Post by Lorpius Prime on Nov 4, 2010 3:02:31 GMT -5
Pascual woke up feeling lightheaded and more than a little guilty. He'd been doing that a lot over the past week. Beside him, Lieutenant Nadya Yatskaya showed no sign of waking. For a moment, Pascual was tempted to run a hand along the surface of her exposed left side, but he resisted the temptation. Instead he just watched, enjoying the gentle motion of her breathing.
Seams of scar tissue were clearly visible running the length of her outer thigh and calf. In preparation for this mission, Pascual had gotten a pared-down version of the battery of medical implants received by all Earth Fleet spacers. The operation had been a routine thing requiring only a few hours, and most of the implants had gone into his abdomen and lower back while leaving very little scarring.
Lieutenant Yatskaya was not a regular Earth Fleet spacer. She was a marine formerly of the Russian Space Forces, and the implants she had probably qualified her as a genuine cyborg. Even now that the Space Forces were subsumed into Earth Fleet, the Russians wouldn't reveal all the details of their marines' augmentation. Much of it would be the same technology used by other Russian special forces, and Moscow wasn't about to start revealing those secrets to the other nations of the OES, allies or not.
While it was possible to implant artificial muscle tissue and graft reinforcements onto bones, few actually did. The surgery was hideously expensive and dangerous, and the benefits fairly minimal. Militaries opted for much cheaper and safer exoskeletons and powered hoplite suits to boost soldiers' strength and speed. Implants were reserved for more subtle benefits, courses of stimulants and enzymes to reduce fatigue and improve focus.
That was what Pascual had thought, anyway. The way Lieutenant Yatskaya could move, he suspected that the Russians might have gone the extra mile with their space marines. Of course, the low gravity probably helped her out, too.
It had not been Pascual's first time in space. He and Sonia had once spent a weekend at a hotel on Quito Station, where there wasn't any apparent gravity at all. It had been a lot of fun, but ultimately there'd been very little to do outside of the bedroom. Humanity was still figuring out the best formula for space tourism.
Guilt tingled in Pascual's stomach at the memory. He'd met Nadia during one of his trips to the Uruguay, and the Lieutenant had somehow managed to get her platoon temporarily assigned the Barn Swallow so they could see each other. She was likeable enough, but Pascual couldn't really see any sort of serious relationship developing. He thought she felt the same way, but he also couldn't help wondering if she'd mainly been drawn to his name. Plenty of women had approached Pascual since his uncle became Chief Executive. One of them had actually had the nerve to do so while he was on a date with Sonia. He still wished he had a recording of Sonia's reaction, it had almost prompted him to propose.
"Bah!" Pascual snapped aloud without thinking. He squeezed at the sides of his head to stop his hands from shaking.
Nadia groaned, "Mm... what time is it?"
"Uh," Pascual glanced at the monitor, "a little before one."
She shifted slightly, but didn't get up or open her eyes. "Well how do you feel about turning off the lights, then? Get some sleep?"
"Okay."
By the time he woke up the next morning, Nadia had already gone. Pascual wasn't sure whether that made him feel more lonely or relieved. Whatever the case, he certainly didn't stay lonely for very long. Someone else was waiting for him in the conference room outside his little cabin.
"I spoke with Lieutenant Yatskaya," Hyong Yaheek said. He was probably glad to have encountered a name he could pronounce without much difficulty. "She seems an interesting woman."
Pascual didn't want to talk about Nadia. "I haven't seen you in a while," he said instead.
"I have been working."
The Bat didn't elaborate, and Pascual rubbed the back of his neck. "Should I be worried? I mean, considering you're a spy."
"I am a diplomatic advisor."
"Right." Pascual made his way to the conference table and took a seat a few places down from Hyong. "So have you been hacking into classified records, or just rigging the ship to explode?"
"You do not need to worry." Pascual couldn't read Hyong's expression, but he suspected the Bat was having fun with him.
"No hope that you'll tell me anything specific, huh?"
"Among other things, I have been attempting to compose a letter."
"A really long one?"
"I have not spoken to Gracia since we left, I thought I would write."
The hairs on the back of Pascual's neck actually stood up. "Is that the Venezuelan girl?"
"Do you know her?"
It was difficult to tell, but Pascual thought Hyong seemed genuinely bewildered.
"Hyong," he said, "if this is the girl I'm thinking of everybody knows her."
"I don't understand. Gracia is not one of your public figures. She is a beverage merchant."
Pascual wanted to smack his face. It was the girl, but…
"She is a public figure, Hyong. You made her one."
