"That not necessary is, but I will her tell." Hovan did so, and translated the reply. "She suggests, you little liquor drink from now on. And if you bad reactions to anything else find, her tell at once."
"Don't worry," Tarlac said emphatically, "I will!" Then he was in the air as Channath hugged him. Back on his feet, surprised but too flattered to mind, he looked bemusedly after Channath's retreating back. "What was that all about?"
"I told you, there much touching is, in-clan." Hovan put an arm around the man's shoulders. "The closeness good is, not so?"
"Yes…" Tarlac said slowly. "Yes, it is. It's strange—I shouldn't like it. A Ranger has to be self-sufficient, has to stay apart—has to be objective and impartial. I'm not, any longer."
"What will that mean, when you to your Empire return?"
Hovan had zeroed in on Tarlac's thought, though the Ranger didn't believe what he described would ever have a chance to happen. "I'll have to retake the psych tests, then it depends. Maybe I'll be disqualified from anything that involves Ch'kara or the Traiti, maybe I'll have to resign. The decision will be up to His Majesty."
"He would you demote?"
"Only if he doesn't have a choice; the Empire needs Rangers. And even if he does have to demote me, I won't be dishonored or anything. Something like this happened once before, about four hundred years ago, to a Ranger named Jeff Shining Arrow. He lost his detachment, too—got married, had kids—so Empress Lindner made him a Duke. Emperor Davis would probably commission me into the Fleet."
"That no dishonor is, true. Do you think it will to you happen?"
"Yes, if I've changed that much. It could be a lot worse, of course . . . but falling in love's no crime, it's just something the Empire can't afford in a Ranger."