by Diana Palmer
“An insane state of mind,” he muttered.
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. “There has to be a child...?”
“Yes,” he said. “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, or assassination, 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 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 Chan Ho’s madness. They will begin to build ovens again. Along with the planet killer that Komak has seen in this future.”
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. “By tomorrow, as Komak has said,” 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. He didn’t add that the Dectat’s president would probably send off fireworks if Dtimun was caught consorting with a human female, despite his apologies. “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. He didn’t add that his first offense, with the Dacerian woman, had not been prosecuted. He was still uncertain why. “If we are caught in the deception, even to aid the princess, my time with the Holconcom will come to an end.”
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. “As we once discussed, 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. There must be heirs. But this emotion you call love...I no longer believe in it.” He said the words. They were a defense. He recalled with faint anguish his reaction to Madeline’s crash on Akaashe. No purely physical need could explain his desperation to get to her.
Her sadness was almost palpable. She’d mistaken his headlong rush to save her as emotion, when it was involuntary. Long, lonely years faced her, after he was “cured” of his obsession. Would he expect her to go back to the Amazon Division, as if nothing had happened? Surely it would be a continuing embarrassment to him to have her in the Holconcom, even if his hunger for her was cured, because he would still have his memory of her. 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 if it wasn’t regressed. But that wasn’t part of the problem. Chacon’s fate was.
And was there really a choice? “If we do...produce a child, once we save Chacon, it could be regressed, gently absorbed back into the tissues of my body.”
He started to protest, but she held up a hand. Her heart was breaking, but this was the only possible solution to the problems Dtimun would face. She couldn’t count on Komak’s assurances. The future was always in flux. “I’m not Cehn-Tahr, even if I have reserve status with your military, 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 woma
n and have a child to inherit your estates. Couldn’t you?”
He seemed to stiffen even more. He didn’t reply. The Cehn-Tahr bonded for life, as she seemed to forget. He would not be able to bond with any female as long as Ruszel lived. That had been a disturbing consideration once. Now, however....
She bit her lower lip. “We could do what was necessary to save Chacon, and Princess Lyceria, and then...forget it ever happened.”
He barely heard her. He was considering things he had never expected. He really would have the fight of his life trying to bond permanently with an outworlder. Not that he’d ever run yet from a fight. Yes, they could go back to the old life, once Chacon and the princess were safe. The child could be regressed. Her memory could be wiped. Sad, though, to erase such gossamer, fragile memories as the ones she carried of their night at the Altair Embassy, the fall on Lagana when he’d saved her, their long day on Memcache...
His whole body went taut at just the thought. Let her give up those memories? Give up their child? No! Not if they put him to death for it.
He turned abruptly, to look at her. The color of his eyes was a confusion of hues that she couldn’t begin to identify. “Komak has already said that a solution will present itself in the future. We will not dwell on such possibilities until we have to. And we will not speak of them again,” he said firmly.
Now who wasn’t willling to face unpleasant outcomes? she wondered. He seemed honestly disturbed by her comments. That gave her a tiny glimmer of hope. But he didn’t say anything else.
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 and that odd, infrequent, enigmatic tenderness. 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. Or her child... She bit down on the pain. 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.
He saw those thoughts in her mind and winced mentally at the pain that radiated from her. The decision to give up the child tormented her. She would do it only because she wished to spare him disgrace. She’d already sacrificed so much for him. Too much. He had told her that his interest in her was strictly physical. That was a lie, and he’d only just realized it. He’d realized something else as well. Once there was a child, it would be impossible for him to let her go, or agree to a regression. He hadn’t anticipated this. He had never wanted a child so passionately. It surpassed even the pregnancy of his first bonding. He stared at her with his emotions in turmoil, his face wiped clean of expression, as shock washed over him.
She glared at him. For a few seconds, she’d thought he felt...well, something. Now he was as impassive as ever. “I’ll let you know what I decide tomorrow. But I could roast you, sir,” she added involuntarily, her face flushed with anger at his lack of visible emotion.
His eyes widened. They flashed green before he could control the impulse. “Roast me?”
“Roast,” she said with feeling, with glittery eyes. “Over hot coals. On a spit!”
She was beautiful like that, with her face faintly flushed and her green eyes throwing off sparks. He tried and failed to contain a chuckle.
“And I swear, if it was possible for a human to eat a Cehn-Tahr, I’d have you on a toasted bun with sauce! Sir,” she added flatly.
He pursed his lips, openly amused. He felt rather than saw Komak behind him.
“He would leave a terrible taste in your mouth, Madelineruszel,” Komak assured 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. “We can put off any further discussions until tomorrow. You do need rest.”
“I won’t be here,” she muttered in exasperation, 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—surprisingly clean and free of blood— on the cover at Madeline’s feet. His big 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. She swallowed hard, at the sight of the dead rodent lying on the covers of her bed. “How... very thoughtful of you!” she exclaimed. “Thank you, Rognan,” she added. “It looks delicious.”
Rognan flapped his wings in appreciation, upending a flowerpot. He groaned as he picked it up with one big clawed foot on his undamaged leg and put it gingerly back on the table, looking so dejected that Madeline laughed.
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.
Rognan chuckled. “Yes. Please. Eat.” He nodded again toward the rodent. “It will honor me, to give you strength.”
They all stared at Madeline, whose discomfort was noticeable. She was reluctant to offend Rognan, whom she adored, but the thought of eating, uncooked, a furry rodent, was just beyond her. And the commander and Komak, standing there with those outrageous, smug expressions, looking so oddly alike, daring her....
Madeline groaned softly and pulled the covers over her head.
The two aliens laughed, recovered the rodent and shooed Rognan out of the room with soothing words 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.
* * * * *
To be continued in
THE MORCAI BATTALION: INVICTUS,
coming in December 2015 from HQN Books!
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; operate 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 chosen for their genetics for the government baby mills. 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 mate, but they are permitted to live together while their children are raised to the age of six—this is only for persons in the highest tier of society, such as politicians. Breeders are not permitted to produce children in the natural manner, as embryos are created free of imperfections which natural breeding can allow. Uncontrolled birth is forbidden. Marriage is permitted only in the elite classes such as political leaders. Fraternization between sexes in the military, whose members are mentally neutered for service, is punishable by death in the rare instances when the neutering is not successful. Another class of citizens allied to breeders is charged with the training and education of the children up until age six, at which time they are given over to their military units. Children are taught to revere the state, and that military service is the greatest honor available to a Terravegan. 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.