"I am not one of your public figures either," the Bat's face twisted slightly in a manner Pascual had not seen before, "…am I?"
How was Pascual supposed to answer that?
"She's a Human girl dating an alien. She and you were all over the internet a few months ago. The Venezuelan papers were trying to have her crucified." How could he possibly not have noticed?
Pascual watched Hyong sit quietly for over a minute. Finally, the Bat said, "I did not anticipate such an eventuality, though I suppose I should have."
"You really didn't know?"
"No. I doubt any of my species does, either."
"How is that possible? Do you not read our news at all?"
"We do," the Bat said. "But we do not generally… extract the content."
What did that mean? Hyong was being cagey, but Pascual couldn't think to what end. Why insist that he read Human news, but then admit to not getting any use out of it?
"O—okay," Pascual shook his head. "And she never told you? People weren't accosting you about it all the time?"
"No. The few strange Humans who spoke to me usually seemed polite. Perhaps I do not understand your social etiquette so well as I thought, however."
"Wow," Pascual shook his head again. "Wow," he repeated when he couldn't think of anything else to say.
Hyong didn't say anything either. Perhaps he was having similar thoughts.
Pascual chuckled, "You know when I first met you, I was worried that someone would take a pic of us and give the OES some major PR trouble."
"Would that not also be a concern here?"
"Well you'll recall we weren't too happy about your request to come along," Pascual said. "But really, it isn't so much. The public doesn't know you're here, and even if the crew was inclined, they're forbidden from revealing that information. By the time we return, I expect the story will have long since faded."
"I see. Perhaps I shall ask Gracia why she never said anything in my letter."
"Well I doubt it was the sort of attention she wanted. I'm just surprised she was able to hide it from you."
Hyong seemed to contemplate this for a time. Meanwhile, Pascual stretched in his seat.
His cell phone began to ring. It wouldn't let Pascual actually receive calls from the Task Force's communications network—though Pascual suspected that had more to do with Earth Fleet stubbornness than any technical limitation. What it could do was page him when he had a comm request so that he could then take it from a terminal.
"Excuse me," he told Hyong, and then retreated back to his cabin.
With the door closed behind him, Pascual accepted the comm. The monitor said it was from the Uruguay.
Colleen Muyskens' face appeared on the screen. She was staring off into space somewhere above the camera and her eyes seemed unfocused. Pascual didn't really like Commodore Lee's Flag Lieutenant. She seemed to be a decent enough young woman—and certainly nicer than the Commodore herself. But there was a weirdness to her personality that made Pascual uncomfortable.
"Hello?" he asked after a moment when she gave no sign of speaking on her own.
"Oh!" Muyskens jerked out of her daze. "Hello, Ambassador. Commodore Lee asked me to pass along a message that we've just received from the Bat colony. It should be in your e-mail."
Pascual brought up the e-mail client and, sure enough, the message was there.
"Basically, they want to stuff a few dignitaries onto a ship and rendezvous with the Task Force for a friendly meeting."
Pascual nodded as he skimmed the message. One thing he liked about the Bats was that they were content to use simple text messages when that would suffice. His own species, on the other hand, seemed obsessed with using full video communications whenever possible.
"Sounds to me like they're still worried about making up for trying to push us around earlier," he scratched his head. "What did the Commodore say?"
The Lieutenant shrugged, "Just to get your opinion, as well as that of the Tadpoles and Mr. Yaheek."
"Really?" Pascual would have thought Commodore Lee would adamantly oppose letting more aliens near the Task Force if she had a thought. "Well I'll sound out Rokden—I do imagine they'll be skeptical at least. But from our own diplomatic perspective, I can't think of a reason not to go ahead. If they're trying to make a polite gesture, the polite thing for us would be to accept."
In her corner of Pascual's monitor, Muysken's smile seemed rather weak. But she nodded, "Thank you, Ambassador. Please call me when you've talked to the Tadpoles."
"Of course, Lieutenant."
"Out."
The comm ended, leaving just the e-mail copy of the Bats' message as the only active window on the monitor. Pascual read through it again more thoroughly.
He placed his hands behind his head, and leaned back in his chair to look at the ceiling and think. "Hmmm," he said.
It took a moment for Pascual to realize that gravity was not resisting the pressure from his foot as he'd expected. Instead of a simple lean, he found himself arcing backward over the seat of his chair.
"Gah!"
