by Diana Palmer
Madeline laughed. “Armed with Greshams, we’re not all that fragile.”
Caneese wasn’t thinking of conflicts. But this was not the time to instill even more fear. She forced a smile. “There will be a way. There must be. I cannot see it, but I know the prophecy is not a false one.”
“The prophecy...is there more to it than you told me?” Madeline asked.
The alien woman looked troubled. “Yes. You must not ask,” she added very softly. “I have already said too much. You must keep as much distance from your commander as possible, once you leave Memcache. At least,” she amended, frowning, “until I can do some covert research on the problem.”
“Research.” Madeline nodded, but she looked totally stunned.
The old woman smiled at her. “We will find a way. We must.” She smiled. “Now, sip your tea and tell me what you think of Memcache.”
* * *
DTIMUN RETURNED MINUTES later. When the tea was finished and the commander stood, Madeline followed suit. “Thank you,” she told the other woman. “I really enjoyed meeting you.”
“I have also enjoyed it,” Caneese said softly. “We will meet again. Soon.” She paused at the door. “Madeline, if you would not mind waiting for your commander outside in the compound, there is something I must say to him. Something private.”
“Of course,” she said at once, returning the smile. “I’ll be outside, sir.”
He nodded.
She walked out the door and closed it gently behind her.
Inside the room, Caneese was more solemn than Dtimun had ever seen her.
“The prophecy cannot concern her,” he said curtly. “You and I both know that what you envision is impossible.”
“Yes, but my visions never lie,” she replied. “You know that.”
His face hardened. “What you envision would kill her. That is certain. I rescued her from a fall of almost one hundred and fifty terrestrial feet. In the process, as careful as I was, I punctured her lungs. The wounds would have been fatal, had Hahnson not been handy with his medical kit.”
She searched his eyes with concern. “You have touched her.”
His face closed up. “It was unavoidable. I could not let her die.”
“Of course not. But it began long before that, did it not?” she questioned very softly. “I saw in her mind that you reacted violently when a human ambassador touched her, at the Altair reception.”
He averted his eyes. That was true.
She probed gently and then frowned. “The gown. You gave her a gown to wear to the Altair embassy.”
He scowled. “Yes, but she returned it when we arrived back at our embassy....”
She held up a hand. “It was a gift. You gave it, she accepted it.”
He groaned. In his culture, the giving and receipt of a gift was a prelude to courtship. He hadn’t considered the gown in that light. “It was a mistake,” he added quietly. But his mind went back to the image of Madeline wearing the gown, her beauty that had stunned him.
Caneese saw that. She smiled indulgently. “Yes. She is quite beautiful. But as fragile as canolithe,” she added gently. “It is now only a question of time. You know that.”
“I will manage it,” he said flatly. “I must find a way to distance myself from her.”
“You do not wish to,” she perceived gently.
His eyes were bitter. “Where hope does not exist, practicality must.”
“If the prophecy is true, and I think this likely, then a solution must exist which we have not found.”
“If there was one, it would have been discovered in four hundred years,” he said curtly.
“You are forgetting Komak,” she said, peering into his mind. “Ruszel’s ‘old fellow’ thinks he comes from the future. If that is so, then he may hold the key to the solution.”
He had forgotten the conversation. His heart lifted, but quickly fell. “Who knows how far in the future that solution might be?” he said flatly. “Humans do not share our life span. In fact, they have no idea what it really is.”
Her old face quieted as she acknowledged the truth of his comment. “Yes. I know. I am sorry.”
“So am I,” he said stiffly.
“But I will not relinquish hope. In the meantime,” she added firmly, “you must distance yourself from her, for your own good as well as hers. At least for a time, distance may spare her.” She touched his face with a lean, soft hand. “Having said that, I thank you for bringing her to me. She is not what I expected. She is far more.”
“So her ‘old fellow’ said, in the capital city,” he replied, with a smile in his eyes. “She captivated him as well.”
She eyed him warily. “Is he...as uncompromising as ever?” she asked, averting her gaze as her hand fell back to her side.
“He is not,” he said. “In fact,” he added quietly, “he has already begun to change. Ruszel has changed him.”
She exchanged a long glance with him. “She is the catalyst,” she said. She nodded. “That, too, is the prophecy. I know it.”
“Perhaps it is only a partial prophecy,” he said heavily.
She shook her head emphatically. “No. She carries the future inside her.”
He started to speak.
“Something will happen,” she said. “Something that will provide a solution.”
He only sighed. “I long ago lost hope.”
She smiled. “So did I. But now, I think, we may find it again. Go to her. But be cautious,” she added worriedly. “You know what could happen. You must take precautions.”
“Yes. They will not be pleasant ones,” he added quietly.
She didn’t add to his worry by telling him what she’d said to Madeline. She concealed it behind barriers in her mind. The human was going to be in great danger in the very near future, and not just from Dtimun. There was a tragedy in the making. She only hoped the outcome would be something short of death. Perhaps the details would come clear in time to warn Ruszel.
