“Interesting,” the commander murmured thoughtfully. “I’ll have to try to talk with her myself.”
Armstong grimaced. “Lots of luck, Captain. If you can get her to say half a dozen words, it’ll be more than she’s said since she arrived.”
“Speaking of the nonhumans,” Phule said, “I wanted to bounce a thought off the two of you. Specifically I want to split the two Sinthians when we assign team pairs. I figure it’s hard for humans to relate to and interact with nonhumans. If we team the two of them, it will only make them that much harder to approach. The only problem is, I’m not sure how the Sinthians will react to being separated. What are your thoughts?”
“I don’t think you have to worry about them complaining, Captain.” Armstrong grinned, winking at Rembrandt. “Do you, Remmie?”
“Well,” his partner replied in a mock drawl, “I don’t expect it’ll be a problem.”
The commander glanced back and forth at the two of them.
“I get the feeling I’m missing a joke here.”
“The truth is, Captain,” Rembrandt supplied, “the two of them don’t get along particularly well.”
“They don’t?”
“The way it is, sir,” Armstrong said, “is that apparently there’s a real class prejudice problem on their home world. Both of them headed off-world to get away from conditions.”
“Their names kinda say it all,” Rembrandt continued. “One of them, Spartacus, is a product of the lower class, while Louie, which I believe is short for Louis the XIV, is rooted in the aristocracy. Both of them joined the Legion thinking they would never have to deal with someone from the hated ‘other class,’ and you can imagine how overjoyed they were when they both got assigned to this outfit.”