by Diana Palmer
She laughed, delighted. “I think we should, yes.”
But when they got to the concert auditorium, the scheduled Altairian concert had been canceled and one from a Terravegan performing company was substituted.
“Oh dear,” Jasmine said softly, when she read the description on the virtual billboard. “This may not be what we expected.”
He noticed her consternation. “What sort of concert is this?” he asked.
“Something totally strange and fascinating, if it’s done properly,” she replied. “It’s a form of ancient human music that came from a place called, I think, China. It was on old Earth, before the Rendering.”
He frowned. “Rendering?”
She nodded. “There was a cataclysm. All the records of that time were lost due to the global destruction, but a few precious vids made it out; mostly personal recordings of the time and place and what happened. A comet struck the earth, in one of the great oceans. There were these giant waves called tsunamis that devastated several continents and destroyed major cities. The survivors were hard-pressed to find food and potable water, shelter, safety. Eventually the people recovered and technology grew exponentially after some kindly interference by other world cultures. It was kept hidden from the majority of the population, because they were afraid of outworlders.” She made a demure smile. “Sort of like me.”
“I’m an outworlder. You aren’t afraid of me,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but these were apparently much different from humans,” she replied. “In fact, I believe the gossip was that they were Rojoks.”
“Rojoks are amazingly humanoid in appearance,” he said. “Except that they have dusky skin and slit eyes and six fingers and toes. And all of them are blond.”
“All of them?”
“Yes. In the military, length of hair is used to identify officers. A field marshal, like Chacon, has hair down past his waist in back.”
“Chacon.” She shivered. “I’ve read stories about him. He was a barbarian.”
“You are thinking of the emperor Mangus Lo,” he corrected. “Chacon was known all over the three galaxies for his compassion in battle. He was known to stop an attack that would have devastated the opposing force to allow them to remove their wounded and dying from the battlefield.”
“Really?” she exclaimed.
He nodded. “His reputation for chivalry is deserved. He is an amazing leader, even as a politician. He now heads his government, and notorious prison camps like Ahkmau no longer exist.”
“I must have mistaken the names,” she confessed. “Honestly, there are so many that I can’t remember at all. I’m afraid that Standard and French are all I speak, and some of the news reports are in languages that don’t translate well.”
“Understandable.”
“Still, I’m not keen on the military. Any military,” she added, not noticing her companion’s expression, although his hand did seem to jerk faintly in her grasp. “Soldiers kill people, in all sorts of horrible ways.” She made a mock shiver. “I look forward to the day when we can do away with armies forever.”
“You may have an extremely long wait,” he pointed out, trying not to take offense. “The military protects us from predation by insurgents bent on destruction.”
“Yes, but are there really any insurgents left?” she asked innocently. “The galaxies are going through an unprecedented period of peace.”
“Peace is an illusion, Jasmine,” he said quietly, trying not to voice the resentment and hurt he felt. He’d been in the military all his life, and she hated it. This was another issue they’d face down the line, when she knew what he did for a living. “There will always be regional conflicts.”
She drew in a long breath. “Oh, I suppose there will,” she said. “But at least that’s no concern of ours, right?” She brightened, looking up at him affectionately.
“Right.” He said the word without enthusiasm.
She didn’t notice. She was almost ethereal with happiness. She loved being with Mekashe. He was the most handsome man she’d ever seen, and he cared for her already. She had visions of a wonderful future that included him.
They reached the doors of the auditorium and Mekashe presented a microchip with their ticket purchases verified. The man at the door noted it in his reader, smiled and gave them their seat assignments.
“Daddy and I love Chinese music.” She bit her lip and looked up at him. “But I’m not sure about this performance,” she added, having noted the source of the music, which was listed. She was familiar with the background of the symphony composition, which was an experimental reconstruction of what the composer supposed to be authentic music from an ancient human society. “I hope you’ll like it.”
He chuckled softly. “If you love it, so shall I,” he replied.
* * *
FAMOUS LAST WORDS. The sounds grated on his ears like the screaming of galots in the night. There was no sense or rhyme or regularity to the rhythm, and the instruments seemed to be composed of tin drums and some odd reedlike tubes. There were also strangely shaped flat things with strings that produced an amazing reverberation but no recognizable tune.
“They say this was pieced together from bits of old vids they found in the wreckage when Earth was devastated,” she said. “Two of the instruments are from some island colony and others are from a city that fell. They were found with pieces of musical script that had ‘China’ at the top, so the music they recovered was called Chinese.”
Privately, Mekashe thought that they’d cobbled several musical cultures into one badly reconstructed one. He’d never heard such a cacophony of terrible sounds.
“Well, there was a protest from this man who lived on New Cathay, one of the very old Earth colonies,” she confessed. “He said that what they’d made was a combination of Island, Scottish and New Age music and the sheet music they found wasn’t Chinese either—it was torn pieces of other forms of music that they had a computer arrange. He said the computer should be shot for the appalling result, and it should be burned. He was quite vocal. Of course, his was the only protest, and nobody listened. He was very old.”
