“The ship has more resources…”
“You don’t understand.” He looked anguished. “She has catastrophic damage to her internal organs. I don’t know how she’s managed to stay alive this long. Nothing in my medical background prepares me to mend this sort of thing,” he added miserably. “Her liver, and her kidneys, are fragmented…” His voice broke.
Dtimun stared at him uncomprehending. The drug made his thought processes slower. Then, all at once, he realized what Hahnson was saying. Madeline was going to die. Hahnson couldn’t repair the damage. She was going to die…!”
“She is not!” came a firm, authoritative voice from behind him.
The old one, trying to restrain the kehmatemer, strode into the cave and paused next to Madeline. “I will deal with the warwoman,” he said. He grimaced. “Hahnson, your skills are needed outside. Three of the human Holconcom attempted to stop my men from entering the cave. There are a few assorted fractures,” he added with a grimace.
“Yes, sir,” Hahnson said. He hesitated. “Can you…?” He couldn’t put it into words.
The old one knew more about Hahnson than he realized. He put a comforting hand on Hahnson’s shoulder. “Yes, I can heal her,” he said gently. “She will not die. Go to work.”
Hahnson grinned from ear to ear. “Yes, sir!”
He left, plowing through a squad of kehmatemer who were just barely kept at bay by an impatient gesture from their leader. Outside, Edris Mallory had approached one of the injured Cehn-Tahr and was stopped abruptly by Captain Rhemun.
“Attend to the humans,” he said bitingly. “We take care of our own.”
“As you well know, Captain, we don’t carry medics of your race,” Edris shot back, her blond hair wisping around her soft oval face. “I’m a Cularian medical specialist, just like Dr. Ruszel. And if you don’t let me treat these patients,” she added bitingly, “I will refer you to the commander of the Holconcom!”
Rheumun’s dark eyebrows levered up under his helmet. He glowered at her, but he did step aside. “Very well,” he said with cold courtesy.
Hahnson appeared beside her, moving toward the human casualties among the Holconcom. “Way to go, Mallory,” he said under his breath, with tacit approval. “That’s how we do things in medical service.”
She was still flushed with anger from the encounter, but she tossed him a grin as she bent over the first casualty and, following protocol to the letter, formally asked permission to treat him.
The old one sat down beside Madeline and took her face in his hands. Dtimun couldn’t repress a low warning growl, despite the tranquillizer. The older alien looked at the younger one. “You might as well subside,” he told him with an amused smile. “I have no fear of you, and I am too old to be a rival.”
Dtimun cleared his throat and straightened. “Reflex.”
“Understandable,” the old one said. He turned his attention back to Ruszel. “Ruszel,” he called softly. “You must awaken now.”
She opened her soft green eyes and looked at him with awe. “Sir,” she said, grimacing, because the pain had returned full force. “You came…with them?”
“You are valued by all of us who are Cehn-Tahr,” he said solemnly. “Not just by the Holconcom. Ruszel, you have shattered organs. Hahnson cannot mend you. I can. But it will require an intimate contact between our minds. You will not be able to hide anything from me.”
Madeline thought at once of that one, almost fantasy-perfect day on Memcache and she knew she couldn’t allow the contact; not even to save her life. She could condemn her commanding officer to death if this high-ranking member of the Dectat had access to her thoughts and knew how close the two of them had been that day. Not to mention, if he was able to read her memory of the encounter with Dtimun on Lagana, which was far more intimate.
“I cannot allow it, sir,” she said in a rough whisper. “You must…let me go.”
Incredibly, the old one’s eyes misted. He made a rough sound in his throat as he lifted his gaze to Dtimun, standing tortured a few steps away.
“Let him mend you,” Dtimun said sternly. “It will not matter.”
“It will,” she whispered. Her eyes, her tormented eyes, met his and went liquid with feelings she couldn’t hide, even now. “I am expendable.”
“No!” Dtimun raged, the word dragged out of him in anguish.
