by Diana Palmer
Their quarry had flown the coop minutes before the Morcai’s scout ship put down on the planet. That hadn’t improved Dtimun’s mood, which was black already.
He had forced himself not to try to access Madeline’s mind across the vast parsecs of space that separated them. She had the white noise ball activated, he could tell. He hadn’t told her that he had the ability, just as his father had it, to bypass the interference if he concentrated intensely. But he considered that it would only aggravate the discomfort he already felt when he remembered their last encounter and her proximity to Flannegan. It was worse when he remembered their day on Memcache.
But suddenly he felt a burst of anguish, a melting of thought into chaos. He heard his name whispered, in a mangled pronunciation that would have amused him under different circumstances. But then there was silence. He knew it was her mind reaching out to him. Then, when he tried to link with her, he could not. The distance would not have mattered. The white ball would not have stopped him if he concentrated. No, it was something else, something wrong. But what? He went about his duties with a feeling of disruption. The experience was disturbing. Nothing could have happened to her on Trimerius, surely. Or could it? He ordered the ship into a faster mode of travel.
* * *
THE INSTANT THE Morcai touched down on Trimerius, Dtimun went to Lawson’s office, so quickly that he seemed a red blur. He made it to Lawson’s office in a matter of seconds. He didn’t even wait to be announced by the adjutant.
Lawson glanced at him and grimaced. He was speaking to an older man, a tall Paraguard colonel. He paused as Dtimun joined them.
“I’m so sorry,” Lawson repeated to the old man.
Lieutenant Colonel Clinton Ruszel had wet green eyes. He wasn’t hiding them. He turned, stared at Dtimun as if he didn’t recognize him. Finally, he nodded absently, and walked out of the cubicle. The door powered shut behind him. Dtimun had a cold premonition. He’d known Clinton Ruszel for years. He’d never seen him shed a tear.
He stared at Lawson with a cold chill in his heart.
Lawson winced at his expression. “I shouldn’t have to tell you, too, in the space of ten minutes,” he said angrily. “It’s killing me! After she took up her new assignment, Taylor sent secret orders, which had Ruszel attached to a special operation force in the front lines for a covert rescue mission. Clinton Ruszel and I tried every way we knew to stop it, but we found out too late.” He indicated the white static ball on the desk that permitted private conversations. “We couldn’t stop it without exposing Taylor. You know what that would mean. It wasn’t even an option, not at this stage of the war.”
“What new assignment?” Dtimun demanded. “And what covert mission?” Dtimun added in a voice so cold that it made Lawson shiver.
Lawson took a deep breath and told him what had happened in his absence.
“Where is she?” the alien asked icily.
Lawson looked as if he wanted to get under something heavy. He linked his hands behind him, tight. “She was sent, with a platoon, to find a downed Jebob ship on...on Akaashe.”
Dtimun seemed to stiffen. “The Nagaashe home planet.”
“Yes.”
“No Jebob ship would go near it! The Jebob are terrified of serpents!”
“I know that, but Madeline’s C.O. didn’t.” He closed his eyes. “The minute they inserted into orbit, there was...there was an explosion. Sensors read nothing more except catastrophic failure of the engines.”
Dtimun might have been cut out of stone. He hadn’t been able to read Madeline’s thoughts. Not because she was blocking him out, but because her ship had crashed and she was...
“No!” he exclaimed. His tone was anguish verbalized. “Sensors can lie,” he said, quickly collecting himself. “She and her unit could have survived. Have they sent a search team in?”
“Dtimun, Taylor won’t permit us to withdraw resources from the war effort to, as he put it, waste on a futile search for dead women. I’m sorry.”
“You can override him,” he said.
“I can’t override him, and you know why!”
“She is not dead!” Dtimun exploded.
Lawson felt the pain as if it were tangible. He’d never seen the alien so out of control, so enraged and wounded. Ruszel obviously meant more to him than he’d ever permitted himself to express. Too late now. Far too late.
