The Pursuit

by Diana Palmer

  He led her to the exit, his heart falling in his chest. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t find the right words. She had no idea what his true form was. How could he ever tell her, show her, if she acted like this with just a virtual galot?

  They were outside the instance. He folded her in his arms and held her while she cried. It was a long time before she was calm enough to leave the area and go back to her suite.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. Her eyes and her nose were still red. “I’m terrified of cats. I don’t know what to do. Maybe there’s a medicine...”

  “We can research that,” he said heavily. “I’ll ask my physician.”

  She nodded. “I spoiled our day,” she said sadly. “I’m an idiot.”

  Her sorrow lessened his grief. He touched her hair, her beautiful blond hair, which she always wore long around her shoulders, just for him. She wouldn’t know, but his own mane curled down to his waist in back, much like his cousin Rhemun’s. It was longer than hers, although the sensor net he used camouflaged that aspect of him.

  “There will be other days. We still have three weeks,” he teased softly.

  “Three weeks,” she agreed. “Then we reach Memcache.” She searched his eyes and smiled. “I can’t wait!”

  He smiled. “Nor I.” He drew a strand of her soft hair through his fingers. “We will find a way to deal with your fears. I promise.”

  She relaxed a little. “Okay.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his hard, chiseled mouth. “Sleep well. I’ll see you tomorrow?” she added worriedly, as if she thought he might not want to see her again, after her panic attack.

  He bent and brushed her mouth with his. “Of course you will. Good night.”

  “Good night, Mekashe.”

  He left her there, loving the way his name sounded in her soft voice. One day, he’d be able to teach her the familiar pronunciation, as well. He’d have to do something about the galots his worker treated at the villa. Normally, she would never encounter one, so it wasn’t going to be a big problem. Except that he had feline traits of which she was unaware. His heart dropped again.

  * * *

  HE CALLED HAHNSON again and discussed the problem.

  Hahnson was supportive, but not encouraging. “People can overcome phobias,” he assured his friend. “But it isn’t a simple thing. Often counseling is necessary as well as medicine. I think your physician on Memcache will be of much help,” he added, his eyes twinkling. “It’s not a big problem. Really.”

  “She’s never seen me as I truly am,” Mekashe said heavily. “It is a thing I truly fear.”

  “We all got used to the way you Cehn-Tahr look,” Hahnson said. “Nobody fainted or asked for reassignment after Dtimun had all of you in the Holconcom shift into your true appearances. It was because we knew you and had great affection for you.” He smiled. “Jasmine loves you. It won’t matter to her, any more than it mattered to Madeline Ruszel when she saw Dtimun in his true form for the first time.”

  He relaxed a little more. “At least there’s hope,” he said.

  Hahnson laughed. “There’s always hope. Even when the world seems to end,” he added gently. “Get some sleep and stop worrying. I’ll do some research for you.”

  “That would be much appreciated.”

  “And you’re very welcome.”

  * * *

  IT WAS LATE the next “day” when Mekashe went to call on Jasmine. There had been a sudden death among the kehmatemer. One of its youngest members had died in a sporting accident on R & R, to the shock and horror of its members. Mekashe was sad, because the youngest one of them had been a favorite of his. He would mourn him. But it also meant that another candidate had to be chosen. He was sent virtual résumés of Cehn-Tahr currently in the military, from which he would select a replacement. It would take some time. The unit was small. He wanted no potential conflict among the Cehn-Tahr who served the emperor.

  It was on his mind when she came out, dressed in a gossamer gold gown, her blond hair clean and shining as it waved down over her shoulders, her face beautiful and aglow with pleasure.

  “You look beautiful, as you always do,” he said, and caught her hand in his.

  “And you look handsome, as you always do,” she replied gently.

  “Ahem,” Ambassador Dupont said after a minute, because they stood like statues.

  They started and noticed him in the doorway for the first time.

  “It’s the Altairian folk dance group tonight,” he told them, chuckling. “They finally got here, so you’ll have nice music to listen to, for a change.”

