“But what would we do with a child?” she burst out. “I’m a soldier! I’m a combat soldier, captain of an Amazon commando unit!”
He glowered at her. “Will you permit me to finish what I was saying, madam?”
She held out a hand, palm up.
He clasped his hands behind him. He was worried. “We have only two or three weeks to act. It will take Chacon that long to get to Benaski Port. The princess will also be confined to covert methods of travel, and they take longer.” He hesitated. “It is an insane risk. I have no idea why Chacon would undertake it.”
“I do,” she said solemnly. “If he’s going there to meet Princess Lyceria, it would explain why. She might not have been able to tell him why she wanted him to meet her. But he would go, because he loves her,” she said simply.
“Love,” he scoffed. “An insane state of mind which results in idiotic behavior.”
She almost bit her tongue off trying not to reply. She was thinking of Dtimun defying the whole council, withdrawing the Holconcom, lifting with a renegade force of humans under threat of court-martial, just to rescue Madeline.
He glowered at her. “That was a different matter. I cannot control the need to be with you,” he said curtly. “But the behavior is primitive. It has nothing to do with emotion.”
What a harsh thing to say, she thought. Harsh and cold and unfeeling. As she looked back at him, she wondered what a female’s life would be like, bonded to such a being, living year after year in the shadow of his indifference. What he felt was a primal urge to reproduce, nothing more, and she had better remember it.
Something occurred to her. “You said that I could be altered, we could bond and there might be a child…”
“If you and I went to Benaski Port, as a Cehn-Tahr aristocrat, with a pregnant human female as consort, it would put us out of reach of any suspicion. The fact of our bonding would confound anyone who saw us, but it would also put both of us at risk of death by each of our military authorities. We would blend quite well in that den of iniquity. We could find Chacon and prevent his capture, and save the princess as well. Komak reveals little, but he has intimated that this is the future, if you decide to go with me. It will be a risk for both of us. A great one.”
She was dubious about the whole thing, for a number of reasons. “I’m not sure there isn’t a better way to do it. You could take Mallory along and pretend that she’s pregnant. I could go back to my unit once I’m certified fit for duty.”
He seemed to clench from head to toe. “There is another aspect of this behavior,” he said. “A male who is hunting will follow a female, regardless of the distance, until he can coax her into reciprocating his interest.”
“Oh, that’s just great,” she muttered. “I go away to forget you, and you come along for the ride.”
The comment amused him. He laughed out loud. His eyes flared green. “I rarely laughed, until you came aboard my vessel,” he confessed. “Even Komak was hard-pressed to provoke me to it.”
She cocked her head and smiled back. “I’m beginning to wonder if life with you, even for a few standard weeks, wouldn’t be more of a punishment than a blessing,” she said glibly. “Sir,” she added as an afterthought.
He lifted an eyebrow and smiled. “You will not find out by rejoining Admiral Mashita’s crew, madam.”
She had a sudden, unpleasant thought. “Sir, the law is still the law. Your government would put you to death if they discovered what we plan to do. I’m not sure that saving Chacon and the princess would be enough incentive to excuse it to them. My government, especially Ambassador Taylor, would space me in a heartbeat just for being with you in a notorious spaceport like Benaski.”
“I am aware of this,” he said quietly. “But if Chacon dies, the Rojok homeworld will revert to Mangus Lo’s madness. They will begin to build ovens again.”
Madeline shuddered. “A horrible thought.”
“Komak hints at a future even more horrible, with Chacon gone.”
“But he’s still the enemy,” she pointed out.
“He is my friend,” he said simply. “He always has been. I cannot stand by and let Chan Ho kill him, not in such a merciless way. Can you imagine Chacon reduced to serving as a digger in the mines?”
“No,” she replied. “I can’t.”
“Such would surely be his fate.”
She grimaced. “Then I guess I need to consider my options very quickly.”
He nodded. “I will want your answer tomorrow,” he repeated curtly. “You must decide carefully. It will not be reversible. As you have seen, DNA manipulation has side effects.”
