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Marines about the battle and the political aftermath. It was possible, Torin realized, that this group of recruits could represent the first Marines to integrate with the Silsviss. They were only on a three-year contract, so it was unlikely, given the speed of politics, but it was possible. As she talked, it became obvious there were going to be a lot more questions than usual; at least a dozen recruits looked as if they wouldn’t make it to the end of the briefing without interrupting.
    They did, but Torin would have bet her pension that a couple of them managed to wait only because of the DIs standing behind and to either side of her.
    The sergeants handled the Q&A, motioning recruits up onto their feet.
    “Gunnery Sergeant Kerr…”
    The standing recruit was a tall, medium-dark Human, her nose given remarkable prominence by the deadhead hair.
    “…is it true you have the Silsviss skull the pack leader gave you in your quarters back on OutSector?”
    “Essentially. I put it in storage when I got my orders to head here.”
    “This recruit wonders why you kept it.”
    “Seemed rude to throw it out.”
    “Then this recruit wonders why you didn’t give it back to the Silsviss for proper burial.”
    “Because that would have been dangerous. The skull is more than a battle trophy. When the new leaders of the pack handed it over, it symbolized them showing their throats to the victor. Giving it back would have meant we planned on killing each and every one of them.”
    “But giving it back now…”
    Torin raised an eyebrow and cut her off. When she figured the pause had continued long enough, she said, “What would giving it back now mean, Recruit?”
    Her brows drew in. “Disrespect?”
    “Are you asking?”
    She jumped at the tone. “No, Gunnery Sergeant Kerr!”
    “All right, disrespect and…?”
    “A challenge.”
    The short sharp crack was the sound of a Krai in the second row beginning to snap his teeth together, suddenly realizing where he was, and trying to stop just a little too late. He managed to look sheepish and apologetic simultaneously.
    “And what would a challenge mean, Recruit?”
    “A fight.”
    “A fight,” Torin agreed. She found herself wanting to remind them that every species has their own way of treating the dead but knew their DIs wouldn’t appreciate her inference that they hadn’t already learned that lesson. Insofar as it didn’t interfere with the functioning of the Corps, the Corps respected those differences.
    “A fight with who, Gunnery Sergeant Kerr?” This recruit was male, Human again, with the heavy muscle that came from working a physical job before he’d signed up.
    “Depends on who received the skull.”
    “So if it went back to the representative of the Silsvah World Council, would we find ourselves fighting the entire planet?”
    “It’s possible.” And that would certainly interfere with the functioning of the Corps. Which was why she had the skull in her storage locker. Well, that and because a couple of the more politically correct NCOs at Battalion didn’t want the skull of a sentient species hanging in the SRM. They’d just have to choke it down when the Silsviss arrived because it was definitely going back up then.
    “Gunnery Sergeant Kerr.” Even at parade rest, the di’Taykan recruit’s inherent grace was evident. Torin could see a long list of aristocratic forebears in his posture—no one got that self-assured in a single generation. He reminded her of Lieutenant Jarret and she would have been willing to bet his family name had no more than three letters in it. His cobalt-blue hair swept slowly back and forth as he asked, “Is there a chance we can see the skull, Gunnery Sergeant?”
    Torin could feel Major Alie getting ready to step in.
    “That is,” the recruit added, “if you don’t think the Silsviss would mind.”
    There was no way the major could answer that. If she knew what the Silsviss would or wouldn’t mind, Torin