Chapter 1

His expression was one of practiced calm and confidence, but his heart raced with anticipation. He had only seen video footage and holographic images of the Rich'ti so far, during the last four months of intensive language training. They should be sending a linguist, he thought, looking down at the palmpad in his hand. He could speak their language to some extent, but he worried that he knew nothing of the subtleties to it. He also had no idea how the Rich'ti read body language. They hadn't been too forthcoming as of yet, and the general concensus was that they didn't trust their new human allies yet. The fact that the two races had a common enemy in the Brey-hahd was the only thing that had caused the Rich'ti to contact the Humans in the first place, after the human warship Vagata had sacrificed itself in order to destroy an entire Brey-hahd attack force by self-destructing in the center of it. Despite the lives lost, it had been the largest-scale victory the humans had won so far, without help from other allies. Shortly afterwards, the first Rich'ti communication had been received. They wanted an alliance. It was obvious that the Rich'ti knew more about Humans than anyone knew about the Rich'ti - the message had been sent in no less than four human languages.

Since then, communications had been flying back and forth between the two races. Treaties had been carefully composed and arranged. One of the things that the Rich'ti had insisted on was a liaison. After a month of deliberation, Kevan had been chosen.

He still found himself somewhat surprised that he'd even been on the list. His degrees were in Psychology and Politics, although he had also spent a considerable time studying the cultures of the other races, and had spent the last six years as Interspecies Advisor to the United Worlds Prime Minister. He'd assumed that he would continue in that position or one similar to it for several years yet, and had happily settled in on Tangra. Hell, he'd even bought himself a dog, shipped all the way to him from Earth in cryosleep as a puppy. He'd had a difficult time handing over the huskie to his sister to care for, but the Rich'ti had been clear that no foreign animals were allowed. And, out of the twenty candidates that the Humans had submitted to the Rich'ti for approval, Kevan had been the one they had approved. They rejected the remaining nineteen as "unsuitable" and refused to give details on why.

He looked at the baggage being loaded and realized he did not even know how long he'd be there. "A couple of years at least, probably more," was all that Minister Carson had been able to say. "Probably more," he muttered to himself as a crewman walked by with the last of his bags. Peering at it all stacked inside the shuttle it started to not look like enough.

"That's all of it, sir," another jumpsuited crewman said.

He looked at the crewman's uniform, seeing the midshipman's rank insignia. Is a midshipman 'sir'? He was not sure. After another moment's hesitation he settled for just, "Thank you," and a nod. Great, I can't even handle our own military. Please, don't let this be some huge military ship of theirs.

He was led inside the shuttle and directed to a seat. He was the only passenger, of course. A female cadet was strapping his things down. It seemed a silly precaution for a trip that was probably not quite 500 meters. He probably would not even get a full view of the Rich'ti ship.

The shuttle door was sealed and the air felt a little heavy. He made himself breathe slowly and deeply. Everything will be fine, you'll do fine. "Here we go, sir," the pilot said over the intercom.

The acceleration was gentle as the shuttle slowly cleared the landing bay revealing the black night. The stars were the one redeeming quality to space travel, he had always thought. The view helped settle his mind, as it always did. Once clear of the ship the shuttle accelerated again to coast the short distance to the Rich'ti ship.

Although he did not, as expected, get to see a full view of the entire ship, they passed enough of it on their way to the landing pad that he was able to get a general impression of the appearance of it. He couldn't be sure what the outer hull was coated with, but it reminded him of a polished black gemstone. It was both black and reflective at the same time, and almost seemed liquid at some angles. He knew it couldn't be liquid, however, as they passed areas where the outlines to hatches became apparent. They were round circles in the hull instead of the usual squares he was accustomed to seeing on human ships.

From what he could see of the ship's construction, it seemed to be made of a cluster of cylinders, connected at the sides into an odd-looking 'V' that almost reminded him of pipes on a pipe organ. The ends of each cylinder tapered down to a wedged point, and the side ones angled towards the centermost. Their entry with the shuttle appeared to be at the back end of the centermost cylinder, where a large round hatch had opened to reveal a compartment inside, above the point. As they maneuvered in, he made out seven cylinders in all, and wondered how this ship compared to others in the Rich'ti fleet.

The pilot's landing was gentle, and Kevan saw through the window as the hatch slid shut above and behind them. For a few moments, the stars vanished and the shuttle was bathed in darkness. He was greatful for the dim lighting inside the shuttle and tried to wait patiently as some of the knots in his stomach tightened in nervous anticipation.

"Recompression in progress, sir. It ought to be just a few minutes until I can open the door for you." The pilot's voice over the intercom nearly made him jump from his seat if he hadn't been belted in.

"Thank you," he said aloud, undoing the belt mechanism and moving it out of his way. He pulled the palmpad out of his jacket pocket and tapped it on, distracting himself by reviewing some of the language basics again. The last thing I need is to offend them at the offset by butchering their language, he thought worriedly. He desperately hoped he wouldn't speak their language with too much accent. He'd been very thorough in learning to make out the sounds of their alphabet and connect them together. He only hoped it would pass muster.

There was a little chirp and an indicator light turned from a dim red to a slightly brighter green, indicating it was safe to open the door. He took one last look at the palmpad before tucking it into a pocket.

His hand trembled as he pressed the button to open the door. There was still a gentle hiss when it opened. The pressure outside was somewhat less than in the shuttle. The door swung away and a ramp lowered, all automatically.

