The Pursuit

by Diana Palmer

  “You look odd,” Jasmine remarked.

  “I’ve had a rather delightful thought,” he mused.

  “Can I know what it is?”

  He shook his head and smiled. “Not just yet. There is a lecture on comet patterns on the observation deck this evening. I plan to attend. If you and your father wish to join me...”

  “We’d love to come!” she interrupted, certain that her father would find it fascinating. And she could be with Mekashe again.

  He read that thought with utter delight. “Then I’ll see you on the observation deck just after dinner.”

  “I’ll be there. With Daddy,” she added reluctantly.

  The reluctance she displayed about her father’s presence made him feel warm inside. He made her a soft bow and left her, his mind whirling with possibilities.

  CHAPTER TWO

  MEKASHE HAD TO go through channels to get to Dr. Strick Hahnson aboard the Holconcom flagship, Morcai. That meant he had first to speak to its commander, his best friend, Rhemun.

  “What are you doing aboard a commercial vessel?” Rhemun asked as the holon was initiated and his friend was standing in the room with him in a three-dimensional figure that could be interacted with. The avatar had the same flesh-and-blood reality as its original. They locked forearms in a show of affection.

  “I have a problem,” Mekashe confessed, laughing. He reverted to his true form in the communication, not the almost-human-looking one he shared with outworlders. His true form was larger, taller, more massive than the camouflaged one. He had a face just a little more catlike than the familiar humanoid one that he showed to strangers, with a broad nose and a thick mane, and ears that were placed slightly differently than a human’s. There was no visible fur and he had no tail, as cats did. But the resemblance to a galot—the sentient cats of Eridanus Three—was notable, even if Cehn-Tahr were humanoid enough not to raise eyebrows in a crowd.

  “What sort of problem?” Rhemun asked.

  “One of the heart,” came the amused reply. “I told you when we were boys, about the visions I had...”

  “...of a tall, willowy blonde human female, yes, I recall.” Rhemun gave a mock glare. “You thought it might be Edris, despite her lack of height.”

  Mekashe laughed. “I must confess that I did. But I have now encountered the living vision.” He drew in a breath. “She is magnificent,” he added. “Beyond my dreams.”

  Rhemun cocked his head. “And this is a problem?”

  “We have only just met,” his friend replied, dropping into a chair beside Rhemun’s desk. “I do not wish to rush things. The emperor forced me to take a civilian mode of transport,” he began.

  “Yes, because you refuse R & R and he thinks you push yourself too hard. Your lieutenant is performing admirably in your absence.”

  “Just as well, because I now have no desire to rush home. However, she will be coming with me when I arrive.” He grinned at his friend’s surprise. “Her father is our new Terravegan ambassador.”

  Rhemun burst out laughing. “Now, that is a true coincidence,” he remarked.

  “As I thought, also.” He drew in a long breath. “So, as you see, I must go carefully forward. I feel an attraction that I do not wish to get out of hand. I want to approach Hahnson for advice,” he added. “But for that, I must have your permission. And your promise of silence.”

  “The emperor will know,” Rhemun began.

  Mekashe pulled out a small, glowing white ball. It would conceal thoughts from a telepath, even one as formidable as old Tnurat. “This is an innovation on the original design,” he confessed. “I must not announce my feelings to the emperor just yet.”

  Rhemun understood. “There will be no issue,” he said. “The emperor reveres humans since Madeline Ruszel has given him two beautiful grandchildren.”

  “Still, I must not rush things. I belong, as you do, to the Royal Clan. There are rumors, and only rumors, that too much mixing with the humans might provoke difficulties in the Dectat.”

  Rhemun smiled. “Not as long as Tnurat rules. Did you not hear that he punched the president of the Dectat for an altercation with Dtimun over Ruszel’s rescue when her ship crashed on Akaashe?”

  Mekashe chuckled. “I did, indeed. That is a long-standing feud.”

  “Both are stubborn.”

  “Good leaders.”

