“Everyone,” Jiri grinned, made a nervous, excited flourish. “Major Tessa Eisenherz!”
Tessa entered the lab to the thunder of echoing applause, couldn’t help but grin as she caught the smiles of a handful of medico/tech types, each draped in the same basic cut of starched white labcoat. Radavich shuffled forward, gestured toward the pack of eager researchers.
“Major,” He grinned again. “Major, I would like you to meet Doctors Basani and Pomo, Doctors Maltz and Fafner, Doctor Clarke. . .
Tessa nodded to each of the doctors in turn, shook hands and smiled, but her smile soon faded, caught at the edges like the edge of a sweater catching a nail. Her eyes locked with the one member of the team who stood out the most, a man who’s eyes shone like green, neon thunder, rich and alive as they stared back at her evenly, matched her gaze look for look.
“You’re a Gnarian, aren’t you?” She asked suddenly. Jiri bumbled mid-introduction, looked up at her as the researcher who had caught her gaze pulled in a resigned breath, cracked his neck majestically.
“I am.”
Tessa’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly, ignoring the stares that looked up in worried interest around her, watching, framing her and the Gnarian researcher in a tense vignette. “I’ve never met a Gnarian before.”
“Well,” He said simply. “Now you have.”
“Yeah.” Tessa cracked the edge of a smile, breathed. “So, I thought the Gnarians were staying neutral.” She made a gesture, unable to keep the edge of disdain out of her tone, disgust bubbling within her, pushing her. “Just hanging back and watching while the Blueskins obliterate the Terran Commonwealth.”
“The Alliance is still neutral.” He said simply, features already darkening in that strange, broadening, fiery way that accentuated his species eyes, the bright neon colors of their compound retinas.
“So why are you here?” She almost demanded. “Did your talks with the Coralate go to shit?”
The Gnarian wrinkled his sharp, thin nose at her, knitted his fingers together in irritation. “The politics of my people are none of your concern.”
“Ah, Major, I. . .” Jiri raised a finger, tried weakly to work his voice into the conversation.
“Right, because I’m just another dirty human, huh?” She shot back, genuine anger rising into her tone. “I know how you people think. The sooner we’re gone, the better.” The Gnarian’s features hardened visibly. “We’re just an infestation to you, an infection of primitives that sprung up on a modest little ball of dirt unfashionably close to your borders.” She couldn’t help it; she sneered reflexively. “Not like we’re people or anything.”
She heard the audible crack as the Gnarian’s spine flexed in the alien way that betrayed a shift to a defensive wariness, a predatory reaction clinging to the roots of his ancestral tree. As he stepped forward, she followed his eyes, didn’t flinch even as she was forced to stare up at him. Impossibly huge, the Gnarian researcher towered over her like a monolith of golden skin that seemed almost mammalian, almost human, except in the way that it rippled, thick and deeply segmented like a sheet of a million interlocking scales over thick, knotted cords of cable-like muscle.
“You are a short-sighted and impulsive people.” He said, voice strong, powerful as it hammered her with its alien intensity. “You have grown very little from the provincial primates you were five centuries ago. You infest every planet that you set foot on and consume them until there is nothing left.” He growled. “If you attract enemies by your greedy approach to nature, then you will deal with them alone. I am here merely on the basis of a trade of research knowledge. While I work here, observing your progress with the Horus device, I both lend knowledge and absorb it, and once the device is safely integrated into your too-often butchered body, I will take my leave of this facility and return most gratefully to my own people.”
“Make sure you tell them about just how short-sighted and impulsive we really are.” She grinned, sharp and wide. “Really uncivilized.”
“And antagonistic.” He stated.
“Yeah.” She sneered again. “Can’t forget that, can we?”
“Doctor Radavich, I believe the suspension berth still needs to be prepped.” The Gnarian growled, glanced once at Jiri, made an incomprehensible gesture. “I shall attend to it.”
“I–” Jiri tried to speak, couldn’t find the words, even as he watched the Gnarian slip away, even as the other researchers stared on in dumb shock. “I don’t know what to say, Major.”
“It’s okay.” Tessa pushed a tense sigh through her teeth, pressed her fingers into her eyes. “It’s my fault.” She shook her head, looked at him, let the sad edge of smile crease her face. “The Gnarians know how strong the Coralate is. They know that the Coralate doesn’t care about diplomacy or neutrality, and yet they don’t care.” She breathed another sigh, looked away. “They’ll never admit it, but the Gnarians can’t stand us. They think the universe would be better off without us, and that’s why they haven’t done anything.” She pursed her lips, met his eyes again. “Makes me sick.”
“Myyaelae actually is rather kind to staff.” Jiri said meekly. “He is not like other Gnarians I have met. His heart is more kind.”
“I have no use for any of them, Jiri.” Tessa shook her head again. “As long as our ships and our people are the only ones being massacred out there, I’ll have something against the Gnarians. I’ve seen the footage from the invasion of Rowan. I know what their ships can do, and I know why we never see those ships in the field when we need them the most.”
“It has been long flight for you, yes?” Jiri tried a smile, made a weak, dismissive gesture. “Maybe some coffee is in order before we get started, hmm?”
“Yeah,” Tessa closed her eyes, pulled in a long, slow breath. “Coffee, sure.”