by Diana Palmer
She could go into the military and they would provide the necessary training, all expenses paid, and she would have a place to live. But she had issues with the Terravegan military authority. There were still rumors about the three-strikes law that turned military personnel into lab rats after three infractions of military law. A pirate named Percy Blount had exposed a black-ops team that was trying to apprehend Dr. Edris Mallory, Rhemun’s mate, when she’d fled the Holconcom after an altercation with Rhemun before they bonded. The publicity had caused a great stir and many people lost jobs in the medical sector. But Jasmine heard gossip that some physicians in the military were still required to grow clones covertly for replacement organs for the high levels of society, even though this was outlawed. She’d also heard that the three-strikes provision was still in effect to gain live human material for experimentation in bioweapons labs. It was distasteful.
On the other hand, she had very few options. One was to get a job, any job, just until she could decide what to do next. She’d tried everything, but so far with no success. She got out the latest virtual ads, resigned to further disappointment, and went through them.
There was actually one prospect, although it was a distant one. A researcher needed someone who could take dictation and use a computer to manage and arrange her notes. It would mean some travel, and the woman was quite specific about the sort of help she wanted. Someone poised, used to social situations, intelligent, quick-witted and used to working odd hours.
That wasn’t quite Jasmine, but she felt she could adapt. And there was nothing else available. So she shot a virtual query to the researcher, who agreed to meet her in the spaceport at Hayes Corner on Terravega the next day.
* * *
JASMINE WAS SITTING in the spaceport, waiting with desperate hope for her potential employer, when she felt eyes on her.
She looked up, and a tall, powerfully built Rojok in a black military uniform was looking down at her. He had very long straight blond hair, dusky skin and slit eyes. With a start, she recognized him from the reception on Memcache. That was Chacon, the president of the Rojok government.
She stood up. “Sir,” she said politely.
He smiled. “Jasmine Dupont?”
“Yes, sir.”
“An odd place to find you,” he remarked.
She drew in a breath. “I’m waiting for a potential employer, a researcher who needs someone to write notes,” she said miserably as she sat back down. “It was the only thing I could find.”
“I had heard that you were interested in a career with the military, studying medicine,” he said after a minute.
“Well, yes,” she said hesitantly, wondering how he’d heard something that she was certain hadn’t been spoken aloud. “But there are some things...” She hesitated to criticize her government. “I’m not sure that our military is where I belong,” she finished with a long sigh.
“Then how would you feel about my military?” he asked.
Her lips fell open. “Your...military?”
“The Cehn-Tahr have a tradition—the Cularian medical specialist aboard their flagship is always a human female.” He chuckled. “I have been amazed at the acceptance of this odd placement, both among the government and the military itself. So it occurred to me that a pilot project would be worth the trouble. I would like to have you trained as a Cularian specialist and assign you to the flagship of our own military authority.”
Her heart lifted. She couldn’t believe her good fortune. “Sir, I would be... It would be an honor... I never dreamed...!” She was babbling. She couldn’t even manage a sentence.
He smiled. “Then you would consider it?”
“Yes! Oh yes!”
“I will arrange this with my adjutant, and have him contact you with the required visas and credentials. We have the finest military academy in the three galaxies on Enmehkmehk, my home planet. I think it will invigorate my command to have a human female in charge of sick bay, as you humans refer to it.”
She was stunned. She just smiled. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much! I’ll study hard. I won’t let you down, ever.”
“I know that already.” He looked up. Another military officer was beckoning to him. “Lieumek, my second in command,” he said, indicating the other Rojok. “He’ll contact you in a day or so.”
“Thank you again. But don’t you need my address...?”
He waved that away. “Lieumek can find anyone.” He chuckled. “I will see you again, Jasmine Dupont.”
He made her a brief bow and walked away, leaving her wide-eyed and shell-shocked.
The crackle of her communicator ring brought her out of her stupor. She touched the crystal and a heavyset woman’s face appeared. “Miss Dupont?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Madge Norton. I deeply regret to tell you that my niece pleaded to come with me on my next expedition, and I no longer have a position to offer you. I’m very sorry.”
“Dr. Norton, no worries,” Jasmine told her. “Actually, I’ve just accepted a position that I never dreamed would be available. So it worked out well for both of us, it seems.”
“Indeed.” The other woman smiled. “I wish you good fortune.”
“The same to you.”
The image faded. Jasmine got to her feet and walked out to the curb to hire transport back to the small apartment she’d wrangled from the meager savings her mother had left her, which hadn’t been entailed for her father’s debts. She still couldn’t believe her good fortune. It was the first happiness she’d felt since she and her late father had departed from Memcache. At least now she had the promise of work, and in a field she knew she was going to love. She couldn’t believe her good luck. It was such a wonderful coincidence that Chacon had come to Terravega and chanced to meet her in the airport. She fixed herself a cup of hot chocolate and sat down to drink it.
* * *
CHACON TOUCHED A control on his desk in the office aboard his flagship. The emperor’s face appeared a minute later.
“She accepted,” he told Tnurat.
The older alien smiled. “I am in your debt,” he said. “I have been racked with guilt over her father’s death. This, at least, will make things easier for her. I can easily afford her expenses...”