“Comcaashe,” the old one told him, gently. “I know a great deal more than either of you realize. And your commander is right, Ruszel, it does not matter. You must permit me to mend you. Otherwise,” he added with a faint smile, “the kehmatemer will murder both your commander and me for letting you expire.”
“Not true,” she whispered, but she was beginning to realize that her old fellow was not the enemy.
“Hahnson even now is mending three humans who tried to stop my men from entering the cave where you were,” came the droll reply. “There were many fractures, and you can see the outcome.” He gestured where his men were standing frozen, worried, just inside the cave.
“Nice,” she managed, “to have friends. Oh!” The pain convulsed her. She could feel her organs starting to shut down.
“You must remain conscious. You must concentrate as I tell you to.” The old fellow took her face in his hands again and looked straight into her eyes. “You must instruct your body to mend itself. I will show you how.”
It was the most intriguing few minutes of her medical career. She felt the power of the Cehn-Tahr’s mind with wonder. This wasn’t any ability boosted by microcyborgs. This was pure, raw, power, beyond explanation. She could actually feel the cells of her body reforming in response to his mental commands. It was centuries beyond anything she’d been taught, far beyond the highest medtech interventions known to common science. She felt the old fellow’s mind and could not hide her thoughts from him. Nor could he hide his, from her.
She saw great battles. She saw him as a young man, proud and tall and muscular, leading armies. Leading the Holconcom!
“Be still, Ruszel, you are not supposed to see that,” he thought to her.
“You were very impressive,” she replied silently.
He laughed in her mind. “Yes. She who bonded with me also thought this.”
Madeline could see her—a proud, tall, elegant young woman with black hair to her waist and pale blue eyes that suddenly sparked with green laughter as the proud warrior presented her with a single shaft of canolithe nestled in an elegant pot. Strange, how familiar that woman looked…
The old fellow’s sadness erased the image. “I was arrogant and made bad choices in my life. I lost her, and many of my children. We have been apart for longer than you have lived, but my heart is still owned by her.”
“I am sorry for you,” she thought back. “I…understand.”
“Yes,” he replied silently. “You understand all too well, do you not? You could have refused the reassignment, Ruszel. Even Taylor would have been forced to pursue his command through channels.”
She conceded the point.
“You could not control your feelings, nor could Dtimun contain his own. So you found a more reckless way to protect Dtimun from contact with you.”
She wondered at the pronunciation, because it sounded far different than the way she’d always heard her commander’s name used.
The old one ignored the stray thought. “You think that he will die if you live.”
“Sir, you must not save me, at the expense of his life,” she began miserably.
“That will not happen,” he replied firmly. “I will not permit either of you to die.”
She drew in a long breath. It didn’t hurt.
“You see?” he told her. “Your own mind can control your physical integrity.”
“This is centuries advanced from anything I know,” she confessed.
“It exists alongside telepathy. You know already that your commander has the gift.”
She wasn’t going to speculate why he had it. Perhaps the rumo
rs that only the royal clan was so gifted was a myth, like so many others.
“Why couldn’t he do what you just did?” she wondered.
“Because his attachment to you is too deep,” he said simply.
She laughed aloud, a scoffing sort of sound. “He feels nothing for me save anger at his own attraction to me and contempt,” she thought to him, “that I have so little control over my own emotions.”
He pursed his lips. “You have no idea what methods he used to come to your rescue. It will open your eyes, I think.” He thought it with a smile as he got to his feet. “You still have injuries, but Hahnson can deal with those. I must rest. At my age, even such mental exertion has consequences.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said with gratitude evident in her face.
He studied her silently. “Saving life is an obligation, not a kindness,” he said quietly.
She recalled those words spoken almost identically by her C.O. aboard the Morcai almost three years ago, when he saved a young alien clone from death.
Dtimun moved forward, almost as if he wanted to interrupt her revealing thoughts. “We must get her aboard ship, where there are more resources for Hahnson to use,” he said.