"Good luck, sir," the pilot said through the intercom. Kevan sighed. The last human contact he was going to have in how long? And he didn't even get to see a face. There hadn't been any warm sendoff or anything. Not that he normally cared for the pomp and circumstance, but he would have appreciated some supportive gesture.

They don't shake hands, he reminded himself to make sure he would not offer one out of habit. He stepped out and down the ramp, looking for a welcoming party. It was a small receiving bay, and it was empty.

It was a few long minutes before a door finally slid open. It was a rounded door, and made for an oval-shaped doorway. There was a brief pause and four beings came through. They seemed to be part cat and part ape. They were taller than he was, heavier and yet sleeker and more graceful. They were about half covered in long, soft looking fur. Their faces were hairless with soft, rounded features. They had long lower jaws that gave them just a hint of snout and they had bright, alert eyes set wide on their faces. Their abdomens also were hairless, along with their inner parts of their thighs. The rest was hidden by plush fur.

The first two through stepped in and to the side and carried short rifles. The second pair he could tell was a male and a female. The female was a little bit shorter with pristine white fur that made the bare parts seem particularly pink, where the males' exposed skin was more purple and their fur was darker. That was the way it was with them. The males had darker, more muted colors with spots of coloring while the females had lighter fur with more vibrant colors and more often had stripes.

Unsure which of them to greet first, he stepped forward remaining centered between the two. He suddenly realized that they likely knew who he was, but he had no idea who it was he was about to address. He found himself wanting to clear his throat before speaking noticing it felt suddenly dry but held back, not wanting to risk the action being offensive.

"I, Kevan Phelps, greet you on behalf of my people," he said in Rich'ti. "May our alliance become one of frienship and respect." Please, God, don't let me have butchered that in their eyes, he thought to himself. He hadn't even had any say in what he was to say to them first. The Minister's speechwriter had written it and then it had gone through a session of revision with the Minister and his advisors. He'd been at the meeting, but found early that it was better to keep his input minimal. Not only were several of the advisors irritated that Kevan had been chosen to go, but they had all wanted something weighty added to the first face-to-face meeting with the Rich'ti. To Kevan's relief, the Minister had put his foot down and reduced it to two simple sentences. Kevan didn't dare deviate, however, as he knew that the shuttle behind him was busily recording this encounter. It would be reviewed by the United Worlds government and also broadcast to all the United Worlds. Kevan Phelps knew he was about to be a household name, if he wasn't already.

To his surprise, the female Rich'ti stepped forward and put out her hand. In the few sketchy details he'd been given about them for this first encounter, one of the clearer had been that they didn't shake hands. Yet, there she stood, hand outstretched. He took it tenatively, and the contact was brief before she quickly withdrew it. He noticed her fingernails were pointed and sharp, and suspected that they were actually retracted claws, the thickness of the fur atop her fingers hiding how far back they actually went.

"I am Sarsh'ta," she said in remarkably perfect English. Not only did she speak it clearly, but she knew which language was native for Kevan. He understood that one of the reasons he'd been on the list had also been that he knew three of the four languages they had sent the message in, speaking and reading them fluently.

"I am Agronet," the male said. He also spoke in English, but it sounded more broken and gutteral. Kevan suspected that he hadn't had as much time learning it as Sarsh'ta obviously had. Agronet did not extend his hand, but watched Kevan with sharp eyes, as if trying to search him for secrets.

"I will be your main contact in the beginning," Sarsh'ta told him, "and I will teach you of our ways before you are introduced to some of the others. Please let me show you to your quarters. Your belongings will be brought soon." She bared her teeth in what he expected was her attempt at a 'smile', although it looked slightly more fierce than he might have normally liked, her teeth looking particularly sharp. He smiled back at her, and he saw Agronet tense slightly. Okay, no smiling. Check, he noted to himself.

Sarsh'ta turned for the door. Kevan gave one last look back to the shuttle before following her. Agronet followed, after ordering the guards to remain. He did so, of course, in Rich'ti, and Kevan noted that while the pronunciation agreed with what he'd been taught, the inflections weren't quite what he expected. He hoped he'd get to hear quite a bit more before he had to speak it again.

The corridor outside was oval-shaped like the doorway. They passed through three intersections. There were no corners where the hallways came together. The walls just curved. He supposed one benefit was not bumping into anyone coming around the corner. Not a bad idea, he thought. Of course, he knew it would never happen in a human ship--it just wasn't space efficient.

Sarsh'ta stopped at a door and pushed a button next to it. There was one on either side of the door, he noted. "This will be your space for our trip," she said as the door slid open. He followed her inside.

The room was round, fitting with a curve in the hallway. In the center was a round mat slightly raised from the floor. It looked to be a dark fur, and looked soft and fluffy. At a few places around the edges of the room were nets hung like hammocks. There was a desk and a table along the walls, although there was no chair. The walls here were curved from floor to ceiling just as the hallways were.

Sarsh'ta pushed at a panel in the wall near the floor, and it popped open, revealing a deep storage space. There were several similar cabinets around the room, both high and low on the wall where the walls would be thicker. Clever, good use of space, he decided. "You can store your belongings in these," she explained.

"How long will the trip take?" He knew they were headed to the Rich'ti home world, Rich, which they pronounced with a guttural sound and a slightly rolled R. The location of the home world, however, was not something the Rich'ti had revealed, and other allies had been uncertain as well.