“Not necessary, sir,” the Rojok replied. “We have scholarships, and she will certainly qualify. Our military will cover her other expenses and her training. It will be interesting to see how this works out. A human female aboard a Rojok warship.” He chuckled. “I begin to see why you Cehn-Tahr value your warwomen so much. As a species, they are fascinating.”
“I must agree. You will keep me informed of her progress? Her life has been one of ease and wealth. It will be difficult for her to adjust.”
“She will have all the assistance she needs,” Chacon said. “Lyceria and I will make sure of it.”
“How is my daughter?”
Chacon’s eyes twinkled. “Very close to her delivery date. We are both nervous.”
Tnurat chuckled. “We all are, when the first child arrives. You will both cope.” He sighed. “Another grandchild. You give me a greater gift than you know.”
“It is a gift for me, as well,” Chacon replied gently. “I have been alone, apart, for many decades. The joy Lyceria has brought to my life is indescribable. And now a child. It is more than I ever dreamed of. I was not certain about a pregnancy. We are both Cularian species, but different in some ways. However, her physician assures us that there will be no difficulties with the delivery. She has done quite well up to now.”
“Your child will be unique,” Tnurat said. “Just as my other grandchildren are. There has never been a Cehn-Tahr mother of a Rojok child. You will make history. Again.” The older alien chuckled.
“I must confess that I sometimes miss the conflict of years past,” he said. “When Dtimun and I fou
ght great battles first together and then against each other. He was a most worthy opponent across a space battleground.”
“My son would certainly echo that feeling,” Tnurat replied. “I must go and tell Caneese the news. Not to mention Dtimun and Madeline. We are all excited about the addition to our Clan.”
“No more than I am. I will be in touch again as soon as labor begins.”
“I will anticipate that.”
Tnurat broke the connection and sat back in his chair, his face sad and quiet. Jasmine sat heavily on his conscience. Mekashe’s grief was an almost-tangible thing. If Tnurat could make the child’s life even a little easier, it would help him bear the guilt he felt. He was grateful to Chacon for suggesting a solution to Jasmine’s problems after he’d voiced his regrets that she wouldn’t accept help from him. The Rojok soldier had felt a great sympathy for the child whose unruly tongue had brought her family to grief. When his investigation showed that the child was facing a life of poverty, and further queries turned up an interest in medicine and the military, it gave Chacon a solid idea.
Jasmine hadn’t wanted to go into the Terravegan military because she knew too much from her mother about the things that went on in the medical sector. Tnurat had tried to offer a scholarship, but it became quickly apparent that Jasmine hated the Cehn-Tahr and wanted nothing from them. Chacon’s offer had been accepted at once, and happily. It made Tnurat feel just a little better.
He went home to tell his family about Chacon’s good news. The other news, about Jasmine, as well as a covert mission he’d authorized to obtain biological samples from Professor Dupont’s body, was something he didn’t intend to share. There would be time to speak of it later, much later, when the bulk of Mekashe’s grief had eased. And when Tnurat’s conscience healed, just a little more.
CHAPTER TEN
ROJOK CULTURE WAS fascinating to Jasmine. She, who had never been exposed to aliens before her trip to Memcache, was fascinated by the genetically enhanced military. Their appearance, very humanoid, was joined to a rousing sense of humor and a reputation for excellence that made even the Terravegan military envious.
Chacon had headed the armed forces as their field marshal in the time before the wars ended. Now there were regional conflicts and uprisings in the outer colonies, so the military had to be maintained. But there was far less stress than in the old days.
Lieumek took her to a large pavilion in the heart of the Rojok capital city, Corelkek. The name was a tongue twister that tripped her up on its first pronunciation, but Lieumek only laughed.
“It is difficult even for us to pronounce,” he assured her as he led her to the first of many offices where she was granted a dormitory placement, proof of scholarships and her initial military academy assignment where she would live as she studied. “I hesitate to tell you that learning to speak our language will be a priority. At least, you will not be required to speak the ancient tongue,” he added with a chuckle. “That, even I have trouble speaking. It is used in only the most ceremonial occasion. We have few of those.”
“Your culture is fascinating,” she said, looking around at the muted desert colors that permeated even the inside of the building. Many of the structures were built of some crystal that radiated either heat or cold. The systems were actually part of the stone used in construction. Not only that, the population lived in neat, compact houses whose major component seemed to be gardens under domes, like the huge complexes on Terravega.
“The construction is elegant,” she continued. “And the heating and cooling systems...! I’ve never encountered anything like them.”
“Even our rivals, the Cehn-Tahr, have no such quarries on their home planet,” Lieumek said with something like disdain. “They build with stone, which retains heat and cold, but they do not have access to lesarkium. That is the amber-colored stone you see in our architecture.”
She shook her head. “Magnificent,” she said under her breath.
Lieumek beamed.
So did the official who put his virtual stamp on Jasmine’s documents while listening to the pretty little human enthuse about Enmehkmehk. He even smiled, when he looked like a person who never did.
“I hope that you will enjoy your time with us,” the official said, and actually stood.
