The Pursuit

by Diana Palmer

  “He was at Ahkmau with us,” Jones said quietly. “The Rojoks knew we’d hidden the commander and they wanted him, badly. We wouldn’t give him up. Dr. Hahnson was tortured in front of the whole camp to try and make us tell. He never gave an inch. They cut off his hands...” He swallowed, hard. The memory was difficult. “He died to keep the commander safe.”

  “But he’s here...”

  “The commander cloned him for Dr. Ruszel and Captain Stern,” Jones continued. “They were grieving. Also, it kept them from mutiny when the commander hijacked them from Admiral Lawson, along with the rest of the crew from the SSC ship Bellatrix. Captain Stern commanded it, before it was destroyed by the Rojoks. Dr. Ruszel and Dr. Hahnson served with Stern for ten years before we all ended up over here.”

  That was where she’d heard the name. Hahnson was an inspiration to doctors everywhere. He was almost a legend.

  “Even the rank-and-file Rojoks know about Ahkmau,” she said.

  “They should,” Jones mused. “It was Chacon who helped the Holconcom escape. He didn’t do it on purpose, but it sort of worked out that way. We owe him a lot.”

  “So do I,” she said without elaborating. Her blue eyes narrowed. “Can I ask why it’s being suggested that I stay in my quarters?”

  “We have statues of Cashto everywhere.”

  She frowned. “Of whom?”

  “Cashto. He’s the major Cehn-Tahr deity. They revere him.”

  “What does that have to do with my being confined?”

  “He is, he was, a galot, ma’am. The giant cats of Eridanus Three?” he added when she looked blank.

  “Cat statues,” she remarked offhandedly.

  He went a little rigid. “Holy relics, ma’am,” he corrected.

  She just stared at him for a minute before her attention went back to her patient. “Tellas—he’s your Cularian expert?”

  “Yes, ma’am. He’s been here since before Dr. Mallory and the former commander, Rhemun, were bonded. He was her second in command.”

  She was tempted to ask who the commander was now, but she really didn’t care, and it didn’t matter.

  “Thanks, Jones,” she said.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  He went out and left her to her patient.

  * * *

  TELLAS WAS BACK and forth, caring for two Jebob patients, one of them very young, who’d been wounded in the firefight. He was efficient, very thorough. He had a kind bedside manner.

  Jasmine had a small book reader in her pocket, but it didn’t seem to work. She had to ask Tellas how to connect it to the ship’s systems.

  “That isn’t allowed. Sorry. Regulations,” he said shortly.

  “You mean I can’t use my personal reader to look at my notes while I’m aboard?” she asked, aghast.

  “Regulations,” he repeated. He turned and left the cubicle.

  She muttered under her breath as she took the vitals of her patient and renewed the treatment that was healing his internal injuries. At least she’d been able to find and close the small arterial flow that had been hampering his recovery.

  “Can you at least tell me when a Rojok ship is due to pick us up?” she asked Tellas an hour later when he came back through.

  “That doesn’t fall under my jurisdiction, Doctor,” he replied. “You might ask Jones. He’s command staff.”

  And he was gone again.

  Jasmine walked into the corridor to see if she could catch a glimpse of Jones. She didn’t recognize any of the other crew. There seemed to be as many humans as Cehn-Tahr. One of the humans had jet-black curly hair and black eyes. He paused by the medical bay.

  “You’re the Rojok Cularian expert,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “The commander would like a word with you.”

  Finally, she thought, she’d be able to get some answers. “Lead on,” she said.

  He took off at a fast pace. She was barely able to keep up. She noticed as they went along that she was attracting a lot of attention, and none of it seemed very pleasant.

  “I don’t have a contagious disease,” she muttered, glaring back at a passing crewman.

  “No, ma’am, but you do have a distinctly unpleasant reputation,” he said shortly. “We all know who you are.”

  “Then you also know that my father was fired from his job and sent home to Terravega to die,” she said bitterly. “The emperor was responsible for his death.”