"Far less than it would take one of your ships," Agronet stated flatly. "It will not be long, but you will need a place to be. It would be...improper for you to be in the control spaces during transit."

"I understand," Kevan replied, although he was certain there was more to it than a civilian being in the way of the crew.

"What are your titles or positions, please?" he asked next, hoping to answer the question in his mind of who Agronet was.

"I am in a similar position to the one you have with your leader," Sarsh'ta told him. "We only use titles when there is a great difference in rank, or two Rich'ti with the same name, which is a rare occurance. My own title is pronounced 'Proonk Takor Human', and it means that I am one who knows much about your kind and shares this knowledge with our own leader. It translates roughly as leading advisor of Human."

Agronet grunted slightly as Sarsh'ta's explained. The two shared a look that Kevan couldn't be sure about.

"Agronet is the captain of our fleet," Sarsh'ta continued. "His title is pronounced 'Gurnteh Richoga'. It translates into your language as high captain."

"I have much to do," Agronet said, narrowing his eyes at Sarsh'ta. "Good to meet you, Kevan Phelps." He did not look at Kevan as he said it, however, and followed by turning and striding from the room.

"You must forgive Agronet," Sarsh'ta said after a moment. "He has not had as much time to study your people as I, and is uncomfortable with having someone from another race on his ship. He is also not on his ship right now, and commanding another captain's crew. All of this has made him... irritable." She made a noise that seemed like she might be chuckling.

"I see," Kevan replied. He was surprised that she was being so candid with him.

"Come," she said, "let me show you some of this ship." He followed her out to the hallway. A pair of females walked past, pausing in their conversation while passing him. One of the two looked at him with an expression he did not know how to interpret. That might be one of the harder things to learn.

"Please forgive if you are stared at for a while, Kevan. May I call you Kevan?"

"Absolutely. Please do, in fact. Using both names is more formal. I'd like to hope you and I can move past that."

She made a little roll of her head. "Okay, I have to ask," he said. "Some of your gestures and expressions probably aren't going to make sense to me, and some of mine won't make sense to you."

"I have been briefed on your facial expressions and some of your gestures. Like your shrug, for example, and your smile. I think the smile does not really work with us. With us the expression is too similar to us baring our teeth, which is normally a threatening act."

"That explains Agronet some, then. That will take some getting used to."

"When we are pleased with something we move our heads in a few different ways."

"Ah, so when I mentioned going past formality you smiled at me in your way."

"Yes."

"Okay, then. How about you show me around? Although you have the advantage. You've been given more information about us than I have about you."

"We have known of your kind longer than you have known about us," she said, swaying her head side-to-side in a gesture that looked sly to him.

"Well, your mastery of the English language is remarkable to say the least," he countered, tossing aside the usage of more simple English vocabulary. "Are you going to elaborate on how you've become so fluent?"

She made the sound as if she was chuckling again.

"I shall explain as we walk," she replied, gesturing down the hallway. "This way."

"We discovered your kind a long while ago, actually," she explained as they walked. "You weren't exactly hiding yourselves. Some signals you directed out towards the universe, looking for other life, some merely bounced back out from your own planet. Much of the initial information came from your entertainment channels. I suspect that was part of the reason your race was initially disregarded."

"Disregarded?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "We were just disregarded, eh?"

"Considering that you weren't spacefaring beyond your own solar system at the time, and that your weapons were no threat to us, there was no reason to make contact at that time. Though a small group volunteered to continue to monitor and study your race, they were all but forgotten until recently, except for an occasional passing interest when you did something of note, like your first interstellar ship."

"This is what you would refer to as our mess hall," She said, stopping and pointing into a long oval room with a low oval ring of a table that nearly filled it. The floor immediately around it was covered with soft-looking furs, and a walkway ran behind that, along the walls. In the center of the room, the table was cut out in an oval shape relative to the table itself, and there seemed to be all manner of strange equipment inside. Kevan couldn't be sure, but one surface seemed to resemble a long griddle.

"How big is the crew?" he asked.

"This ship is small, about seventy," she answered, stepping back to the hall. "Also in this section are crew lounge areas and some of the crew quarters."

She led him further down the corridor to an open doorway on the inside edge of a curve in the wall. "Here is one of many access shafts that connect the different levels of the ship. There is no gravity in them, so you can easily move from level to level." She poked her head in, looking up then down explaining, "you will want to look both ways to be sure no one is already coming."

She stepped right to the edge and jumped up. He hurried forward and saw her grab a handle bar alongside the doorway at the next level. Her momentum turned her around into the gravity beyond the doorway and she dropped neatly to the deck.

"Come on. We're doing up first because it's easier. To go down you have to give a little forward hop so that you're already going down when you leave the gravity of the deck for the non-gravity of the shaft. Hop on up here, and grab the handle. You don't have to jump very hard."

He followed her lead a bit tentatively. He didn't jump very hard, and it took him a brief moment to cover the short distance to her. He grabbed the handle and swung to beside her. His landing was not as graceful as hers, but he did manage to stay standing. "You'll get it with practice," she reassured him.

"So we've been a hobby for a few Rich'ti, but otherwise considered unremarkable until now," he said. "What changed?"

