“Now, with the preliminaries finished,” Tanner motioned to a pair of immense doors attached to an even larger building, “shall we move this inside, as it were?”

“With pleasure…And, Admiral”—Weston motioned to Rame—“this is Dr. Rame. He is interested in touring the medical facility where our soldiers were being treated.”

“Absolutely, Captain.” Tanner motioned with one hand, and a young woman stepped up. “Show the doctor to the military medical facilities, Ithan.”

“Of course, Admiral,” she said, with a smile. “Doctor, if you would follow me, I will secure transport.”

“Thank you, my dear,” Rame said.

She gave him a quizzical look before they headed out.

Tanner turned to Weston with a puzzled look.

“‘My dear’?” he asked, frowning.

Weston blinked, and one of the soldiers snorted with laughter behind him. He glanced in irritation over his shoulder, causing the soldier to stiffen immediately. He was going to berate the man but remembered that the armor HUD had probably given him a text definition of the question.

“What is it, Soldier?” He growled.

“Sorry, sir, it’s just that the translation matrix is confusing deer and dear,” the soldier replied, then backpedaled. “I mean—”

“I know what you mean, sir.” Weston remembered Palin’s similar conversation with Milla, and he shot a glance over to where she was standing. It wasn’t quite the time to be swapping old stories, however, so he turned back to the admiral. “Another translation problem, apparently, sir.”

“I see,” Tanner said, after waiting for the computer to catch up to what Weston’s own, rather harsh, language was saying.

It was difficult enough, Tanner noted, dealing with a translation that was far from perfect, but it was made even more difficult by the fact that the translated words were overlain on top of the original language. He was just as happy that all the colonies spoke the same language; it simplified things greatly despite the occasional dialect issues.

“Well, Captain,” he said finally. “If you’d follow me?”

Weston nodded and the two of them stepped into the large building, their entourage walking—or in two cases, thumping—along behind them.

“Incredible,” Rame whispered, watching as the immense city passed around him.

“Pardon, sir?” the ithan asked from where she was sitting at the controls of the flying vehicle.

“It’s a very impressive city…ah…Miss…?”

“Rache,” she told him. “Ithan Rache.”

“Rache,” Rame repeated. “As I was saying, it’s a very impressive city.”

“Mons Systema is the capital city of three worlds,” she told him, a touch of what Rame recognized as hometown pride filling her voice.

“Three?”

“That’s correct, Docteur,” she told him. “Political power is centered here for several star systems, in fact.”

“I suppose that’s why the aliens used so many ships,” Rame said.

She grimaced in response and nodded to a building. “Your wounded were brought here for treatment.”

Rame took the hint and shut up.

“A drink, Captain?”