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convinced you were eating it in zero gee.”
    “Yeah? Too bad he’s not here instead of this environmental physician guy.” She snorted. “Like we never made a strange planetfall before.” Shaking a finger in the air, she raised her voice into an approximation of a Rakva whistle. “Now don’t touch that, we don’t know where it’s been.”
    “I, for one, am not looking a gift physician in the mouth.”
    Grinning, Binti glanced toward the dark rectangle of Corporal Hollice’s bunk. “I don’t think you can look a Rakva in the mouth, Hol. Those beaky things aren’t set up that way.”
    A hand appeared long enough to flash a very Human response. “Shortsighted. That’s why you’re still a private.”
    “You won’t die. That’s why I’m still a private.”
    “You’re my reason to live.”
    “I’m honored.”
    “You should be. Now, shut up. I’m trying to sleep.”
    Still grinning, Binti turned her attention back to her slate.
    The rest of the squad had gotten bored with watching diplomacy in action—even illegally obtained. Most had wandered off to the mess, but Ressk had stayed by the screen. As the introductions ended and Captain Carveg left the Marines by the refreshment table, he hastily reset the security vid parameters to follow the Berganitan’s captain.
    “Now that’s what I call a set of amalork,” he murmured, settling back in his chair.
    He could watch Staff Sergeant Kerr any time; female Krai in the infantry were few and far between.
    * * *
    Chewing on something vaguely kelplike, Torin watched Lieutenant Jarret work the crowd and wondered why he’d opted for combat when he was so good at... she supposed diplomacy was the politest thing to call it, although the phrase “kissing butt” kept coming to mind. And why wasn’t he being strangled by his dress uniform? She ran a finger under her collar, then reached for another kelp thing.
    “We are pleased to welcome another reptilian species into the Confederation.”
    Torin hadn’t heard the Mictok come up behind her, but there could be no mistaking the accent—mandibles were just not made to deal with the softer consonants. Forcing herself to turn slowly, she found herself face-to-essentially-face with the ambassador.
    “The first contact team indicated that the Silsviss have a very vibrant and vital culture. We are looking forward to exploring it.”
    There didn’t seem to be much to say to that, so Torin merely smiled and nodded. As it was a little disconcerting to see her reflection in the nearer of the ambassador’s eyestalks, she dropped her gaze to the brilliant design painted onto the exoskeleton.
    The eyestalk turned to follow her line of sight. “Do you like it, Staff Sergeant?”
    “It’s beautiful, ma’am.”
    “We think so, too, but we were not sure how it would appear to a biocular species.” The foreleg with the least number of differentiated digits rose and tapped Torin’s ribbon bar. “These are more than decoration, yes?”
    “Yes, ma’am. They represent where I’ve been and what I’ve done.” A barely remembered lecture on interspecies relations had suggested it was best to keep cultural explanations simple. She doubted she could make it much simpler than that.
    “In reference to the fighting that you do?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    The Mictok sighed—at least Torin assumed that’s what the sound meant. “We do not understand why the Others insist on pushing into Confederation space. We do not like to think of sentient species having to die, even if it is the few dying to protect the many.”
    “We don’t exactly like to think of it either, ma’am.”
    She made the noise again. “No, we don’t suppose you do. We have often wondered why a smart weapon could not be created...”
    “Begging your pardon, ma’am,” Torin interrupted stiffly, “but you’ve got forty-two smart weapons on board right now. Forty-five, including our air support,” she amended, hearing Captain Daniels’ voice rise