"The war, mostly," she answered, leading him down another hallway. "To be honest..." She stopped and turned to look at him directly. "We're losing, Kevan. We have better technology than your kind, and yet your people have done far better in fighting off the Brey-hahd than we have. Perhaps it is just your level of determination. Most who've studied your kind have decided that humans are possbily too stubborn to be reasoned with. We may not have had contact with you ourselves, but we have monitored how you've dealt with other races. Or perhaps it is not your stubborn nature at all, but the type of explosives you are using in your warheads. It is as if the Brey-hahd have adapted to our weaponry. Our ships aren't enough anymore. Some of the furthest out of Rich'ti planets have been lost to Brey-hahd control. If the planet has resources they feel are worth mining, then our people become slaves. If not, the Brey-hahd burn the planet's surface with a terrible fire. Everyone dies."

"None of your planets have been taken yet," she continued. "Perhaps it is only a matter of time, or maybe it is because there is something you have that can defend against them and eventually drive them away. Either way, we are out of time. We need to find a solution now, before more Rich'ti are lost. We can leave no possibilities unchecked anymore."

"I probably shouldn't be telling you all of this yet, but I think it's important that you know the situation. Much depends on our ability to negotiate with your people, but we are not generally the type to trust other races. Rich'ti trust each other without question, it's a sort of unwritten law amongst us. But other races lie to one another, try to cheat each other. Your kind even lie and cheat amongst themselves, so much so that you require written indications of intent to ensure promises are kept. I had quite a time explaining to our leader why it was that your people wanted him to make marks on paper to let them know he meant to keep his word. If a Rich'ti enters into an agreement, it is binding. It is a manner of honor." She finished with a sigh.

He didn't know what to say, it was a lot to take in so quickly after only just arriving. She forestalled his need to speak by gesturing down the hallway.

"That first door on our right leads to the medical facilities on the ship. We will need to stop inside for a moment so they can do a quick scan and a take a sample of your blood."

"Yes," he said quietly, still musing over her previous words. "I was warned about that part." He followed her to the door and it slid open as they approached it.

She led him into the medical area. It was a very Spartan area, and in many ways reminded him that medical facilities everywhere all seem recognizable. Everything was whiter than the rest of the ship. There were raised tables that probably served as beds for patients. They weren't covered in furs, of course, but did look well padded.

The walls were mostly curved, and he could see abundant cabinet space was built into the walls. There were also scores of what had to be drawers. One of them was open, and was a pull out tray of varied metal implements.

There were no patients there, and one Rich'ti who he assumed to be their medical officer. It was a female, with yellow and orange stripes to her fur. He could imagine the protest from the doctors back home, who would explain the difficulty in the required full-body hair net. He chuckled at the conjured image despite himself. Somehow a white or blue lab coat would have looked equally out of place. She was wearing a bag slung over her shoulder, and there was an emblem on the bag that he conjectured to be their medical symbol.

"This is our healer, Urish'tal," Sarsh'ta explained before introducing him to her in Rich'ti.

"Forgive me, Kevan Phelps," Urish'tal said in Rich'ti, "but I do not know your speech."

"Don't worry," he replied, taking a deep breath before plunging into their language. "First, you can just call me Kevan. The same way you more often use titles when there are two by the same name, I'm sure I'm the only Kevan around."

"Fair enough," Urish'tal replied. "You're pronunciation is better than I expected, for an alien."

"I tried to learn what I could, but I think I've learned as much since boarding your ship as I did before."

"You have much to learn," she said with a narrowing of her eyes. "Shall we get started? I have a few tests to run, but they should not cause discomfort. I have been warned that your kind are wary of healers."

"There is an old superstition about being examined by alien doctors. People used to claim that aliens were taking people for experiments. At the time we didn't know that there really were aliens. A lot of people were alarmed to learn that aliens were real, although so far we haven't met any that closely resembled the ones people were seeing."

"I see," she said, looking down at what she was doing more than at him. She had a small, handheld device that she was tapping on with the tip of a nail, confirming Kevan's suspicions of retractable claws. "Sit down on the table, Kevan." She gestured at the one next to the open drawer.

He moved over and had to hop up onto it some, noting the first disadvantage to the Rich'ti being taller and longer-legged than humans. He peered tenatively over at the drawer, noting all manner of strange instruments, some looking almost familiar and some looking entirely foreign to him. Urish'tal reached in and picked up one that looked like a long, glass tube with a couple inches of steel bottom on it.

"I will first take some blood," She told him. He nodded at her, and was relieved when she reached for his arm and pressed the device in roughly the same place that a human doctor would. He felt a tingling, followed by a brief pinch and then there was a bit of pressure. He watched as the clear part of the tube filled rather quickly with the dark red blood being drawn from his arm. It only took a moment to fill, and then she applied a small round disc to the area she had drawn from. It looked like a piece of white plastic to him, but he felt a coolness where it touched his skin, and it seemed to stick in place.

"Leave that there for a few moments," Urish'tal said as she turned and placed the tube of blood into one of the machines near the wall. "Lie down," she said as she came back. She picked up the handheld device again, and a machine came down out of the ceiling from above him as he laid back, flat on the table. The machine seemed to unfold, and square flat panels arranged themselves above him, each lighting with a faint bluish light. She tapped at the device some more, and he watched as various images seemed to glow in and out above him on the panels. First, he saw what he assumed was a skeletal picture of himself, not unlike the images he'd seen from human x-ray scans. Then it looked as if it cycled through, taking scans that focused on his internal organs, muscle structure, blood-flow or vein structure, and finally an almost reflection of himself as he might see in a mirror. Afterwards, the machine made some chirping and buzzing that the device in Urish'tal's hands seemed to respond to, and then it retracted back into the ceiling again. It all seemed to pass rather quickly, although he had to admit that he'd been too fascinated by the images to notice how much time it had taken.