Jasmine smiled at him warmly. “Thank you very much. I’ve never enjoyed anything so much. I look forward to learning your language.”
The official rolled his eyes. “It is an impossible language,” he said honestly. “But if you study hard, you will master it.” He leaned forward. “After all, I did,” he added with a chuckle.
She grinned at him, thanked him and left with Lieumek, who looked as if he’d tried to swallow a melon whole.
She looked up at him when they were outside in the warm sunshine, her eyebrows raised in a question.
“That was Holmek,” he told her, still stunned. “I have never seen him smile in all the years I’ve dealt with him. And it was widely rumored that he had an innate prejudice for humans.” He laughed. “I must tell Chacon. He will be amused.”
“Chacon is very nice,” she said.
“He is. Unless you are facing him across a battlefield, as his enemies can attest,” he told her with a proud smile. “Come. I will escort you to the training camp.” He saw her worry. “Do not be concerned. The officers have all been briefed, and they are looking forward to the experience. Many of them have an ongoing rivalry with the Cehn-Tahr. Knowledge that we will have a warwoman of our own, on our flagship, has given them a great sense of pride. Also,” he added with a chuckle, “it will unsettle the Cehn-Tahr, something we all enjoy.”
She beamed. She was going to like it here.
* * *
THAT WAS WHAT she thought, right up until she donned the black fatigues that were part and parcel of the military and crawled across a field against live chasat fire. She was dying in the unnatural heat. Rojoks had some reptilian DNA in their complicated physical makeup, and they loved the hot sun. Jasmine, who had spent her life in a climate that was carefully controlled, was aghast at living in a natural environment.
“Give up, human,” one of the other inductees whispered with a grin, his slit eyes glittering with humor. “Admit that we are too tough for you!”
“In your dreams, mister,” she shot back. She ground her teeth together and crawled faster. She wasn’t going to let Chacon down. He’d given her this chance and, if it killed her, she was going to finish the course.
The heat beat down on her like a living thing. The close-fitting uniform was drenched. That was when something unexpected happened. It behaved as a built-in cooling system. Suddenly, instead of facing heatstroke, she was comfortable. Her expression reflected the surprise.
The other recruit noticed. “And you thought we were given these thick uniforms for punishment, didn’t you, human?” he teased.
She shot him a grin, which seemed to shock him. While he was absorbing the nonverbal retort, she put on a burst of speed and beat him to the finish line.
She noticed that his eyebrow ridges were raised as she was given her marks and dismissed. So much for his taunting, she thought.
* * *
CLASSES BEGAN THE next day for her medical training, in the afternoon. It seemed that she would spend mornings at the military range and afternoons in a classroom. Not a bad fit.
The students were placed at long tables, furnished with virtual pads, and the instructor came in and started to lecture.
He noticed Jasmine at the back of the class. His eyebrow ridges rose and he had a whimsical look for a few seconds, but it was quickly erased. He began to lecture in Standard, which all the other recruits understood. But there were a few hidden smiles. The classes were traditionally conducted in the Rojok tongue.
Jasmine, who was fascinated with the subject and listening intently, didn’t know that she was being given a tok
en of respect by the professor. He did seem to find her intense interest flattering.
* * *
SHE ENDURED HER first lab with a pale face and frequent bouts of nausea that, thank goodness, didn’t send her running for the unisex restroom or searching for a bucket to throw up in. Dr. Amalok was somber and imposing. Jasmine was a little unnerved by him. He seemed to find the most vicious forms of life to lecture on and order dissections of.
The creatures she was given to identify in the lab were disgusting. They’d studied these in class, where Dr. Amalok had warmed to his subject and his eyes actually twinkled as he described how they attached themselves to a soldier’s lower leg and destroyed nerve tissue and muscle with a deadly toxin.
To Jasmine, who’d never been exposed to indigenous life on other worlds, they were intimidating. She couldn’t tell the difference between a tentacle and a toe, even with the virtual diagrams, much less find the creature’s stomach, where she was supposed to obtain a tissue sample for cloning. But she learned quickly. She watched one of the other students begin his incision and copied him. He noticed and shot her a grin. She grinned back. The ordeal she’d expected was no ordeal at all.
She didn’t ask why they were gathering samples for cloning. She knew that the Rojok were competent geneticists, and that they frequently cloned diseased persons of high position. They were able to reproduce not only the body, but the mind and memories, as well. They had no issues with clones, as Terravegans had, and there was no prejudice here against them. It was one of many things she liked about their culture.
The attitude of the other students in her lab class was reflected in the rest of her classes, and in every military exercise in which she participated. Instead of prejudice and avoidance, her fellow recruits seemed to accept her as one of their own. As the weeks of training progressed, she became just another soldier trying to survive the complicated schedule. She even excelled on the forced marches, with infrequent attacks by “insurgents” from camouflage along the way. She learned defensive as well as offensive tactics. Often she thought, if only her father could see her now, covered in sand and slimy vines, her hair full of spider nets, her uniform stained and spotted! He wouldn’t recognize this new Jasmine, who didn’t flinch even at the sudden wave of virtual Nagaashe that attacked them in the simulations.