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possible, perhaps even likely, that most of the larger bioforms saw the war against the Alava.”

That thought sent a chill down Morgan’s neck.

“God, Rin would love to talk to them,” she murmured. “So far, our only conversation was them demanding our hyperdrive and then shooting at us.”

“We may find a way to communicate yet,” Tan!Stalla said hopefully. “We have crossed language and culture barriers before. Not always well, but we have done it.” She snapped her beak. “The Laians and Wendira would be better off, in some ways, if they hadn’t managed to get their video formats to talk to each other.”

“I’m not certain everything between them can be blamed on visuals, sir,” Morgan said. “But…it’s hard to make peace with someone you can’t talk to.”

“This is true.” Tan!Stalla shifted…and there was a cracking noise Morgan had never heard from an A!Tol before.

“Sir, are you okay?” she asked.

The A!Tol was flickering black streaks of pain.

“No,” she admitted slowly. “Give me a moment, please.”

Tan!Stalla reached inside her desk and produced a strange, gun-like device. It took Morgan a moment to recognize it as a modified liquid-bandage applicator. She didn’t see where Tan!Stalla used it, but the A!Tol was still flickering black in pain as she laid the applicator down.

“Not all A!Tol age gracefully,” Tan!Stalla finally told her drily. “My girlfriend convinced me to get the sprayers”—she gestured at the misting units around the room—“but my body has decided to remind me that A!Tol are barely meant to be amphibious, let alone land-dwellers.”

The black darkened for a moment, then began to fade toward a dark purple of bitter amusement.

“All A!Tol must rest in water to avoid skin issues,” Tan!Stalla noted. “And we keep the areas we live in as humid as possible. For some of us, however, our ability to survive in drier air fades over time. Va!Sara Syndrome, it’s called.”

She shivered her tentacles.

“I was already showing signs when I commanded Jean Villeneuve with you as my XO,” Tan!Stalla admitted. “But I am a stubborn fool at times. When I returned home to spend time with my love, she saw the difference—she is a doctor, a far wiser soul than I.”

“And she insisted on this?” Morgan gestured at the mist-sprayers.

“They help,” Tan!Stalla agreed. “And it helps that my girlfriend is a doctor and can issue a medical order the Fleet will recognize. All waves know the Fleet treats Va!Sara Syndrome as best as we can, though. !Lot could have just insisted I see a Fleet doctor…but she wanted to be certain.”

“It sounds like she cares deeply for you,” Morgan noted. Girlfriend, she knew, was the translator picking a close-enough word, since English didn’t really have the language for the gradations of A!Tol romantic relationships.

Given that A!Tol reproduction was invariably fatal to the mother, an issue corrected by vast amounts of technology these days, it was hardly a surprise that same-sex relationships were actually more common than reproductive partnerships among the squid-like aliens.

“She does. And she is eternally patient with one who is rarely home,” Tan!Stalla said with a flush of red pleasure that broke some of the pain. “And she would insist that if I am having skin cracking issues, I should see the ship’s doctor.”

Morgan smiled.

“And she would be correct, I believe,” she told her superior. “The Infinite, for whatever reason, have left us be for now. We are safe for the moment—which makes this the best time to make sure our Squadron Lord is in top form when the enemy returns!”

Chapter Eleven

Hyperspace had been quiet for several days when the portal appeared. By the time the anomaly of the ships’ travel through hyperspace caught up with their exit portal, Morgan had already identified the war-dreadnoughts from the sensor data she was reviewing.

“Multiple war-dreadnought signatures,” Ashmore reported. That was his job, after all. Morgan’s was to keep Tan!Stalla advised of what they figured the Infinite were doing.

So far, she didn’t think she’d stepped on Ashmore’s toes too badly.

“Villeneuve Tactical makes it ten dreadnoughts, plus cruisers,” the operations officer continued, glancing toward where Tan!Stalla waited at the center of the flag deck. “Fifty-plus contacts.”

“That should be Fifty-Sixth Pincer Korodaun,” the Squadron Lord observed. “Commander Nitik, channel to the Pincer’s flag, please.”

The war-dreadnoughts were barely a light-minute away. It was a matter of maybe thirty seconds to get a hyperfold com link established between the two flagships, filling the holographic tank at the center of Jean Villeneuve’s flag deck with the image of the inverted step pyramid of her Laian equivalent.

Centered in the hologram was a Laian officer who practically gleamed in the lights of her flagship, iridescent greens and oranges glittering under the lights as the bejeweled carapace of a female Laian shifted to allow Korodaun to see her counterpart.

“Squadron Lord Tan!Stalla,” Korodaun greeted them, using a mandible snap to emulate the beak snap. Most Laians left that to the translator, which Morgan took as a positive sign. “I appreciate your continual updates on the status of the Infinite’s forward deployment.

“My approach would have needed to be very different if they had still lurked in the shallows here.”

“It will serve no one if we follow different currents against this enemy, Pincer,” Tan!Stalla replied. “Your arrival is appreciated. We were starting to feel a bit lonely out here.”

“It is a lonely chunk of nowhere,” Korodaun agreed. “I have left several of my cruisers in hyperspace to maintain a long-distance watch, but I think we will need to consider our strategy now that we have augmented our forces here.

“May I invite you aboard Scion’s Sword for further discussions?”

“Of course,” Tan!Stalla said instantly. “This is a Republic chunk of void, after all, and I am delighted to turn operational command of the blockade over to you.”

Korodaun’s command also outmassed the Imperial task force by over three to one—and not that long before, a single war-dreadnought would have been capable of destroying an entire Imperial Fleet.

Times changed, though, and the Imperium had cheated.

“Of course, Squadron Lord,” Korodaun said. “I estimate we will make rendezvous in

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