"Your government said that you were in good health," Urish'tal said. "We will use these data as a starting point. As long as you are with us you should be checked periodically. If there are any changes, we want to notice them right away. Obviously, we will consult with your own people's healers if we see anything change drastically. They have already requested that we keep them informed of your health, and we will comply with that."

"It is in our best interests to keep you well," Sarsh'ta explained.

"That works for me." He made a conscious effort to be aware of his smile. He knew his teeth usually showed when he smiled. Nothing like jumping right in...

"If you would not mind, I would like you to stop by here again before sleeping," Urish'tal said. "Fine," he replied.

"I'm afraid there is not much left of the ship to show you. Weapons, control, and engineering spaces will be forbidden to you, which I hope you understand. Follow me, please?"

They crossed more gentle intersections to another door. This one opened into an area with a number of rounded alcoves around the edges. In some of the alcoves crewmembers were viewing holographic images. Some read screens of text. Across the room was another door.

"We have a library and entertainment area, which you are welcome to explore in depth. Some of the crew use this area to further their education, some just to relax. There is also a fitness area past that door.

"Please do not hesitate to ask either myself or Urish'tal if you have questions about our fitness facilities. I do not doubt that we participate in some fitness activities that may be very different from your own. I would not want you to injure yourself with something your body was not intended to do."

"I understand, I think. Our bodies are built differently and are capable of different things."

"Exactly," she said, nodding. "We won't be on the ship for long, our journey should really only take about a week. It would be shorter, but we need to skirt around some of the systems where fighting is going on."

"Only a week?" he asked, bewildered. It had taken almost a month to get to the rendezvous point, and he'd been on one of the fastest ships the fleet owned. The carrier had been nearby and met them there. The journey had been rough, to say the least, and he had welcomed the open spaces in the carrier after the cramped confines of the small scouting vessel. The Rich'ti ship did not seem as large as the carrier had been, but was roomy enough to not make him feel uncomfortable. He couldn't imagine it making such speeds.

"Our way of crossing long distances is... different from yours," she replied, as if sensing his thoughts. "You rely on inertia and speed to get you from one point to another. We've moved beyond that, technologically."

"Beyond that?"

"There aren't words for all the terms to explain it in your language, but... there are ways to make a light travel through an area to another one, but not see that light in the distance between the two points. It still travels through that area, but it is moving faster than the eye can see. You might say it is as if the light jumped from the first point to the second, without seeming to pass through the space in the middle. The way we travel long distances is similar. It is far more complex than I can possibly explain, but we make several of these 'jumps', you might call them, throughout the journey. They hasten our travel time considerably."

"In our language, we call these jumps 'Ounk-ta'," she continued. "If you hear that word spoken over the coms, you'll know we are about to perform one. There will be one not long from now, actually. It is unlikely you will feel much. To me it is just a slight feeling of shift. I can't explain it better. Some don't feel it at all. I've been told that I feel it because I've spent most of my life planetside. The longer you are on a ship, the less you notice it."

"I see," Kevan replied, depsite the fact that he really didn't understand it much at all. Although he liked the idea that he'd be able to set foot on actual ground again in about a week's time, he hoped he wouldn't have trouble making the 'Ounk-ta's along the way. He wondered if this was one of the technologies they planned to share with his people. He knew that there were plenty of humans who would love to get their hands on schematics for it. He mused over that while he followed Sarsh'ta, and eventually found himself back in the room they had assigned to him. His luggage had made its way into the room and was neatly stacked on the floor at one side.

"You will probably want some time to get settled. The crew has a number of work rotations, so meals are available every other hour. Every hour there is a chime. At meal hours it is a double chime."

"I take it your ship's time is basically the same as the days on your home world, right?"

"Yes, so our day is 31 of your hours, and has 20 of our hours in it. Hopefully it will not be too difficult an adjustment for you."

"I'll get through it."

"Um... what about...sanitary needs?" he asked.

"Ah, yes, I'm sorry. Sometimes the little things, no?" She walked over and indicated a lower cabinet with a circular symbol on it. "Sanitation would be here. Outside and to the left, down...three doors is a door marked with a symbol resembling three interlocked rings. Washing is there for however often you need it."

"Okay," he said, giving a skeptical look at the cabinet door. He was nervous about what he'd find in it, but decided he could wait a little bit yet.

Finally she indicated a panel near the door. "This is an intercom panel. There is one in each room, as well as throughout the ship in corridors. The ship keeps general track of where you are. If you need me, just touch any of the panels. It will make a chime, and then you speak my name. The ship will chime the panel nearest me, and we can communicate directly. You can also use it to make general queries of the ship's computer. The computer does not know any of your languages, only Rich'ti."

"That's okay. I figured I was pretty much done speaking anything other than that already."

"If there is nothing else, I will leave you to get settled."

"Thank you. I think I'll be fine for the moment. Your Human is excellent, by the way. I'm impressed." He found himself smiling at her and quickly composed his expression, attempting a small roll of his head instead. She seemed to find it amusing.

"Thank you, Kevan," she replied. "I have spent most of my life studying your kind. It is exciting to be the first of my people to meet a Human. When we reach the homeworld I have colleagues from before I became Proonk Takor Human that would like to meet you if you'd be willing at some point?"

"Of course. How long have you been Proonk Takor Human?" he asked.