* * *
AS MADELINE REACHED the outer gate of the compound, the sky suddenly opened up and it began to rain on the green fields.
She had been in swampy places during her military career, but too occupied to enjoy weather. Most of her work was in pressure domes with controlled climates. But this incredible green forest with its wind chimes and flowers and real grass fascinated her. Astonished, because she had rarely felt natural rain in her adult life—having been raised in a military compound on the ecologically modified Trimerius—she was spellbound at the soft, silky feel of it on her upturned face. She laughed with pure delight and whirled around and around in its misty embrace, her eyes uplifted and closed as she savored the unexpected gift of nature.
Dtimun had said his goodbyes to Caneese and was out looking for Madeline when he spotted her, dancing in the rain. He stopped and stood very still, his eyes soft and embracing, and shocked, as he watched. The female physician did engage in brawls from time to time, but he’d never known her to act with such uninhibited pleasure. She was more beautiful at that moment than he’d ever seen her. He felt a jolt of pleasure far too intense for the reality of the situation, and forcibly clamped down on it.
“Ruszel,” he called shortly. “We must go.”
She stopped dancing and turned, her eyes quiet and curious. He sounded as if she’d offended him. She flushed self-consciously as he turned and led the way through a part of the compound toward the parked skimmer.
Women in flowing garments and men in robes glanced toward the visitors, all smiling. Madeline felt odd. There was something familiar about this place, but she was certain she’d never seen it before.
Dtimun opened the doors of the skimmer and seconds later, they shot up to treetop level. But instead of heading back to the spaceport, he sped across
a small group of mountains to a deep valley. They flew over a silvery waterfall, and a field of deep blue flowers. In the distance was a compound that reminded Madeline of archived vids of castles on ancient Earth. It was a huge square constructed of oversized dressed gray stones, and in its center was a castle with square towers. There were skimmers in a large isolated area, and flowers and shrubs and trees covered every available free space. The grass, if it was grass, was neatly trimmed. A stone pond of mammoth proportions stood to one side of the main entrance.
He put the skimmer down at the front entrance and cut the engine. A man in long white robes came out of the castle, bowed to Dtimun and smiled at Madeline.
Dtimun spoke to him in warm tones. He bowed and went to move the skimmer into the parking lot.
“It looks like a fortress,” Madeline said, awed by the size and strength of the stone blocks.
“It is,” he replied, leading the way inside. “In ancient times, it was a refuge for the colonists who claimed this planet. More recently, a warrior of some notoriety settled here with his family.”
“I’ll bet he never lost a battle,” she mused, looking around curiously.
“He lost one, at least,” he said enigmatically.
A tall, silver-haired woman came forward, her deep blue robes trailing gracefully behind her. She greeted Dtimun with a smile and a bow, her elongated eyes going curiously to Madeline.
He said something to her in his own language. She nodded, smiled again and withdrew.
Madeline was fascinated by the statues and paintings and wall hangings and carpets. She’d never seen anything like them. Her attention was drawn to a huge image of a hunting galot over the great stone fireplace in the hall. There were different colors and patterns in the coats of the great cats. This one was jet-black with emerald eyes and fierce white fangs.
“The galot is threatened, even here, where it is protected,” he said quietly. “That one—” he indicated the painting “—spends time here, occasionally, on my estates.”
“Sir, that looks like the one who ran from the Meg-Ravens,” she remarked slowly.
He only chuckled.
“They’re beautiful creatures. And lethal to visitors on Eridanus Three,” she commented.
“Yes. They have a deep-seated fear of Meg-Ravens,” he added in a faintly humorous tone.
She glanced up at him and grimaced. “I couldn’t let the galot kill the little serpent,” she defended herself. “They’re so gentle...”
“Having now faced adults of the Nagaashe, you might reconsider your opinion,” he chuckled. “However, you seem to have made friends of two alien species today, the Nagaashe as well as the Meg-Ravens.”
She grinned. “Meg-Ravens are fascinating.”
His eyebrows arched. “Have you ever seen one face-to-face?”
“Not really. Only from a distance.”
He led the way into a spacious room with a giant perch overlooking a force-field endowed patio. There, on the perch, was a black Meg-Raven, pecking its way through a fruit of some sort. It lifted its noble head to look curiously at Madeline.
“Oh!” she exclaimed softly. “It’s beautiful!”
“He,” Dtimun corrected. “His name is Rognan.”
“Rognan.” She stared at the bird, fascinated. It was huge. If it had been on the floor, it would have come up to her shoulders. It had bright, intelligent yellow eyes and a threatening large beak. Its plumage was blue-black, like the commander’s hair. It had claws the size of Madeline’s fingers. One of its legs was bent and twisted, as if from a very old injury.
Dtimun saw her looking at the leg. “He was injured many years ago, saving the life of a Cehn-Tahr military leader,” he told her, “and no female of his species would mate with him. He was brought here, where he would be safe, and given refuge. Were he returned to his flock, they would either drive him out or kill him. It is the way of things in nature,” he added quietly, when she looked stricken.
