human

judging by last night's antics. But aside from that, I'm doing fine."
"Good." Hanat's inner lids lowered, and her voice was soft. "I envy you."
Caitrin nibbled on an index finger, studying the top of Hanat's cranial carapace as she bowed over her hands.
"I got a message chip from Angus last night," she said after a moment. "A long one, for him. I think there were at least ten complete sentences." Hanat laughed, and Caitrin grinned. She loved the sound of Hanat's laughter. It was very human and yet utterly alien, a silver sound totally in keeping with the Theban's elfin appearance.
"He says the admiral is fine. In fact"—Hanat looked up quickly—"he and Colonel Fraymak are working with Admiral Antonov's planning staff."
"Oh, dear," Hanat said softly, folded hands twisting about one another in distress.
"Hanat." Caitrin leaned forward, capturing one of the slender hands despite a half-hearted attempt to escape. "You know he has to."
"Yes." Hanat looked down at the five-fingered hand clasping hers. "But I know what it's costing him, too."
"Just tell me if it's none of my business," Caitrin said gently, "but why don't you ever write him?"
"Because he hasn't written me. It's not seemly for a Theban woman to write a man who hasn't written her."
"Somehow I don't see you as overly burdened by tradition, Hanat."
"I suppose not." Hanat laughed again, sadly, at Caitrin's wry tone. "But he hasn't written on purpose . . . that's why I can't write him."
"Why not? If I'd waited for Angus to say something, we'd've died of old age! Of course, he's not exactly the verbal type, but the principle's the same."
"No, it isn't." Hanat's voice was so soft Caitrin had to strain to hear her. "Lantu loves me—I know he does, and he knows I know—but he won't admit it. Because—" she looked up, and tears spilled slowly down her cheeks "—he doesn't think he's coming back to me, Caitrin. He thinks he's going to die. Perhaps he even wants to. That's why I envy you and Angus so."
Caitrin bit her lip, staring into that tear-streaked alien face. Then she opened her arms . . . and Hanat burrowed into them and wept convulsively.
* * *
" . . . outrage, Madam Speaker! This wanton bloodshed—this slaughter wreaked against helpless civilians—sets the Thebans beyond the pale!