"I'm the first to hold the position, actually. We do not frequently interact with other races, you see, so there are not many Proonk Takor who have a specialization in otherworldly things. The position was created about a year ago after we... you would call it 'lobbying' I believe, yes... we lobbied for it. I was the most... I was the one chosen for the position. Explaining how the choice was made is better left for another time yet. You already have a lot to absorb."

"Yes, I do," he replied, raising an eyebrow. "Although I will admit that you've piqued my interest."

"There will be plenty of time to explain some of the more complicated things once you've had a chance to settle in. If I am understanding your hours correctly, it is past time for your midday meal as well."

He realized that she was right, and that he hadn't eaten before leaving the cargo ship. He had not wanted to risk an upset stomach from the shuttle trip. It might have gone badly indeed if he'd greeted the Rich'ti by heaving his lunch onto their shuttle bay floor. He wondered briefly if the rumbling of a hungry stomach was just as universal with the Rich'ti as it was with the other races he'd encountered.

"I will come back whenever you are ready, and we can resume discussions," she told him. "There are many differences between our cultures that you should be aware of, but we do not have to go over everything all at once. I am to brief you on as much as possible as quickly as possible. However, most Rich'ti are of a strong philosophy that meals should not be missed. Based on what I saw of your medical scan you have not eaten in some time." She sounded both matter-of-fact and motherly, and Kevan found himself wondering how old she actually was. She seemed youthful and energetic to him, but also held a measure of authority to her tone. He chose to ignore the realization that she'd been studying a picture of his innards to determine whether or not he'd eaten lunch.

"A meal would be most welcome," he finally said, keeping a rein on his questions for the moment. "I'll let you know when I've unpacked and eaten then." She rolled her head in response, and he realized that it was more of a nod this time. He'd have to get use to the subtleties of the head rolls.

"I will look forward to your call," she replied. Without hesitation, she turned and left the room, closing the door panel behind her. He sat down on the edge of the raised mat, letting out a long rush of air that he felt as if he'd been holding since he'd boarded the shuttle. The dark fur of the mat was softer than any fur he'd ever touched before, and his first thought was that his huskie would have loved to curl up on it with him. He had a feeling that he was going to miss his dog the most. With a sigh, he reached forward and pulled the nearest suitcase to him, managing to topple the whole stack in the process.

Much of what he had brought had been clothes, of course. He had those all tucked away and still had almost half of the room's ample storage space left.

He had to wonder why they bothered providing so much storage space. They obviously didn't wear clothes, and he hadn't yet seen any of them carrying much. In the end he couldn't come up with a better answer than that the space was there and they didn't waste it.

He got the rest of his stuff put away and even had a cabinet left to put the empty bags into, plus one to spare. It made him wonder if maybe he was supposed to have brought more with.

Eventually it was time for...the drawer. He was a little concerned that it wasn't its own room. Just a big drawer that pulled out with a bowl shape inside it.

In the end he wandered over to the intercom panel and pressed it. It made more of a chirping noise than a chime. "Um, Urish'tal, please," he tried. There was another chirp. He had gotten the impression he was supposed to speak first, as the caller, so he gulped and jumped right in.

"Urish'tal? This is Kevan."

"Yes, how can I help you, Kevan?"

"Among our people everything said between a doctor and patient is confidential. Is there something like that with your people?"

"Yes, there is. Is there a problem?"

"More of a question, but an embarrassing one. Is there anyone else there right now?"

"No, you may speak without anyone else overhearing."

He explained his uncertainty, and she patiently explained how the device was properly used. There were no anatomical differences so vast that he would have difficulty using their device, although he decided it was definitely going to take a little getting used to. In the end he was relieved to know that he could use it without making a mess. Finally they were both able to laugh over comparing how both races had taken some experimentation to develop a system that would work without gravity in the beginning.

"So you promise not to tell anyone about this?"

"I give you my word, Kevan Phelps."

"Thank you."

"Feel free to let me know if you find yourself with other...questions."

"I'll do that, thanks," he said before ending the connection by pressing the panel again. It chirped at him one last time. He sighed. If that was the worst of it, I can just get through this yet, he decided.

His stomach rumbled and reminded him that he should eat something before calling Sarsh'ta again. He'd needed his palmtop to look up some of the Rich'ti words while talking to Urish'tal, and he slipped it into his pocket. He took a deep breath before pressing his hand against the door panel to open it, and heading out into the hallway, trying to remember which door had the mess hall.

Amongst most species, he could have feigned comfort and confidence by walking down the hall with a smile on his face. Unable to use that particular ruse, he kept his face slack and what he hoped appeared calm to the Rich'ti. He was relieved to find that the door to the mess hall was already open, making it easier for him to find. A few Rich'ti were already inside, sitting on mats in small clusters here and there around the table, and two Rich'ti appeared to be cooking with the equipment in the center. The smell of food made his stomach rumble, and he was pleased to find that nothing smelled wrong to him. From the aroma, he could have just as easily been in a human restaurant.

He picked a mat off to one side and settled down on it cross-legged. A part of him wondered if maybe he should have taken his shoes off first, but he decided he'd be more likely to offend them with his sweaty socks than the presence of his shoes. The Rich'ti, he noticed, didn't wear shoes.