He put his hand on the alien’s shoulder. “I can’t do anything about sending men in to reconnoiter. But we both know someone who can,” he added quietly.
Yes, Dtimun knew. There was one other person who valued Ruszel almost as much as he did. It was time to put aside old vendettas and go to the one hope Ruszel had of being rescued. If she was still alive.
“There’s just one thing,” Lawson added. “Taylor has forbidden any Tri-Galaxy Fleet units from searching for her. Worse, all Terravegan units assigned to other Tri-Fleet units have been ordered to report back to Trimerius at once for reassignment to Terravegan commands.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry. You’ve had those guys for going on three years. None of them is going to want to leave. Especially Stern and Hahnson, once they know about Madeline.”
“I will detach the Holconcom from the Tri-Fleet and go after her myself,” he said shortly.
“That’s what I expected you to do. It will cause problems. But it’s the only way.” Lawson managed a smile. “Bring her home,” he said, almost choking on the words.
Dtimun couldn’t answer. He wasn’t certain of his own ability to speak normally.
* * *
HE MOVED QUICKLY. He sent the Cehn-Tahr ambassador to the Tri-Galaxy Council with the formal announcement of the Holconcom’s removal from the Tri-Galaxy Fleet. He contacted the Dectat and told them the situation. But the president of the Dectat refused permission for a rescue attempt. No person could land on Akaashe in violation of the Nagaashe dictate. That could jeopardize the ongoing diplomatic attempts to forge a treaty with the reptilian species. Ruszel’s loss was regrettable. But, then, she and her human—he had used the word as if it was distasteful to him—crew had most likely perished, anyway.
Dtimun cut the connection and let out a barrage of curses that would have shocked even Btnu. Well, let them court-martial him. He was not going to abandon Ruszel.
He called a shipwide meeting in the main mess hall. Once every crewman was in place, he spoke.
“The Terravegan ambassador has issued an immediate recall for all Terravegan personnel to report to Lawson for reassignment.”
There were shocked murmurs.
“I must ask you to pack your gear and leave as quickly as possible, just for the time being. I’ll find a way to get you back in the Holconcom once this emergency is past. Dr. Madeline Ruszel was reassigned to the Amazon front lines without my knowledge. Now her ship has gone down behind enemy lines and Ambassador Taylor has refused Tri-Fleet permission to mount a rescue. I’ve just formally detached the Holconcom from the Tri-Galaxy Fleet and I am going after Ruszel myself, with my Holconcom...”
“Begging the hell your pardon, sir, but we are Holconcom, too, and we’re not leaving the ship,” Holt Stern said curtly.
“You can pour syrup on that,” Hahnson agreed, stepping up beside his friend.
“My men and I are not leaving,” engineering officer Higgins said curtly.
“My men and I are absolutely the hell not leaving,” communications officer Jennings added firmly.
“Neither am I,” Edris Mallory chimed in with unusual firmness, her blue eyes flashing. “Dr. Ruszel is my colleague, and my friend. They can court-martial me if they like.”
“Our whole departments are at your command, sir,” Higgins, the engineering officer said shortly.
“Both our whole damned departments, sir,” Jennings seconded.
“Ambassador Taylor can hang
us—we’re going with you!” another officer called out.
“Every man!”
“And woman!” Mallory ventured, a little shyly because she was the only female aboard.
“You bet!” Strick Hahnson chuckled, smiling reassuringly at her.
“Ruszel is Holconcom,” Abemon, another of the Cehn-Tahr, spoke up. “We will not leave her to be killed because the politicians deem her expendable.”
There were loud murmurs of agreement, from both human and Cehn-Tahr.
Dtimun relaxed a little. “It could mean court-martial, even execution, for all of you Terravegans,” he said gently.
“In that case, sir, wouldn’t you just have to bring the Holconcom and break us out of the brig in the nick of time?” Stern asked with a grin.
“Hear, hear!” Hahnson seconded.
