for lying about that — the thought of an alien species with an in-built lotai was too unsettling; it would definitely have colored the way she viewed the humans if she had not already come to know one of them so closely before learning the truth.

Talon smiled to herself. Of course, there were ways to distract Alex from the pain of such headaches, but perhaps not with only a half-cycle...

If Spiral was disappointed at Tempo's last command, no evidence could be found in her sanzai as she sent {You were right. He is warm!}

{Agreed.} Talon awkwardly reached with one hand for her hip-pocket, and withdrew a datapad that she'd prepared especially for this outing. Flicking it to life, she held up the semi-transparent screen between the three of them and the window, overlaying the labeled map on the 'pad onto the actual view. "Seren is often spoken to be one of the most good looking planets in the Union. You see there the moon, Menet, rising over the sea."

And from this distance, none of the horrific scars left by nine standard years of Shell occupation were visible. Talon knew they were there, of course — every loroi raised after the liberation of Seren had seen the video recordings: shattered cities, mind-broken survivors, and death camps surrounded by decayed bodies piled high like mine tailings.

In the more than twenty standard years since, most of it had been cleared away. Buried, but not forgotten. Yet Talon could not look at the sea below — as beautiful as it was, with reflected moonlight playing across the waters — without remembering the bright city lights that should have ringed it.

All gone, now.

She shivered.

"You okay?" Alex leaned his head down closer to her and murmured. After a solon of obvious hesitation, he put his right arm around her shoulder. It really was impressive how good he was at reading emotions despite his lack of sanzai, but then again as a male he was of course more emotional to begin with.

The datapad suddenly felt heavy in her hand. Letting it drop back into her lap, Talon pushed herself into Alex's side and pulled his arm tighter around her. The warmth of his alien embrace driving back the dark thoughts.

"It is fine. I was thinking of… sad things." Talon was torn as to how much of Seren's history to explain. On the one hand, her instincts as a loroi warned her not to burden the male with grim stories. On the other hand, after all these nanapi working with him, her conscious mind had almost managed to get her instincts to accept that Alex wasn't a male, not in the loroi sense. He was a warrior who just so happened to be shaped like a male.

And to try to shield a fellow warrior from a 'danger' as unthreatening as sad thoughts was at best condescending. "The planet Seren was taken by the Enemy early in the war. It was before then said to be one of the most-admired planets in the Union, with many seeking to live there in search of a good life. By the time we forced the Shells off of the planet..." she searched through her knowledge of spoken Trade, looking for the words to properly describe the horrors found by the liberating forces.

Alex finished for her. "The population was gone."

Perhaps such a… 'clinical' way was best. "Indeed so."

He tightened his arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a side-hug. The soft sound of armor plates sliding against each other confirmed that he did the same with Spiral, on his other side. "Uncle Pierre told me about the history of your war with this, uh, 'Hierarchy.' He and Tempo talked it through during the flight over, this last week."

She mulled over her thoughts for a few solon. This next question she definitely wanted to phrase right. "Was it like that for you? For Humans and Soia I am meaning, during your ancient War."

He didn't answer immediately, turning his head to look aside at her. His eyes seemed to gaze through her.

Talon's pulse skipped a beat. Had she misjudged, gone too far in reopening old memories?

{If that is so,} sent Spiral, her own eyes still closed as she leaned into Alex's other side, {we do have a half-cycle to cheer him up again.}

Talon did not respond to her diral-sister, too busy thinking of something else to say.

Before she could do so, Alex finally said in a distant voice "Not at first." He turned to look out of the window, at Seren below. "The Soia meant to conquer humanity, not exterminate us." The alien nodded slowly, as if to himself. "We had no such ability. So once ONI showed they knew where to point the NOVA-bombs, the Empire had no choice but to respond in kind."

Those were the weapons which the humans had described as 'system-killers.' A chill ran down Talon's spine at the thought. How did one fight against something like that?

By completely obliterating anyone who might ever launch one, of course.

But Alex wasn't done. "There's an old human saying. Pre-starflight." He paused for a moment. "The, uh, pun doesn't quite translate into Trade. Anyways, it goes 'War does not determine who is right, only who is left.'"