“If I decide to take the risk,” she said, “will you tell the Dectat what we’re doing?”
“I would not dare,” he confessed. “The Species Act is still in place. Of all aristocrats on Memcache, I am the last who should be accused publicly of breaking it,” he added enigmatically. “If we are caught in the deception, even to aid the princess, I will be removed from my position as commander of the Holconcom.”
That disturbed her. “It would be a great sacrifice for you, if you had to give up command of the Holconcom.”
He searched her eyes. “It would mean a great change.” He shifted. “I had never thought to become a diplomat, even though my early education was modified to make me into one. I always sought great battles, and command. My years with the Holconcom have been satisfying ones.”
“If I went back to the Amazon Division,” she began slowly.
“Nothing would change,” he said flatly. “The behavior would only mutate until I was a threat to you, wherever you went. I cannot…control it.”
And that was galling; he didn’t even have to say it. He hated his condition. Maybe he blamed her for it.
“I do not,” he said, answering the thought. “It could have been any female.”
“I suppose so.”
His eyes narrowed. “There is something else. Something you seek to hide from me. What?”
It was like telling someone not to think of a Yomuth. Immediately, her greatest fear rushed to the surface of her thoughts, the fear that he would never feel anything for her past the relief of a gnawing hunger.
His brows drew together. “When my bonded companion was killed by your ‘old fellow’ on Dacerius, I made a vow that I would never feel such emotions again. I swore that I would never breed again, never produce a child. This was a source of great anguish in my Clan. At that time, there were two sons left alive. Now, there is only one.” He sighed. “I am the last of my line. It is a grave responsibility. I think that I would like to have a child one day. But this emotion you call love…I no longer possess the ability to feel it.”
Her sadness was almost palpable. She’d mistaken his headlong rush to save her from emotion, when it was involuntary. Long, lonely years faced her, after he was “cured” of his obsession. Would he expect her to rejoin the Holconcom, as if nothing had happened? And what about the child, if there was one and it didn’t kill her to carry it? His people—most of them—did not like humans. He was the last of his line. He would have to have a Cehn-Tahr child to inherit his position. A half and half child would be an actual embarrassment to him. But that wasn’t part of the problem. Chacon’s fate was.
And was there really a choice? “If we can bond, then you can have an end to the madness you feel,” she said quietly. “If we do…produce a child, it could be regressed, absorbed back into the tissues of my body.”
He started to protest, but she held up a hand. “I’m not Cehn-Tahr, so your laws don’t affect me,” she said doggedly, despite his angry expression. “After the child was regressed, Hahnson could do a short-term memory wipe starting at the day we came here to Memcache for the first time. I could go back to my old life with no memories to torture me. You could go back to the Holconcom as its commander.” She looked at him evenly, surprised to find a glimmer of some odd emotion in dark, intense eyes. “Later, you could bond with a Cehn-Tahr woman and have a child t
o inherit your estates. Couldn’t you?”
He seemed to stiffen even more. “Yes.”
She bit her lower lip. “We could do what was necessary to save Chacon, and Princess Lyceria, and then…forget it ever happened.”
He saw possibilities, hopes, going down in flames in his mind. He hadn’t realized, until then, the slow change in his own attitude to her. But she was adamant, and he had no time to argue with her. Perhaps she was right. He would have the fight of his life trying to bond permanently with an outworlder. But they could go back to the old life, once Chacon and the princess were safe. Her memory could be wiped. He could forget. Sad, to erase such a gossamer, fragile memory…
He stiffened. He had to be practical. “Yes,” he said finally. “We could forget.”
Well, she thought, it was easy enough for him, wasn’t it? Her heart was breaking inside her. She glared at him, feeling still the effects of the crash on Akaashe and the sting of his indifference toward her, despite his physical needs. It was a heart-wrenching decision to have to make. She would have a few precious weeks with him, pretending a life she could never have. But her body would be altered forever. And she wouldn’t even get to keep the memory. Still, Chacon would live and many soldiers would live, too, as well as the princess. If they didn’t go…She ground her teeth together. She’d have to sleep on it. Regardless of the nobility of agreeing, it was no decision to make lightly.