Almost as soon as he'd sat down, someone came by and slid a wooden bowl across the table from the center to him. The bowl was wide and shallow, and held three different items in it. One item was pieces of a cooked meat, mildly spiced and cooked very rare. The second item he assumed to be some sort of vegetable. It was a bluish-purple color and had a crisp outer skin, like a pepper might. When he bit into it, he found it filled with something resembling peas, but in a deep purple color. There was a hard core at the center which he did not eat after seeing that others had discarded that part back to their bowls. The third item in the bowl seemed to be a sweet fruit that had been dipped in something honey-like and then heated until the outer coating had a crispness to it. When he bit into it the honey-like substance oozed out from under where it had hardened and mixed with the juices from the fruit. He found he enjoyed that item considerably.

While he was still sampling each item to see if it would agree with him, he noticed he was being watched either actively or discreetly by all the Rich'ti in the room. After a short while, one group that had been actively watching, pointing, and speaking amongst themselves in hushed tones, came walking over to where he sat at the table. One of them, a male, seemed to be leading the group. He stood up when they arrived, hoping his handle on the Rich'ti language would keep him from needing to pull out his palmtop.

"Human," the lead Rich'ti said loudly as they arrived next to the mat Kevan stood at.

"Yes?" he replied in Rich'ti, hoping he sounded friendly.

"I want that seat. You will move." The Rich'ti pointed at the spot Kevan was standing on and bared his teeth. Kevan started to get worried.

"Maybe I am not understanding you correctly - " he started to say.

"You will move!" the Rich'ti interrupted, pushing him backwards so that he fell onto the next mat over. The Rich'ti then proceeded to sit down where Kevan had been sitting and throw Kevan's bowl of food at one of the cooks in the center.

"The human touched that. I will have another."

As Kevan got back to his feet, he watched one of the Rich'ti scramble to bring a fresh bowl of food, even though Kevan had seen the Rich'ti eating from another bowl where he'd been sitting before. Confused, Kevan tried quietly sitting down on the mat where he'd been pushed, wondering what would be proper to do. Everyone in the room was watching them.

"No. She will sit there," the leader said, glaring at him and pointing at one of the females that had been standing nearby. To his shock, she came over and lifted him up to his feet by his armpits, as one might pick up a child. It seemed effortless for her. She rolled her head at him a bit, brushing his shirt off and inspecting the fabric as if curious. Then, without warning, she shoved him backwards. The strength of her shove sent him flying three mats backwards this time and he hit his head a bit on the table as he fell. He could hear them laughing as they settled in around the spot he'd been sitting in.

He sat up, wishing they were at least shoving him closer to the door instead of further away. He felt a hasty retreat would be a better idea at this point than trying to stand up to someone so obviously stronger than he, who also had friends with him. He rubbed his head, wondering if they would let him pass behind them to get to the door, or if it would be safer to go around the entire table. Behind him, a voice spoke up, coming closer as it did.

"That is enough." The owner of the voice walked along the walkway behind the mats, passing Kevan as he did. "The human chose this space. You will let him have it, Rek'at. Move now!"

Rek'at stood and the two bared their teeth at each other, making low rumbling noises in their throats. The others around Rek'at made space, watching the two attentively.

Psychology and politics...they should have sent an anthropologist, Kevan mused as he watched the way the two moved as they circled each other.

For a moment they kept circling. They moved in low stances, much like wrestlers. He also noticed neither had claws out. He hoped that was a good sign.

Finally Rek'at lunged towards the other. They grappled with each other for a moment, pushing at each other, banging at each other's backs and heads. Like kids on a playground vying for superiority...

The female that had pushed him was watching the contest and ignoring him. For the moment he appeared forgotten. He considered just walking out while they were occupied, but he decided he needed to see this. He had to learn how their culture worked. He sat down and grabbed up Rek'at's food to eat while he watched.

Rek'at and the other one exchanged wide, round-swinging punches. They didn't look to be hitting very hard--or maybe they were just tough enough not to be swayed by them.

It all reminded him too much of the school playgrounds of his youth. He had been singled out then, too. But his father had been a professional gravball player, and Kevan had gotten involved in several sports to "toughen him up." Boxing, wrestling, gravball, track--in the end it had been an athletic scholarship that had gotten him his higher education.

Eventually Rek'at was knocked off balance and landed in another's food. Most of the onlookers made an undulating sound he took as laughter. The one whose food was ruined growled, but apparently let it go.

"Be careful, human. You probably do not belong here," the one who had intervened on his behalf said as conversations around the room started up again and Rek'at slinked away. "I am Trorkash," he added. To the female he said, "You will stay away from the human. And I will have you in my quarters tonight."

After that his stomach felt a little queasy, so set the bowl on the desk for the time being.

He plopped down on the furs. They were even more deeply padded than they looked. Sleep, at least, was something he expected to have no problem with tonight. He took some notes in his palmpad of things he wanted to ask about later.

For now he needed a moment to just digest everything. Part of him was excited to wander and explore and learn. The more rational part reminded him that he had nothing but time, and wasn't even expected to give his first report for two weeks. He took some more notes of impressions to add to that report.

Eventually there was a chime at the door.

"Yes?" he asked.

"It's Sarsh'ta."

"Come in," he said, "please."

"I have a little more time, and thought I would check up on you," she said as she entered. She sat on the furs facing him. I must look so clumsy to them, he thought as he watched her move.

"I'm glad you came by. I've got more questions."

"Of course you do."

"First of all," he began, "there was some misunderstanding a short while ago between myself and a Rich'ti named Rek'at? I'm not sure what I did to offend him. One named Trorkash intervened..." he trailed off, unsure how to explain to her what had occurred between the two Rich'ti.