A very alien thought. Talon frowned. "But surely if one side is 'right,' then they will win. That is what war shows: which side is superior." The years-old memory of her creche instructor came to mind, passing down the wisdom of uncounted generations of loroi to the students in front of her. Talon now added her own to that unbroken line, a thought that would have drawn horrified condemnation in her youth. "It is why the Soia Empire is no longer existing. They were wrong. Inferior."

He turned to look at her again, a slight frown on his face. For several beats, she was worried that she had offended some alien belief of his. After all, his demonstrated proficiency as a warrior was enough that sometimes she forgot that he was not actually loroi. Who knew what strange thoughts and beliefs on war might be arrived at by someone born with such a handicap?

But then his frown was chased away by a thin smile, and her worries followed. "You know, it's strangely reassuring that you loroi haven't changed a bit in all this time." He nodded to the window. "Well, aside from the whole living-on-planets thing. And I hear that there are loroi 'civilians,' now."

Talon was no listel, but the glimpse into what it had meant to be loroi during the Soia era was intriguing nonetheless. "This was not done in your time?"

"Hah! No." Alex shook his head vigorously, as if to shake off the grip of his earlier morose thoughts. "If you called a loroi — Loyalist or Rebel — a 'civilian,' you were in for a fight. Same for 'planet-dweller.' A loroi was born on a warship, she lived on a warship, and she would die on a warship."

"Even the males also?" asked Spiral, voice muffled from where she had pressed her face to Alex's side.

"Where else would they go? The system habitats of the Empire were managed and run by the centaurs. That's the, uh, 'Mozeret.' Would you trust your males to the care of aliens?"

Talon thought of the six-limbed aliens that the boarding team had fought aboard the Soia dreadstar, soon after linking up with the humans. She had stayed aboard the prowler and never met one of these Mozeret face-to-face, of course, but the mental images sent by those loroi who had had been enough. "Certain no. But this means that loroi males went into combat?"

She couldn't keep her voice from rising in pitch towards the end of the sentence, at the sheer wrongness of the concept. Males were to be protected, not risked!

"Well, inside a moonship. They were as safe there as they would be anywhere. The Soia themselves stayed aboard the moonships, you see, and they certainly didn't want to expose themselves to the brunt of the fighting if they could avoid it. No, that was what the smaller ships were for."

This she remembered from earlier discussions during the flight over. "These are the smaller warships launched from the dreadstars, yes? The ones with no faster-than-light engines?" And the ones that were entirely crewed by loroi under the Empire.

"Yeah, the meatshields."

Talon blinked at the alien term. "'Meat-shield'?"

Perhaps sensing her confusion, Alex dropped his lotai just long enough to push the meaning of the phrase to the forefront of his thoughts.

A half-suppressed snort escaped from Spiral. {Meat-shield!} the junior tenoin laughed at the concept. Her side-channels constructed an image of a soroin charging bravely into battle… with a squealing miros strapped to the front of her armor.

The idea sent Talon over the edge into her own laughter, and in only solon the small compartment was filled with the three of them sharing their amusement.

"How do humans come up with these words?" asked Talon eventually, fighting to speak.

{I remember Beryl thinking that it was an adaptation to their lack of sanzai.} sent Spiral. {They have to compress concepts into short words that they speak aloud instead of just sending the whole idea.}

"Hey, don't look at me!" Alex chuckled. "I didn't make the language!"

"I think maybe whoever did should be proud of it. It is always good when more reasons to see humor are added to the universe." Not a common opinion among loroi, but one that Talon had arrived at as a survival mechanism over the years of training alongside Spiral. If she hadn't learned to appreciate constant jokes, she'd have gone mad before she even passed her dirals!

{And that is why Maia produces more warriors than any other planet in the Union!} Spiral boasted, sticking her head out to grin at her diral-sister across Alex's chest. {We know to laugh at the challenges that life sends to us!}

{Right.} Talon drawled, smirking. {And your homeworld's recruiting numbers surely have nothing to do with Maia simply being the most-populous planet in the Union.}

A familiar trace of humor suffused the narrat's sanzai. {And how do you think we managed that? You catch males better with humor than with bluster, you know!}

Talon — like all other loroi — had known about Maia since she was halfway through her creche years. The stories quietly sent from one warrior-student to another, of a planet where males — those elusive, never-seen creatures about which the young warriors recently found themselves growing quite curious — lived lives very similar to the civilians among whom they mingled. Lives which left many of them outside of the protection of the monasteries, ready to be seduced by passing warriors.