  The crewman, an officer, she realized belatedly, stopped at the door to a cubicle and turned to her. “You insulted one of our own,” he said coldly. “Not only insulted. Humiliated. The Cehn-Tahr are our family.”

  “I complained about all the cat statues,” she said shortly. “That’s all I did! My father was punished for it, instead of me. He was sent home in disgrace.”

  “The penalty was death,” he returned, stunning her. “The emperor made a very rare exception for you and your father, allowing you to leave Memcache without the ultimate penalty. That caused him some problems in the Dectat. Such insults are not tolerated.”

  She didn’t understand. But while she was trying to form a question, her companion touched a panel.

  “The Rojok physician is here, sir.”

  “Send her, Stern,” came the curt reply.

  The officer stood back and nodded toward the door. Then he left. She realized belatedly that her companion had been Captain Holt Stern.

  * * *

  SHE TOUCHED THE panel and the door slid open. She walked through, into what would have been called an office on a Rojok ship. It contained a desk and a huge viewscreen, which the officer was facing. Behind him, on the desk, was a mass of equipment that read star charts and connected him to communications panels all over the vessel.

  He was tall, even for a Cehn-Tahr. He had long, curly hair down to his waist in back. She’d heard that some of the Cehn-Tahr followed Rojok tradition for command rank—denoting high rank by length of hair. This officer’s hair was almost as long as Chacon’s. He was powerfully built. His uniform, bloodred, stretched tight over his muscular frame.

  “I’m Dr. Jasmine Dupont,” she said shortly. “You wanted to see me?”

  He turned. His eyes were dark brown with anger. His face, despite its hard lines and rigid composure, was all too familiar.

  “Mekashe!” she exclaimed, shocked.

  His chin lifted. “Commander Mekashe,” he corrected icily. “Here, tradition rules.”

  She drew herself to attention. “Sir,” she said, drawling the word.

  “Your Rojok unit met heavy resistance as it lifted. Only one ship made it through the insurgent’s blockade, and it took severe damage. It will require one solar week for another to be dispatched to retrieve you and your patient.”

  “A week,” she said irritably.

  “I assure you that your desire to leave this vessel is no less than mine to have you off it,” he snapped back.

  She was surprised by his cold demeanor. This wasn’t the man she remembered from the starliner. He was as rigid as Chacon, a warrior. The last time she’d seen him, he was captain of the Imperial Guard. Obviously, he’d moved up the chain of command.

  “One of my men will inform you as soon as the rendezvous is arranged. That is all.”

  She shifted restlessly. “I would like to know...”

  “Dismissed, madam!”

  She saluted automatically. “Yes, sir.”

  She turned and left, shaking inside. She was shocked to find her former companion heading the most ruthless commando unit in explored space. She was more shocked to realize that he was as hostile as the rest of his crew. Several days in this environment, and she might wish she’d smuggled some of Rusmok’s synthale on board with her.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JASMINE HADN’T EXPECTED to find
her companions as hostile as she’d been to them. She thought her anger was justified. She blamed the Cehn-Tahr for her father’s death, for her sad state afterward. But apparently, they blamed her for something more than just distaste for their religious objects. She had no idea what they thought she’d done. Had someone been spreading malicious gossip about her?

  The obvious person to blame would have been Mekashe, but he’d hardly been a gossiping sort of person when she knew him. The Rojoks had acquaintances among the Cehn-Tahr, so perhaps they’d relayed her contempt for them at some point, and that had caused them to have hard feelings toward her.

  On the other hand, she’d never felt more like an invading disease. She did keep to her quarters, because it was so uncomfortable to even walk out into the corridor. There were glares and murmured conversations that stopped when she was within earshot.

  Dr. Hahnson was particularly cool to her. She didn’t see him often, but he did lab work for Tellas when the Morcai’s Cularian expert was overwhelmed. He brought back some lab results. He and Tellas got along well. They were friendly. But when Hahnson glanced at Jasmine, the smile faded at once.

