Because he couldn’t be left alone, especially not on an Aquitaine warship, Amala had become something like Yuur’s bodyguard, or diplomatic escort, depending on how you wanted to spell it. Technically, she probably should have reverted to uniform and her former, military demeanor, but she was also Ambassador to Trusski until the Fleet Centurion said otherwise.
And since the Khan of Trusski himself was aboard, it was only proper for her to continue her ambassadorial duties, right?
Mererid still rolled her eyes frequently, but didn’t argue. Pinchon had returned to uniform. Vibol had designated himself Yuur’s entire Embassy staff on Ballard. Which mostly involved sewing, which was his life in any event.
Amala stared out at the darkness as Ballard came out of JumpSpace, deep in the middle of the M’Hanii Gulf. Yuur stood to one side, with Mererid beyond him and Vibol close enough to fulfill roughly the same role that Gan Ve had, back on the planet.
There were no stars visible, except three off in a corner of the viewport, vaguely neighbors. The predominant item was Forward Base Delta. A mobile platform with a lot of guns.
Yuur hissed in quiet surprise as he realized where Keller had hidden her forward base.
He turned to Amala with a great, offended dignity.
“You are an evil, evil people, Scholar Bhattacharya,” he said in a deliberate, pained voice.
Mererid tensed, but Amala grinned. She had spent enough time with the Khan to understand his jokes.
“They would never think to look here,” she replied.
“Exactly,” he decried, unhappily. “Your Red Admiral Keller cannot possibly be a Warrior. That kind are too linear. Too two-dimensional, when they are not simply one-dimensional. She must be some manner of demon from a barbarian hell.”
Amala noted that he was grinning back at her by the time he finished.
“Many in Fribourg would agree with you,” she said. “Remember, she did spearhead the effort to push them back and extract a peace they are now more than happy to observe. Plus, you only know Fribourg. Aquitaine is an entirely different culture, one that I think would be less alien to you.”
“I am not sure of that, either,” he said, gesturing to the woman behind him. “I now know two Scholars masquerading as Warriors, whereas previously I have only known Warriors attempting to hide as Scholars. It is perhaps well that all of Fribourg separates us, lest evil barbarians pollute our culture with your ways.”
“Is he always like this?” Mererid asked with exasperation.
“It’s even worse when there are ducks around,” Amala replied, enjoying the way Mererid’s face lost all composure.
“Fine. Whatever,” she finally sputtered. “Now, I need to get you two ready for Fleet Centurion Whughy. I presume Harmaajärvi has something cooked up for this?”
“It will be almost as good as meeting the Director of Steadfast at Dawn,” he said in a proud voice from the other corner.
“That truly frightens me,” Mererid muttered.