“I’ll let you know what I decide tomorrow. But I swear,” she muttered, “if it was possible for a human to eat a Cehn-Tahr, I’d have you on a toasted bun with jelly! Sir,” she added.
His eyes widened. They flashed green before he could control the impulse. He felt rather than saw Komak behind him.
“He would leave a terrible taste in your mouth, Madelineruszel,” Komak told her.
Dtimun turned and stared at the younger man intently. He was recalling Madeline’s comment that she’d thought she saw human DNA in Komak at Ahkmau…
Komak’s mind was a blank slate…a tabula rasa as impenetrable as his expression.
“Are you two having a staring contest?” Madeline asked. “If you are, I’d really appreciate having you take it out of here. I need some sleep. It’s been a very, very long day,” she added with a glare in Dtimun’s direction.
Dtimun glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow. “I will speak with you later.”
“I won’t be here,” she muttered, pulling up the covers. “I’m going to run away with Rognan and found a bird speak colony.”
Komak burst out laughing. “Where is Rognan?” he asked suddenly, because he hadn’t seen the bird all day.
“Gathering sticks, I imagine,” Madeline piped in. “We’ll have to have a nest to live in.”
There was a sudden clomp of big bird feet, one hitting harder than the other as Rognan entered the room. He padded to the bed and dumped a huge, dead rodent on the cover with Madeline. His huge yellow eyes twinkled at her.
“Protein…Ruszel,” Rognan croaked. “Big soldier in helmet said…Ruszel needs protein.” He indicated the rodent. “Very nice. For you.” He stood, waiting for praise.
Madeline looked from the rodent to the two surprised Cehn-Tahr facing her. “At least,” she said sharply, “someone cares about my health and well-being! Thank you, Rognan,” she added. “It looks delicious.”
Rognan flapped his wings in appreciation, upending a flowerpot.
Dtimun looked at Komak. “Perhaps we should remain long enough to watch her eat it.”
Komak’s eyes flashed as green as the commander’s.
Madeline pulled the cover over her head.
The two aliens smiled, recovered the rodent and shooed Rognan out of the room before they left. The door closed behind them.
Madeline removed the covers and stared at the ceiling, her thoughts turbulent and disturbing. At least she had peace and quiet to make this most unenviable of decisions. It was, she decided somberly, going to be a very long night.
THE END
GLOSSARY & CHARACTERS
Ahkmau: The Rojok prison complex to which enemy soldiers are transported. It is located on one of the moons of the Rojok home world, Enmehkmehk, and features some of the most diabolical tortures known to sentient beings. No one who enters its gates ever leaves. It is the pet project of the Rojok emperor, Mangus Lo, a madman who uses terror to control the populace and advance his conquest of new planetal resources for his overpopulated home world.
Altairian: A blue-skinned race noted for its stoicism, allied to the Tri-Galaxy Federation.
Ambutubes: Cylinders in which wounded and dead are placed for transport; operates on zero-point energy and can be floated to a ship through remote control.
AVBD: Audio visual bio detectors, placed in corridors and individual units aboard the Morcai to monitor the interior of the ship against sabotage.
The Bellatrix: One ship of a fleet of SSC ships, this one captained by Holt Stern, a Terravegan national. The ship’s medical chief of staff is Lieutenant. Commander Madeline Ruszel, who specializes in Cularian medicine. Her colleague, Dr. Strick Hahnson, is a specialist in human physiology and pharmacology. Both Ruszel and Hahnson, like Stern, are Terravegans, born on far-flung colonies whose settlers originated hundreds of years ago in the Sol system, on planet Earth. A planetal catastrophe reduced the human population to less than ten thousand souls; but just before it occurred, the colony ships had embarked from the international space station in orbit above Earth and were weeks away by the time the disaster occurred.