  “Agreed.” Rhemun got up. “You have my permission to speak to Hahnson, and I promise not to mention it until you give me equal permission.” He chuckled. “Will that do?”

  “Indeed it will.”

  “I wish you great good fortune with the ambassador’s daughter. And I look forward to meeting her, as well.”

  “How is Edris?” Mekashe asked.

  “Recovering very well. Would you like to see our daughter?” he added.

  “Yes!”

  Rhemun pulled out a miniature holo and held it up. There was a tiny, black-headed baby in the cradle of her beaming mother’s arms. Edris, looking as lovely as ever before, and Kipling, their son, standing beside his mother, grinning.

  “This is Larisse,” he said with pride.

  “A delightful child! She will look more like you than Kipling does, I think,” Mekashe commented.

  “I think so, as well. She is the light of my life already, as my son and my mate already were.” The little girl was only the second female born into Clan Alamantimichar in thousands of years. Princess Lyceria was the first.

  “I rejoice in your good fortune,” Mekashe said. “And I look forward to rejoicing in my own!”

  “Speak to Hahnson. I’ll see you before you leave, yes?”

  “Of course!”

  * * *

  STRICK HAHNSON LOOKED more like a wrestler than a physician. He had been with the Morcai Battalion since its creation, in the horror of the Rojok death camp, Ahkmau. At least, his original had been. The true Hahnson was tortured and killed by the Rojoks, who were trying to find an almost fatally ill Dtimun hidden in the camp by his cellmates. Dtimun had cloned the physician for Captain Holt Stern and Dr. Madeline Ruszel as recompense for snatching them out of the Terravegan Strategic Space Command and into the ranks of his newly formed Morcai Battalion. It had been a bittersweet reunion. Stern, too, was a clone. In the old days, the two of them would never have been able to return to Terravegan society because they were clones. There was a terrible prejudice there. But the emperor, out of gratitude for their help in saving his son, had given all the humans of the Morcai Battalion Cehn-Tahr citizenship. The clones of the Holconcom, and the human ones, had meshed quite well together.

  Hahnson looked up, surprised to see Mekashe walking into his lab. He grinned and locked forearms. “What a nice surprise,” he enthused. “How in the world did you get here without the ship alerting everybody?”

  “The holon,” Mekashe said easily, and with a smile. Hahnson was one of only a handful of humans who knew about the holon tech. “I have a very personal matter to discuss.”

  “Still amazes me,” Strick said, walking around the Tri-D3-d image to study Mekashe. “I can even touch you,” he added, doing it, “and you feel real.”

  “It suffices, when mates are separated,” the other male remarked wickedly.

  “Well, sit down. How are you liking your new job? And why are you here?”

  Mekashe took out the white noise ball and put it on the table. “New tech,” he told Hahnson. “It can even block the emperor. You did not hear me say this, because I am not here.”

  “Absolutely,” Hahnson agreed, grinning.

  “You were bonded to a Cehn-Tahr during the end of the Great Galaxy War, were you not?” Mekashe asked, very solemnly. “I apologize for bringing up such a painful subject,” he added quickly when he saw the look on Hahnson’s face.

  “It was a long time ago.” Hahnson took a deep breath. “I hav
e all the memories of my original, including that one. She was a suicide. After all the years in between, it still is an agony to remember.”

  “A suicide?” Mekashe asked, stunned.

  “You didn’t know. It’s all right. Only a very few people do.” He sat down. “It’s something I don’t talk about. But, yes, we were bonded.”

  “Which is why I’m permitted to discuss something quite intimate with you,” Mekashe hastened to add. “You know what rigid rules of culture permeate our society.”

  “I do,” the other male said.