“Oh? How old?”
“Ninety,” she said, shaking her head. “Amazing that he could even read the article about the new music!”
From his vantage point of being over two hundred and fifty years old, he could sympathize with the human on New Cathay. He was amused at the thought of Jasmine’s expression when she knew his true age. And his true form.
That bothered him. She’d already reacted badly to one alien species. But she knew Mekashe. Surely she wouldn’t be afraid of him! Not when she cared so much. He forced the thought out of his mind.
* * *
THE CONCERT WAS finally over. They were filing out of the concert chamber. Mekashe was amused at some of the whispered comments about the utter horror of the various combined musical traditions.
“You know,” she said after a minute, “maybe that old man wasn’t so crazy after all.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps not.” He turned to her. “Shall we have a cup of, what did you call it, cappuccino, before we part? The dining room is still open.”
“I’d like that,” she said, as reluctant as he was to part for the night.
* * *
THEY SAT SIPPING the hot beverage without speaking for a few minutes, watching the stars out the window and the occasional meteor passing.
“Space is so big,” she commented.
“Bigger than you can imagine,” he agreed.
“You’ve traveled a lot, haven’t you?”
“Yes. My business takes me to many other planets.”
She cocked her head and studied him. “You told me that you were a consultant. But you work in some political area, don’t you? That’s what Daddy thinks,” she added with a smile.
He shrugged, a
very human trait he’d picked up from the humans aboard the Morcai. “In a sense, yes.”
“I knew it!”
He smiled at her, drinking in her exquisite appearance. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever known,” he said softly.
She flushed and laughed under her breath. “I’m not beautiful.”
“You are to me,” he said. “All my life, I’ve dreamed of a tall, willowy woman with a kind heart and beauty. I was shocked when we met by accident. You were the embodiment of my dream.”
She smiled as she studied him. “Sometimes dreams walk,” she said.
He nodded. “They do, indeed.”
“I dreamed of a tall man with jet-black hair,” she confessed. “But he had no features that I could discern.” She hesitated. “Although, to be honest, it wasn’t so much a dream as a nightmare,” she said, frowning slightly. “I was terrified of him. He burst out of what looked like a plastic human body and became something else, something very scary.” She sipped her cooling coffee, unaware of Mekashe’s stricken look. “I woke up screaming. That was when Mama was still alive. She tucked me back in and said that sometimes our fears manifested in dreams, and that I wasn’t to worry—it was just my subconscious stepping on my brain.” She laughed. “I never had that dream again.”
He was sipping his own cooling coffee, feeling a sense of despair that he couldn’t even voice. It was as if she knew the truth about him without ever being told.
“Why so solemn?” she asked after a minute, when he didn’t speak. “It was just a dream. I’m sure yours was much nicer.”
“Much nicer indeed,” he said, and forced a smile. He looked around. “They’ll be closing soon. We should go.”
“Okay.”
She finished her coffee, he finished his and he escorted her out of the room and back to the suite she shared with her father. He was very distant.
“I didn’t offend you somehow, did I?” she asked suddenly.
He arched his eyebrows, human fashion. “No. Of course not! I have a project I’m working on. It occupies me too much,” he added with a smile. “What would you like to do tomorrow?”
She brightened at the thought that he wanted to take her out again. “Could we do one of the tourist things in the holoroom, you know, those scripted excursions to other planets that they offer? They’re monitored carefully,” she said, recalling that their sad experience earlier had been in an unscripted holo re-creation. “One of them is Dacerius. I’ve always been fascinated by it!”
“The desert planet?” he asked, smiling. “Certainly.”
“It’s a desert planet?”
He nodded. “They have these great mounts called Yomuth. I’m told they resemble a small creature that inhabited human worlds called a hamster. However, these are bigger than horses and they go like the wind itself.”
She caught her breath. “You’ve been there,” she assumed. “You’ve ridden them!”
He chuckled. “Yes. My travels have taken me to Dacerius. They also have a subspecies of reptile called Naagashe, a tiny white serpent with blue eyes. It purrs. Tourists purchase them.”
“Reptiles that purr?” she exclaimed. “That doesn’t sound scary at all! Do they have them for sale?”
He laughed delightedly at her enthusiasm. “Yes, they do.”
“Then I must have one! I can’t wait!” She hesitated. “Can we do the tour? Will you have time?”
“I am on holiday, until the ship docks at our spaceport above Memcache,” he reminded her. “And, yes, I have the time. I would make it, even if I didn’t, to be with you,” he added softly.
She caught her breath. “I love being with you.”
“As I love being with you, Jasmine.”
He tugged her close, into a recessed area adjacent to the suites, bent and kissed her with suppressed hunger. She pushed closer into his arms and tugged his head down, locking her arms around his neck.
