The Morcai Battalion: The Recruit

by Diana Palmer

  He cocked his head and studied her with faint green eyes. “You have made possible a treaty with the Nagaashe which none of our best diplomats could manage in over a century of negotiation.”

  “Well, that was an accident.”

  “For our people, a very good accident.” He frowned quizzically. “It is curious to me to consider that one human female, fragile and quite frankly insubordinate, is responsible for so many changes in my society in such a short time.”

  “I could be responsible for a good one in my society if you’d give me a weapon and five minutes alone with Ambassador Taylor.”

  He laughed. “Not possible.”

  “Darn.”

  “You must rest,” he said. “The old fellow is also recovering. His mental gifts are formidable. Perhaps that is one of the few benefits of all the DNA tampering.”

  “There are others,” she replied. “The Cehn-Tahr have protected many races from extinction by madmen like Mangus Lo and Chan Ho. Your altered genome is responsible for the abilities that made that possible.”

  “Yes, but the burden of those abilities is also ever present.” His eyes narrowed on her face, and she understood what he meant.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “I’ve already said that I could take megavitamins and work out with weights,” she said drowsily. “Maybe have a few injections of whatever they put in Stern’s bones to make them hard as steel...”

  She drifted off. His eyes flashed green at the insinuations, and then became a somber blue as he realized what a dream that was. She would never be able to withstand a Cehn-Tahr bonding.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  MADELINE WAS TAKEN to the fortress near which she had first met Caneese, in the religious compound at Mahkmannah on Memcache. The older woman was there to meet the ambutube, tossing out instructions as if the fortress were as familiar to her as her own home.

  Madeline noticed it. Dtimun only smiled.

  Lieutenant Edris Mallory and Dr. Strick Hahnson were guiding the ambutube into the bedroom that Caneese signified. It was bigger than the entire barracks where Madeline had lived for most of her career as a medical practitioner.

  “Here?” she asked weakly as two strong attendants eased her out of the ambutube and onto a bed which seemed big enough for six people.

  “Here,” Caneese said gently, and with a smile. “You are an honored guest.”

  “Why?” Madeline asked bluntly. “All I did was get blown up by some angry serpents.”

  Caneese laughed. “You made peace with the serpents, who have been our adversaries since the Great Galaxy War. The Dectat is in an uproar. Our finest diplomats have tried for decades to bring about a treaty with the Nagaashe, who have abundant stores of Helium 3. You accomplished this in less than a solar week.”

  “It was an accident, I assure you,” she said with a wan smile. “And not due to any diplomatic skills I possess. They were impressed because I saved the little serpent here...” She stopped because Mallory was giving her an odd look.

  Caneese laughed. “She called a flock of Meg-Ravens to save the little Nagaashe. It lives here on our...on the estate, with its parents.” The slip was so smoothly covered that only Madeline noted that it had been made. If Madeline had been less nauseated by the trip, she might have realized more than she did.

  She wanted to tell her fellow humans that the Nagaashe could travel through time, but she didn’t. That was a private matter.

  Caneese nodded; she heard the thought. She turned at an odd, uneven step coming closer. “Oh, dear,” she said softly. “Madeline, I fear that your presence here may attract consequences.”

  Madeline’s first thought was that the emperor might send a squad to evict her from his planet.

  Caneese laughed. “Certainly not!” she exclaimed. “He has made a public announcement of your achievement and means to honor you in the Dectat. No, I meant Rognan.”

  Edris Mallory blinked. “Who is Rognan?”

  Caneese nodded toward the doorway with a resigned sigh.

  Rognan, the Meg-Raven, clomped toward them on his bad leg, making a horrible screeching sound. “Rus...zel,” he wailed. “Rus...zel not dead?”

  “Ruszel is not dead,” Caneese assured him, moving back quickly, as if she were afraid of him.

  The huge bird moved to Ruszel’s side. He laid his huge head against her arm. “Scared,” he croaked. His feathered body shivered.