Or so the stories told. Talon had always had her doubts… no matter how many inflated tales Spiral kept spinning.

"Right." Alex shook his head. "Anyways, uh, where were we? Before we got side-tracked onto the 'take the hobbits into battle' bit?"

That brought Talon up short. It was a bit tricky, trying to work backwards through a mixed sanzai-and-vocal conversation to where… "I remember we were speaking about ancient loroi not living on planets."

"Planets, yeah. So the—"

Spiral interrupted, a bubble of sanzai confusion accompanying her vocal speech. "What means 'hobbits'?"

Talon nodded. "It is a good question. I have heard that word used by the humans. I think maybe it is referring to loroi males as a 'nickname'?" She carefully enunciated the alien term.

The two loroi looked to Alex, who paused for several solon with his mouth slightly open, staring past them. "I, uh… I don't actually know where the name came from, come to think of it. It's just one of the marines' nicknames for the different Soia forms and species, and I guess it stuck. Y'know: elves, hobbits, centaurs, gorillas, goblins, fish, spiders, basilisks, the lot."

The barrage of alien terms meant nothing to Talon, but she knew one white-haired listel who would love to talk and learn about the other ancient Soia species. "It is a strange word. 'Hob-bit.'"

"Yeah. Sounds, uh, kinda old now that I think about it." He shrugged. "Could be pre-spaceflight for all I know."

"That is certain ancient." Spiral nodded.

"'s only, what, three-hundred years?"

The humans fought the Soia Empire to a standstill, only centuries after first leaving their home system? Talon searched her creche memories — that was about the same time after first leaving Deinar that the Loroi fought the Delrias. Fortunately, that war had seen the overconfident aliens quickly humbled and placed under loroi guidance.

"Here, maybe there's something about it in the 'pad's history files!" Alex reached for a pocket and pulled out his data-pad. Like much of the aliens' devices, it was blockier and larger than the Union equivalent. Not quite what Talon would have expected from such an ancient people, but then if they were only a single long lifetime distant from their first steps off their homeworld…

The three of them crowded together, Talon ducking to let Alex's arm sweep over her head and tap search commands into the machine. The two diral-sisters may be tenoin and not ever-curious listel, but it was interesting to learn something about the ancient aliens.

And besides, the energetic, bubbly curiosity in Alex's voice was a rare moment of male-like behavior from him. It was strangely heartwarming to be reminded that for all his warrior background, he was still a male at heart.

{I thought you of all people would already know that!} Spiral sent with a peal of sanzai-only laughter, evidently having picked up on Talon's thoughts.

The arrir shot a bemused grin across Alex at her diral-sister, before shaking her head and relaxing as Alex began to read aloud what he found from his search. After all the stresses of their missions together, it was… nice to finally be able to simply relax together, even if only for a half-cycle.

The door slid aside without a sound, admitting Tempo to the negotiations room. Stepping carefully so as not to make a sound, she strode over to the observer's bench and took her seat again next to Fireblade.

Their eyes met for a moment before Tempo glanced aside at the four representatives. She sent a wordless ping of curiosity.

Fireblade shook her head. {You have missed little of importance. They are still arguing over every tiny detail of organization.}

As they'd been doing earlier, when Tempo left to check on the pilots. {They still insist on independence?}

Fireblade nodded. {Which is ridiculous! They still hold to it, even after admitting that they and the Humans combined have less than sixty million people!}

Tempo raised one eyebrow, as she suppressed a smile. {They fought a war against their very creators, all to win the ability to control their own affairs. Is it that surprising that they are reluctant to give up that power, now?}

It was also a moot point. Even ignoring their tiny population, the rebel loroi would inevitably end up within the sphere of the Union in time. And not just because they were loroi: their two dreadstars, while extremely powerful as warships, were not self-supporting. At least, not from what she had gleaned from several carefully-steered conversations with Colonel Jardin.

It said several very… 'interesting' things that the rebel loroi had planned to be utterly dependent on their human fellow refugees for agricultural, logistical and industrial support even if their flight had worked precisely as intended. Tempo had originally expected that the ancient Loroi would be more rapidly drawn into the fold of their Union counterparts, and that the main thrust of the negotiations would be between the loroi and the humans. Yet instead it seemed that the two 'foreign' groups were closer to each other than either was to the Union.