Yenga Goying did not like walking in the Human city. She found herself sympathizing with a colonial merchant who'd once tried to bring a full anti-gravity harness along on one of his return business trips to Earth. Even Hyarahek had had enough sense to forbid that security risk. Still, she could at least understand the merchant's perspective.
The Humans were much better adapted for walking great distances over rough or hard terrain than Yenga's people. But even they wore special protective garments to protect their feet from the artificial surfaces of their cities. It perplexed Yenga in much the same way as did the Humans' habit of pumping vast quantities of toxic and radioactive materials into their atmosphere. They had plenty of adaptations to overcome such inconveniences, but why manufacture them in the first place?
Maybe the Humans had a good reason, but Yenga doubted it would do her much good even if she knew it. Her toe claws were fraying with each clicking step upon the sidewalk.
It took Yenga a few moments longer than it should have to recognize her destination. Humans placed their public establishments almost exclusively on the ground floors of their buildings. Yenga always had to remind herself that she didn't need to scan the entire face of a structure.
She could not go immediately inside, because a small crowd of Humans had already filled the place and was blocking the way. Yenga inserted herself at the back of the line, and resigned herself to waiting. Several of the Humans stared at her while shuffling slowly forward, but none attempted to speak.
At last she got inside, and had to endure the hot smell of boiled spices. Ahead, the Humans spoke with one of their own behind a counter. While most of the Humans in line with Yenga wore their species' customary daily attire, the one behind the counter—an adolescent male—wore a lighter uniform: a simple black shirt displaying white lettering. As Yenga came closer, she was able to read the shirt as saying "The Han Shot First!", below which was a stylized image of some tubular machine. The meaning of this message eluded Yenga, but she assumed it was a business slogan of some sort.
When Yenga reached the front of the line, the young Human started to ask her the same question he had of those in front of her. But then he looked up at Yenga and stopped.
"Ah crap," he said after a pause. "Just a second."
The Human walked away from the counter and disappeared through a door in the back of the little establishment. Unsure of what she ought to be doing, Yenga remained standing in place. A quick glance around the interior revealed that many of the shop's customers had been looking at her, but they quickly turned away.
After a moment, the back door swung open again. Through it came a young Human woman with short-cropped bright pink hair. The Human male Yenga had originally seen trailed behind her.
The woman took a couple steps toward the counter before stopping, turning to the young male, and saying, "That's not Hyong, you moron." Then she resumed walking and waved an arm. "Hi, Yenga!"
"Well how am I supposed to tell them apart?" the male asked.
"Yenga's a girl."
"Yeah, I guess you would know, he muttered, though still loudly enough to be heard.
To Yenga's surprise, the woman turned rapidly and struck the male on his head using the flat of her hand. The Human exclaimed and rubbed at the injury, but did not retaliate as Yenga would have expected.
"Sorry about him," the woman said. She stepped up to the counter and leaned forward on her elbows. "What can I do for you?"
"Gracia Ochoa?" Yenga asked. It was an unnecessary question, but Yenga found herself unsure of what else to say.
"That's my name," Gracia smiled for a moment. "Weve met, Yenga, remember?"
"Yes," somehow that bit of conversation relaxed Yenga enough to continue. She removed the scroll she had from her vest, "Operative Yaheek asked me to deliver a message to you."
"Ooh! Well it's about time he sent me a letter," she snatched the scroll out of Yenga's claws.
It took the Human woman a moment to figure out how to unroll the message. "Wow," she said afterward, "is this what you guys use for paper?"
"Yes," Yenga told her, even though the materials were not quite equivalent. The only people who actually used scrolls for messages were some particularly fanatic members of Yenga's fellow Deontologists. Mostly the flexible sheets were an aesthetic surface, used for decoration.
"It's like leather or something. I think we used to use that for writing, too." Gracia reminded Yenga of a child the way she was playing with the scroll. "Uh, should I read it now?"
"I think you should read it out loud," said the Human male. He had walked up behind Gracia.
She struck him on the head again, "Go back to work."
"I do not know the content," said Yenga, who knew exactly what the message said, "Operative Yaheek did not indicate that it was urgent, he simply asked me to deliver it to you."
"All right. If I want to write back, should I tell you?"
Yenga had not considered that possibility. "I suppose you would," she said, sincerely hoping the Human would do no such thing. Yenga thought she might be feeling some of the exasperation others felt for her commander. She had no desire to become a messenger.
"Cool," Gracia said, which Yenga did not take as a good omen. "So how are you, Yenga? Would you like a drink? I don't have any of the iced tea that you and Hyong liked, but I can make you some of the hot kind. Or coffee, of course, or hot chocolate."