  Madeline put an arm around him, and then lifted her hand to stroke the silky feathers. “No need,” she said softly, touched by the bird’s obvious concern and affection. “I’m going to be fine. Just fine. There, there, it’s all right.”

  Edris was staring, mesmerized, at the enormous avian. “He can speak Standard,” she exclaimed. “Does he know you?” she asked her comrade.

  “Yes. I came here once, with the commander,” Ruszel said. “It was when I rescued the little Nagaashe.”

  “Rognan has been fascinated with her, because she can speak in his language,” Caneese explained. “Very few humanoids can master the bird speech. It is extremely complicated...”

  A burst of Meg-Raven speech came from the doorway, where Komak was just entering. His eyes were a mischievous green as he communicated something to the bird, which no one else in the room understood.

  Rognan turned and clomped over to him, enveloping him with one huge wing. He spoke in his own tongue in return, and laid his head against Komak’s chest.

  “How very strange,” Caneese exclaimed. “He does not like strangers, even if they are Cehn-Tahr. And how is it that you can manage his language so easily?”

  Komak moved to the older woman and touched her cheek before he bent to lay his forehead against hers, as Madeline had seen Dtimun do. “It is a long story,” he chuckled.

  Caneese returned the gesture. Her eyes went an opaque blue as they searched his. “But, it is not possible,” she stammered in Cehn-Tahr.

  “It will be,” he replied in the same tongue, smiling. “We have much to discuss. You are about to make an astounding discovery.”

  “I am?” Caneese queried.

  “Could the two of you possibly speak in Standard?” Madeline asked.

  They turned and stared at her, and she had a sudden shock of recognition. They looked very much alike.

  They looked at each other and Komak pursed his lips. “Well, not so very much,” he commented. “She is female.” He frowned and turned back to Madeline. “I do not look like a female?” he asked with such horror that everyone laughed.

  The question diverted them, which had been its purpose. No one seemed to realize that Komak had answered a question which Ruszel had not voiced.

  “We should leave Madelineruszel alone, so that she can have peace and quiet in which to heal,” Komak commented.

  “Yes, we should,” Hahnson agreed. He checked her over with his wrist unit one more time and nodded, satisfied.

  “I can stay with you, if you like,” Edris offered, and in a very enthusiastic manner.

  Caneese gave her a wry glance, as if she understood something the rest did not. “Captain Rhemun will only be here for two days,” she said. “I promise.”

  Edris made a face. “Very well, ma’am.” She smiled at Madeline. “I’ll see you later. We’re not lifting for a few more days, either. The commander says he has duties in the capital, so we might as well be on hand here if you need us.” Her lips thinned as she pressed them together. “He didn’t mention that the captain of the kehmatemer would be around, also. Captain Rhemun absolutely hates humans,” she informed Caneese. “But he likes Dr. Ruszel, and she’s human!” she added.

  “It is a long story, and this is not the time,” Caneese said, but smiled to lessen the sting of the remark. “I will tell it to you one day.”

  Edris nodded. “If you need us
,” she told Madeline, and placed a synthcomm on Madeline’s wrist, which, if pressed, would alert the medics that they were required.

  “I’ll call,” Madeline promised. “Thanks, Edris. And thank you, Strick,” she added.

  He chuckled. “I didn’t do much. Your ‘old fellow’ saved you,” he reminded her.

  “He did,” she recalled, “with some of the most astounding methods I’ve ever known. I could do a dissertation on what he taught me.”

  “Not a bad idea, to revisit your doctoral studies.”

  “I’ll think about that.”

  He and Edris left with the attendants, Komak and Rognan. Caneese remained. She sat down gracefully in a chair beside the huge bed.

  “This ‘old fellow’ of yours,” she began. “How did you meet him?”

  Madeline sank back into the pillows and related the events that had happened on Ondar.