Regardless, the Union simply had too much to offer the ancient loroi for them to turn away.

The less-predictable factor would be the humans themselves.

{But they have no need for 'independence'!} Fireblade sent, exasperation blanketing her sanzai. {We are all loroi!}

Tempo frowned; Fireblade seemed almost personally insulted by the Legions' refusal to yet bow to Union authority. Why was she insisting so strongly on that point, as if to hersel—?

Of course. Those few scattered reports from the various occupied loroi worlds eventually reclaimed by the Union. Especially Seren. {We cannot criticize these Ancients too much, given that even loroi in our own time have shown that close ties to one's own people cannot be taken as a given.}

The teidar grimaced, turning her head aside.

A deeply unpleasant set of memories, Tempo well knew. She had not taken part in debriefing the survivors of those worlds — had been busy stabilizing the domestic situation back on Deinar at the time — but she had read the reports. Survivors from multiple of the Hierarchy's 'experiment facilities' on Seren had reported overhearing non-Hal-Tik voices working alongside the Hierarchy researchers.

Loroi voices.

Performing their own vile part in the horrific experiments performed upon Seren's dwindling loroi population.

The traitors had shielded their minds, of course, but there were enough eyewitness reports that not all of them could be trauma-induced hallucinations.

Fireblade eventually sent {This situation is nothing like… that. These Legion loroi seem most unlikely to take arms against the Union; I simply do not understand why they refuse to join their sisters within the Union.} Only one who had known her for years would have been able read in the slight tightening of her lips the irritation which Fireblade kept out of her mind-signature.

But Tempo had known her friend for years. Perhaps this was not the time to be indirect. Setting aside her well-honed mizol instincts, Tempo sent bluntly {They do not fully trust us yet, and they are right to do so. They know that their two dreadstars will be thrown right back into the fighting, now against the Shells. And loroi they may be, but they are loroi who have been fighting a war for many generations. A war that they lost. They doubtless desire few things more than some time to rest and live in peace… time that the Union will not, can not, give them.}

{Surely the Union will begrudge them a few eighths of a year in rest?} Fireblade sent. {Even two entire leave periods would still leave the Torrai enough time to work them into the next offensive. Once the Shells are gone, they can rest then.}

Tempo paused before responding, long enough that Fireblade's brow creased into a faint frown. For her part, Tempo concentrated on keeping the pity coalescing in her mind from betraying even the slightest hint of its presence.

And though it tore at her to know how insulted Fireblade would feel at being 'pitied,' Tempo could not help but feel so. Pity for a loroi who had spent her entire life — from the very earliest age — at war. For a loroi who had never known so much as a solon of actual peace, ever since as a pre-diral child she had looked up to see Hierarchy warships darkening the skies over her birth-world. Who had no concept of what a warrior's life was supposed to be, other than constant warfare.

{It seems likely that they would wish for a significantly longer rest than that.} Tempo sent.

But how long would it take for a loroi society to recover from the deep wounds of near-annihilation? It was a question that had never before needed to be asked, and one that the Union had not yet discovered for itself. A year? Two years? Eight?

Ten, at least, should be sufficient in Tempo's estimation. Enough time for the next generation to be molded into warriors, for the existing old guard to see that the future of their people was developing well.

But the Union did not have ten years.

{Many things that a warrior wishes for cannot be granted.} Fireblade replied.

Tempo winced at the harsh tones grinding through her friend's sub-channels. She knew how… 'restricted' Fireblade's life had been, thanks to her early life under occupation on Seren. Lingering questions about just what the effects of Hierarchy experimentation and a violent childhood would be upon a loroi's psyche.

Seeking a distraction, she turned to the discussion still ongoing in the center of the large compartment. The actual words spoken she largely ignored — while Tempo was far from a junior mizol, the talks here were still well above her caste rank. Let the attentive crowd of Torimor and senior Torrai arrayed along the far wall handle that; Tempo would find out through her normal channels what of substance was actually discussed.

Rather, it was the other persons who had been brought to the meeting that interested her. Per millennia-old Deinar tradition, no weapons had been allowed to be brought to the talks. Also per Deinar tradition, Teidar were not similarly prohibited, hence Fireblade's presence here.

