The Morcai Battalion: The Recruit

by Diana Palmer

  Caneese attempted to probe his mind, but met a wall. She laughed. “You could always block me.”

  “I could return the compliment.”

  “What will happen to her?” she asked him, nodding toward Madeline. “Will the human ambassador try to send her again into combat when she returns to duty?”

  “I think this is possible. I could transfer her back to the Holconcom, override him. But that would threaten her more than remaining in the Amazon Division.”

  Caneese turned to him, her face solemn. “What if it were possible for you to mate with her, without harming her?”

  A tiny hint of expression escaped his iron control. “That is not possible by any means we know.”

  “Komak has found a way.”

  “You have dared to discuss this with Komak?” he demanded imperiously.

  She drew herself up to her full height, which was formidable. “Remember to whom you speak!” she said shortly.

  He straightened his posture. “Excuse me.”

  She nodded, placated. “I saw it in his mind. Komak has some stake in this, I know not what. He has secret tech which he is employing with viruses as a medium.”

  “Tech?”

  “A way to increase Ruszel’s strength, improve her genome.”

  “Genetic engineering,” he said coldly. “Think of what the same modifications did to us, as a species. Once the matrix is replaced, it would be impossible for her to return to what she was. There could be terrible consequences.”

  Caneese read the concern in him. “There could,” she agreed. “But Komak is from the future,” she reminded him. “If there were consequences from this, he would know.”

  That was true. But he was still uneasy.

  “When he speaks to both of you, ask him,” Caneese advised. “It might quiet your mind. He can tell you what he knows about Chacon and Lyceria as well,” she added enigmatically. “What he will ask concerns you. And her.”

  He was looking at Madeline. He was stiff with reserve and control. She was so beautiful. He forced himself to turn away.

  “You know already what he proposes,” he guessed.

  She smiled gently. “I know. But it is for him to tell you. Let us go,” she added, glanced at Madeline. “She needs rest.”

  He nodded and followed her out of the room, his mind in turmoil.

  * * *

  HE STOPPED BY Caneese’s lab, which was in an adjacent building on the estate. Komak was there, surrounded by exotic technology in the lab, so deep in thought that he didn’t hear the approach of the commander.

  “What sort of tech is this that you are developing?” Dtimun asked curtly.

  Surprised, Komak turned. For an instant, there was something oddly human in his expression. “A revolutionary discovery,” he told the other alien with sparkling green eyes. “Caneese was given the Dectat’s highest civilian medal for it...that is, she will be given it.”

  Dtimun paused beside him, his eyes on the array of virtual comps and accelerated microscopes. On the screen was a genetic matrix that was strangely familiar. Before he could study it, Komak discreetly made it vanish.

  “There are some things that you must not know,” Komak explained, and now he was solemn. “In the future, string theory has been proven by time travel. We now know that all possibilities have a physical expression. This timeline,” he said, waving his hand around, “is the best of many. But it cannot happen without intervention. Madelineruszel is the key to the future. She is the mother of change.”

  Dtimun frowned. “What sort of change?”

  “Peace,” the younger alien said flatly.

  “That would be a change, indeed,” came the quiet reply.

  “However,” Komak continued, “it is a choice she must make for herself. We cannot interfere, except to make the future possible.”

  Dtimun scowled at the materials Komak had assembled. “What do you know about the future?” he asked bluntly.

  Komak got up and stared into the older man’s eyes. “I will explain that to you and to Madelineruszel when she is a little more healed. But it will involve travel, and covert activity. ” He stopped, his lips thinning. “I will say no more, for the moment. But the future is in grave peril. You and Madelineruszel, Chacon and Lyceria form a link that will affect the fate of three galaxies.”

  “This travel you infer. If I travel with Ruszel, she will die,” Dtimun said icily. “She is prey. Do you understand?”

  Komak nodded solemnly. “That is why I have been working here.” He indicated the paraphernalia around him. “I brought a formula back with me. I have synthesized a chemical catalyst which will effect the same change in Madelineruszel’s anatomy which was produced in Stern’s by the Rojok cloning process.”

  “This would make it possible for her to bond with me,” he said without any expression in his tone.

  “Yes,” Komak said. “But not for the reason you think. It will make it possible for the two of you to save the Rojok warlord Chacon. If you do not,” he added quietly, “things will happen that will tear the galaxies apart.”

  Dtimun scowled at him. “What things?”

  Komak groaned. “I cannot tell you.”

  Dtimun’s eyes narrowed. “You are a descendant of someone living here, now.”

  Komak nodded.

  “Can you tell me who?”

  Komak shook his head. “Some things I am not allowed to mention. I am a scientist, but I am also a historian. Records of this time period were destroyed in the worst solar flare our world has ever experienced. No hard copy had been kept, owing to a mistake in archiving, so everything was lost. Elders were questioned, especially the emperor, about the missing time. The emperor was not forthcoming about some areas, so I thought it best to investigate for myself and make vids of the time period.” He pursed his lips. “Some of them will entertain you in the future.”

  “You have been here for almost three years,” Dtimun began.