  “What they called Chinese music was an insult to that wonderful culture,” Jasmine replied. She made a mock wince. “It was horrible! They should stop performing it at all.”

  “I’m sure they’ve been told that, a few times. The Altairian group is quite good. I’ve been to a performance.”

  “Then it will be something to look forward to,” Mekashe assured him. “Shall we go?” he asked Jasmine.

  She held his hand and grinned at her father. “We won’t be too late.”

  “Not to worry. I found a vid on the great cats of Eridanus Three,” he said. “I can’t watch that with her—she has nightmares...” He broke off and looked horrified at what he’d said.

  Mekashe had some idea of why. “Phobias can be addressed successfully,” he assured the other man, and he smiled. “I have that information from my personal physician,” he added. He looked down at Jasmine. “It’s a minor problem. Only a minor one.”

  Jasmine smiled broadly. “Yes, it is. I’ll see you later, Daddy,” she added.

  He nodded, giving Mekashe an apologetic smile.

  “Don’t worry,” he told the ambassador gently. “It isn’t a problem.”

  “All right.”

  Jasmine looked from one to the other. “Whatever are you two talking about?”

  Mekashe chuckled. “Chess.”

  She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Chess. Goodness!”

  The ambassador chuckled. “Have fun.” He saw them off and went back inside. But he felt a sudden jolt of fear. How would Jasmine react to a creature who was part cat, part humanoid, because that was what he’d been told in confidence. They were close to Memcache, and the diplomatic service wanted to make sure that their representative did nothing to offend the emperor, especially if he encountered the Cehn-Tahr in their true form. He was not to react to their appearance; he wasn’t to grimace or flinch or make any show of disrespect. He assured his superior that he wouldn’t.

  But he was less certain of Jasmine’s reaction, if she encountered Mekashe in his true form. He’d heard about the young virtual galot at Mekashe’s villa, as well as the cat statues and statuettes throughout the airy construction. She didn’t have to hide her fear from her father, and it was formidable. It was, she confided, the only thing that really worried her about her relationship with Mekashe. She adored him, but those cat statues were going to have to be removed if she lived there.

  She was almost haughty about it, and the ambassador felt sick at heart. It would not be possible for them to be removed, because they were religious artifacts. She didn’t know that, but the ambassador did. Cats everywhere on Memcache. She would never adjust. He only hoped that she wouldn’t offend anyone when they arrived. She was very young and sometimes thoughtless. She could give offense without realizing it, in an impulsive outburst. If that happened, his job was lost. They would go back to Terravega in total disgrace.

  He worried, as he had before, about the future. But he’d never felt such foreboding as he did right now. Perhaps what he needed was something to help him calm down. He went to the small counter and brewed a cup of hot chocolate. He had to stop thinking negatively, he told himself firmly. Jasmine and Mekashe loved one another. Nothing would interfere with that. Nothing at all.

  * * *


  “THIS ISN’T THE way to the auditorium, is it?” Jasmine asked as they turned down a long, unfamiliar corridor.

  He laughed. “It isn’t. I have to stop by the cabin of a...” He hesitated. “A friend,” he added finally, “to give him some news I just received from the Dectat.”

  “The Dectat!” She looked up at him adoringly. “Mekashe, if you speak to the highest authority on your planet, you have to do something important, don’t you?”

  “That will be revealed in time,” he assured her with a twinkle in his suddenly green eyes, denoting humor.

  “All right. I’ll try to be patient, then.” She tightened her fingers in his and felt the returned pressure with a warm glow in her heart.

  At the end of the corridor were three cabins, one of which was the equivalent of a private gym. The sound of Kahn-Bo sticks being used in practice came from it. Mekashe knew that his cousin Tresar loved the sport and enjoyed sparring with his companions.

  “I’ll only be a minute. You should wait here... Jasmine!” He was too late to stop her.

  “I want to meet your friend,” she began brightly.