  “Sir, have you heard when our transport is going to get here?” she asked Hahnson.

  “No, I have not. The commander will notify you when it arrives.”

  “I haven’t killed anyone,” she said haughtily.

  He turned and looked at her. “Your contempt for us is quite well-known,” he said. “Especially your opinion of the Cehn-Tahr. What a shame that you weren’t with us at Ahkmau, when human and Cehn-Tahr marched off together to the ovens to spare our commander’s life. They are a noble, kind people. They’re our family.”

  “I made an unwise comment about cat statues and I insulted a minor alien race,” she said, exasperated. “What does that have to do with anything that happened to my father?”

  He gaped at her. “You think your father’s position was terminated, that the Terravegan government was humiliated, because of that? You think the emperor would be so petty?”

  She was losing ground. She didn’t know how to respond, what to say. She’d spent the past five years holding a grudge over her father’s treatment, supposing it to result from a minor remark she’d made. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  “You really are clueless, Doctor,” he said. He turned and left the cubicle.

  * * *

  SHE WAS CHANGING a smartbandage on her patient when she heard voices in the next cubicle.

  She finished, cleaned her hands and walked to the door. Mekashe was bending over a small boy who’d suffered second-degree burns. On a Jebob child, they were harder to treat, because of the megaradiation and its effect on his complicated genetic structure.

  Mekashe’s voice was soft, deep, quiet. There was a smile in it as he spoke to the little boy, obviously in the child’s own tongue.

  The little boy laughed, his purple eyes radiant. He reached up a hand and touched Mekashe’s face and said something.

  Mekashe laughed and replied.

  “Now go to sleep,” Tellas told the child. He put a laserdot into the boy’s neck with a smile and watched him drop off.

  “Sorry, sir, you’re overstaying your welcome,” Tellas chided.

  Mekashe laughed softly. “As I often do. Uskus is a sweet child. I grieve for him. To lose both parents at such an age is a sorrow.”

  “You lost yours when you were not so much older than Uskus,” Tellas said quietly.

  “Yes, but I had Clan. He has none. I have Jennings searching for any distant relative who might be willing to take him. There are rumors of an uncle...” He turned abruptly and saw Jasmine standing there. “Yes, Doctor?” he asked coldly.

  “I was...” She swallowed. “I wondered if you’d heard anything more about our transport. Sir.”

  “If I had, you would have been informed, madam,” he returned. He turned back to Tellas. “Keep me informed. If he needs any special medicines, I can obtain them through central supply.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  Mekashe left without a backward glance. Jasmine glanced at the sleeping child and turned away. She’d wanted children so desperately. It seemed like a lifetime ago, now. She went back to her patient.

  * * *

  THREE DAYS LATER, the commander sent for her again.

  “Your transport is four solar days’ distance,” he told her. “Barring problems, you will be reunited with your command shortly.”

  “I thank you for your hospitality, sir,” she said icily. “I feel so welcome here.”

  “I think Hahnson would have offered you quarters in the brig, had I permitted it,” he shot back. “His bonded mate was Cehn-Tahr. He has as much reason to resent you as I do.”

  “What are you talking about?” she asked, exasperated. “For heaven’s sake, I was insulting about the cat statues, yes, I admit it. I made a facetious remark about a four-legged race...!”

  “And you think that prompted your father’s problems?” he asked, almost a purr in his tone.

  “Your emperor killed my father!” she snapped. “He killed him, as surely as if he’d...!”

  She broke off and jumped back as Mekashe, his temper mastering him, suddenly shifted into his true form.

  Jasmine gaped at him, horrified. The creature she’d seen in the gym of the starliner, it hadn’t been a creature at all. It had been a Cehn-Tahr! And she’d never known! Her father must have known, but he didn’t tell her!

  Mekashe bared his fangs. He moved toward her stealthily, huge and menacing, his black mane flowing down his back. “We were creatures, you said. Monsters. We should have been caged, kept away from civilized beings. We should have been put down, like the animals we were!”

