They had come to the sleeproom by the time the Ranger reached that point in his thoughts. The compartment was wider than it was deep, with lockers along the bulkheads to either side of the entry door. There were two other doors on the left, and the right wall held what looked like oversized square pigeon-holes--but it was the mural on the long wall opposite the entrance that captured Tarlac's attention. It was a mountain scene, one that might have been of a remote spot on Terra except for details of the foreground forest. And it was beautiful. Tarlac found himself relaxing, and smiled. "You our Homeworld like?" "It's . . . like my home, the way it was when I was a boy. We had a house near a lake like that. It could only be reached by grav-hopper. We didn't have much company, but I didn't miss it; I had the lake, the woods, the animals . . ." For the first time since he'd left for the Academy, Tarlac felt a twinge of homesickness. He wondered why, briefly, before dismissing it. It had to be the mural; Linda had said that art could evoke emotion even between cultures. "You alone grew up? No kin had?" Hovan sounded faintly shocked. "My parents, of course, and family get-togethers every couple of years. We weren't really close; the family was too big for that. Uncle Martin and Aunt Gisele alone had ten kids." Tarlac shook his head, grinning. "What a mob!" "Kids?" It seemed Hovan's vocabulary had a blank spot; Tarlac tried again. "Children. Younglings." "Ten . . . younglings?" Hovan's voice was little more than a whisper, sounding awed. He turned away abruptly, toward the right-side-wall pigeon-holes. Tarlac followed, accepting the bundle he was handed, then he followed his guide back to unroll the bundle on the floor. It proved to be a Traiti-sized bedroll with a pillow and a flocked-foam blanket. Then Hovan showed him to a locker, and Tarlac found Arjen's comment that his needs would be supplied was exactly accurate. The locker held Terran-style soap, comb, toothbrush, underwear--everything, it seemed, except uniforms. "Thanks. You people are thorough." "We try. I only glad am, that you have honor shown. I would not have it pleasant found, an unworthy one to guide." The Ranger didn't know what to say to what sounded like praise, or at least like approval, from a Traiti. He settled for, "Thanks again. I try, too." Then he quickly changed the subject. "Uh, Hovan, I don't want to be offensive, but I think it might be a good idea if you show me where the sanitary facilities are." "That next on the tour was," Hovan said, smiling. After taking care of immediate necessities, the Ranger decided he could use a bath. He left his gun and equipment belt in the locker, picked out clean underwear, and started toward the bathing room door in the left wall. Hovan, turning from a nearby locker, stopped him. "Why need you those?"