  Mekashe locked his hands together and studied them. “I have met a female. A human.” He managed a faint smile. “For many years, I had a vision of such a human. I knew her, without knowing her, almost all my life. I thought at first that Edris Mallory was her personification. But in my visions, the female found me equally attractive, and Edris had eyes only for Rhemun.” He lifted his eyes to Hahnson’s. “Now I have met the true female, the one from the visions. She is everything I knew, all that I expected. But the attraction I feel for her is growing too quickly. I have no desire to frighten her or shock her. Like most humans, she has no idea about the mating rituals, how deadly they can be to other males. I want to touch her.” He bit off the words and made a face, like a grimace. “But I dare not. I was wondering, hoping, that there might be some bit of medical tech that could permit touch without the danger of triggering a mating behavior.”

  “I think I have just what you need,” Hahnson said, moving to his medicomp. “In fact, you’re in luck, because this is cutting-edge tech, only just released. It was meant for diplomatic use, but I understand that it has been employed covertly for a number of other reasons.”

  “What does it do?”

  “It coats the skin in nanobytes,” Hahnson said. He pulled up a top secret vid, showing the range of protection it encompassed. “It’s undetectable, much like certain poisons developed on old Earth millennia ago.”

  “And it can be trusted not to fail?” the alien asked with some concern.

  Hahnson shook his head. “Well, as far as we know.” He hesitated. He was the physician for the human element aboard the Morcai, not their resident Cularian expert who specialized in Cehn-Tahr, Rojok and other alien species. But he heard from Tellas, Edris Mallory’s former assistant, that Mekashe had physiology much like Dtimun, who was the product of generations of genetic improvement.

  “Something disturbs you,” Mekashe perceived.

  Hahnson shrugged. “It’s probably nothing,” he said after a minute. “You know that there can be issues between different species, especially in intimate contact.”

  “Yes, I know of this,” Mekashe said easily. He smiled. “It is not a concern.”

  What he meant was that he knew Rhemun had no difficulty in mating with Edris, and he also knew that Dtimun and Madeline Ruszel had mated and produced two children. He had no idea that Rhemun’s branch of the Clan had no genetic modification or that Madeline had to undergo genetic modification to mate with Dtimun.

  Hahnson, who assumed that the other Cehn-Tahr had made him aware of the issues, just smiled. “Okay, then. I’ll just create a few vials of the tech so that you won’t run out. How long is this trip going to take?”

  “Several weeks,” Mekashe said with a wistful sigh. “I look forward to getting to know Jasmine.”

  “Jasmine. A lovely name.”

  “She is a lovely creature,” Mekashe replied softly. “I have never encountered such a being in all my travels. She has no hauteur at all, no sense of superiority. She is humble and sweet and—how did she put it?—scattered.”

  Hahnson’s eyebrows went up and he chuckled while he worked. “I like her already.”

  “Her father seems quite nice,” he added. “He will be the first Terravegan ambassador to Memcache. An intelligent man, with a background in history and politics. He was a professor of political science on Terravega.”

  Hahnson frowned. “An odd choice for an ambassador.”

  “I thought this, as well. Most political figures are, well, less than brilliant.”

  Hahnson grinned. “And, in fact, some of them are stupid.”

  “I would put the former Terravegan ambassador in that class without fail,” Mekashe recalled. “Although Taylor was never allowed to set foot on Memcache. Dtimun hated him.”

  “So did most of the humans in the Holconcom, especially after he denied permission for us to launch a rescue effort when Madeline Ruszel’s ship went down on Akaashe.”

  “Those were dark days. Taylor was executed for treason for his collusion with the Rojoks during the war. I did not mourn. Those were dark days.”

  “Very dark,” Hahnson replied. “Madeline was special. She is special. She and Stern and I served together for ten years. We’d have gladly died for her. Ambassador Taylor not only refused permission to search for her crashed ship, he recalled all Terravegan personnel from other services. We actually had to mutiny to stay in the Holconcom and go with Dtimun to save her.”

  “A noble undertaking.”

  Hahnson smiled. “Noble, indeed.” He finished programming the medicomp and glanced at his companion. “Did you know that Chacon himself went to negotiate with the Nagaashe for Madeline’s release?”

  “Chacon and also the emperor, if gossip serves,” Mekashe replied.

