"A little harsh, don't you think, Commander?"

Tausson snapped his head up to glare at his First. "We're trying to save them, and all they do is squabble, putting themselves in greater danger."

"You know how it goes," said Carterra, speaking gently but holding her ground even in the face of his withering stare. "It's reasonable for them not to trust us -- would you? They'll come around. Just like all the others."

Tausson turned away to look gravely at the sightscreen, the blue and green planet slowly circling before them. "Not all," he whispered.

Carterra's cool, bare hand touched the back of his neck. The gesture of intimacy often comforted him, but today it did nothing but make him more irritable. He could tell she wanted to say more, but with the crew watching and listening, she couldn't contradict him further without appearing insubordinate. Besides, she'd said it all before.

"Elic," he barked, making his Planetary Officer jump, "have you identified a replacement for the planet's population?"

"I've done more than that," she said, flashing him a bright smile, her white teeth a stark contrast against her nearly black skin. "I found six suitable locations, all within twenty jumps from Earth."

"Six?"

Elic misread his surprise as him being impressed, and smiled even wider before hastily tapping on the arm of her black suit. The image of Earth on the sightscreen disappeared, replaced by a planet covered almost entirely in green. "Lota is the best candidate," she said. "Only 13.8 jumps away, it is an almost perfect match with Earth's atmospheric composition, although its orbit is much faster, so they'll have to get used to their seasons only being a few days long."

She pressed a few more buttons on her mechasuit and a new planet was displayed, this one mostly blue but with one massive dark brown land mass. "Arcta is --"

"Why did you waste time on this?" Tausson barked. "We only need one replacement."

The Planetary Officer stared at him, her pride in her work shriveling as she tried to speak. "I thought... maybe if the Earthans were able to make their own choice..." She trailed off, looking at Carterra for support.

"Did you have something to do with this?" Tausson growled, standing to confront his First.

"Third Elic brought her idea to me a few days ago," said Carterra, her back straight. "She has been studying our first contacts and thought that if the Earthans had a say in their replacement planet, they may be more comfortable with the process overall. I agreed and approved her request."

"There are more important things than the comfort of these Earthans, such as their survival."

"Squad," she said, using the Relicans' term of agreement. "However the more comfortable they are with us and our mission, the smoother the transition will be for everyone."

Tausson's Second, Rasmus, piped up from his seat by the door of the weapons chamber. "I say just herd them all up and drop them all off. It's for their own good. We don't need their agreement. They're no match for us. Enough with all this diplomacy nonsense. It never works anyway. Fear's the only thing that motivates these rooters."

Elic gasped, and both Carterra and Tausson whirled around on the Protection Officer, but Tausson spoke first. "That language is not permitted on this ship. We are Squad, not ignorant sludge."

Rasmus stood, moving to stand directly in front of the commander. While most of the command crew were silvers, Rasmus was the only obvious bronze, his skin a dark gold. Though bronzes weren't generally as strong as silvers, the Protection Officer had come close to besting his commander more than once in sparring matches. It had been over a year since their last match, and Tausson knew that Rasmus had been training hard since then. Even though beating your commander in a spar didn't automatically result in becoming commander yourself, it was a guaranteed way of getting on Control's list of potential promotions -- and it was a surefire sign that the defeated commander wouldn't be in command for much longer.

"Go supervise the shuttle preparations," Tausson snarled.

Rasmus glowered for a moment longer -- just long enough to goad Tausson, then moved past him. Even after he disappeared through the hatch, the command center remained thick with tension, with all eyes on Tausson.

"What about the other issue, Commander?" asked Carterra, her voice calm, respectful.

Tausson appreciated her show of solidarity, although no one would expect anything less from her.

"Do you think this President is a good candidate?" she inquired further.

His temper ebbing, he pressed his finger against the forearm of his suit, and his ship interface, a screen with a grid of digital buttons, appeared. He called up the footage of the video conference and froze it.

"Nelle Freeland," he said.

"She was the only one brave enough to speak when the rest were silent, and --" started Carterra.

"-- and to stay silent when the rest spoke," Tausson finished for her. "Yes, yes, I know the Passages as well as you do."

"And," said his First, completing her own thought, "she looks fit."

"For a human," Elic chimed in.

Tausson was inclined to agree with Elic. Although this President was what passed as attractive for a human (if the Culture Report his Third had assembled was to be believed), she was too light, too wispy. Though she stood tall and spoke firm, her pallid hair, eyes, and skin reminded him of the spineless gloop back home: a gelatinous, milky white sea creature that had no strength of its own, bobbing and drifting at the mercy of the currents.

"Call up her profile," he ordered. Elic pressed her sleeve, and a stream of words scrolled along the bottom of the screen.

"Forty-three?" he said. "That's past the recommended age."

"Yet she remains youthful," said Carterra, "and her age brings wisdom. She would make a fine selection. The recommendations are not meant to hinder."

As details about the President continued to scroll past, Tausson's gaze wandered. A head of dark hair caught his eye, and he found himself staring at the woman to the President's left. Her skin, though still light compared to Relican females, was darker than the President's, and reminded him of the rich brown leaves of the nican tree, but after they'd paled during the season of endsummer. Her eyes, so dark they were almost black, stared straight at him, hard, suspicious, sharp. He wondered what her rank was, and if the President would include her in his meeting. The sliver of hope that shot through him at the idea surprised and disturbed him, and he returned his attention to the President.