The Meg-Raven cocked its blue-black head and stared at her with its large, bright yellow eyes. It made a soft, purring sound, adding a few clicks.
She laughed delightedly. Her face grew radiant. The alien beside her couldn’t drag his eyes away from her beauty.
“Can you communicate with him in his own tongue?” Dtimun asked.
“I’m not sure, but I’d love to try.”
He motioned her ahead of him.
She realized that the bird was much larger at close quarters. It stood on a perch, but not in a cage, and the patio was open to the sky. She studied it, spellbound.
It seemed equally fascinated with her. It made a soft purring sound again, with a series of clicks while its eyes fastened on hers.
She imitated the purring and added a series of clicks of her own, hoping she hadn’t forgotten what the elderly Cehn-Tahr had taught her.
The bird nodded its head and danced on its perch.
She laughed again.
“What did you ask him?” Dtimun wondered.
“If he liked music,” she replied. She smiled sheepishly. “I only know three or four phrases. There wasn’t much time when I was being tutored in their language.”
“We call him Rognan. In his own tongue, I am told, that means Brave One. He came here when I was a child and became my companion.” Dtimun went closer to him and touched the noble head. The Meg-Raven made a purring sound. “My mother could never tolerate him. They were enemies.” He withdrew his hand and seemed to withdraw from the world around him as well. “It was a long time ago.”
Madeline pretended not to notice his preoccupation. She smiled at the Meg-Raven. “Rognan,” she said softly. “What a very handsome bird.”
He purred at her. “Ruszel...pretty.” She laughed. Her mind went back to the interlude on Ondar when the old fellow had taught her some of the Meg-Raven dialect. She recalled suddenly what Caneese had said about her future, and about the danger the commander might pose to her.
It was a mistake to think of that, and she knew it at once. Dtimun scowled suddenly. His eyes went the odd blue shade that denoted a link between her mind and his. Suddenly, he drew in his breath.
She gnawed her lower lip. “Is something wrong, sir?”
He was still staring at her. His eyes were a color now that she couldn’t classify. “What, exactly, did Caneese say to you?” he asked.
Now she was in for it, she told herself worriedly. Caneese hadn’t said that the information was classified, but it certainly should be. She started reciting multiplication tables in her mind to cloud it. Maybe, she thought, it would be enough to keep him out...
CHAPTER TEN
INEVITABLY, HER QUICK mind rebelled against the boring and endless task of adding infinite numbers toward the absolute value of pi, and the instant she lowered her mental guard, Dtimun was right there in her mind.
“Sir, you mustn’t,” she protested urgently.
He hesitated. But then she felt his mind withdraw. He turned away from her, toward a second huge open fireplace that dominated the room. In it was a holographic fire, complete with popping and crackling sounds and real heat. Above it was a painting. It depicted a fierce battle during the Great Galaxy War. A tall Cehn-Tahr was leading a charge on foot, holding a huge, glowing energy sword in the air over his head. His features were generic, although he seemed to be bristling with authority even in the static setting.
She glanced at her commander and knew that he’d never brought another person here, not even one of his own species. It was an honor. She stared at him with mingled emotions. Strongest of all was curiosity.
“Do you have family, sir?” she asked respectfully, and then flushed, aware that she was breaking conventions by asking him what was a very personal question. “Sorry,” she added formally. “That was presumptuous of me. I had no right...”
“Yes, sir,” she said at once.
He drew in a long breath. “Many years ago,” Dtimun said quietly, “a family occupied this compound. My parents, my two brothers and my sister. Tragedies combined to separate us forever.”
She felt her heart skip a beat. She knew that he shared his private life with no other being. Clan was everything in his culture, yet he advertised no Clan allegiances, wore no familial colors. He was very alone.
“Are they still alive?” she asked hesitantly, reluctant to pry into something so private.
“Some of them,” he said nebulously.
“Are your families like those of ancient humans?” she probed. Her knowledge of Cehn-Tahr customs was sketchy at best. “I mean, do several generations live under one roof, and do you marry and remain bonded for life? Or does the government dictate professions and reserve breeding for a single class of citizens?”
He turned slowly. His eyes searched hers. “You have no real concept of freedom, have you?” he said abruptly. “In a truly free society, the decision to mate or have offspring, to belong to a profession, is a matter of choice. Not even the emperor himself may dictate those choices here, save for the species intermixing, which is forbidden by constitutional law.”
She frowned. “Well, we aren’t allowed a choice, of course. But we do have efficient committees that make the decisions in our society...”
“You live in a cold, totalitarian state,” he interrupted. “You have only the illusion of freedom. No honorable culture would mentally neuter its military.”
“Emotional ties disrupt function and duty,” she said defensively, quoting her service manual.
“Propaganda, engineered to maintain the status quo. Even your violent ancestors lived more sensibly than humans enslaved by the military and denied offspring.”
She stiffened. “Yes, well at least we have voluntary breeders to produce our children. We don’t have to participate in violent, barbaric rites to create them!” She flushed when she realized what she’d said. That comment would have seen her court-martialed if any other military personnel had overheard it.