  “Absolutely. She had powerful allies, even back then. She saved the emperor’s life on Ondar.”

  “We heard about that from Rhemun,” Mekashe said. He chuckled. “He was fascinated with her even before they met. Dtimun had some small jealousy of him, in fact, before Komak was born.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. Madeline was crazy about the CO almost from the beginning.” He shook his head. “You can’t imagine the shock when she and Dtimun came aboard the Morcai after their trip to Benaski Port to save Chacon’s life, and Madeline was pregnant. Talk about gossip that went on for days...!”

  “I imagine it was intense.”

  “Very, especially under the circumstances,” Hahnson agreed, not understanding that Mekashe had no idea what he meant. “In the history of the Cehn-Tahr, there had never been a child born of a human mother and a Cehn-Tahr father.”

  “Because of the racial laws,” Mekashe agreed.

  “Well, that, too,” Hahnson conceded. He tossed the vials into a vacuum bag and passed it to his former crewmate. “That should be more than enough. But just in case, you can flash me and I can have more couriered to you aboard the passenger ship. You know to watch for signs of allergic reaction, right? Any swelling, redness, sore throat, rash, things like that.”

  “I have an amazing constitution.” Mekashe chuckled. “I am never allergic to anything.”

  “That isn’t what they say,” his companion replied, tongue in cheek. “Wasn’t there something about you and a flagon of synthale in a bar somewhere on Kurkason...?”

  Mekashe cleared his throat. “That was a long time ago. During an unfortunate hunt that ended out on the rim. I was younger.”

  “Ah. That would explain it. A few broken bones, a diplomatic incident—the emperor had to intervene with the local authorities...?”

  Mekashe almost blushed.

  Hahnson grinned. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist it. You guys are so formidable that it tickles us humans when you slip, even though you very rarely do. We don’t feel so inferior.”

  “Humans are hardly inferior,” Mekashe retorted. “We have different areas of advantage. Ours is strength and speed. Yours is compassion and tenacity.”

  “Thanks,” Hahnson said.

  “It makes for an interesting combination, the humans and Cehn-Tahr in the Holconcom,” Mekashe replied. “I miss the unit,” he added gently. “While it is a great honor to command the kehmatemer, the emperor’s personal bodyguard, I miss pitting my skill against Rhemun’s in the Kahn-Bo.”

  “I think
he misses it, too. But his son, Kipling, is almost as formidable as you are, on the mat.”

  “Kipling and Dtimun’s son, Komak, are almost old enough to join the military. Although, between us, I think Kipling will be the greater warrior. Komak enjoys more cerebral pursuits. I think he may make a scientist, like his grandmother the empress.”

  “She is formidable.”

  “Yes, indeed.” He held up the vacuum pack. “Thank you for this.”

  “You’re most welcome. I wish you great good fortune.”

  Mekashe frowned slightly. “You sounded as if more than the racial laws kept Ruszel and Dtimun apart,” he began.

  Just as he said it, the alert sounded. Rhemun’s deep voice came over the intership frequency, in Cehn-Tahr, announcing a mission and calling for all hands to report immediately to their stations.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Mekashe shrugged it off with a smile. “Thank you, again.”

  “My pleasure. We’ll talk again.”

  “Certainly.”

  * * *

  HE STOPPED BACK by the command deck to say his farewells to Rhemun.

  “I miss the excitement of these engagements,” he confessed to his friend, who was forwarding new orders to his officers over the vid screen.

  “I sometimes miss guarding the emperor.” Rhemun chuckled. “But we must do what our Clan status dictates.”

  “We must. Thank you for allowing me access to Hahnson. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Keep well.”

  “And you.”

  * * *

  MEKASHE SWITCHED OFF the holon, after he retrieved the vacuum bag from the device, where it was captured just before his departure from the Morcai. The technology was amazing, even to the Cehn-Tahr who had used it for generations. It was almost undetectable as apart from reality. The ability to touch and taste, to physically interact with other humanoids, was like magic.