"Hold," he said, and the words immediately froze on the screen. "What does gay mean? It says she's the first gay President."

"I saw that too, Commander," said Elic with a quick glance at him. "I'm entering it into the Culture Base."

The sightscreen went black, and once again Tausson felt a twinge of some unusual sensation. The memory of the dark-haired woman arose like a specter before him, and he hastily tried to push it away. Only when the screen switched on again, showing two human women, naked, lying on a bed and pressing their mouths against each other, did he succeed.

"What is this?" he demanded.

Elic frantically tapped her mechasuit, then looked at him helplessly. "This is what comes up for the term, Commander."

The women on the screen, one with skin almost as dark as Carterra's, were rubbing and even penetrating each other's entry points with their fingers, and though their lips moved, there was no sound.

"Is there audio?" Tausson asked, hoping their words could explain this strange scene.

A moment later the command center filled with the moans of the two women. They were the same sounds Relican mates sometimes made during pairing, but those hardly lasted for more than a few seconds, while these two were making the sounds almost perpetually.

"Is this breeding?" he asked, searching the rest of the room behind the women. "I don't see a male, or any monitors." The women's lips parted, and the dark-skinned one brought her face to the other's entry point. The pallid-skinned woman's moans increased in volume and enthusiasm. "They're perspiring. Why is it taking so long?"

Pressing his forearm, he spoke into his transmitter. "Aspri, transmit."

The Senior Medic's voice sounded from the commander's sleeve. "Squad, Commander."

"Access the sightscreen's channel and tell me what you make of this."

After a few moments, Aspri's voice returned, sounding confused. "Two human females, who appear to be engaging in some sort of pre-breeding ritual."

"You said humans breed the same way we do," said Tausson. "Is it possible for two human females to produce offspring?"

"No," he said firmly. "Males carry the seed, females gestate. Same as Relicans."

"I've found something else, Commander," said Elic, who had begun searching the Base again. The women disappeared, replaced by two men who were lying on top of each other, head to foot. Each had the other's seed organ in his mouth, and seemed to be replicating the act of pairing by rapidly bringing their heads back and forth.

"What's this?" Aspri asked.

The men separated, and one of them got into the same position Relican women assumed during breeding -- on his hands and knees -- while the other, a muscular man with a shaved head, shifted to kneel behind him, as a Relican male would. The bald man grabbed ahold of the other's buttocks, and the camera switched angles and zoomed in to show his organ slide into the other.

"How is he doing that?" asked Tausson, bewildered by everything he was seeing. "Do human males have entry points?"

"No," the Senior Medic said, clearing his throat. "I believe he's inserting himself into the other's anus."

"What?!" Tausson cried.

"Where did you get this footage?" Aspri asked.

Tausson was too shocked to answer. This was all so confusing. Why would women engage in breeding behavior with women if there was no possibility of offspring? Why would a man willingly offer his anus as a substitute entry point?

"We were researching the term gay, Senior," came Elic's timid reply. "The American leader is stated as being the first gay President, and we were trying to identify the nature of the label."

The men's grunts and cries continued, as did the sound of their naked bodies slapping against each other.

"Turn it off," said First, but before Elic could do so, Aspri's voice, unusually high, piped up.

"We should observe this to its completion. Perhaps that will give us a better answer to your question."

Tausson watched in fascinated bewilderment as their actions sped up. The man underneath was now supporting himself on his forearm and rubbing his other hand up and down his own organ, as the bald one rocked back and forth inside the other like a typical Relican male would do. However, even this phase was taking far longer than the entire Relican act of breeding.

"How long is this going to last?" he demanded. "We can't sit here all day waiting for the end."

"The video duration states it will be over in --"

Before Elic could finish her statement, the bald man cried out, his body going rigid with the unmistakable act of delivery. The other man shouted also, and his seed sprayed onto the bed. Both men collapsed, the bald man still gripping the other's buttocks, his organ still seemingly inside the other.

"Enough," said Tausson. The screen went black again.

The silence that now filled the command center was almost unbearable. Tausson looked around at his command crew, and they were all staring at the blank screen, their faces equally shocked and confused. Although his Communications Officer was biting his lip, one hand rubbing his thigh.

"So gay means..." began Elic, but she trailed off.

"Two of the same gender engaging in breeding acts," said Aspri, his voice tight, "but without the result of offspring."

"If the President is... gay," said Elic, "then that means she can't be a candidate."

Tausson didn't miss the hope in his Planetary Officer's voice. He knew what she wanted -- she'd done all but say it -- but he still hadn't heard from Control. If they approved his request, he'd be a free man...

"Aspri," he snapped, "end transmit."

"Squa--!"

Tausson cut off his Senior Medic with a tap and stood.

"Com," he called, heading to his lodging hatch. The Communications Officer snapped to attention, a guilty look on his face. "Connect me to Control in my lodge, private frequency."

"Squad!" yelled the Officer, pressing buttons on his sleeve.

Addressing the command crew, Tausson said, "And no word of..." he gestured to the screen, "...this... until Aspri has researched it further."

Glancing back at First, he said, "Alert me when the shuttle is prepared."

"Squad!" she said.

As he opened the hatch, he barked over his shoulder at Elic, "And no more special projects without consulting me first!"

The meek, "Squad," from his Third was the last sound he heard before slamming the hatch behind him.