Benaski Port: The only neutral port in the vicinity of the Tri-Galaxy Fleet headquarters planet, Trimerius; listed on star charts as a favorite haunt of renegades, outcasts and deserters, with many pleasure domes, bars, gambling emporiums and a small unit of ship outfitters who can make minor repairs on space-going vessels. Notorious for trafficking in Dacerian women and various hallucinogenic substances. No extradition treaties with any outworlders, thus a haven for those fleeing law enforcement.
Berdache: A third sex of Terravegans who prefer their own gender as mates. They may marry at the pleasure of the state. They are also permitted to serve in the military. The term berdache is reportedly rooted in Native American language on ancient Earth.
Breeders: The Terravegan state has evolved into two classes of citizens. One class is assigned to the military, another is assigned to breeding camps. Breeders are males and females considered ineffectual for military service. They are allowed to marry. They are placed on farms, where they are given every comfort and luxury so long as they produce eggs and sperm for artificial breeding. They are not allowed to know their children or have contact with them. They are not permitted to have children in the natural manner, but can cohabit and bond for life. Other than the duty of aiding procreation, they are permitted to work in factories or agricultural communities or in support industries. They may also opt for political service. Another class of citizens allied to breeders is charged with the training and education of the children up until age nine, at which time they are given over to their military units. Children are taught to bear allegiance only to the state, and that military service is the greatest honor available to a Terravegan. They are not clones, but they are discouraged from any fraternization with other children, especially children who will be selected as breeders. Their education begins at birth, with implanted technology and physical conditioning a daily chore.
Centaurian: A misnomer deriving from first contact between humans and people of the Cehn-Tahr system near the Eridani solar system. They were at first believed to be natives of the Centauri system 4.3 light-years from earth. A fleet of colony ships from ancient Earth went off course due to a glitch in the programming that went undiscovered since the crew and complement were in cryosleep. The ships entered an unstable area of space, which “folded” into a system many parsecs from the Sol system. When they woke, it was to the sight of an alien vessel approaching them. The Cehn-Tahr boarded the lead colony ship and the captain assumed that they had r
eached their destination of the Centauri system. By the time the mistake was discovered, humans were used to calling these natives Centaurians and the name stuck. The Centaurians guided them to a planet in a nearby system that had the basic necessities of life—light, heat, water, breathable air—and introduced them to the natives who lived on the planet. They were accepted easily and blended into the existing human colony, all of whom were vegetarians, since there were no animals on the planet. They intermarried with the locals. In time, they colonized other systems, and the race as a whole became known as Terravegan. The Centaurians are humanoid, but their race traces its evolutionary roots to a species of giant cat, the galot, which was found on Memcache, the home planet of the Cehn-Tahr. They are one race only, and their features include golden skin, jet-black hair and elongated cat’s eyes that change color to mirror mood. Their ears, nose, mouth, etcetera are exactly like any human’s, and they do not have either tails or fur. There is a narrow ribbon of fur that lies along the length of the spinal cord, a vestigial racial trait that is not visible, and that is never shown to outworlders.
Cehn-Tahr have two system-wide military units: the regular space navy and the elite Holconcom, which is the commando force, feared by other races. Women do not serve in their military, preferring to use their talents in the political and social arenas. Each Centaurian comes from a specific Clan, which is part of the individual’s social status. The commander of the Holconcom, Dtimun, has never given the name of his Clan. He is the only member of the Holconcom who is not a clone. Among the Cehn-Tahr, clones have the same status as any normally born member of the society.
Chacon: Field Marshal and commander of the Rojok military, and one of the most famous of warriors in his own right. Unlike his emperor, he is an honorable and compassionate being, respected even by his enemies. He will have no part of terrorism and is openly critical of the death camp Ahkmau. He believes in the war, because the Rojoks are so overpopulated that they have no more room in their dynasty to search for natural resources. Tri-Galaxy politics made it impossible for them to petition for the right to colonize in the New Territory, so war was the only recourse. But he hates Mangus Lo’s policies and refuses to send prisoners to the death camps. He is so popular with the Rojok population that the Rojok tyrant is afraid to openly oppose or criticize him.
TheMorcaiBattalion:TheRecruit Page 24