The reporter sighed.  James found himself studying her, privately reflecting – again – that perhaps he should send her to sickbay.  She was so inhumanly thin ... it crossed his mind to wonder if she was actually human, before dismissing the thought with all the contempt it deserved.  Having her body extensively modified to allow her to survive with so little meat on her bones was stupid, but it didn't make her inhuman.  Unless she was an alien spy ...

He smirked at the thought.  Humanity’s first depictions of aliens had been little more than humans in rubber suits.  It hadn't been until computer technology had allowed the creation of computer-generated monsters that truly inhuman monsters had been depicted on the big screen.  But the first real aliens humanity had encountered had been humanoid ... the theorists that suggested that different worlds, faced with the same problems, would find the same answers, might have been right after all.  And yet ... somehow, he doubted they could pose as human.

But was it unbelievable that some humans would turn traitor?  The aliens had taken prisoners, they assumed; they’d certainly captured a handful of human colony worlds.  It would be easy enough, he knew, to convince some of their captives to serve them instead.  If they happened to take an entire family prisoner, they could threaten the children to force the adults to comply.  Why, if humans could be so unpleasant to their fellow humans, could they expect the aliens to be any better?  And yet, there was no reason to assume that the aliens hadn't already started building up spy networks long before Vera Cruz.

James scowled.  If suspicions were directed at everyone who might just have come into contact with the aliens, somewhere along the edge of explored space ...

The reporter coughed.  “Is there a problem, Commander?”

“I’m not sure,” James said.  He made a mental note to write down his suspicions, although he was fairly sure MI5 would already have considered the possibilities.  But the last thing humanity needed was a witch hunt for alien spies.  “Are you having second thoughts about being on this ship?”

The reporter coloured, very slightly.  “I was told it would make my career,” she said, miserably.  “And that I would be safe.”

James had to fight to keep himself from giggling.  What manner of idiot would believe that a military starship going into action was safe?  But maybe it did make sense, in a weird kind of way.  Embedded journalists like Yang went into action beside military units, even taking up weapons and opening fire if necessary.  Other journalists remained behind the lines, donned clean uniforms and told themselves that they were being daring.  And, having close access to cameras for ‘live’ reporting, tended to shape the media environment the way they wanted it to go.