Dtimun managed a smile. “Yes, I would. Very well, then. Battle stations! I expect to find a squadron of Lawson’s best fighters facing us down the minute we lift. Ambassador Taylor will not take the loss of his nationals lightly.”
“We can shoot better than his guys, sir,” Higgins assured him.
“And straighter,” Jennings agreed.
“Posts, then.”
Everybody scrambled for positions.
Komak glanced at Dtimun. The C.O. was putting on a front. He was uncertain about Ruszel, and worried sick for her.
Komak placed a hand on his arm. “I am still here.”
Dtimun nodded and started to turn.
Komak detained him. “You do not understand. I am still here. If she were dead,” he added enigmatically, “I would not be.”
Dtimun scowled in confusion.
“It does not matter. We must hurry.”
“I agree.”
They ran side by side for the access ladder.
* * *
THE OLD ONE made contact with Dtimun’s mind.
Dtimun was in his quarters, brooding in front of a bust of Cashto, the galot pack leader from whose DNA the Cehn-Tahr were transformed. The great black head sat on a table with holocandles, its huge green eyes gleaming in the subdued light. He was still debating his next move. He had detached the Holconcom without the authorization of the Dectat. He was going to be in real trouble for that, regardless of his Clan status. There was another communication, from the president of the Dectat, which he read and didn’t answer, that his decision was going to be debated and there might be repercussions. He was also headed for Akaashe in direct violation of a verbal order from the Dectat not to proceed. He was uncertain about contacting the old one for help. It might result in the kehmatemer being sent to apprehend him. He couldn’t risk that; the loss of time might cost Ruszel her life. If she wasn’t already dead...
The Morcai was en route to Akaashe, but although he knew that Madeline’s ship had gone down there, he didn’t know where. The Nagaashe planet was large and had many continents. Nor did they have diplomatic ties with the Nagaashe, which could cause grave problems if they landed there without permission, as the Dectat leader had already informed Dtimun when he refused permission for him to go to the Nagaashe homeworld. There was also the question of Madeline’s survival. Even with their best sensors, it would take time to locate her. In that time, she could die. If she wasn’t already dead.
He felt a burst of anguish, a darkening. He did not want to be vulnerable again. He thought his reaction to Ruszel wasa purely physical need. His mind was telling him something quite different, and he did not want to listen.
Could she be dead? Lawson thought so. Her father thought so. He closed his eyes on the anguish of that thought. Komak seemed to believe she was alive, but Dtimun had known too many disappointments to feel much hope. He pictured the rest of his long life without the occasional sight of Ruszel’s laughing green eyes to sustain it. The light would go out of the galaxies...
Suddenly, he was aware of an intrusion on his thoughts. He felt the old one there, in his mind. “Why are you here?” he asked abruptly.
“I have found Ruszel,” he replied solemnly. “You must come to Memcache, at once.”
His heart jumped. “Is she alive?”
“She is gravely wounded, on the island colony of Kanah, on Akaashe,” the old one told him. “The Nagaashe cannot heal her.”
Dtimun’s chest rose and fell heavily. The depression he had felt since he spoke with Lawson had worsened. The old one would see that, and he no longer cared.
“Lawson said she had asked for reassignment to the Amazon Division,” Dtimun said harshly.
“Yes. I found the reason, in Ambassador Taylor’s mind. She asked the Terravegan ambassador to reassign her to the Amazon Division, to spare you.”
“From what?” Dtimun demanded.
“Taylor knows that you attempted to attack a crewman who touched Ruszel,” he said. “He said this to Ruszel. In order to allay his suspicions, Ruszel told him that an insult Flannegan made was responsible for your anger, and that she was tired of serving in an alien unit. She asked for reassignment, to protect you.”
The enormity of her sacrifice made him feel humble. “Can you give me coordinates to her position?” he asked curtly.
“Yes.”
“Why was she sent to Akaashe?” Dtimun persisted.
