“Welcome back. I hope it was a good exercise?” the captain greeted them. There was an automatic but halfhearted flurry of mumbles and “sir"s as the team all but ignored him to stare at the Darhel.

The captain had been prepared for that response, and rather than waste time, said, “Let me introduce Tirdal San Rintai.” The Darhel nodded at the introduction and waited patiently. “Tirdal is a limited empath, a Class Two, and has completed the qual course for DRT sensat with a secondary skill of medic. He will be accompanying you on the upcoming mission.”

There were mutters and barely audible comments, which reached the surface when Dagger said, “No offense, sir, Tirdal” — with a faint nod at the Darhel — “but we’ve been a team for a long time and operate well together. We don’t need unfamiliar personnel in our ranks at the start of a mission, with no prep or training time. It’s more likely to screw things up than help.”

The captain fixed Dagger with a stare. “You think so, do you? You know what the mission is, then?” Before Dagger could even shake his head, he continued, riding over any other arguments that lurked beneath the surface. “Well, here’s the facts: We have a warning order for an insertion on a possible Blob planet, to recover intel and possibly artifacts and prisoners. The only team that ever made it back from one of those had a sensat along. So we are taking a sensat. Period. Tirdal is available, trained and has Level Four sensat scores. He’s going with us. Is that all right with you, Sergeant?” His emphasis while staring at Dagger made it clear he was tiring of Dagger’s questioning on every mission order. The man could shoot like nobody’s business, and outstalk a cheetah, but his regard for authority left much to be desired.

Dagger stared back, firmly though not obviously defiantly, and said firmly, “Understood, sir. Tirdal, welcome to the team.”