“My thoughts exactly,” Hahnson said, rejoining them. “Don’t worry, sir, they didn’t kill anybody,” he added, with a rueful glance at the kehmatemer. “What a formidable bunch! I’d hate to see even the Cehn-Tahr members of our unit try them.”
“So would I,” the old one chuckled. “I will see you later, warwoman.” He left, motioning the reluctant members of his unit out with him, reassuring them all the way.
Hahnson read his medcom to her. “Now, you only have four broken ribs, a broken leg, a pierced lung and concussion, not to mention numerous contusions and lacerations.” He shrugged. “A few hours’ work and you’ll be dancing in the corridor. Well, limping in the corridor. You’ll need a couple of weeks of R&R before you return to duty.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Strick.”
He glanced at Dtimun. “She can’t walk.”
“Strick can carry me,” she said.
“Strick isn’t in a rush to die again,” the doctor corrected with a meaningful glance at Dtimun, whose eyes were threatening violence, despite the sedative.
Madeline was drowsy. She frowned at the byplay, not understanding.
“If you’ll carry her inside, I’ll treat her,” Hahnson invited.
Dtimun hesitated just for an instant.
“The tranquillizer will keep you from going over the edge,” Hahnson told him solemnly. “It’s safe.”
Dtimun nodded. He bent, slid his arms gently under Madeline and lifted her, standing up in a graceful, fluid motion as if she weighed nothing at all.
“You can’t…they’ll court-martial you, they’ll space you if they see this!” she protested, struggling.
“Everyone here is Holconcom,” Dtimun told her. “Your surviving comrades are unconscious. It does not matter.”
“But…!”
“Cease and desist,” Dtimun said curtly, turning toward the cave entrance. He folded her even closer, feeling her warm body relax. “Even the strictest protocols make allowances for extreme circumstances.” He strode out into the clearing. Komak and Stern gaped at him. The largest of the Nagaashe moved close.
“We know who you are,” it thought to Dtimun. “We will keep your secret. We know of the Nagaashe whom you protect on your estates on Memcache, and the child the red-haired female saved. We are in your debt. Our numbers are decimated.”
“I understand,” he thought back.
“You have risked much to rescue this one. The female is important to you,” the serpent added. “Not as a comrade. And she did not come here voluntarily on a military ship.”
Dtimun scowled. “No. She was sent here deliberately to provoke a response. We know who, and why.”
The serpent’s blue eyes closed and opened. “We will not retaliate. But this must not be allowed to happen again.” He cocked his great head and his hood vibrated. “You know what we can do. We have no ships, no weapons. But thought can kill. Can destroy. You know this better than any of your crew.”
“I do,” he replied grimly. “We will not allow another incursion into your planetary system by any Tri-Fleet personnel.”
The serpent nodded. “We are sorry for the destruction of the other females. It was not intentional. Their ship was fragile.”
“I understand.”
“We have told your…old one…that your Dectat may send an ambassador to us, and we will make a treaty with you,” the serpent said. “And then we may negotiate for inclusion in your Tri-Galaxy Council.”
“The Dectat will be gratified,” he thought in reply. The liaison had long been hoped for by the Cehn-Tahr, because the Nagaashe had resources on their planet that no other system offered, especially vast Helium 3 deposits. “And the president of the Council will be gratified as well. I will inform them.”
The serpent bowed. So did Dtimun.
The serpent went back to the translator and began to hiss again.
“A whole conversation took place that we missed, right?” Stern whispered to Dtimun.
The alien smiled. “Yes. Pay attention to the negotiations. I may require you to learn Nagaashe.”
Stern groaned.
Dtimun carried Ruszel into the ship and down the long corridor to Hahnson’s medical unit.
She curled close, drowsy and content, her arm going naturally around his neck. “I was so happy to see you. All of you,” she corrected at once, flushing.
“As were we, to see you. We thought you dead.”
There was a note in his deep voice, heavily accented all of a sudden.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, frowning.