“The Nagaashe were contacted by Taylor and told that an attack on their settlement was imminent. The Amazon unit, commanded by Ruszel, was sent on a false mission to rescue a downed Jebob ship. He hoped to kill her that way, in revenge for the loss of Ruszel’s grants to his Jebob candidate.”
“The Jebob would never go near Akaashe,” Dtimun said angrily. “They are terrified of serpents.”
“Ruszel did as she was ordered. The Nagaashe caused the ship’s engines to overload. All were killed, except for Ruszel and two women under her command, although the Nagaashe levitated the ship to ground so that there were survivors whom they could question about the intrusion. The explosion did...much damage.”
“I have already set course for Akaashe. Hahnson can heal her...”
“You will take me to Akaashe,” the old one commanded imperiously. “Memcache is on the way, you will lose very little time. The kehmatemer and I are coming with you.”
“You take a great risk,” Dtimun said.
“I have been known to do that,” the old one said with faint humor. “It is possible that Hahnson can mend her. But if he cannot, I can.”
The younger alien didn’t ask how. He knew from years past the power in that old mind. It had healed many Cehn-Tahr on the point of death. The old one might be Ruszel’s only chance to live. It would never be possible for Dtimun to have a life with the red-haired medic, but he could not face the possibility of a life without her presence somewhere in the galaxies.
“Komak is still there, is he not?” the old one asked gently. “If he lives, so does Ruszel.”
“Komak said the same thing. What does this mean?” Dtimun asked.
“There are things I must not yet reveal to you. I have contacted a negotiator who can bargain for Ruszel with the Nagaashe. They have diplomatic relations with them. A Dacerian is bringing him to rendezvous with us. Throw all the lightsteds,” the old one commanded. “It does not matter now if the humans of the Holconcom see our true tech. They are part of us.”
Dtimun was amused, and pleased, at the old one’s comment. “Yes. They are.” He hesitated. “I have caused grave problems for the Dectat,” he said, an edge in his voice. “The President and I had words. He refused permission for the rescue, with some pointed comments about the lack of urgency to save ‘humans,’” he added coldly. “He was equally upset that I removed the Holconcom from the Tri-Fleet in order to save Ruszel without permission. He seems to forget that I have the authority to make such a decision under Holconcom statute.”
The old one saw the discussion in his
mind. “Let me worry about the Dectat, and its president,” he said shortly. “There will be no problem there, I assure you.” There was a sudden smile in the old, gravelly voice. “A former leader of the Holconcom made equally unpopular decisions, in the years before the Great Galaxy War, and once came to blows with the president of the Dectat when his orders were questioned. He will regret his words, I promise you!” he added smugly.
Dtimun’s eyes made a faint green laugh.
The old one left him.
* * *
DTIMUN MADE THE announcement to a packed audience in the galley. “We are en route to Memcache to pick up a...representative of our government, to assist in negotiations for Ruszel and her crew. This will require me to disclose secret tech, which we have not before used in connection with our missions. If any of you have second thoughts about defying your military, you may have access to skimmers to return you to Trimerius before we employ acceleration.”
“I’m still not leaving,” Lieutenant Mallory said. Hahnson and Stern only nodded, agreeing.
“My whole department is still staying here,” Lieutenant Higgins said.
“So is my whole damned department, sir,” Lieutenant Jennings seconded.
“Shouldn’t we get going?” Hahnson spoke for all of them.
Dtimun nodded. “Combining you humans with my command was one of the wisest moves of my career. You will see more things that we have not revealed to you before. You will not speak of them to outworlders.”
Several of the humans grinned, because the C.O. apparently now thought of them all as Cehn-Tahr.
“Stations,” he said. “And if Taylor attempts to court-martial any of you, he will have to go through me.”
That brought laughter, and more smiles, as his crew rushed to their posts.
“Throw all lightsteds,” Dtimun commanded the bridge crew. He looked around at the remaining crewmen. “Hold on to something,” he advised.