Yenga had been preparing to excuse herself back to the embassy, but some primal portion of her brain betrayed her.
"Hot chocolate?"
Gracia grinned.
Seams of scar tissue were clearly visible running the length of her outer thigh and calf. In preparation for this mission, Pascual had gotten a pared-down version of the battery of medical implants received by all Earth Fleet spacers. The operation had been a routine thing requiring only a few hours, and most of the implants had gone into his abdomen and lower back while leaving very little scarring.
Lieutenant Yatskaya was not a regular Earth Fleet spacer. She was a marine formerly of the Russian Space Forces, and the implants she had probably qualified her as a genuine cyborg. Even now that the Space Forces were subsumed into Earth Fleet, the Russians wouldn't reveal all the details of their marines' augmentation. Much of it would be the same technology used by other Russian special forces, and Moscow wasn't about to start revealing those secrets to the other nations of the OES, allies or not.
While it was possible to implant artificial muscle tissue and graft reinforcements onto bones, few actually did. The surgery was hideously expensive and dangerous, and the benefits fairly minimal. Militaries opted for much cheaper and safer exoskeletons and powered hoplite suits to boost soldiers' strength and speed. Implants were reserved for more subtle benefits, courses of stimulants and enzymes to reduce fatigue and improve focus.
That was what Pascual had thought, anyway. The way Lieutenant Yatskaya could move, he suspected that the Russians might have gone the extra mile with their space marines. Of course, the low gravity probably helped her out, too.
It had not been Pascual's first time in space. He and Sonia had once spent a weekend at a hotel on Quito Station, where there wasn't any apparent gravity at all. It had been a lot of fun, but ultimately there'd been very little to do outside of the bedroom. Humanity was still figuring out the best formula for space tourism.
Guilt tingled in Pascual's stomach at the memory. He'd met Nadia during one of his trips to the Uruguay, and the Lieutenant had somehow managed to get her platoon temporarily assigned the Barn Swallow so they could see each other. She was likeable enough, but Pascual couldn't really see any sort of serious relationship developing. He thought she felt the same way, but he also couldn't help wondering if she'd mainly been drawn to his name. Plenty of women had approached Pascual since his uncle became Chief Executive. One of them had actually had the nerve to do so while he was on a date with Sonia. He still wished he had a recording of Sonia's reaction, it had almost prompted him to propose.
"Bah!" Pascual snapped aloud without thinking. He squeezed at the sides of his head to stop his hands from shaking.
Nadia groaned, "Mm... what time is it?"
"Uh," Pascual glanced at the monitor, "a little before one."
She shifted slightly, but didn't get up or open her eyes. "Well how do you feel about turning off the lights, then? Get some sleep?"
"Okay."
* * *
By the time he woke up the next morning, Nadia had already gone. Pascual wasn't sure whether that made him feel more lonely or relieved. Whatever the case, he certainly didn't stay lonely for very long. Someone else was waiting for him in the conference room outside his little cabin.
"I spoke with Lieutenant Yatskaya," Hyong Yaheek said. He was probably glad to have encountered a name he could pronounce without much difficulty. "She seems an interesting woman."
Pascual didn't want to talk about Nadia. "I haven't seen you in a while," he said instead.
"I have been working."
The Bat didn't elaborate, and Pascual rubbed the back of his neck. "Should I be worried? I mean, considering you're a spy."
"I am a diplomatic advisor."
"Right." Pascual made his way to the conference table and took a seat a few places down from Hyong. "So have you been hacking into classified records, or just rigging the ship to explode?"
"You do not need to worry." Pascual couldn't read Hyong's expression, but he suspected the Bat was having fun with him.
"No hope that you'll tell me anything specific, huh?"
"Among other things, I have been attempting to compose a letter."
"A really long one?"
"I have not spoken to Gracia since we left, I thought I would write."
The hairs on the back of Pascual's neck actually stood up. "Is that the Venezuelan girl?"
"Do you know her?"
It was difficult to tell, but Pascual thought Hyong seemed genuinely bewildered.
"Hyong," he said, "if this is the girl I'm thinking of everybody knows her."
"I don't understand. Gracia is not one of your public figures. She is a beverage merchant."
Pascual wanted to smack his face. It was the girl, but…
"She is a public figure, Hyong. You made her one."
"I am not one of your public figures either," the Bat's face twisted slightly in a manner Pascual had not seen before, "…am I?"
How was Pascual supposed to answer that?