"Already?" she asked. "I had hoped there would be more time for you to adjust before anyone would try to challenge you. I believe Rek'at is the head engineer on this ship, although I have not met him. Trorkash is in charge of security, and has been appraised of some of the differences between our cultures. I expect he was there on purpose to make sure of your safety. The computer will let him know if a person is leaving their quarters if he wishes it."

"Is my safety at risk here?" he asked bluntly. He needed to know just how much the other Rich'ti might not want him here.

"That is unlikely," she made what seemed to him like a sigh. "I guess I had better explain how positions of authority are gained amongst the Rich'ti. It is very different from what you are accustomed to, from what I understand. Amongst your kind, you choose who rules or leads in any particular group. Amongst Rich'ti, it is achieved. Only the one who is best equipped to have a position will get it, for they must prove themself worthy to gain a title. When I said before that I was 'chosen' for my position as Proonk Takor, it was misleading. It was more of an approval. The others who might have also gained the position agreed that I was best able to do the job. It was not without some debate and contest."

"Now that I have the position," she explained, "I have a certain elevated position amongst the others. I can ask things of others and they must comply or risk challenging my rank, so to speak. It is unclear to the others what rank you hold here, so there will be some need for clarification."

"What do you mean, you can ask things of others and they must comply?" he asked. "What sort of requests can you make of people?"

"It is complicated," she replied. "If it is something that can be easily replenished, like a meal or their seat at a function, then I can just demand it. If it is something that they crafted themselves or a service they must perform, then I am honor-bound to give them something in return. We do have a monetary system for such instances too, as not everyone has a skill that they can directly barter with. Much of our society is based on trade instead of coin, however."

"I see," he said. "When Trorkash stepped in to assist, he and -"

He was interrupted by a loud repetative noise that sounded distinctly like an alarm. He could see concern on Sarsh'ta's face as she rose and moved to the door panel, tapping at the screen. He was just about to ask her what information she could share with him when there was a loud sound of explosion and tearing metal nearby and he was thrown across the room into the wall. He rose to his feet, feeling the floor rumbling from more, smaller impacts to the ship. Sarsh'ta had been thrown as well and was laying in a heap on the floor near the desk. He moved quickly to check on her, and saw that she was breathing, but bleeding from a wound at her temple and unconscious.

The bleeding was minor. He was confident it wasn't going to become life threatening. Her being unconscious concerned him, but her breathing was steady, so he hoped that was a good sign.

He looked at the intercom panel to see what he could find out on his own. The writing took him a moment to translate. The screen did not have much on it, but it translated as battle stations. He wondered where she would normally be for that.

There were more impact noises and the ship lurched again. The intercom chimed and a gruff voice warned everyone to brace for maneuvers. The ship moved beneath him again. He kept his footing, but Sarsh'ta rolled over and slid because of it. "So much for not moving the injured," he mused aloud.

He did not know what was happening and he did not know what, if anything, he might be able to do to help. He wondered what they would want him to do, and he decided they'd want him to stay out of the way. If he were on a human ship some crewman would tell him to stay put.

He considered reporting her condition to Urish'tal, but he decided that if there were worse injuries the doctor would be busy. So he monitored her condition. He found a pulse on her neck, and counted. He came up with about 200 beats per minute, and noted that on his palmpad.

Her respiration was also faster than his, rapid and shallow, but still seemed steady. He noticed that her left side both rose and fell slightly in advance of her right side. He hadn't had a chance to observe any others closely enough to wonder what was normal. He could understand Urish'tal wanting to check him periodically. Their doctor undoubtedly had at least some information, but he was no less alien to them than they were to him.

He looked the rest of her over briefly, checking for broken bones or other cuts and was relieved not to find any. Then he sat back for a moment, feeling helpless to do much more. Eventually, he went to the intercom panel and tapped on what looked like the computer interface, trying to see if he could get more information on the current situation. It took him a couple of minutes to get a feel for the menu and how to navigate through information, during which time there were several small lurches and more manuevers. He found his access denied on several inquiries, but was able to finally bring up some basic info that confirmed they were under attack. He was unable to find out how many ships were attacking them or how the Rich'ti ship was faring, but saw requests for medical assistance coming from several areas of the ship. It did not bode well. If that many areas of the ship were damaged, the Brey-hahd were likely winning.

"Brace for emergency Ounk-ta!" a voice said loudly across the intercom in Rich'ti. The sentence wasn't even finished when he suddenly went tumbling across the wall and started falling towards the ceiling as the ship rolled entirely over. He threw his arms up, trying to catch himself, when the gravity failed. He still struck the ceiling, but much gentler than he'd anticipated. He pushed himself back across the room towards where Sarsh'ta was now floating. She too had rolled, and bounced against the ceiling. Bits of food floated near her in the air, along with the wooden bowl he had set on the desk earlier. He was halfway to her when everything lurched and slipped focus as they went into Ounk-ta.

Once it had passed his heart was racing, although this time he knew it was normal at least. He continued towards Sarsh'ta and grabbed hold of her, trying to check her pulse again. Suddenly, the gravity returned. Kevan fell towards the ground, pulling Sarsh'ta over him to try and break her fall. On his way down, his shoulder hit the edge of the desk and wrenched, dislocating. Then he slammed into the floor, with the weight of Sarsh'ta's body slamming down onto his chest, knocking the wind from him before darkness washed away his consciousness.