  But then she saw the creature with the long stick. He’d just put it down and he made a mock attack toward his sparring partner, who’d apparently won. He extended his claws and bared his fangs and growled.

  Jasmine, who’d never seen anything more alien than the very human-looking—but blue—Altairians on board, and the less humanoid Vegans, gaped at the thing in her field of view and felt terror to her very soul.

  He heard her gasp and turned to face her. He was huge. Towering and muscular, with a broad chest and muscular arms, bared to the waist, his golden skin glistening with sweat. He had a curling mane down over his shoulders, falling to his waist, jet-black and pushed away from his face, which had a broad nose and slit-pupiled eyes that were almost as black as his hair.

  Tresar growled again, fiercely, and raged at Mekashe in a hissing, feline-sounding language that was actually the Holy Tongue, spoken only by intimates of Alamantimichar and the Imperial family.

  “Get her out!” Tresar hissed. “Now!”

  Mekashe turned to Jasmine, but she was frozen in position, all her nightmares coming to life before her as she stared at the alien.

  “Monster!” she cried, sobbing in fear. “Horrible, repulsive creature! Someone should put it in a cage, and not let it out around civilized beings! Someone should kill it! It’s disgusting!”

  “Jasmine, say no more,” Mekashe said in a curt, strained tone, as he watched the emotions play in Tresar’s eyes.

  “How can they let something that inhuman aboard a cruise ship?” she exclaimed. “It should be thrown out, spaced, killed!” She screamed as the creature moved toward her.

  “No!” she cried, hysterical now, out of control. “Keep it away from me! Mekashe, do something! Don’t let that...that creature come near me! Oh please, call the ship police, have it put in a cell...!”

  “Get...her...out!” Tresar hissed and began to crouch in what was, even to an unknowing onlooker, a prelude to attack.

  Mekashe caught her arm and literally dragged her out of the gym. She was still screaming. He glanced back at his cousin with anguish in his face. She had insulted Alamantimichar. Called it inhuman. Said it should be caged, spaced, killed. It was an insult that no Cehn-Tahr could permit, and it carried the death penalty.

  She had no idea what she’d just done, and she was still screaming at the top of her lungs.

  “Jasmine!” he said sharply, and actually shook her. “Stop! Now!”

  She’d never heard a threat in his voice before. It hurt her. She was terrified. Why hadn’t he done something? Why wasn’t he comforting her?

  She couldn’t control the fear. She was shaking all over, still sobbing hysterically. “I saw that...that thing, in a nightmare.” She sobbed. “It was so horrible! I’ve never seen anything like that...that monster! Why do they let it run loose on the ship?”

  He used his ring communicator to call the infirmary and asked for an intern to come up and treat her. The response was immediate.

  By the time he got her back to her father’s suite, she was still hysterical, but the intern was waiting. He’d apparently alerted the ambassador, who was waiting, too.

  Jasmine threw herself into her father’s arms, wailing. Beside her, the intern shot something into the vein in the crook of her arm from a laserdot.

  “What in the world happened?” Ambassador Dupont exclaimed.

  “There’s a monster down that corridor!” She sobbed. “A horrible creature with claws and fangs and a mane...!”

  Horrified, the ambassador looked over her head at Mekashe and grimaced. He knew, without a word being said, exactly what she’d seen. He knew, also, that Mekashe wasn’t the only Cehn-Tahr on board; that two members of the Royal Clan were said to be traveling on the same vessel with a small military contingent. Was it those that Jasmine insulted? If so, the ambassador was going to face serious charges, maybe even fatal ones, because of the insult his daughter had given them.

  “What did you say to him?” Ambassador Dupont asked in a strangled tone.

  “I didn’t...say anything...” she managed. “Well, not anything much. I mostly just screamed.”

  He looked up at Mekashe, his expression questioning.

  “She said that it was a repulsive monster and should be caged or killed,” Mekashe said in a haunted tone. His face was rigid with distaste, his eyes almost black in anger. And the ambassador knew at once what was going to happen.