"She's a Human girl dating an alien. She and you were all over the internet a few months ago. The Venezuelan papers were trying to have her crucified." How could he possibly not have noticed?
Pascual watched Hyong sit quietly for over a minute. Finally, the Bat said, "I did not anticipate such an eventuality, though I suppose I should have."
"You really didn't know?"
"No. I doubt any of my species does, either."
"How is that possible? Do you not read our news at all?"
"We do," the Bat said. "But we do not generally… extract the content."
What did that mean? Hyong was being cagey, but Pascual couldn't think to what end. Why insist that he read Human news, but then admit to not getting any use out of it?
"O—okay," Pascual shook his head. "And she never told you? People weren't accosting you about it all the time?"
"No. The few strange Humans who spoke to me usually seemed polite. Perhaps I do not understand your social etiquette so well as I thought, however."
"Wow," Pascual shook his head again. "Wow," he repeated when he couldn't think of anything else to say.
Hyong didn't say anything either. Perhaps he was having similar thoughts.
Pascual chuckled, "You know when I first met you, I was worried that someone would take a pic of us and give the OES some major PR trouble."
"Would that not also be a concern here?"
"Well you'll recall we weren't too happy about your request to come along," Pascual said. "But really, it isn't so much. The public doesn't know you're here, and even if the crew was inclined, they're forbidden from revealing that information. By the time we return, I expect the story will have long since faded."
"I see. Perhaps I shall ask Gracia why she never said anything in my letter."
"Well I doubt it was the sort of attention she wanted. I'm just surprised she was able to hide it from you."
Hyong seemed to contemplate this for a time. Meanwhile, Pascual stretched in his seat.
His cell phone began to ring. It wouldn't let Pascual actually receive calls from the Task Force's communications network—though Pascual suspected that had more to do with Earth Fleet stubbornness than any technical limitation. What it could do was page him when he had a comm request so that he could then take it from a terminal.
"Excuse me," he told Hyong, and then retreated back to his cabin.
With the door closed behind him, Pascual accepted the comm. The monitor said it was from the Uruguay.
Colleen Muyskens' face appeared on the screen. She was staring off into space somewhere above the camera and her eyes seemed unfocused. Pascual didn't really like Commodore Lee's Flag Lieutenant. She seemed to be a decent enough young woman—and certainly nicer than the Commodore herself. But there was a weirdness to her personality that made Pascual uncomfortable.
"Hello?" he asked after a moment when she gave no sign of speaking on her own.
"Oh!" Muyskens jerked out of her daze. "Hello, Ambassador. Commodore Lee asked me to pass along a message that we've just received from the Bat colony. It should be in your e-mail."
Pascual brought up the e-mail client and, sure enough, the message was there.
"Basically, they want to stuff a few dignitaries onto a ship and rendezvous with the Task Force for a friendly meeting."
Pascual nodded as he skimmed the message. One thing he liked about the Bats was that they were content to use simple text messages when that would suffice. His own species, on the other hand, seemed obsessed with using full video communications whenever possible.
"Sounds to me like they're still worried about making up for trying to push us around earlier," he scratched his head. "What did the Commodore say?"
The Lieutenant shrugged, "Just to get your opinion, as well as that of the Tadpoles and Mr. Yaheek."
"Really?" Pascual would have thought Commodore Lee would adamantly oppose letting more aliens near the Task Force if she had a thought. "Well I'll sound out Rokden—I do imagine they'll be skeptical at least. But from our own diplomatic perspective, I can't think of a reason not to go ahead. If they're trying to make a polite gesture, the polite thing for us would be to accept."
In her corner of Pascual's monitor, Muysken's smile seemed rather weak. But she nodded, "Thank you, Ambassador. Please call me when you've talked to the Tadpoles."
"Of course, Lieutenant."
"Out."
The comm ended, leaving just the e-mail copy of the Bats' message as the only active window on the monitor. Pascual read through it again more thoroughly.
He placed his hands behind his head, and leaned back in his chair to look at the ceiling and think. "Hmmm," he said.
It took a moment for Pascual to realize that gravity was not resisting the pressure from his foot as he'd expected. Instead of a simple lean, he found himself arcing backward over the seat of his chair.
"Gah!"
* * *
Yenga Goying did not like walking in the Human city. She found herself sympathizing with a colonial merchant who'd once tried to bring a full anti-gravity harness along on one of his return business trips to Earth. Even Hyarahek had had enough sense to forbid that security risk. Still, she could at least understand the merchant's perspective.