Given the… traditional mindsets of many of those clustered too close to the Imperial government — especially those who had been born and grew up on the eldest-among-equals of the Sister Worlds — it was even possible that the Union's representatives had honestly forgotten that their foreign counterparts would not know of that long-practiced workaround.

Although from the appearance of things, it seemed that at least the UNSC managed well all the same. While the two Legion representatives each had one normal-looking warrior as escort, unremarkable except for her unfamiliar armor, the UNSC's envoy stood in front of the by-far largest human Tempo had ever seen.

As if reacting to her curious gaze, a green-armored helmet turned slightly to her. Even through the mirrored golden visage of the alien's visor, Tempo could feel his eyes on her. As much as any being that large could be called 'male.' The questions asked about this strange being by the understandably-spooked guards outside the negotiations chamber had caused a — thankfully minor — incident, earlier.

Apparently, there were now two species known to the Union who appended numbers to individual's names. And while the humans were quite evidently not Shells, such a naming convention still provoked an instinctive dislike in any Union loroi.

Although perhaps the humans had something in common with the Deinarid castes: their towering escort had remained as silent as any teidar, even as sharp questions were asked and harsh glances thrown his way before the situation was resolved.

{The alien is not like my caste-sisters.} objected Fireblade. Evidently the familiarity of long service alongside each other had left open a slight crack in Tempo's mental discipline, for her friend to receive some of her thoughts that way. {We disdain vocal speech to better emphasize our control over sanzai; the alien seems to have no way of communicating other than vocal speech. It is simply being rude.}

Perhaps it was unsurprising that the 'instinctive dislike' was strongest-felt by the loroi in the room who had suffered most at the claws of the Hierarchy. Tempo risked another blunt response, {Or perhaps it is simply wisdom, a warrior holding their thoughts when diplomats are speaking.}

Fireblade took a few solon to answer. When she did, thankfully now some few threads of humor were woven into her sanzai. {But if all warriors were so 'wise,' then life would become boring for you mizol.}

{And we can't have that, can we?} Tempo quirked a thin smile at her friend. {Who would wish to miss such engaging events such as—} she paused, listening to the stilted, formal conversation of the talks for several solon {—technology-licensing agreements?}

{Who, indeed.} While the teidar kept her face as impassive as ever, the glint in her eye reassured Tempo that Fireblade's dour mood had passed.

Good. After all, as routine as the talks were between the Union and their ancient ancestors — not to mention the strange aliens — they represented the one thing that the Union needed most right now: an advantage over the Hierarchy. The Shells had shown how much they had gained from adapting one of the Humans' lotai-machines; just imagine what the Union could gain from access to both ancient technology and warriors trained to operate it!

Although, speaking of which— {Has there been any news from the investigation into slipspace?} One of the first things that all parties had agreed on many cycles earlier was to have their technical experts compare notes on the gravitational readings of Union space.

Tempo had had the two tenoin brief her on the topic well enough to follow along: the humans had shown that the Soia's disruption of the 'slipspace barrier' was enough that their larger vessels could not safely cross over back into realspace. Even the 'smaller' human warships present here had encountered major difficulties, although the two tenoin and Beryl had been able to work around that. But could their solution be up-scaled to the larger human warships?

Or the two dreadstars?

{Unfortunately, yes.} Fireblade sent. {The say their models show Beryl's solution only working reliably for ships around the size of the human frigates. For the others, they would risk heavy damage or destruction with each jump.}

{That is better than nothing. But then the larger craft are forever stuck in this slipspace?}

{For now, they say. But that leaves one obvious solution: the Soia's Ring created this problem, so destroying it may undo the block.} Fireblade's sanzai flashed a brief burst of eager anticipation. {The humans said that they could track where the Ring departed to from the system where we found it, and the torrai are certainly planning a strike mission even now.} She caught Tempo's gaze and added intensely {We will be on that mission.}

Tempo raised one eyebrow. {I doubt that the torrai would send any group but ours. We are the Union's most-experienced warriors at working alongside the humans and Legion loroi.} Sanzai was not a mode of communication prone to false modesty.

{Good.} Fireblade acknowledged, turning away to regard the still-ongoing talks. She nodded slowly, as if to herself. {Fully unleashing the power of two operational Dreadstars? It will spell doom for the Hierarchy.} She turned back to meet Tempo's gaze. {And I will be there to see it done.}

Flinty red eyes met unyielding green.

{We both will.} agreed Tempo.