  Komak laughed. “When I return, it will be more like one standard hour since I jumped here through time. Time is fluid and there are currents, which must be maneuvered. I am quite good at it by now. I have visited many epochs in our civilization, and in other civilizations.”

  Dtimun shook his head. “It is a difficult concept.”

  “Yes, I know.” Komak was serious now. “I must leave soon, and go back to my own time,” he said sadly. “I have enjoyed this visit more than you can know. To me, this time period was only history, and fragmented at that. To have known you and Madelineruszel as comrades...” He stopped, swallowed and averted his eyes. “It has been an honor to serve with you both. I will...miss you.”

  Emotion was hard for Dtimun. Since childhood, he had been taught to contain his emotions, to behave as a person of his station was expected to behave. That rigidity was difficult to relax, especially when the confusion of his need for Ruszel was shaking his control as well.

  “I will miss the irritation,” he replied with faint humor, and his eyes flashed green as they met Komak’s. He frowned. “Why leave now? Is there some urgency that requires your departure?”

  Komak’s green eyes twinkled. “A great urgency.”

  “Will we meet again?” Dtimun asked curiously.

  “Yes, we will. Although,” he added softly, “you may not recognize me.”

  “And now you speak in riddles.”

  “I must,” Komak said gently. He indicated the experiment. “I have given Caneese a formula for another drug, which will be needed as time goes by. Since she is credited with creating both substances, I am not interfering in the timeline.” He was somber. “There is a great risk for Madelineruszel if she carries your child. I need not tell you the dangers.”

  Dtimun frowned. “This will be possible?”

  “Yes,” Komak assu
red him. “The catalyst guarantees it. She will still have frailties, despite her increased strength. The pregnancy will be dangerous. It could kill her. I do not think it will. But there is still a possibility.”

  Having so recently retrieved her from certain death, he felt great concern at putting her again at risk while she was still recovering from her ordeal.

  “That is a decision she must make,” Komak reiterated. “I will speak to you both soon. Let her decide. You cannot decide for her.”

  Dtimun’s jaw tautened. “In your future,” he asked, “is she still alive?”

  Komak brightened. “In this timeline? Yes. She commands a whole division of female troops and sneaks out with them on missions,” he chuckled. “She is a brigadier general,” he added. “And before you ask, yes, Caneese and the old fellow are also still around.”

  “In this timeline.”

  Komak nodded. “There are others. Less desirable. If Chacon dies.”

  “Then, he must not,” Dtimun replied. “When do you leave?”

  “Not just yet,” Komak mused. “There are still a few things I wish to know.” What they were, he didn’t say.

  Dtimun left him to his work. He smiled at the thought of Madeline as a brigadier general. He hadn’t wanted to know more. Even if by some miracle it was possible for him to bond with her, to save Chacon, there were political considerations which would make a future with her impossible. He was not sure about the child; he personally thought it unlikely that two such different species could breed. It would at least end his own torment. But what about Madeline? And what of the child they created? He hoped Komak was right, about the future, about the fact that it could be saved

  Komak, watching him leave, hoped with all his heart that this precious timeline would survive. Everything would depend on Madeline’s decision. But the chemical catalyst that would make her as strong as a Cehn-Tahr woman, that would give her the choice of bonding with Dtimun, to save Chacon and the princess, was already complete.

  All that now remained was for Madeline to agree to its use. If she refused, for any reason, disaster would ensue. Komak felt a shiver of cold at the alternate reality which he had already seen. If Madeline Ruszel made the wrong decision, the future would be a nightmare.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  MADELINE WAS FEELING much better. Caneese had the staff of the fortress, as Madeline thought of it, concoct recipes with tastes that appealed to a human palate.

  The room had been filled with pots of wonderful flowers that emitted a subtle perfume, one that didn’t cause the head stuffiness that some plants did. The window was open, so that Madeline could look out on the formal gardens behind the structure. Imagine a simple soldier in a place like this, she thought, and was more aware than ever of the differences between herself and the Holconcom commander. He was obviously an aristocrat, important in his society far beyond his abilities to command a crack military unit. The hopelessness of her situation didn’t improve with that thought. Soon, when she healed, she must return to the Amazon Division, to war and more war until the conflict with the Rojoks was resolved, one way or another. And that didn’t appear to be an event that would occur soon.

  She pulled her aching body out of bed, in its silky blue gown, and she made her way to the stone casement of the window. Below was the panorama of distant mountains and green hills and plains. Closer was the garden with its mix of color and scent, with stone benches all around, so that visitors could sit and admire the scenery. Huge insects, like butterflies, were landing delicately on the blossoms. She sighed with appreciation of the sight.

  “You should not be out of bed,” Dtimun commented as he entered.

  Her heart hammered, as it always did when he was in the vicinity. His face tautened as the flood of pheromones washed over him. Despite Hahnson’s tranquillizer, he had to fight his instincts.

  She grimaced at his taut expression and climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up. She still wasn’t used to a male who saw her in a nonmilitary way. She only wished that she could control her reaction to him.

  “Sorry, sir,” she said formally.

  He relaxed, but only a little. “You are feeling better?”