  “I am most deeply sorry,” he told the ambassador. “I think you can anticipate the outcome,” he added heavily.

  “Sadly, yes” was the reply. He drew in a breath as Jasmine began to slump. “Let me get her inside.”

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured drowsily. “Sorry, Mekashe. I’m sorry I spoiled our day. I always do that. I’m so...sorry...”

  The ambassador got her into her stateroom and put her on the bed. The intern, female, hovered.

  “Can you help her undress and get into bed?” he asked softly.

  The intern smiled. “Of course, Ambassador.”

  He thanked her, closed the door and went out where Mekashe was still standing, stunned and devastated by what had happened.

  “Tresar is a great-nephew of the emperor,” Mekashe said quietly. He didn’t dare mention that he, himself, was also a great-nephew and that he belonged to Alamantimichar, as well. “Such an insult, even if it had not been overheard, and it was, carries a terrible penalty. I will do what I can to avoid the most extreme penalty. But the emperor will not respond well, and I think you may not remain on Memcache long.”

  “I am most deeply sorry. She’s very young,” he added in a subdued tone. “I’ve failed as a parent. I should never have brought her on this trip. I should have left her at home and come alone. I’ve been afraid since we departed Terravega that she’d react badly among alien people. This is...horrible. Just horrible. I’m so sorry, Mekashe.”

  “So am I, Ambassador,” he said heavily. “I will do what I can,” he promised. His eyes went to the closed door. It seemed profound. The way to Jasmine was closed forever. Her outburst had cost him a future with her. The emperor would be outraged. Also, Mekashe saw now what would have been her reaction to him, if he’d shifted into his true form in front of her. Dreams died, blown away into the cold darkness around them.

  “I’m sorry for you, as well,” Ambassador Dupont added gently. “I know how much she means to you.”

  Mekashe could barely manage a reply. “I cannot see her again.”

  “What should I tell her?”

  “Nothing,” Mekashe replied in a dead tone. “It is taboo to explain what she saw. And I am now forbidden by custom to speak to her again.” He drew in a harsh breath. “Your reception may be quite unpleasant. You must prepare yourself for th
at. It is a tragedy, in many respects.”

  “I know what to expect. I’m still grateful that I got to know you,” he added softly, and smiled. “It was a privilege.”

  Mekashe was touched. But he had to leave. “I enjoyed the chess matches,” he replied. “And the company.” He glanced toward the closed door. “Farewell.”

  “Farewell.”

  * * *

  HE WENT BACK to Tresar’s cabin. His cousin was waiting for him.

  “I am deeply sorry for you,” Tresar said apologetically. He drew the other alien into his arms and held him, rocked him, while the grief passed over him. “I should not have been careless enough to leave the door open. I did not expect company.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Mekashe said after a minute. He drew back and forced a smile. “Such an insult can never be forgiven. The fault was mine, for bringing her with me. I told her to wait outside, but she is young and impulsive and refused to listen.”

  “We come from a culture with rigid rules,” Tresar said. “Sometimes they are cumbersome. I will at least plead with the emperor for the lightest penalty. He will grant that. He is very fond of you.”

  “And I of him. And you,” Mekashe replied with a faint, sad smile. “The ambassador already knows what to expect. I did not tell him,” he added, “but he was briefed by his superiors about our true form, and our laws.”

  “At least, it will not be such a shock for him. But your female companion will not understand. And he will not be permitted to explain it to her.”

  “I know.” The two words were uttered with visible pain. He moved away. “I must speak with the emperor.”

  “Castarus has already spoken to him,” Tresar said, mentioning one of his unit that had accompanied him on the journey. “He was outraged.”

  “So he should be,” Mekashe replied heavily. “Such an insult cannot be overlooked. Not even by me. Especially not by me.”

  “I grieve for you,” Tresar said gently. “I, too, lost my mate. I know the pain.”

  “I avoided gift-giving. There will be no repercussions because of an induced mating cycle.”