  “If your colleague Mallory thinks that Captain Rhemun hates humans,” she began, “she knows nothing of the prejudice that has existed against humans here. Your ‘old fellow’ leads the kehmatemer, and he has been the single most adversarial member of the Dectat on racial policy.”

  “Yes. He tried to order my execution when the commander added me to the Holconcom,” Madeline recalled. She smiled gently. “But his attitude changed when we went into battle together.”

  “You and his men went into battle,” came the soft correction, and a laugh. “You could not mend him completely, although you saved his life. And now he has saved yours.” She tilted her head. “Is it not amazing, the reciprocity of existence?”

  “One event links to another event, like links in a chain,” Madeline agreed. “You and Komak favor each other very much.”

  The older woman caught her breath at the sudden change of topic. She averted her eyes. “We Cehn-Tahr all resemble each other. We do not have the variations in color that you humans do. We all have pale golden skin and black hair.”

  “You aren’t going to tell me, are you, ma’am?” Madeline asked.

  Caneese laughed. “I would not dare. Komak has knowledge of a plot,” she added more solemnly, “that may involve some risk to you and Dtimun.”

  She noted again that odd pronunciation of the commander’s name which the old fellow had given it. Perhaps it was some pronunciation that outworlders weren’t privy to; due to relationships or social status names were pronounced in different ways by different members of the society.

  “But we can speak of this later. Your ‘old fellow’ has a voice in the making of policy. He now favors great changes. Your influence is being felt in the very heart of the Dectat. It is the prophecy, Madeline. You carry the future inside you.”

  “You were right, about the danger, and the sacrifice,” Madeline said, almost awed by the prophecy that had been so accurate.

  Caneese nodded sadly. “I had hoped to see the future well enough to warn you. If I had, this would not have happened to you.”

  “Such gifts are not always perfect,” Madeline said gently. “And I was rescued, against impossible odds.”

  “Indeed you were.”

  Madeline blinked. She felt very tired.

  “Yes, you are tired. You have been through a traumatic ordeal, and you should rest.” Caneese got to her feet. She paused beside the bed to smooth back Madeline’s hair. “It is the most incredible color,” she commented. “I have never seen anything like it.”

  Her touch was gentle, like her voice. Madeline had never known a woman’s influence, having been raised in a military fashion. It was comforting.

  She hesitated. “You would have sacrificed your life, to prevent the authorities from seeing how your commander reacted to you. It was a noble thing to do.”

  So much for hiding her relationship with Dtimun, if it could be called that. Her eyes met the other woman’s and she sighed. “I lived on dreams, after we came here that day. Then he told me the truth.” Her eyes lowered. “Something died in me. I went back to the only other life I knew, when Ambassador Taylor threatened to reveal what had happened in the gym. A crewmate was teaching me hand-to-hand combat techniques, touching me. The commander saw. He reacted violently.”

  Caneese sat down on the bed at Madeline’s side. “It is of great sadness to us, that the addition of galot DNA produced such negative characteristics in us, especially in our men. We have feline traits which are never revealed to outworlders. The mating cycle is one of them. Once initiated, it escalates in violence until the very life of the female partner is threatened. We have tried for decades to find a method to diminish the violence, without success.”

  Madeline nodded. She knew, too, that the uncanny strength of the Cehn-Tahr male would make mating with a human impossible. Hahnson’s example was proof of it.

  Caneese’s face was sad, but her eyes began to twinkle. “Your friend Komak has access to tech which is of an odd and inexplicable source.”

  “Rojok tech?” Madeline wondered worriedly.

  Caneese sighed. “Not that. The ‘old fellow’ told Dtimun that he thinks Komak comes from the future. He knows the pattern of things that happen, but not the details. It is as if,” she pondered, “he read about this epoch in a book which provided only highlighted episodes and not explicit passages.” She didn’t dare add what she herself had seen in Komak’s mind. Not yet.