“I could not access your mind,” he said, without looking at her.
“I could have been dead. But you still came?”
He looked down at her with an odd, golden shade in his cat eyes. “I knew you were not dead.”
“How?”
“The old one knew. Because Komak was still here,” he answered enigmatically. He lifted his eyes back to the corridor and kept walking.
He put her down on an examination table. Komak joined them, his face oddly flushed. “Incredible,” he said, staring down at her. “I never believed it possible to land on the Nagaashe planet at all. The treaty is history, but I thought the rest, including this rescue, was only an inflating of the legend. And the identity of those who came with the commander to rescue you…!”
“Excuse me?” Madeline said blankly.
Dtimun glared at the younger alien. But Komak’s attention was only on Madeline.
“The identity of your rescuers was also supposed to be part of the legend…!”
“Shut up, Komak,” Dtimun said sharply.
“Yes,” came a deep voice from the doorway. “Shut up, Komak.”
The younger alien tried to bow and salute at the same time as the Old Fellow marched into the room. Dtimun kicked his boot. Hard.
“You have duties,” Dtimun told him.
Komak saluted. “Yes, sir.” He grinned, at Dtimun and then the old fellow on his way out. He paused at the door and actually laughed as he went on his way.
“Ruszel,” the old fellow greeted her with a smile.
“Sir!” She tried to salute and grimaced. “Sorry, sir, I can’t lift my arm.”
“There is no need for protocol between us,” he replied.
There was a commotion in the hall. The old fellow muttered. “My men will not rest until they see for themselves that you are alive. We shall have to let them in,” he said curtly, “or there will be bloodshed. Again.” He glanced at Dtimun. “Even your best Holconcom would be hard-pressed to overcome my bodyguard.”
“Indeed,” Dtimun said with a sigh. He nodded to the Holconcom guard, who stepped back with what looked like relief.
The kehmatemer filed in quickly, in formation, their royal blue uniforms bright in the cu
bicle’s stark lights. They gathered around the examination table, all talking at once. Their captain, Rhemun, silenced them.
“Ruszel, we are happy that you survived,” he spoke for them. “We were prepared to give our own blood to recover you! We swore a blood oath!”
She laughed and winced. It hurt. “Thanks, Captain. Hi, guys! I’m so glad to see you. I thought my girls and I would die here.”
“Never while there was a breath in my body,” Dtimun thought grimly. Madeline and the old fellow both stared at him, Madeline with surprise.
“I don’t have the words,” she said, almost choking on emotion.
The Cehn-Tahr, as a unit, smiled at her with green eyes.
“Come. She needs rest,” the old fellow told his unit. “We will speak again, Ruszel. But in the interests of interplanetary relations, you must forget that you have seen us aboard the Morcai.”
“Seen whom, sir?” she asked with a grin. “It was only the Holconcom here.”
He chuckled. The kehmatemer tried to bow to Dtimun but he growled at them. They rushed out after the old one.
Madeline eyed him strangely.
He straightened. “I outrank them,” he said abruptly.
“Oh. Okay.” She glanced at Hahnson, who was placing a healer on her bare stomach and activating it. “How are my girls?” she asked.
“They’re still unconscious.” The way he said it was odd.
She frowned. “And…?”
He shrugged. “It’s better if they don’t know the particulars of this expedition,” he replied. “They aren’t Holconcom, so they don’t owe us silence. I knocked them out and I’ll keep them that way until we get home. We’ll have our story straight by then. They’re going to be fine,” he added.
She was solemn. “I lost my whole unit except for Darmila and Rayson. It’s all Ambassador Taylor’s fault!” She looked up at Dtimun. “Sir, if you’ll loan me a novapen and turn your back for five minutes when we return to Trimerius, I’ll…!”
“Your indignation is understandable,” Dtimun interrupted. “But we need him where he is. As a conduit of intel, he is invaluable. We have access to his private communications with the Rojoks. However, a day of reckoning will come. Soon.”
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