  “Much,” she said. “I’m still a little weak but most of the damage has already healed.” She frowned. “Something has upset you.”

  He glared at her.

  “Hey,” she said, holding up both hands, “you walk in and out of my mind all the time. It was my turn.”

  “Komak wants to speak to you. To both of us,” he corrected. He turned to the door and nodded.

  Komak came into the room. He locked the door and disabled all the ABVDs and sensors. He was oddly somber, not the high-spirited comrade Madeline had come to know, at all.

  “You are wondering what I have to say,” he said. He smiled at the commander. “But I think you, at least, already have some idea from when we last spoke together.”

  Dtimun moved to Madeline’s side. His posture, his eyes, were threatening. Komak was careful to keep his distance. He knew the dangers, when a Cehn-Tahr male was in hunting mode. Any threat would be met by deadly force.

  “Yes,” Dtimun replied. “Caneese says that you know the future, even better than she can discern, with her gifts.” His eyes grew opaque, but he couldn’t penetrate the other alien’s mind. “It disturbs me that you can block me,” he added.

  Komak smiled. “Necessary, I’m afraid,” he replied. “There are things I dare not tell either of you.” He folded his hands behind him. “I come from the future. From a future,” he qualified, taking in Madeline’s surprised look, “that is the best of several timelines, for all of us.” His face grew hard. “You have both studied theoretical physics. You know about string theory, multiple universes based on each version of a pivotal choice made at a certain time in a person’s life, yes?”

  They both nodded.

  “In this timeline,” he continued, “there will be an attempt on Chacon’s life. It will come from a trusted source, unexpectedly. If it succeeds,” he added, “the three galaxies will be plunged into a war which will decimate our people, and the humans...”

  “Komak, we’re already at war, and Chacon is the enemy,” Madeline pointed out.

  “Yes. But you do not know the future, Madelineruszel.”

  She sat up straighter, tugging the cover up to her neck. Dtimun seemed to relax when she did that. He perceived any other male as a threat, she thought.

  He gave her a glance with amused green eyes. “Precisely,” he thought to her.

  He turned his attention back to Komak. “What will happen, if Chacon dies?” he asked.

  Komak’s eyes were haunted. He hadn’t wanted to say. But he had to convince them of the necessity to act. “What I have seen,” he said, “is shattering. Memcache, Trimerius, the Terravegan colonies, all gone, decimated by a weapon of extreme power.”

  “Gone?” Dtimun exclaimed. “There is no such weapon in existence.”

  “Yet,” Komak qualified. “And if we act now, there will never be. There is an alternate timeline, in which Chacon is assassinated.” He swallowed. “Chacon has been the only barrier to Mangus Lo, and then Chan Ho’s, imperialist madness. He opposed them in council, and his great popularity as a war leader curbed their ambitions. They could not kill him openly because they would be suspected, and deposed. However, his death permits Chan Ho to put his best scientists to work to devise a new and powerful emerillium plasma weapon the like of which the universe has never seen, using stolen tech acquired from the capture of one of your kelekom operators,” he told Dtimun. “Neither the Cehn-Tahr Empire nor the Terravegan government will have any knowledge of its existence until it is used, and the weapon is a planet killer. The first blow will be unexpected, and so powerful that none of the governments will be able to recover from it. Chan Ho will put himself at the head of th
e Tri-Galaxy Council, without protest once the power of his weapon is demonstrated. He will become dictator of the three galaxies. The result will be...horrible.”

  Dtimun just stared at him. “It is a possibility, not a certainty.”

  Komak smiled sadly. “It is a certainty,” he corrected. “Even allowing for small modifications of decisions, protests, intervention, the outcome is predictable. I have traveled back many times, to many worlds. I have seen this result over and over again in all of them. Chacon’s death is the catalyst, the common denominator. If he survives, so do all of us.” He hadn’t meant to say that, but his face didn’t reveal it, and they were too intent on his prediction to notice, thankfully.

  “Do you know when, and how, the assassin will strike?” Madeline asked.

  Komak drew in a long breath. “Not exactly,” he confessed. “You see, I know the overall pattern of this future, but I have been unable to chart specific events. It is like a skeleton with no flesh. I must extrapolate from historical certainties.”

  “Coming here must affect the timeline,” Dtimun pointed out.

  Komak shook his head. “Not if it is done correctly, and I am quite efficient.” He cocked his head, studying the two of them. “Caneese has also seen the result that I see, although her methods are less scientific than mine. We are both concerned.”

  “Is there a way to prevent the assassination?” Dtimun asked finally.

  “I think so. But it will involve some difficult decisions, for both of you.”

  “For us?” Madeline asked, glancing at the commander, whose face was unreadable.

  Komak nodded. “I am 95 percent certain that the attempt will take place at Benaski Port. The Princess Lyceria will be involved, in some fashion, as will a certain member of your Clan’s household,” he told Dtimun with a mysterious smile.

  Dtimun glared at him. He didn’t like being reminded of his household.

  “Lyceria, will she be hurt?” Dtimun asked.

  Komak shook his head. “I do not think so. If my calculations are correct, she is the reason that Chacon will go to Benaski Port.”