Ship's Log: November 1

Devereux approached the Heftaur. He was of medium height, but powerfully built. Thick muscles were visible were his arms were bared by the sleeveless robe he wore. The aquamarine fabric held a faint sheen. It was wrapped at his waist by a violet cloth band. Devereux suppressed a faint smile; the Heftaurs were known for their unusual sense of fashion when it came to matching colors. He had chosen, Devereux also noted, to wear dark, tight-fighting leggings that covered him almost to his knees. She judged that he had encountered human customs before, as on their world, so she had heard, partial or complete nudity was of little concern.

Tarkanan's hair was thick and long, pulled back into a single ponytail. Although it was white, his face did not convey indications of great age. If Devereux had to hazard a guess, she would have assumed that he was in early middle age (in human terms), still very fit and virile. The hooves always threw her a bit when she encountered Heftaurs, but she found that if she ignored them and focused on their expressions, she felt a lot more comfortable.

Forcing an easy smile onto her face, Devereux stepped forward to greet Tarkanan.

"Welcome to the Emerald Flight, Ambassador."

The Heftaur's reflected smile made her want to melt. His dark eyes, the color of perfect amethysts, sparkled. His entire expression made it appear that he was pleased to be in her presence.

"It is my pleasure, Captain." Tarkanan nodded slightly to one side as he spoke. Even as his smile faded ever so slightly, his eyes never left Devereux's. "And please," he continued, "call me simply Tarkanan. The title of Ambassador, I'm afraid, is quite honorary."

Devereux smiled, finding herself doing so out of more than just politeness. "Then please call me Christine."

Tarkanan's head shook slightly from side to side; his smile never faded. "I'm afraid I cannot do that, Captain."

Devereux frowned slightly, concerned that she had violated some bit of Heftaur protocol of which she had been unaware. "Why not?" she inquired. "If I might ask."

Tarkanan continued to smile warmly. "It is in recognition of your rank and achievements, Captain. I would not presume to deny that."

Devereux chuckled softly. "Very well, then . . . Tarkanan." She raised her glass slightly toward him. "But do forgive if I happen to refer to you as Ambassador among all this formality."

The warmth of Tarkanan's smile filled her once more. "Of course, Captain. I will take no offense in any case."

Devereux's smile faded as she caught a quick glimpse of a blue-skinned figure in what appeared to be ceremonial armor. She had to shift her position slightly to get a better look, but the person moved into full view.

"Is there a problem, Captain?"

Tarkanan's smile had faded, but his expression appeared more serene than concerned. For a moment, Devereux was reminded of images she had seen of Zen masters. Tarkanan, she realized possessed that same calm, self-assured air.