The Humans were much better adapted for walking great distances over rough or hard terrain than Yenga's people. But even they wore special protective garments to protect their feet from the artificial surfaces of their cities. It perplexed Yenga in much the same way as did the Humans' habit of pumping vast quantities of toxic and radioactive materials into their atmosphere. They had plenty of adaptations to overcome such inconveniences, but why manufacture them in the first place?
Maybe the Humans had a good reason, but Yenga doubted it would do her much good even if she knew it. Her toe claws were fraying with each clicking step upon the sidewalk.
It took Yenga a few moments longer than it should have to recognize her destination. Humans placed their public establishments almost exclusively on the ground floors of their buildings. Yenga always had to remind herself that she didn't need to scan the entire face of a structure.
She could not go immediately inside, because a small crowd of Humans had already filled the place and was blocking the way. Yenga inserted herself at the back of the line, and resigned herself to waiting. Several of the Humans stared at her while shuffling slowly forward, but none attempted to speak.
At last she got inside, and had to endure the hot smell of boiled spices. Ahead, the Humans spoke with one of their own behind a counter. While most of the Humans in line with Yenga wore their species' customary daily attire, the one behind the counter—an adolescent male—wore a lighter uniform: a simple black shirt displaying white lettering. As Yenga came closer, she was able to read the shirt as saying "The Han Shot First!", below which was a stylized image of some tubular machine. The meaning of this message eluded Yenga, but she assumed it was a business slogan of some sort.
When Yenga reached the front of the line, the young Human started to ask her the same question he had of those in front of her. But then he looked up at Yenga and stopped.
"Ah crap," he said after a pause. "Just a second."
The Human walked away from the counter and disappeared through a door in the back of the little establishment. Unsure of what she ought to be doing, Yenga remained standing in place. A quick glance around the interior revealed that many of the shop's customers had been looking at her, but they quickly turned away.
After a moment, the back door swung open again. Through it came a young Human woman with short-cropped bright pink hair. The Human male Yenga had originally seen trailed behind her.
The woman took a couple steps toward the counter before stopping, turning to the young male, and saying, "That's not Hyong, you moron." Then she resumed walking and waved an arm. "Hi, Yenga!"
"Well how am I supposed to tell them apart?" the male asked.
"Yenga's a girl."
"Yeah, I guess you would know, he muttered, though still loudly enough to be heard.
To Yenga's surprise, the woman turned rapidly and struck the male on his head using the flat of her hand. The Human exclaimed and rubbed at the injury, but did not retaliate as Yenga would have expected.
"Sorry about him," the woman said. She stepped up to the counter and leaned forward on her elbows. "What can I do for you?"
"Gracia Ochoa?" Yenga asked. It was an unnecessary question, but Yenga found herself unsure of what else to say.
"That's my name," Gracia smiled for a moment. "Weve met, Yenga, remember?"
"Yes," somehow that bit of conversation relaxed Yenga enough to continue. She removed the scroll she had from her vest, "Operative Yaheek asked me to deliver a message to you."
"Ooh! Well it's about time he sent me a letter," she snatched the scroll out of Yenga's claws.
It took the Human woman a moment to figure out how to unroll the message. "Wow," she said afterward, "is this what you guys use for paper?"
"Yes," Yenga told her, even though the materials were not quite equivalent. The only people who actually used scrolls for messages were some particularly fanatic members of Yenga's fellow Deontologists. Mostly the flexible sheets were an aesthetic surface, used for decoration.
"It's like leather or something. I think we used to use that for writing, too." Gracia reminded Yenga of a child the way she was playing with the scroll. "Uh, should I read it now?"
"I think you should read it out loud," said the Human male. He had walked up behind Gracia.
She struck him on the head again, "Go back to work."
"I do not know the content," said Yenga, who knew exactly what the message said, "Operative Yaheek did not indicate that it was urgent, he simply asked me to deliver it to you."
"All right. If I want to write back, should I tell you?"
Yenga had not considered that possibility. "I suppose you would," she said, sincerely hoping the Human would do no such thing. Yenga thought she might be feeling some of the exasperation others felt for her commander. She had no desire to become a messenger.
"Cool," Gracia said, which Yenga did not take as a good omen. "So how are you, Yenga? Would you like a drink? I don't have any of the iced tea that you and Hyong liked, but I can make you some of the hot kind. Or coffee, of course, or hot chocolate."
Yenga had been preparing to excuse herself back to the embassy, but some primal portion of her brain betrayed her.
"Hot chocolate?"
Gracia grinned.