  She backed up another step. Mekashe had loved her. She’d called his race monsters. She realized all at once just what she’d done to provoke the emperor. Such an insult was more than any head of government could have tolerated.

  “Don’t you want to scream?” he purred icily.

  She couldn’t even manage words. The horror she felt was reflected in her face, but it wasn’t the horror he thought he understood. It wasn’t fear of him that caused it. It was anguish over what she’d done. She’d killed her father. She’d spent years blaming the emperor, blaming the Cehn-Tahr, insulting them at every turn. And it had been her fault, not theirs at all.

  “My father,” she choked out. “He knew!”

  He managed to control his anger and shifted back into the humanoid form she’d first seen when they met. “Yes,” he said coldly. “He knew. But he was bound by secrecy not to reveal it to you. We do not share such things with outworlders.”

  He turned away from her. “The offense was worse because you were overheard by others in the gym, one of them a Rojok. Such an insult could not be ignored.”

  She stared at him with anguish in her face. Only now did she begin to see what an impossibly spoiled brat she’d been, so selfish and thoughtless that she had no feeling at all for other people. And she’d thought her offense was minor. That she’d done nothing wrong.

  She closed her eyes and shivered. She’d destroyed lives.

  An intercom sounded. “Yes?” Mekashe asked harshly.

  There was a spate of Cehn-Tahr, which he answered. He glanced at Jasmine.

  “You have a patient to attend, madam,” he said shortly. “I will contact your transport personally and see if I can expedite your recovery. Dismissed.”

  She swallowed, hard. “Yes, sir.”

  She was too sick even to salute him. She turned and walked back to her cubicle like a sleepwalker. When she got inside, she threw herself onto her bunk and wept as if her heart would break.

  * * *

  HAHNSON BRAVED MEKASHE’S temper two days later.

  “Something to report?” Mekashe asked.

  Hahnson grimaced. “It’s Dr
. Dupont,” he said reluctantly. “She hasn’t been out of her cubicle in two days. She checks on her patient and goes right back inside. She hasn’t eaten or slept or interacted with any of us.”

  Mekashe drew in a breath. “I lost my temper and shifted in front of her,” he said harshly. “I suppose she is still getting over the shock of being aboard a ship full of monsters.”

  His tone was bitter. Hahnson sighed. “I don’t think it’s that. The one time I did get a glimpse of her... Well, I think she’s been crying. A lot.”

  That was news. Mekashe was surprised. The human doctor had been quite vocal about putting blame on everyone except herself for her father’s banishment. It must have come as a surprise to learn what her true offense had been.

  It had caused him no end of anguish to see her reaction to his comrade’s Cehn-Tahr form. He’d had such hopes. But then, they would have come to nothing, in any case. Cehn-Tahr with modified genetics, as his were, could never mate with humans. It was hopeless, as his feelings for her had been hopeless. Whatever those feelings were even now, he didn’t dare entertain them.

  Still, her anguish disturbed him enough to have Hahnson send her to his office.

  * * *

  THE SOFT BUZZ at her cabin door brought her temporarily out of her misery. She dabbed at her red eyes and opened it, keeping her eyes down. “Yes?” she asked in a subdued tone.

  “The commander would like to see you,” Hahnson said. He wasn’t antagonistic, for the first time since she’d boarded the Morcai.

  “Very well,” she said in a tone without inflection.

  She jogged down the corridor in a daze, unaware of the faintly concerned looks she was getting from the humans. Some of them felt guilty for their treatment of her. Gossip ran wild aboard a ship in space, there being little else except routine to occupy the crew. Jasmine’s self-imposed isolation had disturbed them. Apparently, she wasn’t as bad as they’d first thought. Despite her preference for Rojoks.

  She touched a panel on the commander’s door and was allowed inside.

  “You sent for me, sir?” she asked formally and without meeting his eyes. If she had, she’d have seen deep blue concern in them, not the brown anger of recent days.