  Madeline frowned. Now that she thought about it, Komak always seemed to know what was coming. She had put it down to intuition. But what if he really did come from the future? Did he have relatives here? Did he know any of the crew in the future? Did he know Madeline in the future? And if he was out of place and time, why had he stayed so long? Perhaps he was unable to return to his own time.

  “I do not think so,” Caneese interrupted her thoughts.

  “But he’s been here a very long time,” Madeline commented.

  “Time is fluid, like water, and has currents. Perhaps in his own time, he has only been gone for seconds.” She smiled. “I did study theoretical physics, in my youth.”

  “Has your hair always been silver?” Madeline asked.

  “No. It was black when I was a young female, and very long. He with whom I bonded found it fascinating.” She laughed. “He brought me a pot of canolithe...” She stopped suddenly at Madeline’s gasp. “You saw that, in his mind, when he saved your life. You must never say it to another living soul!”

  Madeline was puzzled, but she agreed. “I have never told anything that I know. The commander is a telepath. So is the old fellow, and you. And Komak, too.” She frowned. “But I was taught that only the Royal Clan had such abilities.”

  Caneese toyed with the bedspread. “Yes, such misrepresentations are common, because we seem mysterious to outworlders.”

  “The old fellow said that he had lost his family,” Madeline said delicately.

  Caneese nodded. “My mate and I had a furious argument when my eldest son was killed, in the Great Galaxy War. I swore that I would never forgive him. I came here, to Mahkmannah, and became a religious. I was so certain that I was right. But over the decades, I have started to doubt my certainties. Perhaps I was wrong, too.”

  “You and the old fellow,” Madeline began. “Are you...?”

  “Did the others not leave, so that Madeline could rest?” Dtimun asked from the doorway, deliberately interrupting the conversation.

  Caneese laughed and got up. “Yes. I have been bombarding her with questions. I am sorry,” she told Madeline. “You may not know that you are becoming well-known here, and many of us are curious about you.”

  Madeline smiled. Her eyelids were drooping. “Flattering,” she said in a flyaway voice. She was drifting off.

  “It is not flattery,” Caneese denied. “You are unlike anyone I have ever met, of any species.”

  But Madeline didn’t hear her. The stress and pain had c
ombined with Hahnson’s painkiller to knock her out. She didn’t want to sleep. She wanted to look at the commander. It was impossible. She was already asleep.

  Dtimun stood at the edge of the bed and studied her with barely controlled instincts raging.

  Caneese laid a gentle hand on his arm, calming him. “Many things are happening that I would not have believed possible, even though I was certain that the prophecy was a true one.”

  He nodded, his hands behind his back. “Komak will not tell me what he knows.” He turned to her. “But he says that events are in motion that will require a great sacrifice from Madeline and from me. He intends to speak to us about it later, when she is better.”

  She nodded. “I have also seen this turbulent future, but not with his clarity.”

  “Who is he?”

  “A traveler in the wastelands of the galaxies,” she said. “And do not attempt to read my mind. I can shield it, as you well know.”

  He smiled. “Forgive me.”

  She reached up and touched his cheek. “Of course. As I always have.”

  He felt a sense of guilt from his long absence. His anger at the old fellow had also alienated him from Caneese. His regrets lay on the surface, easily read.

  “We must not dwell on the past,” Caneese said softly. “But we must look to the future now.” She sighed. “You know that Lyceria maintains contact with Chacon, despite the war and her possible prosecution. Even her rank would not save her.”

  “He cares for her as well,” Dtimun replied, remembering the Rojok warlord’s urgent help to rescue Lyceria from the horrors of the Rojok prison, Ahkmau, during the Holconcon’s imprisonment there.

  “She would do anything to save Chacon.” She looked at the bed. “Just as Ruszel was willing to sacrifice her career, even her life, to save yours.”

  His face revealed nothing.

  “She is quite beautiful,” Caneese commented when she noticed Dtimun staring at Ruszel.

  Hahnson had given him another dose of tranquillizer to keep his emotions in check. What he felt, he would not disclose.