He was more grateful for the dravelzium than ever before, because the hunger he felt for her grew daily. Without the drug, nothing would have spared her. And that was impossible. Cehn-Tahr were conventional. They must be bonded before intimate contact. But he wanted her so badly that he was ready to throw convention to the winds.
It was with a great effort that he finally managed to draw away. The taste of her was sweet on his mouth. She looked as hungry as he felt. Her face was flushed, her eyes almost closed, sensual and sweet as they roved over his face.
“I love the way you taste,” he teased. “I could make a meal of your mouth.”
She laughed softly. “I love the way you taste, too,” she whispered.
He hugged her close, but not too close, remembering the broken bones in her poor hand. Reluctantly, he let her go.
“Tomorrow. After breakfast?”
She nodded. “Tomorrow.”
He smiled slowly, taking in the picture she made with her mouth softly swollen from his kisses, her hair disheveled where his hands had grasped it. She looked as if she belonged to him. The thought made him ecstatic.
“Good night,” he said.
“Good night,” she replied, and reluctantly went back into her suite.
* * *
HER FATHER WAS SNORING, asleep in his easy chair with the book open on his chest. She woke him.
“Back so soon?” he asked, disoriented.
“It’s after midnight, ship time.” She laughed.
“How was the concert?”
She made a face. “Well, I wouldn’t call it music. A rendering of Sibericus was presented instead of the scheduled Altairian concert. And Mekashe looked as if he was being drawn and dismembered between two fast horses.”
He chuckled. “That’s exactly how I looked when I had to listen to that horrid collection of mangled tones. Whatever they say, that isn’t Chinese music. I found a vid on the Nexus, from a private collection. Remind me, I’ll play it for you. It’s exquisite. The real thing.”
“I’d love to hear it. Daddy,” she said, laying down her small purse, “how would you feel, if it became serious with Mekashe and me?”
“I like him very much,” he said. He hesitated. “But I think you should let matters progress slowly. You don’t have to rush into something. Not when he’ll be a neighbor, of a sort, when we reach Memcache.”
She turned and looked at him. He was hiding something. She always knew. “You know something that you aren’t telling me.”
“Perhaps,” he confessed. “Nothing deadly. Just some gossip. But I like Mekashe very much, and I’d have no problem adding him to the family. If you want to.”
She hugged him hard, not noticing the way he’d worded the sentence. “Oh, thank you! I was worried that you might want me to look for a human male...”
He burst out laughing. “Jasmine, I’d only have second thoughts if your intended had tentacles. And you can quote me.”
She grinned. “Okay! Good night, Daddy.”
“Good night, child. Sleep well.”
* * *
THE NIGHTMARE SHE had that night was the old one, but this time the man in her dreams had Mekashe’s face. He was holding her, in the silence of a primeval forest. It was quiet all around, except for night sounds, and she was so hungry for him that it was almost like pain.
Then, without warning, there was an attack and Mekashe shifted into some form that she’d seen only once, in the nightmare she had as a child. He became a monster, with claws and fangs and fur, and she screamed and screamed...!
CHAPTER SIX
“JASMINE!”
She heard the voice, just vaguely. She was still caught in the nightmare, screaming until her throat was sore.
“Jasmine, wake up!”
She was shaken, gently, by both arms. She forced her eyes open and there was her father, looking concerned.
“Child,
you almost screamed the room down!” he exclaimed. “What was it, a nightmare?”
She sat up, drew up her knees under the covers and rested her damp face on them. She was shivering. “It was the old nightmare,” she whispered brokenly, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Except that this time, the man I was with had a familiar face. It was Mekashe. We were in a forest somewhere, being threatened by some creature. Mekashe changed into a monster, with fangs and claws and fur...!”
Ambassador Dupont swallowed, hard, and tried not to let her see how disturbed he was. It was as if she’d seen Mekashe in his true form. The ambassador knew of the shape-shifting ability, but he’d only heard about the form it took in the Cehn-Tahr species. What he’d been told about them sounded very much like the creature his daughter was describing. He dreaded having her know the truth. She was in love with Mekashe. How would it affect her, when she knew that the form he took wasn’t his true one, that he was something entirely out of her experience?
Mekashe cared for her deeply. It would destroy him, if she saw him as he was and screamed like this.
The ambassador ground his teeth together. He was watching a personal catastrophe in the making, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He was forbidden to tell anything he knew about the Cehn-Tahr to anyone except the Cehn-Tahr himself. He couldn’t even tell his own daughter; that had been made explicitly clear. Besides that, Jasmine would never keep the secret. It would slip out and he’d be sent home in disgrace. It was doubtful that he’d even be able to get employment if that happened. There was so much resentment already among politicians about his selection as ambassador. The political sector would make sure that he never worked again. It was a chilling thought.
“There, there,” he said gently, as he had when she was a little girl, patting her on the back. “Everything will be all right. It was just a dream, sweetheart. Just a dream.”
She smoothed back her hair and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” she said with an apologetic smile. “I’m just not used to aliens. Although Mekashe doesn’t look anything like that monster I dreamed about,” she assured him.